Page 63 of Preacher Man

Never would be friends.

But he would protect her with his life. Even from himself.

There was going to be a day that Rider nonchalantly dropped into a conversation that Gia was getting married to some dickbrain banker or lawyer, his chest hurt letting that thought in, but he needed to let it in, to sink in deep into his wounds so he could accept its inevitability, even as he pulled that redhaired bitch by the wrist to a quiet room down the corridor, tuning out her harping talk, he could give a fuck what her name was. She had a pussy and she stank of fear, she had the winning lotto ticket.

He was too busy thinking of his little bit of a thing being fucked by an ordinary man who would laugh and smile with her.

Fuck him. She wasn’t his.

He hated Louisiana and the goddamn heat. Now he hated a figment guy who one day Hawk would have to try really, really fucking hard not to stalk, and prey on and kill him ten different ways.

He goddamn hated his obsession.

It was the most vicious blade and he was bleeding out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“There's petting, and then there's Preacher man petting. No comparison. One makes you feel good, the other makes you feel good all over." - Ruby.

"I wasn't prepared for this."

"What's that, beautiful?" Preacher was climbing back into his bed as she watched his sleek movements, a lethal jaguar using every single muscle to aid in moving like he was gliding. He prowled over the space of his huge bed, the biggest bed she'd ever seen or been in, it was serious royalty worthy. He plonked down in the middle, letting his palm find her inner thigh.

Her shiver was instinct and a little ardent charge. His voice a rich baritone that did nothing to lessen the monsoon of butterflies in her belly. "You." She couldn't take her eyes off his six pack. It was just so there ---so defined, every ridge and bump pronounced on his torso leading down to that V women loved like it had been sculpted in clay first and fixed to his body. The man was put together so well it made her mouth fill with moisture. Long after he was gone from her life Ruby would diddle beneath the sheets and think of his exquisite body, maybe place him in one of her dirtier fantasies that got her off, oh yeah, she'd so put Preacher as a starring role.

“I could say the same.” Fingers stroked up and down her thigh, shivers followed his touch.

He placed his arms over his head, dipping his back in the middle. The stretch elongated his abs. She let go of a little whimper. An angel needed a gold embossed bench in their honor for making that body. His muscles all rolled in tandem with his inhale and the way his forearms flexed …Jesus Christ. Dragging her gaze away before she licked him from head to toe.

They lay in relatively comfortable silence, each fine with the quiet, his fingers reaching out now and then to touch a part of her naked body, and she did the same while she mused on her new friend-with-benefits. Good things never lasted for long, at least that was her experience so she intended to milk this--and him for all it was worth while she had it. Her head turned on the pillow and watched as his eyelids held at half-mast. There was a dangerous side to Asher Priest. Not just because of his biker connections, those were disreputable if you believed rumors around town about the Renegade Souls. People both feared and adored those club men. The rumors varied from sex to gang wars and even murder, but that was in hushed whispers and never accused to the men themselves, and it wasn't as though she could come out and ask him, yet that darkness lurked in his eyes and his smile, secrets, and shade and things he wasn't saying or couldn't say. This was sex, so did she even want to know what he got up to? No relationship here.

How could she have ever thought he was just a manwhore. The man was an ocean and she wasn’t saying it simply because he knew how to make her come. Preacher had made it a point to ruin all future men for her. Rotten bastard. He was going to be the benchmark for every other man she took to her bed.

And that piercing. Fricking hell, she could still feel it scraping against her inner walls. Ruby had complied with everything he'd demanded since it had felt so damn good to be controlled by a man who knew what he was doing.

He caught on to the tempo she liked, and the angle in which to lift her pelvis so his cock could go impossibly deeper in that hard-stretching way making her take it even when it had hurt.

And the dirty talk.

How had his tongue not eviscerated out of his mouth from sheer hotness? He was filthy and seductive and he turned her stomach to water.

Mesmerized in his eyes looking up at her, she didn't know whether to fall for him or be disgusted by her mooning behaviour getting lost in a good dick.

Luckily for Ruby, whatever Preacher saw in her face, he took the moment back by rolling her over and laying on top of her, pushing her legs open to make a space for him.

Being naked she felt all of him.

All. Of. Him.

Every large inch brushing her sex.

That thing had a mind of its own, unending stamina and it seemed to like the home it tunneled inside her. Ruby hummed in her throat not minding it at all, even as her core protested a little sore. The pressure in her sternum emptied, a giant bolt of those turned-on hormones flooding through her.

Oh, here we go again.

“Don’t be wary. I can see it in your eyes. We can enjoy this, baby. It’s so good, isn’t it? Tell me you enjoy it.”

Bossy. She grabbed onto his beard, gave it a tug to bring him closer to her smiling mouth. “You feel good lying on top of me. You feel incredible inside me.” She watched the darkening going on in his green depths, such pretty eyes for a hard man. She arched her neck to lick his bottom lip. He groaned. “You feel amazing fucking me. Fuck me, Preacher man.”