The Mistress (The Original Sinners 4)

Laila arched her back as his touch sent a wave of pleasure through her entire body. She opened her legs a little wider, inviting more of him. He responded with a second finger.

“Too much?”

“No, I want more.”

“Greedy,” he teased, kissing her on the mouth again. He slowly moved his fingers in and out of her. She’d grown so wet she could hear her own fluid on his hand. But Wes didn’t seem to mind, didn’t seem disgusted or even amused. She’d fantasized about this night as long as she could remember and she felt nothing but gratitude she’d chosen to do this with someone who knew what he was doing.

He pushed his fingertip into a spot inside her and her vagina twitched around his hand.

God, did he know what he was doing.

He rubbed her clitoris with his thumb. Rising up on her elbows, she stared down the length of her body and watched his hand moving inside her. She’d never seen anything so erotic, so beautiful, as Wes’s fingers disappearing into her and pulling back out again, shining with her own wetness.

He took her nipple in his mouth again and sucked deep as he pushed a third finger into her. This time she felt her body’s resistance. Still she breathed through the slight pain and in a few minutes the pleasure, all of it, had come back.

His hand moved faster inside her and her hips pushed in time with his hand. She’d come whether he wanted her to or not if he kept this up. Closing her eyes she relaxed against the pillow and let the sensations wash over her. Something built inside her. It felt like a river pushing against a dam and any minute the dam would break. She wanted it to break, needed it to break.

She panted as her fingers dug into Wes’s back and the sheets. So close...almost there...

Abruptly Wes pulled his fingers out of her and covered her body with his.

“Laila?”

She opened her eyes and gazed up at him.

“Ready,” she whispered.

He reached between her legs, parted her folds with his fingers and kissed her mouth. Her last kiss as a virgin...she almost didn’t want it to end.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Never.”

With arduous slowness, Wes started to push into her. She wanted it so much, wanted to feel him filling her, but she couldn’t stop herself from flinching as her body protested against him.

Wes kissed her again, kissed her cheek, kissed her forehead, all the while barely moving inside her. She breathed because she forced herself to breathe. It burned inside her and part of her wanted to push him out of her, anything for relief from the pain. A cry of pain escaped her lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you need to stop?”

“No...don’t stop.” She wrapped her legs around his back, desperate to keep him close, keep him in her. As much as it hurt she didn’t want to let him go.

He pushed in and she inhaled sharply as she felt something tearing.

“Breathe,” he ordered as he pulled out of her.

“Wes?” She immediately felt empty the moment he left her.

“We’re not done, I promise.” He smiled down at her and wiped her hair off her forehead. When she’d entered his room she’d almost felt chilly. Now sweat covered her body and she burned from within. “But you’re in agony. I don’t like agony. Maybe this will help.”

“What will help? Anything. I don’t want to stop.”

Wes kissed her chest and her stomach. She twined her hands in his hair as his lips feathered delicately over her hips. When he pushed her legs open wide she almost stopped, but his mouth upon her silenced any protest. Carefully he spread her wide and licked her clitoris. He teased it with his tongue until she started panting again from the pleasure. He moved lower and licked her aching lips, even pushing his tongue all the way into her. Moans, deep and guttural, escaped the back of her throat. She felt wanton, beautiful, erotic, even womanly, as he opened her up with his mouth. He lavished her with his lips and tongue. Her moans turned to pleas, begging him to enter her again.

He covered her again with his body. Hooking his hands under each of her knees, he forced her legs wide open as he sat between her thighs. With short thrusts of his hips he worked himself into her again, this time with much less pain and almost no resistance. Laila reached out her arms and Wes fell into them as he pushed all the way into her. She needed to hold him, needed to touch him, needed to have as much of him as possible in her and against her and on top of her. She couldn’t quite believe it...Wes was inside her. They were joined, their two bodies moving as one. She might love him...she did love him. Even if it wasn’t forever, she did love him tonight. This was love, what they did together. Two people saving each other from a night spent alone and lonely. They brought their pain to each other and each accepted the gift. This was love, keeping watch together until dawn. This was love, not letting the people who hurt them win. This was love, taking a risk for someone else.

Whatever anyone said or thought, Laila didn’t care.

Wes was inside her because he wanted to be, needed to be. This was no sin.

This was love.

42

THE ROOK

Grace stared down at her wedding ring and smiled. How far she and Zachary had come since the day he’d slipped this ring onto her trembling hand. They’d married in fear and desperation, not knowing what else to do. She’d been barely nineteen then and pregnant with her university professor’s child. Nothing good would come of this, she’d feared. Nothing but heartache and disappointment for Zachary.