Seducing Their Nun [Unlikely Bedfellows 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jenna Stewart

  His fingers stroked her vagina’s entrance, a tantalizing tease. He presented her with the final decision—become like Emma, taking a man to her body without marriage but becoming a woman in the truest sense of the word, or go back to the convent much as she’d left it, a woman on the edge of living.

  “Please, Jordan, make love to me.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured.

  She watched him tear open a square of foil with his teeth and then slide something over his penis. Her heart hammered as he pressed into her vagina. Slowly at first, giving her time to accommodate him, he eased farther inside. She stretched her legs as far as she could so he would fit within the V her legs formed. Suddenly, he pushed firmly and a rending pain shot through her. She threw her head back on the pillow and fought passing out.

  “I’m sorry,” he said into her ear. “I’m so sorry, but it’ll be better now. I’ll make it better, I promise.” He shoved deep inside and then stopped, taking a harsh breath. “I have to move, Catherine, but that will make it good. Just try to relax.”

  He pulled his hips back and then thrust. Then he did it again. And again. And again, and now she moved with him. Tension built within, near bursting as they rose and fell against each other in concert. Their bodies slapped together. Margaret Mary was hot and then she was hotter. She wanted to crawl out of her skin and into his, sharing the fire that threatened to engulf her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her knees up high on his hips. He pounded her into the mattress, his breathing labored, his shoulder, where she kissed him, salty with sweat.

  Lightning flashed behind her closed eyelids. She took a halting breath and went still with the wonder that unfolded within her body. Who knew that such a glorious experience happened between a man and woman?

  Jordan groaned and went still, too. Moments later, he rolled to her side and pulled her with him. His chest heaved with effort, and he said nothing. Did he feel at sixes as she did? Was his heart near bursting? Or did he wish he had never taken the nun to bed? She feared more than anything that she had been a disappointment to him.

  “Thank you, Catherine, for the most momentous night of my life.”

  “You aren’t disappointed in me?”

  “Nothing could be further from my mind. Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you too badly?”

  “It hurt, but you more than made up for it. I never imagined anything like this.”

  He smiled and stroked her hair. “I never did, either.” He kissed her. “Let me go and get rid of this condom, and maybe we can catch some sleep before we do this again.”

  “Didn’t I do it right?”

  He only laughed and kissed her before saying, “You were perfect in every way. But lying here with you, I know I will want to make love with you before morning. That is, if you liked it well enough to want to do it.”

  Shy, she hid her face in his shoulder. “I liked it very much.”

  “I’m very glad. I’d hate to be the only one who thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” He kissed the top of her head and then extricated himself to go into the bathroom. When he came back and snuggled her against him, he fell asleep almost right away.

  She lay awake, thinking. About God, the Church, the betrayal of her vows? No. She thought that now she knew what life was for, what it meant to be a woman and in love. And she knew one more thing. It can’t get better than this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When he came from the bathroom and slipped back into bed, Jordan immediately feigned sleep. He was very much afraid that if they spoke, Catherine would tell him that she regretted what they had done. What he had done, to her. Jordan was certain Sister Margaret Mary would have second thoughts, but he’d hate knowing that Catherine did.

  Sure, she’d had a choice, but what kind of one? He knew what they were headed for, and should have stopped it. He’d given into weakness at every step, paying more attention to what he wanted than to what he should have done. Expecting a nun to put on the brakes when hormones were driving her forward at the speed of a freight train was like asking a child to turn down an ice cream cone. He should have been doing the thinking for both of them, and he’d failed.

  Now he waited to see if she slipped out of bed to pray or if she cried or pulled away from him when she thought he was sleeping. He hoped like hell she wouldn’t do any of those things.

  And she didn’t. She lay awake for a short while—he could tell from her breathing—and then curled up closer to him and drifted off.

  When he woke up next, his cock ached for Catherine’s pussy but she was gone. Before stumbling around in the dark, he turned onto his back and took stock. That was when he heard her.

  As quietly as possible, he rose and went to the doorway. On the other side of the bathroom was another room, a sitting room of sorts, if he remembered. The door was pulled half-closed. Peering in, he saw Catherine in a long white nightgown, on her knees before the window. Now he could distinguish her words, and they both broke his heart and filled him with joy.

  “Holy Father, I come to beg Your understanding, if not Your forgiveness. I know the bride of God is supposed to be chaste, to think only of her duty to You. But Father, I love this man. I know we have sinned by making love before marriage, but I’m not sure Jordan would want to marry me, and I’m not sure I could stand to leave the veil. For the short time that I’m here, can I not serve You simply by being happy? Would I not be doing Your will by sharing my happiness with Jordan and all others I meet? I could not bear to live without the sunlight of Your love, and I don’t want to be like my mother, Lord, but I fear I cannot give him up.” She bowed her head.

  “You are not like your mother,” he said.

  Catherine jumped to her feet and spun to face him. “Have you stood there long?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just long enough to discern that you’re happy. So am I.”

  She came to him then, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we’ll go to Hell if we continue?”

  He squeezed her to him. “I’m not a perfect man.” She raised her head and opened her mouth to speak. He quieted her with a finger to her lips. “No matter what you may think.”

  “I was going to say that none of us is perfect.”

