Page 79 of Preacher Man

"I can feel you sucking me, Rube. Fuck, your mouth is so warm and wet."

Oh, he had no idea what she could do right now, just crawl over to him and take him into her mouth, lick him from top to bottom until his pubic hair brushed against her nose. "Keep watching," he grunted, grabbing on tighter, the veins popping out on his forearm underneath all his ink. "Fuck, Ruby. Tell me you're wet for me. Give me that at least."

He asked for so little and now she felt sick in her stomach to know how much he held back from her because of her rules she'd laid out days ago. Just days, it felt longer, like she'd had him in her life much, much longer. Forever, even. "Fucking tell me."

"I'm constantly wet because of you, Asher," she admitted huskily and he smiled with fondness and affection in his eyes. She knelt up on the bed, crawled his way, his hand pumping harder, never wavering from her face, wetness seeping out of his swollen abused tip, Preacher was rough on himself, the kind of roughness she got off on. The only man she'd been with who understood her desires even before she spoke them. Once she was straddled over his lower legs, watching as his head cranked back to the headboard, concentrating on his fierce task, small puffs of air leaving his mouth, she admired the man he was, and the man he was showing her. It didn't matter all the sex they'd been having, it took pride and confidence to show this vulnerable side when it was only him indulging.

"Milk it out of you." She told him, his eyes coming at her fast. He pumped faster. "Are you there?"

"Fuckkkkk. Ruby. Tell me to come for you.For. You."

That one sentence hit her hard in the solar plexus, as if warm hands roamed over her body, her breasts grew heavy, aching, panting she leaned forward, rested her fingers on the top of his hairy thighs, the wet slick tormenting her, her own wetness a reminder of what he can do to her without laying a finger on her. She chuckled, eyes alight with amusement.

“Look at you. You’re the devil asking me to sin. Come for me, Asher. Come only for me." The implication was huge. Only her. No one else ever again, but she didn't say that.

A great rattle went through his chest, a grunt from his throat, he bared teeth and as he began to leak his pleasure she dipped her head over his lap, let him feel her lips brush his cock and let him pump out all over her mouth and cheeks, flicking out her tongue, moaning as he spilled on and on and on. His dirty pleasure dripped down between them, onto his belly in long spurts, over her hands. Preacher was groaning deep in his gut like she couldn't have pleased him more by offering her mouth to him to come over. She could have easily swallowed his cock, ached to feel the burn of his girth in her throat, that hot stretch as he choked her, but this was --- a knee-jerk need, a marking of what he was sharing with her

"Look at you, messy girl." How incredibly thick his voice sounded and then to her utter shock and delight he lifted a hand to her face, using his thumb to rub in his come over her lips and chin. Her eyelids lowered to some half-mast aroused state, enthralled in the feel of his fingers.

So, dirty.

She was practically orgasming, hovering in hormones. Her vagina muscles all clenched at once dying for him to fuck her.

Already her own pleasure from watching him come was right there, an avalanche prepared to knock her down. His thumb moved and stroked, and because she couldn't help herself she flicked out her tongue, touching his salty pleasure on that thumb.

Preacher grunted, eyes flashing growing heavy.

He was literally painting her in his semen and she was getting off on it like the kinky bitch she was.

Moaning, he drew her forward, her breasts smashed into his bare chest, the small gathering of hairs tickled her nipples, her body attuned to his, everything turned her on.

He came another inch closer, his eyes dropping to her mouth. Was he going to----- he licked his bottom lip, his thumb going left and right.

"Are you really going to kiss me like this?" She laughed because there was no way he would, men were squeamish fuckers refusing to taste their own juices, she licked his thumb again and for a second he popped it into her mouth, moving it in a way that made her moan.

And then he kissed her.

Open-mouthed. Wet and hot.

So, fucking hot she started to shudder as their tongues tangled and moved around each other's, his large hands gripping the back of her head. Ruby crawled into Preacher's mouth, into his skin and down to his soul.

They groaned together.

Their sex noises a dirty little choir because, oh god, this was a hot kiss. The best kiss.

When they parted, his breathing was excessive, their mouths right there in grabbing distance.

She laughed when he pulled a sour face. "How the fuck do you swallow that, beautiful?" he scrubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, before using his discarded shirt to wipe her face.

"I could say the same about you going to town on my vagina every chance you get."

"Now don't you be bad mouthing that little darling. She tastes like the sweetest sugar. My come does not."

"Apples and oranges, Preacher man. It's not about the taste, but what's happening to you, what I'm doing to you." She realized how possessive that sounded and amended too quickly. "I mean, what's being done to you when you come. That's what I meant. What a woman likes, she's not thinking of what semen tastes of."

He grinned and did something filthy by licking her lips. "I get ya, babe."

"You're a kinky bastard, anyone ever tell you that?"