Page 10 of Preacher Man

Dangerous men were a no-go.

And Preacher, the notorious thinks with his dick man, he was all the bad decisions a woman could ever make and a lifetime of regret all wrapped up in a six foot six rock hard package.

He didn’t get the earlier message, not from the way he moved staring hungrily at her mouth, eyes glinting. One finger reached out, he gave her enough time to reject the touch, he really did. Ruby, stunned, braced to be touched by him. And when it came, a stroke down her cheekbone, subtle, barely there and over in a second she let go of the air trapped in her nervous lungs.

"Don't you feel it, beautiful, when we touch, doesn't it shift something in you?"

Woah.

He stepped further into her space sucking all the oxygen out of the atmosphere.

"Dammit, Preacher. You can't say that."

"You don't know how badly I want to fuck your mouth with mine."

"I don't even like you..." Weak. Lame. Lies. It was all she had to offer because she feared if given the choice right then and there she’d spend her rent money on one kiss. Just to see how good it would be.

"Then, you better throw out a protest while you can, because I'm three seconds away and you're reaching up on your toes..."

Was she?

Fuck. She was. Too late. His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her gasp, taking the moment of her surprise to slip his tongue inside.

After that, any feeble attempt at a protest died with his amazing taste filling her mouth, corralling her in its web and enticing her to fuck his mouth back.

She did. Oh, god, she did.

Hot grabby kisses. Kisses to stain her soul.

Preacher was a good foot taller than her, Ruby was encased by him, helped along by the grip on the top of her arms pulling her higher on her toes so he could take more of her lips, she helped sucking on his lower one until he grunted, arms wound around his shoulders doing some of her own dragging.

Just this.

Just a little more.

Allowing herself to ride the intoxicated sensation until her blood fizzled threatening to explode like a volcano. She was crazy assuming he wouldn't be good at kissing.

The man was a kissing master.

Making her crave like never before. It was a throb.

A desperate ache began in her belly, blooming outwards, reaching all corners and god, he pushed her into the bar and if it was possible he kissed her deeper, all tongue and teeth working in tandem until her body was a ball of hormones controlled solely by him.

"Preacher. Wait …wait. Hold it."

"No.Kiss me." He groaned licking over her tongue.

Oh god. Yes. That.

She loved French kissing. Ooh la fucking la. If it was done right and some men needed to go back to square one, what with the thrusting and the slurping. Preacher was a damn tongue maestro.

Hard. Slow. Going in and out just how she guessed he wanted to fuck her.

When they parted, it was only because air had become a necessary need. His hands bracketed her neck, holding her steady, his mouth taking nips. He was a ravenous male, pouring all that abundant energy through his lips forher.

He invaded her mouth with a forcefulness that was completely out of line and yet she leaned into him, opened her lips and moaned the second his tongue was in contact with hers. It was an odd sensation, a stirring in her belly, like excitement and dread all mashed into one amalgamation of lust. He didn't give her time to think before he swooped and plundered and how sexy was that, the tiny part of her that is submissive and wants to be dominated takes over, grabs his shirt and she enjoyed the kiss of the century.

It suggested forbidden.