“My lamb likes the pain.” He twists my nipples, sending desire ricocheting through me.
I gasp, and he grips my hips, dragging me up his body until I’m on top of his face. When he licks me, I grip the headboard, unrestrained need spilling out of me in a moan.
He slaps my ass and buries his face between my legs, his dark stubble rubbing against my sensitive skin as his tongue tours every secret spot I have. Another slap on my ass and I’m moving my hips to his rhythm. When I try to let up on him, fearing he can’t breathe, he hits my ass harder and yanks me down.
“Adam!” I can’t breathe when he goes after my clit, his tongue wicked and perfect and too much but not yet enough.
I grind on him recklessly, letting my hips tell me what to do. Each surge sends pulsing heat between my thighs. When they begin to shake, he slaps my ass again, hard. I thought I had time. I don’t. The pain crosses with the pleasure, and I fall into it, my orgasm shaking me as the waves roll and roll and roll until I can finally take a breath. My hips still, my body languid, and my mind buzzing, I sit back toward his chest.
He grabs me and throws me down, then nestles between my legs. “Fuck.” He stares at my bare, wet pussy and reaches down to unbuckle his belt.
We aren’t supposed to be doing this, and I shouldn’t want it. Shouldn’t want him. But when he frees his cock from his pants, I lift my hips, needing to feel his skin.
“Don’t.” His low voice, barely scratching through his throat, carries more tension than a high wire.
He sits back, the pulse in his neck rapid-firing as he surveys my body, then holds my gaze. “Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. If you do, I’ll fuck you. I’ll have to fuck you or I’ll lose my goddamn mind. But I can’t.” He strokes himself slowly.
I stare down at it, the smooth head, the way his hand wraps around the thick shaft.
“Fuck, little lamb. I can feel your eyes on it.”
In that moment, I want him inside me. I want to feel him surging so deep that I can’t think of anything except him.
He strokes faster, his fingertips playing along the bottom of his length, while he balances on his other fist. “I’m going to coat you in me.”
I spread my legs wider, and he groans. “Don’t fucking move!”
He strokes a few more times, then lets out a low grunt. Hot come splashes against my bare flesh, and he empties himself on me, his low noises sending sizzles of heat burning through me.
When he sits back, I look down at the aftermath, the obscene, erotic view of his mark on my innocent skin. He can’t seem to look away either. We both come down, our breaths slowing, our hearts thumping instead of racing.
He leans over and uses my dress to wipe me clean, and then himself. Zipping up, he rises from the bed and fastens his belt.
“You’re going?” I can’t process my feelings. The hunger, the exhaustion, the fear—all of it has screwed my judgment.
“Have to.” He turns his back and strides away. “See you at the Prophet’s audience.”
When the door slams, I turn over on my side and curl into a ball. What am I doing? That question echoes back and forth across my mind.
Even when there’s a knock at my door telling me it’s time to see the Prophet, the question still has no answer.
Chapter 28
Adam
I took it too far this afternoon. It was too close. I was too close to the point of no return. But fuck, I was strung out from two days straight of bullshit, no sleep, and no end in sight.
Noah joins me at the entrance to the Temple. He looks almost as bad as I do, the golden boy glow faded, his clothes rumpled, and his eyes bloodshot. “I really don’t want to sit through this shit right now.” He unbuttons his shirt as we walk.
“Skipping isn’t an option.” I wish it was. Watching my father lord over his crop of Maidens isn’t at the top of my ‘for shits and giggles’ list. Then again, I want to see what he does to Delilah so I can cover over every touch from him with one of my own. If I could have left my seed all over her virgin cunt, I would have. It would be perfect to see the look on my father’s face when he realized what I’d done. But that would have resulted in discipline for both Delilah and me. I can take as many lashes as my father can toss at me, but Delilah doesn’t deserve punishment, especially if it meant she’d be sent to the Rectory.