The Last Sunday Read Online Free PDF

“I wouldn’t call it extortion. It’s more like quid pro quo. You do something for me and . . . well, I make you the first lady of New Testament Cathedral.”
    A few minutes with this cretin, Cynthia had thought as the little man massaged her knee, is a small price to pay to get Hezekiah and Samantha out of the way permanently.
    She then looked Lance in the eye and said, “I’ll do this on one condition.”
    Cynthia squirmed more on the leather sofa in her den as the humiliation she had endured that cold night played in her head like a movie.
    Lance looked at her guardedly and asked, “What’s the condition?”
    â€œThat as soon as we’re done, you’ll let me send the article to your editor.”
    She remembered how horrible Lance had sounded when he laughed and said, “When we’re done, I’ll probably be too tired to send the story myself. It’s a deal.”
    He removed his jacket and loosened his tie while Cynthia watched his every move.
    Cynthia remembered how he had leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips. She could still taste the remnants of stale cigarettes on his lips. His breathing became intense as he kissed her neck and caressed her breasts. “Mrs. Pryce,” he panted, “you are such a beautiful woman.”
    Cynthia could almost smell his cheap aftershave in her den as she recalled the horrible events of that night.
    Lance fumbled awkwardly as he unbuttoned Cynthia’s blouse. She felt his lips gently circling her exposed nipples. The sounds of a cold wind whirling at the base of the building and the hum of the freeway in the distance could be heard through the car’s darkly tinted windows.
    Cynthia lifted Lance’s head to hers and kissed him passionately. Her panting matched his breath for breath. She skillfully undid his belt buckle and pants and firmly gripped his erect member.
    â€œFuck me,” she moaned. “I want you to fuck me, Lance.”
    Lance fumbled with the levers on the side of the seat and pressed buttons until he found the one to recline the driver’s seat. Their writhing bodies descended in unison into the depths of the vehicle as the seat glided into a fully prone position.
    Lance lifted Cynthia’s skirt, slid her panties down around her ankles, and squirmed to lower his trousers. He then climbed on top of her to explore her waiting mouth once again.
    â€œHurry,” she said in a whisper. “Fuck me, and then we’ll send the story to your editor together.”
    Lance moaned as he thrust his hips against hers. “I’m going to fuck you first, and then we’ll both fuck the Cleavelands.”
    Cynthia lifted her knees toward the roof of the car and in the process turned on the windshield wipers. Lance entered her forcefully and pounded double time to the beat of the whooshing rubber blades.
    Cynthia could almost feel him pounding into her flesh as she thought of the sacrifices she had made that night. She remembered holding him tightly and raising her hips to meet each thrust. The two writhed in passion, heightened by the euphoric prospect of the Cleavelands’ demise. The car bounced uncontrollably until Lance reached a fevered climax and then collapsed, breathless, into her arms.
    Cynthia was the first to speak. “It’s time. Get your computer from the backseat.”
    Exhausted, Lance rolled back into the passenger seat. “Wow,” he panted. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
    â€œThat was the agreement wasn’t it? I fuck you, and you fuck Hezekiah. Are you planning to back out again?”
    â€œNo, no,” he protested. “I’m a man of my word.” With his trousers still around his ankles, Lance reached behind and retrieved the laptop. He turned on the computer, and the glowing screen lit up the car. As he waited for the article to appear, he said, “You’re quite a woman, Mrs. Pryce. New Testament is