Chapter Twenty-Five – Priest
Never thought Black Sacrament would be big enough to book a show in San Francisco. Hell, I also never thought Black Sacrament would have a girl in its ranks, but here we were, together with our angel.
Our angel, and our Angel. Both ways worked. Because she was ours in every single way.
How long had it been since that first awkward discussion of sharing her between us? I couldn’t even remember. It felt like ages, and at the same time, it felt like it was just yesterday. Time had flown, all experiences that were old to me, Bishop, and Deacon became new with her.
And the strangest thing was, I was happy . Happy everything had changed. Happy I was with her. Hell, even happy that my best friends were happy with her. I’d thought I had it right: never getting nailed down, always hooking up, no strings attached, being down for whatever—and whoever—strolled my way.
But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong, and all it had taken for me to realize this was a certain white-haired girl.
Tonight was a special night. Our first show in San Fran. We were just about ready, too—but we had a good twenty minutes before we were needed backstage. It’s what I’d told the others when I’d convinced them that we had plenty of time to start a new tradition.
We had our body paint and makeup on. We looked like sexy demons. The guys and I wore all black, save for the white crosses on our masks and skin, while Angel was our angel in white with smaller, more dainty black crosses. On the forehead of her mask. Beneath the corners of the eyeholes. On her chin and lower lip. We were, by all accounts, ready to hop on that stage and rock our fucking hearts out—but first thing’s first. That new tradition.
We were in Angel’s dressing room. The door was shut, a chair blocking it so no one would be able to enter. Bishop had her bent over her makeup desk, her dress bunched up past her ass so he could get at her from behind.
And he was. Going at her from behind, I mean. His pants were on, so there wasn’t much to see, but the grunts leaving both him and Angel were telltale enough. Deacon and I watched from opposite sides of the small room from behind our masks, and I couldn’t stop myself from smirking.
This was my idea, you see. Start a new tradition where we each fucked our lucky star and performed with her cunt’s memory around our dicks, and she, in turn, would perform with our cum staining the panties beneath her dress.
It’d be our little secret. Our sexy as fuck secret. And, hey, it was a great way to get the adrenaline pumping early.
And you know what? I was pretty sure Angel had a thing for us in masks.
My dick strained against my tight pants, but I didn’t go for it, knowing that sweet pussy held all the help my cock would need to find its release. I stood with my arms folded over my chest, my hands tight in the wrist-length gloves I wore.
Deacon, on the other hand, had unzipped his pants and pulled out his monster of a cock as he watched Bishop pile-drive Angel against the makeup desk. His strong hand wrapped around the base of his length, jerking along it in sync with Bishop’s fucking, like he was imagining himself behind Angel’s beautiful round ass instead.He’d slipped off his gloves to get a better handle on it.
Maybe he was worried we wouldn’t have enough time. I, myself, wasn’t worried one bit. Not about my own release. After Bishop was done, Deacon would take his place. They’d fill Angel’s core up with so much cum, I’d want to explode the moment I filled her once it was my turn.
Seriously, I’d learned there was nothing hotter than Angel’s pussy when it was dripping wet with cum from someone else. My favorite was to fuck her right after, but a second favorite was licking all that cum out of her while telling her what a good girl she was.
Our little minx wasn’t so naive and innocent anymore, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bishop lurched behind Angel, his whole body pushing against her backside as he let out a low, trembling sound that told me his cock was letting loose a spray of cum inside her, and his pace slowed to a halt as he regained himself. He breathed hard.
Deacon stopped jerking himself off, moving beside Bishop to take his place the second he pulled out of Angel’s pussy. His thick, long cock was raring to go, dripping a copious amount of precum.
Stumbling back, Bishop’s cock was still very much hard. He went to lean his back against the nearest wall, his wet, hard cock on full display, slick from being inside Angel.
But I didn’t let my stare linger on him, flicking my eyes to Deacon to watch as he positioned himself behind Angel. With her ass in the air, her front bent over the makeup desk, she was ripe for the fucking.
God, I couldn’t wait to be in his place, to see those swollen pussy lips glistening with cum and arousal. Sliding inside a pussy like that… there was nothing better.
Deacon wasn’t gentle about it. His cock needed no help in finding the hole it sought. All he did was grip her sides, tangle his fingers in her white dress, and ram his hips against hers, pushing his impressive length into her with one thrust.
