Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Joseph

Ican feel her coming.

There are four hundred people attempting to shoehorn themselves inside this fucking church and yet my blood changes direction when I hear the parking break of her mother’s station wagon. Pretending to study my sermon while everyone finds their seats, I picture Mila entering the church in the same cheap, thin purple dress she wears every week. The one I want to rip off with my bare hands.

I’ve seen her wearing much less through her bedroom window, but the dress…it’s a symbol of the struggle I face every Sunday, trying to concentrate when my body is screaming at me to take the girl. Just give in and take her.

Keep her.

Up until a couple of weeks ago, that would have been considered kidnapping.

What would my congregation think of me if they knew how I spend my Sunday nights? If they knew I park on the border of her mother’s property behind a copse of trees and cut through the darkness to Mila’s window, jacking myself dry while she humps the bed on the other side of the glass. I can’t stay away. Since that first day she walked into my church, I’ve been drawn to her like a bee to the sweetest honey and it’s becoming impossible to maintain distance.

Just knowing I’m mere minutes away from seeing Mila has my dick hard as a rock, my balls cinched up tighter than my starched white collar. How I get through Sunday sermons with my erection battling my zipper is a mystery, but somehow I manage. Somehow I manage not to storm the audience, rip Mila away from the safety of her mommy and find a dark corner to inflict my raging lust.

How does she do this to me?

I’m consumed with thoughts of her, day and night.

I’m consumed.

Pasting a serene expression onto my face, I look up from my sermon and spot Mila in the milling crowd, a growl immediately building in my throat. Her long, black hair is down, as usual. A little wild, slightly tangled. Her head is bowed when she walks into the church, but she peeks up at me through her thick bangs with her huge, amber eyes and thorny need stabs me in the gut.

Hello little girl.

That automatic thought makes me look away, mentally commanding myself to put a strangle hold on my sick thoughts.

I’ve never been a good man. But the thoughts I have about Mila go too far.

The life I’ve built in this nowhere town is my safety net. No one from my past would ever think to look for me here. If the guys from my old South Boston neighborhood knew I was lecturing behind a pulpit, they would never believe it. These hands were made for inflicting pain, not for Bible thumping. Which is the exact reason this new identity works so well.

This occupation as town holy roller kind of fell into my lap. I bought a plot of land upon arriving and since my skill sets are limited to firing bullets or swinging a hammer, I decided to build a church, planning to sell it and make a profit. Purely a real estate play, before I moved on to another town. But the locals started asking why I was building a church. Was I a preacher? Did I intend to lead a congregation?

I decided there was no better cover.

Yes, I’m a preacher, I said. Services will begin soon.

And thus, I carved out a place in this world where I’m not constantly anticipating a bullet in the back. However, something tells me if I give into my incessant hunger for Mila, my true identity will be revealed. I’m not a half measures type of man. If I make her mine, I’ll murder anyone who breathes in her direction. I’ll be a possessive, jealous son of a bitch. Worse than that, she’s awoken a new instinct inside of me that I’ve never, ever encountered in my life. When I fantasize about Mila—and it’s an hourly occurrence—I’m being almost…parental toward her. I’m brushing that long, midnight hair while she’s perched on my knee, lecturing her about never leaving the house in short skirts.

Or having an X-rated talk with her about the birds and the bees.

One that usually leads to me lifting the hem of her nightgown and giving her a very detailed demonstration.

Unable to help myself, I reach down and palm my distended cock, my hand blocked from the congregation’s view by the pulpit. Yeah, if I claimed that sweet girl, she’d go screaming to her mama about what I subjected her to. Rightly so. I deserve to have this whole town show up on my doorstep with torches and pitchforks. The man they think walks on water would suddenly be a heathen in their eyes—and their curiosity would be roused. They’d wonder if I’m really who I say I am.

And everything I’ve built could come crashing down.

Yes, beautiful, little Mila could be my downfall. A downfall that becomes more and more dangerously appealing with every passing day. Need her. I need her.

