I walk over to the door to the side room and close and lock it. I don’t know what I’m feeling—or I do, but it’s too much of everything to keep hold of at once. I should stop this, it’s going to hurt us both even more, I should be the older one and the wiser one and put her down.
I don’t want to put her down.
I don’t want to stop.
If this is my last taste of her, I’ll take it, weeping all the while.
“Does this little nun need to be fucked?” I growl into her ear as I pin her against the wall. “Is that pretty pussy feeling empty already?”
Her head rolls back as I nip softly at her neck—careful not to leave marks she’d have to explain away later—but hard enough to make her gasp and shudder. Under the skirt of her wedding dress, my hand finds the crotch of her panties and moves it aside, plunging two fingers into her split. She’s wet, so fucking wet, and so fucking soft, and suddenly I have to eat her, I have to have her on my tongue.
I let her legs slide away from my hips and I set her on the floor. Her whimper of dismay when my fingers leave her cunt is replaced by a jagged inhale as I reach for the hem of her skirt. With my other hand, I take her wrist and press her palm to her mouth, giving her a stern look. “Quiet, darling. You don’t want everyone to know that you’re in here getting fucked in your pretty dress, do you?”
She shakes her head, eyes wide, hand clapped tight over her mouth.
Which is a good thing, because the moment I get to my knees in front of her, a low belly moan of anticipation comes from around her hand. A moan I feel all the way to the tip of my cock.
My tongue runs along the rim of my lower lip as I push up the skirt of her dress and ease off her plain white panties. I need to taste. Need to lick. Need to suck.
Then she’s bared to me, that precious part of her. The neat nest of dark curls, the ripe bud of her clit peeping out from under the vulnerable hood. And when I open her up to me with my thumbs, I see the soft petals I love so much unfurling to reveal her slick, tight secrets.
“You weren’t feeling good, were you?” I murmur, rubbing thoughtfully at her clit. “Put your leg over my shoulder, sweetheart. Sean’s going to make you feel all better now.”
A noise comes out from under her palm—a noise that sounds a lot like oh God oh God—but she slides her leg over my shoulder anyway, allowing me access to the heart of her. I press my nose into her curls and breathe in deep, trying to memorize the sour-sweet-earth of her scent. I try to memorize everything—that first blooming taste of her on my tongue, her hips tilting and searching for my mouth, the jerk and quiver of her breathing as I begin eating her in earnest.
Everything is so soft. So soft. Like she might melt right onto my tongue, and I do my very level best to make her melt, I do. I suckle her clit and lick it, I swirl at her entrance and spear her opening with my tongue. I slowly introduce fingers and thumbs. I growl in appreciation as her hands lace through my hair and yank me closer; I moan and reach down to squeeze my cock as she starts fucking herself against my face because I’m going to come, I’m going to come just like this if I don’t suffocate my cock for a second.
Okay, maybe more like a minute.
And all the while, she’s fucking my face like it’s the last time she’ll ever have a face to fuck her pussy against—which it is.
“Sean,” she breathes around her finger. “Oh, fuck. Sean.”
She comes beautifully. Magnificently. A writhing, wet, gasping, happy little nun.
I wait for her to come down, nursing her through the peaks and valleys until her body goes completely soft and pliant under my lips, and then I stand up, wiping at my mouth with my arm. Her eyes blaze as they follow my movement, locking in on the sight of my wet lips. I curve them in a smirk.
“Did you like that?” I ask, leaning in close and circling the tip of my nose around hers. “Did you like having that poor pussy taken care of?”
“Yes,” she sighs happily. “Oh, yes. Please—” she pulls at my shirt, trying to chase me for a kiss, and I tease her by not granting it, moving my head whenever she moves so she can’t quite reach my lips. “Sean, please, I need you.”
For that, I let her kiss me, let her lick curiously at her own taste and clean it from my lips. “Say you love me,” I mumble against her mouth. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” she gasps out—gasping because before she can finish, I’m lifting her back up against the wall, my other hand fishing out my cock. Hearing her say it makes me crazed and tame all at once, feral and serene. I could listen to her say it for the rest of my life, I could survive just on the sound of those words alone, I could—
Wait.
Shit.
“I don’t have a condom, baby. I’m sorry.” I start to set Zenny down, and she clings to me.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads. “We’ve already been bare together before, so what does it matter?”
“Being bare inside your cunt carries a different set of problems.”
“I’m on birth control,” she argues.
“I’m not going to risk your future over this,” I tell her firmly. Between the teeth of my zipper, my cock gives a protesting throb. I ignore it. “You’re worth more than that. You’re worth everything.”
“Sean Bell,” she says, and her voice is sharp suddenly, not a little bit stern. I meet her eyes. “If I’m worth everything, then I’m worth listening to. I’m comfortable with the risks.”
“Fuck, Zenny. God knows I want to pin you flat to the wall and fuck you until neither us remember our names.” I’m shaking again, still holding her tight in my arms, and when she moves to hike herself more comfortably, the head of my cock drags through her wet center. I suck in a wounded breath through my teeth, my head falling onto her shoulder.
She bites my earlobe. “I want you,” she says. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
I pull away so I can search her face. Her eyes are warm and urgent, her mouth drawn into a pout of tormented need.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I can’t resist her; I can’t resist giving her anything she wants, ever.
“Honest girl thing?” I ask, needing to be sure.
“Honest girl thing.”
I notch the naked head of me into her cunt and meet her gaze. “Kiss me,” I beg. “Kiss me while you let me inside you.”
She kisses me with the eagerness of a schoolgirl, her mouth open and her tongue seeking, and for a minute we are poised just on the edge of sin, our tongues meeting and mating and my penis only just breaching her. “You make me come apart,” she says against my mouth. “You make me more like myself.”
And that does it for me. I’m gone with loving her, gone with this tumbling, heedless fall with her.
I thrust inside.
There’s nothing between us.
Nothing at all, except for God and broken promises and two grasping, reaching hearts.
My teeth sink into the delicate slope between neck and shoulder, and she moans low and pleased. “I can feel you,” she says in some wonder. “I can feel your skin. Your heat.”
My knees are close to buckling as I work my way into her belly; static and sparks flash across my eyes; I’m airless, airless, taut as a bowstring and perishing right here in front of God, with His nun pinned up against the wall and my pants down around my hips.