My other arm moves down, gripping her waist, pulling her closer as the tip of my nose presses against her swollen clit. My speed increases as I plunge...my tongue as far as it will go. Her walls tighten as I feel her body start to tremble, her breathing short and quick. She’s close. My hand trailing back up her stomach, stopping between her breasts, holding her against the door frame. I hold her back as I push up again, lifting her once again to her tip toes. Her left hand grips a handful of hair. And Father Ambrose, limping up the spiral staircase onto the roof garden, made the sign of the cross, collapsed to his knees, and began to pray. ~The winter sun was beginning to set as Rob and Alison sat on the bench on Tottenham Cunt Road, just outside number 38B. The black eye Rob had received from Hildegard’s truncheon had been carefully bandaged up by Sister Rina – giving him a slightly piratical appearance. Bradley and Claire were in the parked hearse, fucking. Through the tinted windows,. More

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