The decreased murmur tells me the congregation is ready for the service to begin and I take one more moment to gather myself, my gaze straying one final time to Mila where she sits in the front row, along with the other people who are scheduled to be baptized this morning. How am I going to touch her without ripping her clothes to shreds? How will I keep myself from mounting her sexy body and rutting her here on the stage?

There’s an intuition prodding me, telling me Mila would welcome my touch. That she needs it. But I know she’s simply at an age where her hormones have kicked in. That’s why she writhes about on the bed, rubbing her innocent pussy on the mattress. She doesn’t know she’s being watched and it’s yet another mark on my black soul that I invade her private moments.

Somehow I must get through the morning without revealing myself.

Somehow I have to put my hands on her for the first time without coming.

One might think a former mafia hit man would have better self control. When it comes to Mila, only Mila, they would be wrong. I slip more and more toward madness with every day that passes without me inside her.

Focus.I tear my attention off the object of my obsession and rest my hands on either side of the podium. “Good morning,” I say to the room, waiting for returned greetings and the echo of my voice to subside before continuing. “Today is very special for three members of our flock. Baptism is not only a cleansing of the soul, it is a testimony to God that you, a believer, will walk in the faith…”

As I go into a long-winded section about John the Baptist, my hands begin to shake with anticipation. Mila’s olive skin looks so soft though her window. What will it feel like against my fingertips? I have to stop several times to clear my throat during the sermon, drinking from the glass of water on my podium to cure my dry mouth, and before I know it, the time has come to baptize Mila and the others, a middle-aged man and wife. Needing more time to compose myself, I call the man and woman on stage one by one, completing the ritual—in which I have no formal training—in minutes, dunking them into the small, in-ground pool that I installed beneath the stage’s floorboards. My loins tighten, everything seeming to move in slow motion, when I turn to Mila and beckon her to the stage.

She moves with such grace that my heart starts a riot. Good lord, she’s the most beautiful creature in this fucking world. I was so wrapped up in my own lust earlier, I didn’t notice her new, light blue shawl. She clutches it tight to her body, but I can still see the mounds of her tits, the swell of her hips. The way she sways that body side to side has me sweating under my collar and I’m so focused on controlling myself, I think I’m dreaming when she reaches me and drops the shawl.

The congregation gives a collective gasp.

Mila is not wearing the purple dress.

No, the only thing covering her is a tiny white slip and it’s so thin, I can see her nipples through the material, hard, dark pink and straining toward me. Between her legs is a slight shadow. An X marks the spot right over her pussy.

She licks her bee-stung lips. “I’m ready, preacher.”

My cock jerks and I nearly ejaculate down the leg of my trousers. It’s everything I can do not to lift Mila, wrap her thighs around my waist and fuck her standing on stage in front of God and everyone. What is she doing? Does she realize what a temptation she is? I cast a quick glance over her shoulder and see the men in the room are riveted by Mila, squirming in their seats. Some of them even leave the room, bent forward at the waist, attempting to hide their erections with the flaps of their dress jackets. They’re running off to find somewhere to jack off thinking about my little girl and I’d like to hunt them all down and slit their throats.

MINE.

I realize I’m bearing my teeth and snap my mouth shut. Prepared to brazen out the ritual, I take Mila by the elbow to guide her toward the pool—but her mother runs on stage in a flurry of hand motions. “I’m so sorry, preacher,” she says in furious whisper, red faced. “I-I had no idea she’d left the house in this get-up. I won’t force you to sully your hands with her.”

Sully my hands? She’s a fucking angel. And I’m already damned to hell for my past sins, but I’ll be damned twice before Mila gets humiliated in front of the entire town. Not even over my dead body will I allow that to happen. She’s only a sweet, young girl who hasn’t yet learned the appeal of her own body. She can’t possibly understand the effect it has on men yet.

“Come with me, you trollop,” Mila’s mother grits out, reaching for Mila.

“Go sit down,” I growl, before catching myself and pasting on a smile. “Everyone is welcome in the house of the Lord.”

