“You…” But I can’t bring myself to finish that protest, not that it would stop him, the way his eyes still keep their hold on me.
I lie there helpless—still with my damn hands up to the sides of me!—as he drags them down my legs and flings them into the air. Although this is hardly the first he’s seen of me naked, I’ve never been so…exposed. I ache to close my legs, if only to cool the heat that has rushed to my face as Enrique gets a front-row view to everything I’ve had to keep hidden from every other man.
Even handcuffed naked to the boat as he waved a gun, I didn’t feel so vulnerable—and in danger. I know what’s coming, and this is my last chance to stop it, put an end to this madness. This sin!
His mouth seals my fate. The same tongue that danced around the cross at my neck now flicks against my clit. I’m not sure if it’s that connection or the intense feeling of it that has my body jolting almost into a perfect arc.
Enrique doesn’t so much as pause. That tongue signals my loss of virtue a hundred different ways as it flicks and circles and caresses and teases. His lips surround the entire head to draw it out even more sending these sensations from zero to sixty.
I’m no longer frozen in place. My body is far too heated for that. Now that the floodgates are open, I happily wallow in the pleasure that rushes over me. My hands come down, fingers sinking into that thick hair of his, still damp at the roots. That seems to spur both of us on, him pressing in closer, me bucking my hips up writhe across his face.
“Yes…oh God, yes!”
The first orgasm doesn’t even ride in on a wave, it just takes over, like lighting striking out of thin air. It leaves me sizzling with electricity from my brain, which is practically fried to insanity to my toes, which curl with pleasure.
How could this be a sin?
The Bible doesn’t even mention it.
I giggle like a maniac, imaging how this little act of depravity could be jammed into one of the passages. Maybe it’s a borderline sin—a gateway drug to the real thing.
Enrique’s fingers give me another hit of pure delight. This time when he sinks into me, it’s not as painful, especially considering how easily they glide in. I must be soaking wet. The hint of pain only enlivens that erotic swell somewhere deep inside, sending me to the brink.
Talk about temptation.
If Enrique whipped off his pants and unceremoniously plunged into me, I doubt I would even protest. I doubt I could even protest. He’s just so damn good. And bad.
I’m so dizzy with what’s happening to me, more importantly, how my body reacts. I have no idea how long we’ve gone, nor how many orgasms I’ve had before my body finally protests, needing me to come up for air.
Enrique continues just a bit longer before he finally releases me. I scramble away like a crab, escaping him before he can find an inventive way to torture me, yet again. I tug my shirt down to give myself at least some modicum of decency.
“Too late now…Sister,” Enrique says with a taunting smirk, licking his lips as though to show me exhibit A of my fall from grace.
“You—we shouldn’t have done that.” Once again, the protest in my voice is about as strong as tepid water with three measly grounds of coffee in it.
Which is probably why he laughs. It comes to an abrupt stop, and he once again bores into me with a hard gaze, through lashes so thick and lush it’s almost obscene. “Why not?”
“Because…”
“It’s a sin?”
Once again, I’m questioning that myself. Is it?
Then, I think about what the opinion would be of all the people involved in my life.
Father Pascal back in Los Angeles? Probably.
Mother Agnes? Certainly.
Dad? Without a doubt.
But what about me? This tiny bit of freedom—as ironic as it is, considering the circumstances—has made me question so many things.
Including my faith.
Obviously, I still believe in God but…
How can something so enjoyable be so terrible? I can’t even get pregnant that way. My eyes inadvertently fall to the fly of Enrique’s jeans, thinking of yet another way I couldn’t get pregnant. The images of him standing on the boat, completely naked, then later inside the boat when he was erect invade my head. My mouth waters, wondering if giving is as exciting as getting.
Good grief!
Maybe this is why immoral thoughts are a sin. It’s all-consuming. A person could easily forget themselves thinking of all the ways to pleasure the flesh.
“I’m tired,” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head free of those thoughts. The heady daze the sangria had me in has evaporated under the flames of excitement that took over my body. Now, I just feel the beginnings of a dull headache.
“You’re right. We need sleep. You take the first round. One hour, while I keep watch.”
I nod and rise from the couch. I’d love to take a shower first, but right now, prioritizing our time seems important.
Which is a joke, considering what we just did.
Once again, I push that thought aside in favor of the bed that is seriously calling to me. I grab my underwear from the floor and wriggle back into them. I don’t bother looking back at Enrique as I enter the bedroom. I don’t need his dark, taunting gaze invading my dreams. As soon as I fall into the bed, my head sinking into the soft pillows, it takes me no time to fall asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three Enrique
Some people sleep like angels.
Leira is not one of them.
I smirk as I stare down at her, face smashed against the pillow turning it into some grotesque configuration. Her full lips are open into a lopsided O. Her nose flares a little with each soft snore. Now that those beautiful brown eyes are closed, I’m
