...Her hand landed square across his cheek. “How dare you assume you’ve a lesson to teach me? You watch your tongue!”
“I’d rather share it with you, but the position in my head and in my heart denies me access. I am chief religious counsel to your crown!” His hands now pinned her wrists to the cushioned back of the settee and his hard body was positioned amongst her skirt. Between her legs, which she must’ve parted to catch her balance when he’d shoved her, she felt a hard stick rub against her private folds.
“Ohh,” she said on a breath. Then, straightening, “Get off of me, or I’ll scream.”
He inched closer to her mouth.
She caught her breath, but found herself nudging closer to him all the same. “You can’t want me,” she whispered. “It isn’t decent.”
“I want you because no one has had you. I want you because I, too, deserve what I’ve existed without for the entire twenty-six years of my life.”
“I believe you’ve missed your chance then. If lying with a Carman virgin were your heart’s desire, you ought to have sought one of my sisters before this predicament began. They might’ve been willing to please you, friar, but I am not.”
“Your sisters mock me and take pleasure in relaying the dirtiest details of their escapades in my office. They’re not like you, and you know it.”
“Donovon…” She wet her lips, overcome with the struggle between giving in to the urge nagging between her legs and the impulse to do only good. You’ve never been bad. Don’t start now.
“I want you because you don’t want me,” he said.
“I want you.” The words escaped in a careless whisper. “But that’s neither here nor there.”
His lips brushed against hers. “I want you, Lady Tiffany, despite knowing better than to take you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt her arms slip from his restrictive hold. She embraced him and parted her lips. Her nipples zinged with pleasure the moment their tongues collided.
His hands traveled down her ribcage and gathered the satin of her skirt.
“I’m afraid.” Her lips grazed against his temple, as he began a descent.
“I know what I’m doing.” The silk of her panties brushed her tender parts as he pulled the scrap of fabric to the side.
A moment later, his fingers pressed at her void, and her flesh parted to accommodate their bulk. Momentary pain gave way to a pleasured sensation, which only heightened the moment his lips closed around her clitoris. With patience, he lapped at her, stroked her.
She’d masturbated a few times in the past, rubbing her fingers in a circle over her clit, but she’d never fingered herself, or used the implements Morgana had whole-heartedly suggested. The feeling of something inside her—so foreign, so amazing and wonderful—left her reeling.
He massaged her channel, as if seeking a hidden gem, and a moment later, she supposed he’d found it.
“Donovon!” she whispered. Her insides went slick, as he repetitively tapped the special locale deep within her.
With eyes pinched tightly closed now, she imagined it was his penis burrowing into her depths. Her hips nudged higher, while she, wanting more, bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Lexie had been right. How liberating sexual pleasure could be! And this wasn’t intercourse as much as experimentation and she was old enough to be married, even if she hadn’t the desire to be, and…Oh!
So worth it. Sacrifice a little chastity for…
“Oh, no,” she muttered the moment she realized what this act would lead to. “We can’t.”
“We can,” he whispered against her.
She pushed at his shoulders. “Donovon, we can’t!”
He came up for air then, looking tousled and turned on, with flushed cheeks and eyes aglow with passion’s flame...