“But, preacher…”

Mila and I are already walking toward the miniature pool and every part of me is aching, having this contact with her satiny smooth skin. Being this close to her. I’m doing my best to keep my breathing measured as she kneels down in the water, even though the white slip turns see-through upon touching the water. And now I’m the only one who can see her thighs, her belly button, the sparse collection of curls between her thighs.

Christ.

I go down on my knees beside the pool and brace her shoulders with my right hand. “Take a deep breath, Mila,” I rasp, devouring the sight of her peaked nipples, the burnished gold of her eyes which are locked on me, the hollow of her throat where her pulse beats at a quick tempo. When she complies with an inhale, I lower her backwards until her head is submerged. I don’t like her being deprived of oxygen for even a moment, though, and lift her back up right away, murmuring the correct scripture, even as my mouth waters over the moisture dripping down her neck, soaking the see-through slip and leaving her essentially naked before me.

I can see everything. Every inch of her perfection.

My pants are a torture device, restraining my pounding dick. If we were alone in this church, I would already be shoving myself balls deep inside her cunt, telling her to hold still, little girl.

She has no idea what beast she tempts.

Or does she?

Time seems to move in slow motion as Mila’s attention drops to the arousal at the juncture of my thighs and I watch with growing shock as her pupils dilate and she squeezes her legs together. She worries her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me with worried eyes. “The baptism didn’t work,” she whispers. “I still have the devil inside me, preacher.”

A fist tightens around my throat. “Who told you the devil lives inside you?”

The thin strap of her slip falls down, revealing the swell of her right breast and just a hint of her nipple. “My mama. And now I know it’s true, because I-I…”

We’ve been whispering entirely too long and the congregation is eerily silent behind me, but I can’t look away from her gorgeous face. “Because why?”

She draws her knees up to her chest. “I still want you to touch me.” Her eyelids flutter. “All over, everywhere. I…love tempting you to do it, even though you’ve chosen a path of righteousness. I’m sorry, preacher. I don’t know how to stop.” She bows her head. “I should have hung a curtain over my window and freed you of the devil’s hold.”

My breath freezes in my lungs. “You know I’ve been watching you?”

Mila nods slowly.

“You’ve been putting that show on…for me?” I growl.

Shame flames in her face. “Yes.”

Jesus. Christ.Mila is still very obviously innocent of men, but my fears that she’d be disgusted—or worse, terrified—by what I want to do to her appear to have been wrong. She’s back to looking at my hard cock and writhing her hips in the water. My little girl is horny. For me. I have no choice but to make her mine now.

YES. I MUST.

As soon as that fact solidifies in my head, my lust hits a crescendo and I can feel my past self leapfrogging my present. For a year, I haven’t touched a drink or inflicted violence. Women became a thing of the past the moment I laid eyes on Mila and she became the sole object of my starvation. Perhaps depriving myself of all my vices is the reason I’m suddenly rife with need so strong, I have to grit my teeth from the pain and pressure between my legs.

Mila obviously interprets my pained expression for irritation and starts to stand, but I catch her shoulders and keep her in a seated position. “Don’t get up yet.” I take off my black, waist-length jacket and hold it up, blocking her from the congregation. As soon as Mila stands, I wrap it around her near-nakedness and scoop her up, cradling her in my arms. “God’s children,” I say, turning to address the rapt audience. “It appears one our flock has been deeply affected by this holy ritual. The Lord has chosen her as a direct channel for His grace this morning. Please allow me some time to counsel her and make sense of this gift she’s been given. We will resume the service shortly.”

I only catch a glimpse of Mila’s mother’s correctly suspicious expression before I turn and stride off stage, hooking a right into one of the back offices. Confused voices rise in the church behind us, growing louder, but I don’t give a shit what they think. I need to be alone with Mila. I need to get my fucking hands on her.

And that total disregard for the consequences is dangerous.

With my breath rattling in my ears, I set Mila on her feet inside my office, close the door and strip the coat away, tossing it aside. She starts to cover her nakedness until she gets a good look at my face. Whatever she sees there causes her to arch her back and present her wet, little tits to me. “You have the devil, too,” she breathes. “Don’t you, preacher?”

