Page 44 of Altered By Fire (Undercover Sinners 1)
"Keep going," I tell him when my ankle is mere inches from my face. "Fifteen years of ballet and gymnastics, I can take it harder."
His eyes flare with interest and he pushes me further until my foot touches the altar beside my head. He holds it there for a long moment, his body pressing down on top of me and his gaze locked on mine. This is exciting him, I can tell by the hard bulge pressing against my crotch, and I let out a small sigh of arousal.
"This was a bad idea," he mutters, releasing my leg and swapping for the other one. "All I want to do is tie you down, spread you wide open right here, and sink my dick inside you."
"So?" I gasp as he presses my other leg up in a stretch. "Do it."
Hawke's eyes narrow as his weight bears down on me and his hard cock brushes against my throbbing center again. "You actually mean that, don't you?" he murmurs with curiosity. "You actually want me to tie you down and fuck you here on this church altar."
His words alone send a heady rush of excitement through me, and I moan. "Fuck yes. Don't make me beg for it, Hawke."
He sucks in a deep breath, releasing my leg and kneeling between my spread thighs. "You are awfully hard to say no to, Natalia …" he ponders aloud, stroking his thumbs under the waistband of my black cotton panties. Thankfully, he must be just as turned-on as I am right now, because he drags the damp fabric down my legs and tosses them aside.
Amusingly, from the corner of my eye, I see them hit a carved wooden statue of an angel and hang over her face like a blindfold. I don't waste time laughing at it though, as Hawke grasps my ankle in his firm grip and winds rope around it.
"Maybe I should have made you beg," he mutters as he works, looping the cord over and over around my skin, bending my leg and linking my ankle to the back of my thigh. He then proceeds to tie me directly to the altar itself. Suffice to say that by the time he's finished replicating this on the other side, I'm not only spread wide open and so secure I can barely move an inch, I'm also soaking wet with arousal.
"Wait," I pant as he tosses his shirt off and goes for his pants. "Will you wear the robe?"
Hawke pauses, looking down at me with an eyebrow raised. "Seriously?” He sighs, and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them back up, they’re burning with lustful shadows. “Well, I don’t see why not. Wait here." He chuckles and disappears from view, presumably to fetch his priestly robe. Fuck me, just the idea of being pounded by Hawke's thick cock while he's in disguise almost has me coming right here without stimulation.
I lie there for what feels like ages, spread open with my pussy aimed right up at the stained-glass angels of the windows. They smile down on me, serene, and I think even a little mischievous … We've all heard stories of angels corrupting human women, so I like to think those bastards would enjoy this show.
Hawke's footsteps announce his arrival before he climbs back up onto the altar to kneel between my outstretched and bound thighs. He's done exactly as I asked, and thrown on his billowy black robe and even included the little white collar. Below the collar, he's left the robe open and I can see the chiseled expanse of his body, covered in swirling ink all the way down. All the way down. The only part of his body from neck to knee that isn't illustrated is his big beautiful penis which stands proudly out of the cloth as though straining to be inside me.
"Fuck," I breathe, taking him in with wide eyes. "I missed out on this view last time."
"Natalia," he snaps, arching a brow at me. "No more talking. Or do I need to gag you?"
Licking my lips, I shake my head. "No, Father."
This seems to tip his control, and he launches at me, grasping my rope covered thighs and thrusting his tip just inside me before swearing and pulling back.
"What—" I start to say, then remember the no talking rule. Hawke growls a noise, digging in one of the deep pockets of his robe and pulling out a condom. With savage efficiency he tears it free from the packet and rolls it down his length, smoothing his hand a few times along his shaft once it’s on.
It's a bit twisted of me, given none of us have engaged in the safe-sex talk, but I kind of wish he’d ride me bareback. There’s just something … extra about it. Maybe it’s the danger? The unknown risk? Especially when they come inside me like Arsen, Weston, and Colt had. Then again, it’s all just an illusion of risk when likely, I’ll be dead by month’s end. No time to develop any pesky diseases or pregnancies.