Angel cried out, unable to keep the reaction in, and as Deacon began to move behind her, I told her, “Be as loud as you want, Angel. Let us hear how good we feel inside you.” I’d discovered we both had a thing for dirty talk when she was taking my cock, but especially when she was getting dick from the others, too.
Something about being called our good girl made her pussy spew like a waterfall.
Deacon’s pace was hard and fast, much as it always was. He turned into an animal when he was inside her, all hard thrusts and animalistic growls. He took a hand from her side and brought it to the back of her neck, curling his fingers around it, as if he had to hold her down.
He didn’t, but I’d noticed he had a thing for neck-grabbing. Me? I’d rather mark up that pretty neck with hickies, but to each his own.
“Fuck,” Deacon shuddered. It was the only word he could say, too engrossed with being buried deep inside Angel to say anything more.
I could see his reflection in the mirror. Angel’s body was bent over, so from my angle all I could see was her back. Her back and Deacon’s top half, and the look on his face as he fucked her hard. The entire makeup desk kept hitting the wall; it was a good thing the illuminated mirror was hanging on the wall instead of resting on top of the table.
My cock strained against my pants, begging to be let free. To my right, Bishop had finally tucked his spent cock away, though he still breathed unevenly. I fought against my dick; right now, I just wanted to watch. Watch and listen to Deacon fucking our beautiful, sexy angel. How badly I wished we could all tear off our clothes and keep at it all night—but we had a show to perform.
Hmm. Maybe we could do that later, an after-the-show kind of reward. A long night of fucking in the tour bus.
Deacon’s head bent back, his eyes closed. His body jerked harder into Angel, and the sounds of her being fucked to hell and back filled the air, creating a spark in it nothing else could. I watched as his movements changed, his thrusts more like rapid bursts than full pumps, and when he let out a growl of a groan, I knew he’d just come inside her.
That pussy was overflowing with cum, but she could have a little more.
I unzipped my pants as I moved closer. I set a hand on Deacon’s shoulder, saying, “I believe it’s my turn, my good fellow.”
And just like that, Deacon’s typical scowl returned. His green eyes, the only splash of color on his face since thanks to his black mask and white, upside-down crosses, narrowed at me, and he stumbled back, taking his cock with him.
After giving him a smile—his scowls didn’t affect me, something he should already know—I stood in his place behind Angel. Her panties had been pushed aside, revealing those slick pussy lips and the bit of white cum that had already started to ooze out of her glorious hole.
Not going to lie, it was one of the most beautiful sights ever. Being behind Angel, well, there was no place better to be… except maybe on top of her.
With my cock still nestled behind my pants, I helped flip Angel around, curling my arms around her as I turned her so that her ass was on the table. I took hold of her legs beneath her knees and jerked her to the edge of it, and she responded by wrapping her arms around my neck and holding onto me.
The bit of her face that wasn’t covered by her mask wore white paint, a few black crosses to tie her persona into ours, she was the epitome of ethereal, even after being fucked by both Deacon and Bishop.
It was my turn, though.
I let go of her legs to whip out my hard cock, and I met her big, blue eyes before curling my hands around her lower back and plunging inside. And, I shit you not, entering that sweet pussy was like dipping my dick into a wet, warm glove that was waiting for me. Primed and ready. Aroused and pliant.
And so fucking hot.
I stared into her eyes as I began to fuck her. My voice came out low, “You looked so beautiful taking Bishop and Deacon. I love watching them fill you up. You take them so well, Angel, and you’re so fucking sexy when you’re full of cock.”
Her inner core tightened around my length, her eyelids becoming so heavy they had to close. She moaned softly with each thrust of mine, and I didn’t stop praising her.
I lowered my head to hers as I murmured, “You’re such a good girl for us, aren’t you? You’re our angel. Our little, sexy angel. Are you ready to put on a show wearing our cum between your thighs?”
All Angel could do was mumble something incoherent.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”
This time I heard her: “Yes.”
My chest rumbled with approval, and my cock pierced her pussy a little harder after that. “Good girl.” Hearing her moan when I called her that, I kept going, “Good girls come when they’re getting fucked. Are you going to come for me right now, hmm?”
Even with the mask on her face, I could tell she was close. I knew Angel well enough by now to know when she was inching towards her precipice, when she was so fucking close to coming herself—and I also knew that she loved the dirty talk so much, it might just be enough to shove her over that ledge.
“Come for me, Angel,” I whispered. “Let’s show Bishop and Deacon how easily you come for me. Let me feel you coming undone on my cock.”