I grasp her chin and lift it. “Several of them,” I say, backing her up against the door and finally, finally pressing our bodies together. Groaning. “You, however, don’t have a single one. You’re sweet and precious in every way.”

Her golden eyes melt and this is exactly how I’ve been dreaming of her looking up at me. Like I’m her number one hero. The man in her life who makes everything better. “But I make that part between your legs hard,” she whispers. “And I like doing it.” A blush stains her cheeks. “I like rolling around on my bed knowing you can see me.”

A warm trickle of come shoots out of my cock and slides down my inner thigh. “That’s because your body needs mine, little girl. That’s perfectly natural.”

A moan leaves Mila and she sways. “I like when you call me that.”

I press our foreheads together and peel down the straps of her slip, baring her pretty, pink-tipped tits. Palming them gently. “Little girl.”

She shudders almost violently and I have no choice but to snare her mouth in a kiss. It’s meant to cherish, to soothe, to reassure Mila that there isn’t a single evil thing about her. But her taste is a shot of adrenaline to my system. My entire being recognizes the female it has been hungering for and responds, my dick swelling to the point of agony, my tongue licking into her mouth and devouring. Before I know my own intentions, I’m gripping her juicy, little ass cheeks, lifting her up and flattening her against the wall, tongue fucking her with no mercy, imprinting her incredible taste and texture on my brain forever.

“You wore this scrap of nothing to tease me, didn’t you?” I growl, ripping my mouth away so I can see her face when I thrust my cock into the notch of her thighs. Watching Mila’s eyes roll into the back of her head, feeling her legs begin to shake, I do it again and press my mouth to her ear. “You knew you’d break me.”

“I hoped so,” she hiccupped, her knees digging into my ribs. “I’ve been hurting so bad.”

“Shhh. I’m going to make it all better.” I lick my way through the hollow of her throat, using my hold on her bottom to ride her up and down my cock. “I’m going to fuck the ache away every day for the rest of your life.”

Her gasp brings my head up. “You said the F word, preacher,” she says in a hushed tone, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re not who everyone thinks you are. Are you?”

After the barest hesitation, I shake my head. “No.” My hips press her tighter to the door, pushing against the cushion of her pussy until she whimpers. “You came here to break me, but I’ve been broken for a year. I would have murdered any man in this town who tried to touch you. You’ve been mine—and that was before I knew you’ve been shaking your sweet ass for me every Sunday. I’ve busted so many times against the side of your house, I’ve worn the paint off.” I capture her mouth in a hard kiss. “There’s no changing your mind now, Mila. You’re mine.”

There’s a tentative knock on the door. “Uh, preacher?” An elderly female voice calls through the door. One of the more involved members of my congregation. “The tents we rented for the bake sale have to be returned by two pm. I don’t want to rush your counseling session—what a miracle!—but, um…if we don’t finish the service soon, I don’t know if we’ll be able to sell off all the pies by the time—”

“I’ll be right out,” I call, tight lipped.

Mila’s pussy is so drenched, she’s starting to soak through my pants and I need to bury myself inside her so badly, I can barely maintain my sanity. But I’m not taking her virginity with a quickie, then leaving her here while I finish my sermon. It’s not happening. No, she needs to be stroked and praised and spoiled afterwards. I’m going to see it done, come hell or high water.

“Will you wait here for me?” I ask quietly, kissing her hairline. “I’ll finish the service and then I’ll bring you straight home.”

“To your house?” Mila asks hopefully.

Is she eager to see my home? Or is she reluctant to go back to hers? The latter gives me pause and I resolve to question her about it later. “Yes, my house.” I ease my tongue into her mouth and draw it in and out, slowly, again and again, until she’s restless, squirming between me and the door. It hurts like hell, but I set her down, plant a kiss her forehead and step back. “Wait right here for me.”

“I’d wait forever,” she murmurs, watching me back through the door a moment later.

And I think she would have.

If she’d been given a choice.