His Forbidden Obsession

Ten minutes later, I’m in a dream.

I’m standing in a green glen watching Mercy dance in the moonlight.

As soon as we arrived, she kicked off her shoes and removed her habit, tossing them onto the ground. With her hair in auburn waves around her shoulders, she spins in happy circles and catapults my doomed heart into my throat.

Permanently.

Dear Lord, I don’t just love Mercy, I’m obsessed with her.

I’m infatuated with every nose wrinkle, every giggle, every sigh.

I try not to let it show on my face, lest it scare her away, but it takes an effort when all I want to do is cast her down to the ground and count her freckles, memorize her every expression, kiss her until she thinks of nothing but me.

“Oh, it feels wonderful to be outside,” she breathes, flitting around me in a circle. “Before my father left me at the convent, I used to go swimming at a pond near my house. I would stick my feet down deep in the mud and wiggle my toes. It was the most incredible feeling.”

“That all changed when you arrived at the convent?”

“At first they tried to keep me indoors and focused on my studies, but I had a penchant for playing pranks and they quickly started kicking me out in the daytime.”

“You were a prankster,” I drawl. “Somehow I have no problem seeing that.”

She stops moving long enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “Very impolite of you to say, sir.” Her lips tug at the corner. “I used to put frogs in Mother Superior’s bed. Big, nasty ones.”

Imagining a little auburn-haired imp running around the convent and making mischief tugs at my chest. “Did she punish you?”

“Hmm. Not really,” Mercy says, sounding surprised. “She’d say, you’ll serve your purpose one of these days, child. I always wonder what she meant by that.”

I’m pretty goddamn curious myself. My sixth sense is buzzing and as soon as the sun comes up tomorrow, I’m going to question Mother Superior myself. “Do they always keep you locked indoors?”

“Only when there are men around.”

I process that. “Why do you think it was so important to your father that the nuns keep you innocent of men?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I was so young I can’t recall the conversation between him and Mother Superior. All I remember is my father patting me on the head and leaving.”

In other words, not the kind of affection a man would show the daughter he was so concerned about protecting. “Come here, angel baby.” After a momentary hesitation, Mercy closes the distance between us. I guide us down to the ground and settle her in my lap. “If you want me to find him, I will scour the earth, Mercy.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” She leans her cheek against my shoulder and looks up at me. “I don’t know if I’d want that anymore. I mean, he would have come back if he was able. I’d rather pretend he’s out there somewhere happy, instead of knowing he was felled by the rebels. Or worse. He just didn’t want a daughter.”

I trace the curve of her lips with my thumb. “Who would reject such joy?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “To know you is to hold on to you at all costs.”

“Griffin,” she whispers. “When did you learn to speak so poetically?”

“Words are easy to come by when they’re honest.” I shift our bodies and lay Mercy down in the soft grass, marveling at the way the moonlight plays over her beautiful face. I gather the hem of her robe in my hands, lifting the garment so I can kiss the insides of her naked thighs. “There’s nothing more honest than this.”

I swear to God, I’m seconds from mounting her. I’m desperate to be close to her and that innate sweetness as humanly possible. But she surprises me by sitting up and chewing on her bottom lip. “Can I see it?” she whispers, settling a hand on my belt buckle. “Please?”

She’s begging to see my cock, I realize, and the remaining blood in my brain rushes south so fast, I grit my teeth in pain. “Sure, angel baby.” I lean back and unfasten my belt and uniform pants, careful not to catch my erection in the teeth of my zipper as I lower it. When my shaft springs free, Mercy lets out an excited gasp and I almost lose my seed in the grass.

Her tits shudder up and down, her fingers stretching toward my dick, before curling into her palms. “D-does it…hurt?”

“It’s a good kind of hurt. Like when I was licking your pussy.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “Does yours like to be licked?”

I catch her chin and lift. “It’s my cock, Mercy.”

“Cock,” she whispers, trembling.

“That’s right. And fuck yes, it likes being licked.” I push my thumb into her mouth slowly. “Are you going to wrap these pretty lips around it?”