Page 21 of Preacher's Property

I can’t take another fucking second. I pull back and shift between her legs, thrusting into her tight heat in one push.

I pump into her, feeling her aftershocks pulsing on my cock. Feeling her clenching so tight she’s coating me in her honey. Drawing me into her heat. Drawing the cum right to the end of my dick. When another orgasm hits her, she takes me right overthe edge with her. My dick erupts. My body shakes. And my heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest.

I roll the last of the pleasure out of her then crash to her side, pulling her to me as I catch my breath. We are nowhere close to being finished. I’ll be collecting fully on that bet. I just need a moment to comprehend the magnitude of what I’m feeling. I think the stakes just got a hell of a lot higher.

My heart is now on the line.

12

Chassie

“Is everything okay, girl?” Miranda steps up to my side as I vigorously scrub the inside of the breakroom sink.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’ve cleaned this place from top to bottom. Even the light switches are sparkling.”

I stop my scrubbing and look over on the wall. I even cleaned the doorstoppers, but I’m not going to point out how shiny those are too.

“Everything’s fine,” I lie, turning back to the sink.

I should’ve known better than to get involved with Preacher. All talk and charm to get me into his bed, but as soon as he got what he wanted, he was done. I knew that’s how this was going to end up, and yet, I gave in. And I let my heart fall right into the trap.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She looks down at the gleaming stainless sink that’s reflecting the look on my face. It’s mirroring my feelings. Maybe I should put down the sponge now. I’m starting to look like a crazy person. I drop the thing and wash my hands off. They smell like cleaning solution. All of me does.

“I’ll be fine. Just couldn’t sleep last night.” I tossed and turned all night wondering why he never called. Why he didn’t come by or even text. He was asleep when I went to work yesterday, and when I got home, he was gone. No note. No text. Nothing.

“Why don’t you head home early so you can take a nap? I don’t think there’s anything left for you to clean.”

I nod. “Thanks, Miranda.”

But when I get home, there isn’t a single hope of me falling asleep.

I get to work on scrubbing my bathroom. And then my shower. Then I scrub myself. But nothing washes away this awful feeling. Nothing stops the pain from forming in my stomach.

Not washing my hair.

Not giving myself a full blowout with my straightener or even putting on some makeup.

Not cleaning my room.

Not putting on comfy clothes.

And not eating a bag of M&M’s.

Nothing does the trick.

“Honey, I’m home!”

I nearly spill my bag of candy as I lunge from the couch and rush to the door.

He’s here.

And he brought suitcases.

“Are you going on a trip?” I ask, wondering if he stopped by to tell me he was leaving town for a while.

“What? I don’t get a hello?” He yanks me to him. “I missed you, babe. Now, give me those lips.”