Judah's eyes crinkled with amusement as he rejoined me on the bed, his body hovering over mine. “Trust me, Mercy. The human body is more adaptable than you think.” His hand slid between my legs again, fingers spreading my wetness. “Besides, we have ways of preparing you.”
When his finger slipped inside me, I gasped — not from pain but from the strange, intimate pressure. He watched my face carefully, gauging my reaction as he began to move slowly.
“All right?” he asked, softly.
I nodded.
“Now think about something good. Something funny,” he said, slowly adding a second finger. “What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
“I’m funny?”
“Youcanbe. That’s the funny part.”
His mouth captured my laugh, turning it into something deeper, hungrier. The stretch of his fingers inside me burned slightly, but in a way that made me want more, not less. His thumb found a spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids, and suddenly I understood what all the fuss was about.
Mercy, I told myself.Most of the books you’ve read in the past year was smut. Kinda should’ve figured it out sooner. But, I suppose I was a slow learner.
My hips began to move against his hand of their own accord, chasing something I couldn't name. The rum had loosened my inhibitions, but it was Judah's touch that was unraveling me completely.
When he withdrew his fingers, I made a sound of protest that surprised even me, but soon choked on the sound when I felt the head of his cock against my entrance.
He pressed forward slowly, the pressure both intimidating and intoxicating. My hands gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath my fingertips.
“Breathe,” he whispered against my ear. “Just breathe and try to relax.”
I tried to follow his instruction, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing against my neck. The initial discomfort gave way to a strange fullness as he eased himself inside me, inch by careful inch.
“God,” I gasped, my nails digging crescents into his skin.
“Blasphemy, Miss Evangeline,” he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of his restraint. “In my bed, no less.”
“Forgive me, Father,” I found myself saying through laughter despite the burning stretch, “for I have sinned.”
“I would rather hear you say ‘Bless me, Father.’”
I did. And he slid deeper.
“Again.”
I said it again — half breathless — and he went deeper still.
“Bless me, Father,” I whispered a third time, the words more moan than speech as he finally seated himself fully inside me. The fullness was overwhelming, a strange invasion that hovered between discomfort and something far more compelling.
Judah stilled above me, his breathing ragged against my neck. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, unable to form words as my body adjusted to his presence. His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling in the narrow space between us. I could feel his heartbeat everywhere — where his chest pressed against mine, where his cock pulsed inside me, where his wrist crossed over mine as he pinned my hand gently beside my head.
“Move,” I whispered, my free hand finding the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. “Please.”
He withdrew slightly before pressing forward again, the motion sending ripples of sensation through my body. I gasped, my back arching involuntarily.
Judah had a rhythm — slow thrusts going deep. His eyes never left mine, watching every bit of expression across my face as if memorizing me. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin against mine, the scent of cedar and sweat — it was overwhelming in the best possible way.
“You're beautiful,” he murmured, his hand sliding beneath me to arch my hips higher. The slight change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense I cried out.
“Fuck…”
