His Forbidden Obsession

Oh, this is better than breathing.

The rhythmic opening of our mouths, the way our tongues dance into one another’s mouths and mate deliciously, without fear of being crude. Griffin sinks into the kiss with a hoarse moan, his pulls of my mouth growing desperate. I’m like clay beneath him, molding to his muscular frame, my lips being taken. Taken.

“Fuck,” he grits out, breaking the kiss and diving into my neck to taste me there. He can’t seem to settle on a spot and I love it, love it so much as I tunnel my fingers into his hair and twist, whimpering while his mouth moves down the center of my breasts, nipping at the sensitive skin of my belly.

My thighs fall open in an instinctual welcome. I know nothing about men licking women between their thighs—or if that’s even a typical act—but I know if he doesn’t do it to me, I’ll die. And the first swipe of his tongue through my folds has me screaming into my cupped palm.

Oh Lord.

Oh Lord.

What is he—ohhhh.

“What is that?” I cry out, pulling him closer, lifting my hips toward his magical mouth. “What have you found?”

“That’s your clit, Mercy. Do I make it feel good?”

“Yes. Yes. Oh yes.” Should I be wrapping my thighs around Griffin’s head? I don’t know and I can’t stop. They’re doing it all on their own and trembling, trembling so hard. There’s something inside of me that’s twisting like a yoyo being wound up, preparing to drop. What is this?

“Christ, you’re hot for it,” he groans in between licks. “Wetter’n fuck, aren’t you, little nun? Rubbing that pussy all over my kiss.”

I want to order him to stop speaking to me in such a filthy manner, but instead I moan, “More. Keeping talking.”

His laughter is dark and it vibrates me right there, making my back arch. “I see you, Mercy.” His finger tests my opening and twists inside, building the pressure in my middle to an extreme. How much more can I take? Where does this lead? “You’re not meant for this life. You’re meant for a life of riding my big dick, angel baby. And that’s what I aim to give you.”

Protest.

My life is supposed to be with the church.

Say something.

But I can’t. I can’t do anything but feel the gentle tease of his finger inside me—there’s another spot that feels good?—and the suction he drops over that sensitive nub. My head thrashes on the pillow as the inferno builds, washing over me in a blinding wave of pleasure. “Griffin!” I scream his name through chattering teeth, lust and relief and euphoria racing along my nerve endings. Still I hold his mouth fast against my sex, sobbing and shaking, never wanting it to end. “Yes, yes. Please, so good. So good. I can’t stand it.”

“I know. Me neither, angel baby,” Griffin croons, coming to his knees between my wilting legs. His hand is on his straining cock, stroking madly, directly over my femininity. “Look what you did to me with that horny cunt.” He grunts, his jaw dropping open as moisture shoots from the tip of his sex, landing on my stomach in white ropes. “Ahhh, look what you did, Mercy. Christ.” His hips jerk, his flesh turning purple in his death grip. “You made me bust before I could fuck you. You tasted too goddamn good.”

His admission fills me with such feminine pride and pleasure, I feel my lips stretch into a smile. When Griffin sees my expression, he breathes my name and falls on top of me, gathering me in his arms.

A sense of rightness settles over me like a blanket, leaving me shaken.

There has only been one constant in my life. The church.

My calling.

I’ve known the love of one man, my father, and he didn’t even love me enough to stick around, return for a visit or even write to me.

Griffin himself has admitted he doesn’t have an affinity for women. What makes me think I’ll be any different if I give him my trust? For all I know, if I take that leap—a leap my heart is begging me to take—I could be abandoned again. Cast aside like yesterday’s news.

No, as much as I want to believe I’m special to this man, I can’t.

How could I ever be sure?

When Griffin lifts his head and gives me a lopsided smile, I fall deeper, skidding down the slope so far, I can’t barely see the top of the mountain. I’m about to tell him we can’t be together like this again, but he speaks before I can.

“Meet me tonight. I’ll wait for you outside the north entrance.”

I can’t, says my mind.

But my heart speaks for me instead. “Okay, I will.”

I watch from the tangled sheets as Griffin fixes his clothes and leaves with a longing glance back at me over his shoulder—and I ignore the sense of impending doom in my belly.