Lessons in Sin

“My boobs are, uh…” She stared down at her chest and laughed at herself, her eyes dancing with mirth. “There’s a committee for what they are.”

“They’re elegant.” I rested my palms on her ribs, just beneath her perky little tits. “Beautifully proportioned.” Heat rushed to my groin as I swept my thumbs over flawless skin and dainty nipples. “Soft as satin, tipped with immaculate beauty.”

“Magnus.” Her breath shivered.

The tiny buds hardened beneath my touch, stiffening my cock.

God, forgive me.

I lowered to my knees and caressed my lips along the divine shape of her figure. She was a fantasy of flexible limbs and graceful curves. Angelic. Malleable. Slender shoulders. Narrow hips. Porcelain complexion. Not a freckle or blemish to be found.

While I learned her body, her hands traveled north along the back of my neck, exploring, teasing.

“I’ve wanted to feel your hair for so long.” She tangled her fingers in the strands.

Her flat stomach quivered beneath my mouth as I nipped and licked lower, lower, my pants growing tighter, tighter.

She shouldn’t be here. I needed to stop, but my hands and lips kept moving until I arrived at the ultimate forbidden destination.

The apex of her legs, the golden hairs neatly trimmed, the scent of her painfully enticing, crippling, robbing my brain cells. I raked my fingers through the soft curls and edged toward her clit.

She gasped, held still. Then she canted her hips into my touch, seeking friction, demanding. Sexy. So damn naughty.

I snatched my hand away, letting her know it wasn’t her decision.

Her pouty bottom lip pushed out. A gleam lit her eyes. Then she slid her fingers down her abs and sank them between her legs.

My cock ached to be where her hand was, encased in her heat, submerged in her wetness. I gripped her arm and moved it to her side.

“Do you masturbate?” She started to reach for her pussy again. “Are you allowed?”

I knocked her hand away. “Masturbation is forbidden for all Catholics.”

“For me, too?”

“You’re Catholic now, Miss Constantine, so no more touching yourself. Lust of the flesh is a worldly sin.”

“Oh, really? Then you should change the name of the school. Instead of Sion Academy of the Sacred Heart, it should be Sion Academy of the Dry Vaginas and Flaccid Penises. I mean, come on. No masturbating?” A laugh burst from her lips. “You can fuck right off with that.”

“I do.” I hid my smile.

“Wait. So you…?” She tilted her head, looking too gorgeous and tempting to be resisted. “You do touch yourself?”

Every day.

Over the past three months, I’d become a chronic, just-one-more, oh-fuck-I-need-her masturbator.

“Yes.” I leaned back and reached for the tampon on the vanity to occupy my hands. “In matters of lust, I’m not a tedious model of priesthood.”

“Sinner.” She grinned.

She was perfect, like no other woman. It didn’t matter that she didn’t fit the female construct I’d pursued in my youth. Maybe that was what made her so incredibly appealing. I’d never been with anyone like her, and unbeknown to me, I’d been waiting forty years for her. She was made for me. Intelligently, impeccably designed. For me alone.

Mine.

And here were those feelings again.

This predatory, possessive, kill-anyone-who-touches-her state of my mind was foreign and unsettling. But there was no denying it. Tonight, I’d been a twitch away from smashing Tucker Kensington’s skull. I didn’t trust that kid, and I sure as hell didn’t trust him around her.

“Give me the tampon before I make another mess.” She held out her hand.

“Widen your stance.”

“Uh-uh. Nope.” Her fingers went to her thighs, tapping nervously.

The stiff pose framed her arms around her upturned breasts, her taut nipples hard, pink, and… God, give me strength.

Resisting my body’s demand to kiss her tits, to suck and bite the sensitive peaks, was the worst kind of hell.

Needing a distraction, I unwrapped the tampon and examined the applicator.

“Have you ever used one of those?” she asked wryly.

“No. Looks simple enough.”

“Let me do it.”

“No.” I inched closer on my knees and met her eyes. “Widen your stance.”

She glanced down, trying to see between her legs. “I might already be leaking.”

My cock twitched. The only one leaking was me. Thank God my pants were black. Otherwise, I’d have a very visible wet spot.

I bowed my head and kissed her abdomen. I kissed and licked until she shuddered and gripped my shoulders. Then she slid her feet apart.

“Good girl.” I skimmed my fingers along her delicate, velvety slit, over and over, slipping deeper into the damp crease with each pass. “Tell me everything that’s breached this hole.”

“Um…” Her hands curled into trembling fists on my shoulders. “Toys, fingers—”

“Whose fingers?” I sank my own, just the tips, groaning at her tightness.

“Mine. And a few others. Guys I don’t remember.”

Jealousy flared, unreasonable and unnecessary. Those boys would never touch her again.

“No tongues?” I asked. “No dicks?”

“No. Just toys, fingers, and…that.” She gulped as I pressed the applicator inside her. Her hand shot out, finding a nearby shelf. “Holy fuck, Magnus. You’re ruining me for all other tampons.”