And yank her into a searing, burning kiss.
Chapter 6
The moment her lips touch mine, I’m lost. To myself, to her, to any memory of what is right or true or necessary.
Ecstasy. That’s what it’s called when saints experience spiritual euphoria, and I’m no saint, that’s for fucking sure, but this…this is ecstasy. The small whimper she makes when I slide my hand to the small of her back and jerk our bodies close together. The hesitant flicker of her tongue against my lips. The clean, sweet taste of her, the rose smell of her skin, the satin submission of her soft mouth under mine.
The trusting way her hands lace and hang around my neck.
And the tiny noise she lets out as I make her mouth fully mine—her tongue, her teeth, her lips—I hold nothing back. I turn so she’s the one backed against the stove, and I cage her in everywhere—my arms, my feet on either side of her feet—and I give in to every dirty urge pounding through me. I press my cock against her, my hands find her ass under the cheap fabric of her jumper, and I bite her lower lip until she moans. I keep it trapped between my teeth as I pick her up and deposit her on the counter next to the stove, and she parts her legs for me to step between as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
The moment our bodies touch again, the moment the wide ridge of my erection brushes against the place between her legs, she lets out a gasp so sweetly surprised, so endearingly amazed, that I have to fist my hands in the skirt of her jumper to avoid doing something truly filthy, like playing with the edge of her panties. Like sliding my fingers under the elastic and finding out for myself if she’s shaved smooth or fuzzed with hair, if she’s wet and slick, if her clit is big and needy for rubs and kisses.
And then she grabs the lapels of my suit jacket and rocks her hips against me, seeking out the pleasurable friction again. And again. And again.
“Zenny,” I mumble against her lips, some valiant part of me recognizing that this is far, far beyond the kiss she asked for, and also recognizing that I’m going to come all over the inside of my Hugo Boss suit pants if she keeps it up. Even through the clothes, I can feel her heat, her shameless rolls hinting at where she goes soft and wet between her legs.
Fuck, I want to see it. I want to see her pussy. It’s suddenly all I can think about, all I can want or crave, just one glimpse, just a peek.
“I want to see your cunt,” I say hoarsely, lifting my head.
“My…cunt?” She says the word like she’s never said it out loud before.
“Yeah.” My voice is so ragged right now, so desperate, and fuck, I’ve never felt this frantic before. Like I’ll actually combust if I don’t get this one thing, this one small sight of her secret place.
She lets out a shaky breath, her hand dropping from my lapel to her skirt, which she slowly rucks up to her waist as I devour her lips once more, as I bury my face in her neck and kiss every sliver of skin exposed above her collar. I bite at her ear, at her jaw, my hand finding hers as it pulls her skirt up, so that I’m helping her do it, that we’re doing it together, this forbidden act, this forbidden revelation.
Her forbidden body.
That word, forbidden, spikes through my mind, bringing with it equal spikes of lust and fear. Because yes, it’s fucking hot that I shouldn’t be kissing her, I shouldn’t be begging to see her most secret place, my hand shouldn’t be covering hers as it slides up her thigh—but it’s also bad. Bad even for Sean Bell.
Bad, bad, bad.
Elijah’s disappointed face flashes through my thoughts, and I break our embrace, stumbling back a step. Zenny freezes, her mouth still wet and open from our kiss and her hand full of skirt fabric, hovering at the middle of her thigh. The long expanse of silky, dark leg gleams in the sunlight, and before she drops her skirt, I see a flash of snow-white cotton between her legs.
I swallow down a noise. I routinely fuck women who wear La Perla or Agent Provocateur, but somehow the sight of those simple cotton panties have my cock flaring and leaking all over the inside of my pants. I have to turn away from her to get a fucking grip on myself.
“Sean…?” she asks hesitantly, and when I turn back to her, there’s real worry on her face, worry that’s quickly turning into embarrassment.
What the fuck have I done?
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m so fucking sorry. I got—I have to go.”
And I leave as quickly as I can, forcing myself not to look back at the thoroughly kissed nun still perched on the counter.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I kissed Elijah’s baby sister. The one who’s a nun—sorry, postulant—the one with the parents that my parents still refuse to speak with. The one who is currently causing my firm a giant PR headache, and to cap it off, I didn’t even manage to talk to her about the deal at all.
Not even once.
Valdman’s going to be pissed.
And Elijah’s going to be pissed.
And now probably Zenny is going to be pissed too, and with good fucking reason.
What is wrong with me? Sean Bell doesn’t do shit like this! He gets what he wants, he fucks whom he wants, and then he lives like he wants—no guilt, no ties, all the success in the world.
I run an agitated hand through my hair as I throw open the door to the Audi and get inside. I’ve barely even got the car started before my phone lights up.
Elijah.
Fuck. Okay. You know what? This is good, actually. This is fine. There’s no need to be scared; Sean Bell doesn’t get scared.
“Hey, man,” I say as I answer the phone. “What’s up?”
“What’s up with you?” Elijah asks dryly. “You’re the one who called.”
“Right,” I say.
Right.
“So, um…” I pull the car off the curb and into the street, trying to order my thoughts and trying to ignore the way my still-straining cock chafes against my zipper. “Your sister. Zenobia.”
“Did you see her last night? I brought her with me to the thing—I meant to have you come over and say hi to her. I don’t think you’ve seen each other in a while.”
I resist the urge to bash my head against the steering wheel. “Yep. It’s been a while. And I saw her.”
And nearly kissed her. And then I did kiss her today and almost made her flash her pussy to me while another nun was down the hall.
“Good, I’m glad you got to see her.” Elijah does sound genuinely happy, and an unfamiliar feeling of guilt crawls through me.
“Yeah, so…she’s a nun now?”
“She’s wanted to be a nun since she was a teenager. I never talked to you about this?”
“Sure didn’t,” I reply, navigating the car back to the firm. “Has it been hard with…you know? Your parents? And them wanting grandchildren and stuff?”
“Jumping right past the small talk today, I see,” Elijah says, amused. “Yes, it’s been hard, but it’s fine now. At some point they have to understand Zenny and me are allowed our own lives. We probably should have made it easier on them by rebelling in high school instead of waiting until after we graduated, but there you are. Why are we talking about this again?”