Priest Priest (Hell's Ankhor Book 10) - Aiden Bates



I was having a good dream—a really good dream. It was a familiar dream by now, too—I was in a huge bed, with silky-soft sheets, supine beneath a gorgeously muscled man. I wasn’t supine for long, though. I wrapped my legs around us and flipped us over, so he was beneath me, pinned facedown to sheets, and both of us laughed at the sudden change in position. He wrestled against my hold, his muscles straining beautifully. Then he made a low noise, like a growl, and flipped us again so that I was on the bottom.

The easy way he manipulated my body sent a rush of heat through me. I loved this part of the dream, loved a man who could match my strength and overpower me, who wasn’t afraid of a little roughhousing to get into the mood.

The man above me laughed, low and warm and familiar, as he straddled my hips. He wrapped one big, callused hand around my wrists, pinning them over my head. I arched and thrashed beneath him, testing his strength, and he didn’t budge an inch. The sensation of pushing against his hold and failing turned me on so fucking much.

Now that I was pinned beneath him, my desire was only heightened. Familiar blue eyes locked on mine before he claimed my mouth, his salt and pepper beard a delicious scratch against my skin. I loved it when Priest held me down like this and pressed the hard length of his huge cock against me—I couldn’t wait to feel him inside me.


I woke up like I’d been electrocuted and sat up straight in bed.

Wait, Priest?!

My cock was painfully hard, and I cursed to myself, throat scratchy with sleep, as I shook off the vestiges of the dream. I’d been dreaming about this anonymous man for months: the same broad barrel chest, same salt-and-pepper chest hair, same thick thighs and muscular, square ass. The dreams had been pretty similar every time I’d had them, rolling around in a bed big enough that there was no risk of rolling off the edge, with the same faceless guy wrestling me for dominance.

I loved a little playful competition during sex, and the guy in the dreams was a perfect match—sometimes I won, sometimes he did, but regardless of who won, I woke up with a mess in my sheets like I was a teenager.

The guy had always been faceless. Until now.

I should’ve known.

I’d thought I was just nebulously horny lately, and that my brain had invented a guy who was exactly my type to just let off some steam. But of course, nothing could be that easy. And now, it seemed obvious—those familiar shoulders, the scratch of the beard even when he was faceless in my dream.

With a heaving sigh, I climbed out of bed, trying to ignore the heavy weight of my hard cock. I stretched my arms lazily over my head as I padded into my bathroom. I lived in one of the studio apartments in the Hell’s Ankhor Crew Junee clubhouse—it was just the right size for me, with a king-sized bed separated from the rest of the room by a dressing screen, a kitchenette and a recently remodeled bathroom on the other side.

Perks of being the president meant I got one of the nicest studios in the building. It had everything I needed and then some—and yet, recently I’d begun to feel a little itchy in the space, like something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, though. Likely I just needed to move my furniture around or get a new piece of art. Something to freshen up the space. I’d lived here for quite some time now, and maybe I was due for a change.

I turned the water on in the shower as hot as I could stand it and climbed under the spray. The water thrummed against my back, soothing some of the tension from the dream, and I closed my eyes.

Of course, my thoughts immediately drifted back to Priest.

I’d known Priest for over thirty years now. Jeez. Those kinds of numbers still didn’t feel real, but that was the reality of aging, I guessed. We’d met in our twenties, and as soon as I’d met him, I’d thought he was gorgeous with his keen blue eyes, short beard, and broad shoulders. And he carried himself with a wisdom beyond his years, even when he was young. But when we’d met, he’d already been in love with one