Lessons in Sin

My mouth had been sucked, bitten, and licked by dozens of guys. But what I experienced last night with Magnus? That was my first kiss. A real, toe-curling, heart-aching, ruin-me-for-all-others kiss.

“Magnus,” I whispered past a dry throat and picked up my pace, reaching for the door. “We’re not doing this.”

“How does your ass feel?”

Those words coming from that mouth shouldn’t be allowed.

Technically, it wasn’t allowed by the church. But Magnus didn’t have a problem with language as long as it wasn’t used in a disrespectful manner.

“Not answering that.” I gripped the door handle.

The staccato of his footfalls spiked my pulse. I opened the door, staggering back to widen it. An escape that didn’t happen because he was already there, an arm locked around my waist, pulling me back, and a palm against the door, shutting it.

“Think through this.” I slammed my eyes closed at the solid heat of his chest against my back.

“I do.” He skimmed a hand down my arm. “Every time I see you and every second you’re not in my sight.” His fingers molded around my hips, yanking me tight to his groin. “I never stop thinking through this.”

If I reached back, I would touch him. Touch him and explore him and participate in this fleeting fantasy. A dangerous fantasy that wouldn’t end well. Not for him.

Somewhere between a painful spanking and a pleasurable kiss, I’d come to care about what happened to Father Magnus Falke. I didn’t want to be the reason for his fall from grace. But if he continued down this path with me, I wasn’t sure I would be able to resist him.

Against my back, his chest shuddered with a heated breath. Then his fingers, the featherlight pads, ghosted along the backs of my thighs where the hem of my skirt met bare skin.

Against my better judgment, I angled my neck to steal a glimpse over my shoulder.

Good God in heaven, he was an erotic vision. A lock of brown hair hung over his brow, his sensual eyes half-shut, hunger glinting in the blue, all signs of holiness out the door.

His touch was barely a caress. But as those fingers circled my thighs from behind and glided up the valley between, each point of contact was a flickering flame that burned so hot it scorched.

A throaty groan fell from his lips, so delicious and wicked I felt it between my legs.

He dropped to his haunches behind me.

Oh God. I pressed my hands against the door, prepared to hold it shut if someone tried to enter. I could lock it. Just reach down and turn the lock. But that would be an unmistakable invitation to whatever this was.

I wouldn’t encourage him. At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to object.

Until he reached beneath my skirt and fisted the fragile lace of my underwear.

My hand flew back and gripped his muscled forearm. “Do not, for the love of Kiki De Montparnasse, rip those.”

“Kiki De what?”

“They’re three-hundred-dollar panties. My brother bought them for me and—No, wait. That sounds…” I made a face, rapidly shaking my head. “Ew! My brother’s girlfriend got them. He probably didn’t know they were in the bag. Just don’t tear them.”

“I won’t.”

“I see it in your eyes.”

“What do you see?” Without taking his gaze off my face, he tucked my skirt up in the waistband, pulled the lace underwear upward like a thong, and exposed my welted cheeks to the air.

“That evil look on your face.” My breath quickened. “It makes a liar out of the collar at your throat.”

He ducked his head and sank his teeth into the flesh of my buttocks.

“Fuck!” I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

He bit me again, scraping vicious fangs along my abused skin. I rose on my toes, seeking reprieve, but at no time did I push him away or say no. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

With my underwear gathered along my crack, he had full access to my welts. I glued the front of my body to the door and endured the intensity of his mouth as he nipped, sucked, bit, and licked my wounds.

The licking was more than I could bear as his hot, wet, sacrilegious tongue learned every inch of my flesh from hip to thigh. When he wandered beneath the lace that lay between my cheeks, I clenched, whimpering. He didn’t press.

Instead, he slid the blade of his nose down my crevice, his breaths heating my skin as he crept lower, lower, and Mother of Fuck.

“What are you doing?” I trembled, heart racing.

He inhaled. Deeply.

Smelling me.

With his hands gripping my thighs and his nose buried between my legs, he was fucking smelling me through the crotch of my panties.

I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve done anything except stand here and throb and grow ridiculously, shamelessly wet.

It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.