Page 26 of Holly Jolly Heresy
Her amber eyes gleamed at him in anticipation and, for the first time in months, he wanted to pray. Not to confess or ask for forgiveness, though Lord knew he needed both, but a prayer of gratitude that this woman had crossed his path, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, that he got to be the man to see her like this. He tightened his hold on her hair, tugging gently, and her pupils widened, darkened, naked hunger dancing across her face. How could he ask for forgiveness when he wasn’t even a little bit sorry?
“Say it again,” he commanded.
She licked her lips, eyes dancing between his. “Don’t stop, Father.”
Caleb crashed his mouth against hers, kissing the name off her lips as though he could taste the broken vow if he kissed her hard enough. It tasted sweeter than his twenty-five years of self-restraint ever could have imagined. She licked into his mouth, urging him closer with her hands in his hair. Desperate and deep, like she’d devour him if he didn’t devour her first.
Had kissing always been like this? No, it couldn’t have been, or he’d never have been able to go so long without it. This wasn’t just kissing—it was like breathing, like drowning. How had he not known it could be like this?
And how could he ever be expected to give it up again now that he knew?
His hands tightened in her hair and he slid his thigh between her legs, just as he’d done the night before. A damp heat soaked through the fabric where she moved against the hard muscle of his thigh and his cock kicked behind the placket of his pants at the idea of sinking into that heat. Panting, he pulled away, slamming his hand into the wall beside her head, and used his other hand to undo the belt of her robe. Despite his shaking hand, the robe fell open easily.
“Ms. Proulx, where is your underwear?” He heard the darkness in his tone, but it only seemed to spur her on. He wrapped a hand around her hip and guided her movements, urging her to grind against him harder, all the while transfixed by the sight of her riding his thigh. “You’ve been down here all morning with a bare pussy.”
She gasped at his use of the filthy word, her eyes going liquid, and he wondered what else he could say to put that glazed look of impending pleasure on her face.
“You like when I say dirty things to you, angel?”
“Yes,” she panted, steadying herself with hands planted on his shoulders.
“You’re so wet already. You’re soaking me, Molly.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Did you want me to apologize for that?”
“Don’t you dare.” He slid his hand down over the curve of her belly and gripped the top of her thigh, his thumb brushing the short curls covering her mound. With his free hand, he pushed the robe off her shoulders, the terrycloth pooling at their feet. Her breasts moved in mesmerizing ways as she rode his thigh, her dusky pink nipples pulled into tight, puckered points. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, trailing his fingers along the outer edge of her breast. He curled his hand around her ribcage, using his hold to raise the full curve as he bent to brush his lips over her nipple.
“Caleb,” she groaned.
She dug her fingernails into his bicep and he lifted his thigh a fraction of an inch higher. The little moan she loosed in response was like a fist closing around his throat. Dangerous. A warning. And yet he wanted more.
“Do you think you can come like this, with nothing but my thigh between yours?”
“I don’t know,” she half sobbed, grinding against him harder in her search for release.
He bit down gently on her nipple and she sucked in a shocked breath, her hips moving faster. “I think you can.” A flick of his tongue to soothe the bite. “Have faith.”
She half laughed at his teasing reproach, but the sound dissolved into another moan. “I need…” She broke off on a frustrated sound.
“I know.” He pressed back against her movements, urging her on with the hand gripping her thigh. “Come for me like this. Let me watch your pretty pussy soak my thigh, and then I’ll give you what you need, angel.”
Her eyes fell closed as her orgasm hit, and he wasn’t sure where to look first. His eyes darted from the contraction of herstomach muscles to the tempting quiver of her thighs, from the wetness spreading over the fabric of his slacks to the hypnotic bounce of her full breasts, from the pure bliss on her face to lips parted as if surprised by her own pleasure. He dropped her breast and threaded his fingers through her own, pressing their hands against the wall above her head as he kissed her, drinking the little gasps from her lips.
With each quiver, each moan, each half-moon sting of her fingernails on his bicep, he knew he was ruined. As her frenzy subsided, he lowered his leg, moving it from between her thighs despite the sound of protest bubbling up from her throat. He chuckled, delighted by her open desire even as he was undone by it.
She opened her eyes, bright, liquid heat focused on him as she loosened her grip on his arm and dragged her hand down his chest. She hooked a finger through the belt loop at his waist and tugged gently.
Her intention was clear, but he couldn’t take off his pants now. If she touched him now, with that look in her eyes and the proof of her pleasure coating his thigh, he’d embarrass himself. He needed a minute to collect himself, and even then… It had been more than two decades since he’d been with a woman. He was likely to come too quickly. But not yet. He wasn’t ready for this to be over yet.
Caleb tilted his chin towards the rug in front of the fireplace. “Lie down.”
She seemed to want to protest, but at the last minute changed her mind. He watched as she moved to the rug, all soft skin and plush curves, each step making her thighs jiggle, her belly, her breasts, like her body had been designed to draw his attention even in something as simple as walking. She lay back on the rug, propping herself up on her elbows but keeping her knees closed,hiding the most intimate part of herself from him. And that wouldn’t do.
The glow of the flames in the fireplace licked across her creamy skin, pink and golden light dancing along her silhouette, beckoning him closer. He dropped to his knees in front of her and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, shedding the clerical black while he held her gaze. She only broke eye contact once, when his shirt fell from his shoulders and she made a slow perusal of his naked chest, heat sparking behind her eyes. He pressed the heel of his hand against his aching cock through his pants, determined to stave off his own need as long as possible, but when she looked at him like that, something primal roared to life beneath his skin, demanding he fuck her now, claim her, make her his.
“You have to stop looking at me like that.”
Her lips quirked up at the corner and she arched her eyebrow. “How am I looking at you?”