That was it. Those were the magic words, so to speak, all I needed to say—while fucking her, of course—to make her come. The arms she had hooked around my neck twitched, the muscles in them spasming, and she threw her head back and moaned. Her inner core clamped down on my length as she came, the orgasm so powerful she pretty much became putty in my hands after that.
“Good girl,” I told her, smirking. “Such a good girl for me.”
Feeling her pussy tighten around my cock pushed me over the edge—although, to be honest, I’d gotten so turned on by watching Bishop and Deacon fuck her that it wouldn’t have taken me long, even if she hadn’t orgasmed.
My arms wrapped around her back, and I pulled her body close as I rocked my hips forward, plunging my cock deep into her core as my length twitched inside her. A low moan came from me, pleasure surging inside. Shoots of hot cum squirted from the tip of my cock, filling her inner core with even more of the stuff.
Holy shit. The moment after an orgasm was just about as amazing as the orgasm itself.
I never wanted to pull out of her. That, I knew, was a sentiment I shared with the others. When we were inside Angel, we never, ever wanted it to end. There was something about her that made the rest of the world cease to exist.
Alas, we had a show to put on, so I stumbled back and put my cock away with a smirk toward Angel, who sat on the edge of the table, her legs spread, her dress still bunched up. “Better fix those panties,” I told her as I zipped up my pants. “I don’t want anything oozing down your thighs, love.”
I’d bet anything Angel was flushed under all that paint and that mask. Her full lips were parted, and she said not a word as she reached down between her legs and tugged the panties over her wet slit. She hopped down, fixed her dress and her hair, and then looked at the three of us. Surprisingly steady on her feet, given everything that body had taken from us.She hurried to pull on her tights.
“So,” she started, her lips slow to curl into a smile. “Are we ready to rock this thing?”
Before either of the other guys could react, I swept towards her, pulled her close, and bent my top half down, pressing my lips against hers. It was a good thing this body paint was smear-proof.
“Yes, love,” I whispered. “We’re ready to rock.”
And that’s exactly what we did. We left the dressing room, and soon enough we were backstage, getting ready to go on.
The crowd was wild. Ravenous, even. The screams were deafening as we walked on stage. A way bigger audience than I ever thought we’d have. Black Sacrament’s reboot had worked, and we owed it all to Angel.
Our Angel.
“Hey, there, San Francisco,” I spoke into the mic once the audience’s volume died down. “How are you all doing tonight?” Again, they cheered, and I waited for them to finish before continuing, “I’m so glad to see you all here tonight, and I hope you’re ready to rock.”
More applause. More shouting. The women in the audience watched me with lust in their eyes, and the men wished they were me. I used to get off on that feeling: the feeling of being desired by everyone, in one way or another.
Don’t get me wrong. It was still exhilarating. Being on stage, in front of a large crowd where faces eventually blurred together was unlike any other feeling in the world—but all the women, all the adoration… none of that mattered to me anymore. I had the only one I wanted right next to me.
I lowered my voice to the low, husky tone I often took when talking to the audience at shows like this, “I want to dedicate tonight’s performance to one person, a very special person who’s become more important to me than air itself.”
Turning my head, I looked at Angel, and she was slow to meet my stare. With the stage lights shining brightly over our heads, they were reflected like stars in the azure depths of her eyes. She looked mystified, almost. Mystified and so very in love with me.
And, fuck, I was so in love with her, I couldn’t think straight half the time.
“I want to dedicate this show to you, Angel.” The moment the words were out of my mouth, I swept over to her and kissed her again. Only this time, I spun her around in a twirl and bent her back, keeping her upright with an arm hooked around her lower back. An overdramatic, exaggerated kiss, sure, but one I felt in my core.
Though it was a mental labor, I pulled my mouth off hers and straightened us both out. Once she was free of me and back before her own mic, I picked up my guitar and pulled the strap over my shoulder. I got in position and threw another glance at her, whispering into my microphone, “I love you, Angel.”
I didn’t give the audience time to process that. I started right into the first song in our setlist. It was the first time I’d announced it in public, so I was sure Black Sacrament would blow up again. Turned out, everyone wanted a couple to cheer for.
Little did they know we weren’t your average rock star couple, brought together by fate. Would we ever tell the world that we were all together? I didn’t know. Maybe not. Really, it wasn’t the world’s business.
It didn’t matter. The only thing that did matter was the girl beside me and my friends. Together we were Black Sacrament, and we were only just getting started.
Time to rock.