  “Oh.” Deflated that she didn’t think him perfect after all, he mentally kicked himself in the ass. It was silly to be disappointed over something so petty when he held the most perfect woman in creation.

  “But you are closer than some,” she said and placed her head back on his shoulder.

  “Thank you for that,” he said dryly, and she chuckled. How much she had changed in the last twenty-four hours. She had blossomed like the wild meadow flowers.

  “What I was going to say was that I’m probably going to Hell for a lot of things I’ve done. If I thought I was going solely for loving you, I’d have done it anyway. Feeling my cock deep inside your pussy, every inch of me touching every inch of you, feeling you grip me when you came—” He stopped and took a breath because he couldn’t go down that path with words without following them with actions.

  “I have no idea what you just said, but it makes me want to go back to bed with you. You said we could do it again. Can we do it now?”

  In answer, he tried to keep his heart from hammering out of his chest while he swept her up and carried her across the way. When he set her back on her feet, he whisked the gown up and over her head. She placed her hands on his hips and kissed him.

  “I would marry you,” he said.

  “What?”

  “There’s no need to wonder. I would marry you, right now. I love you as you love me, and that’s the difference between you and Emma. She might have loved Brendan Tipton, but he doesn’t have the capacity to love anyone back. He kept her, but he didn’t love her. You aren’t your mother just because we do what they did.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, they didn’t do what we did. We made love. They fucked. Have you heard that word
before?”

  “No.”

  “It means they had sex, but not like we have.” Leaning back so he could see her eyes, he said, “God wouldn’t deny you the chance to experience love, Catherine, or the arms of a man.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll never lie to you.”

  She smiled, and he didn’t see a trace of regret in her eyes. Then she climbed into bed.

  He picked up another of the condoms he’d left on the nightstand and tore open the wrapper. His cock throbbed when he slid the sheath over it. Soon, he hoped she would be interested in learning what pleased him with her hands and maybe with her mouth. But for now, he’d be happy just using her pussy, feeling her soft hands on his body, and taking her cries of passion into his mouth.

  She lay with one leg spread and the other knee bent, foot flat on the bed. Because of the darkness she revealed herself, but she probably didn’t realize that his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see her breasts, firm and full, with wide nipples that screamed to be kissed. He already knew her torso to be long and supple, all muscle and soft, soft skin. Her legs were long enough to wrap around him and strong enough to help her buck against him when she came. And then there was her sweet face.

  Though not beautiful by some standards, she could serve as a model for the Old Masters. Her features were perfectly balanced. Her mouth boasted full, lush lips, and her eyes held empathy in their light-brown depths. He had never seen eyes like Catherine’s.

  But her eyes didn’t hold his attention right now. He reached out to touch her pussy. She rose up to meet his hand, practically riding his fingers. And she was wet, so wet, already. He couldn’t resist sucking her clit and tasting her cream. She held his head and pushed her hips up, asking wordlessly for more. When he finally climbed up over her, mind numb with lust, she had climaxed twice. His chin covered with her juices, he longed to kiss her deeply and give her a taste of herself, a flavor he’d already come to identify as pure Catherine.

  His dick glided into her at the same time his tongue did. She sucked it greedily, just as she rose to meet his thrusts. He took her with a hunger no other woman had inspired in him. In only a few minutes, they came together. She clung to him in the strength of her orgasm, and it was all he could do not to crush her to him as he released his body’s power. Her pussy grabbed his dick, milking him of cum, draining his energy and yet reenergizing him. His power over her was nothing compared to what she commanded of him. And he gave, willingly, happily, to have her with him.

  When they finally ended, he rolled onto his back to catch his breath. Earlier, he’d put a trash can beside the bed, and he discarded the condom. When he pulled her over to straddle him, her pussy to his nearly flaccid cock, her cream mingling with the residue of his cum, a sense of peace and communion overtook him. He could see himself spending his life with her, having children, building a future. Catherine and Mark and him. They would make a fierce threesome in the world. The image of life without either of them appeared dim and murky.

  At first, he’d thought only of having her. Then of having her with Mark. Now he wanted so much more. He wanted the world. But the world was full of problems. Where could they live the way he wanted? And what about Catherine? Would she agree to two men? Would she even agree to keep loving him? She’d given no indication that she would leave the convent. In fact, in the same breath practically, she had said she couldn’t live without him but couldn’t leave the Church. What the hell does that mean?

  She nuzzled his neck, and he forgot his doubts. He would have her. Once he set his mind to a challenge, he won. He always had, so he would again. Wouldn’t he?

  “I’m so afraid I’m not pleasing you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

  He reached down and pulled the sheet over the two of them before stroking her back. “You’re amazing. You make me feel like I own the world.”

  “I do?”

  “You do,” he assured her. “I’ve always heard that virgins are tight and that sex can be hard for them, and for the man. But you fit me as though we were made for each other. Know what? I think we were.”

  “So you’ve never made love to a virgin before?”

  “You’re my first. With you, I feel as though I’ve never made love with anyone else. You make me…” He gave up trying to come up with the words. “I don’t know how to describe it.” Moving his head to the side so he could see her, he asked, “You don’t have anything to compare this to, but how are you feeling?”

  Her laughter held wonder and joy, not amusement. “I could describe how I feel, but anything I said would be blasphemy because the words I’d choose are normally reserved for descriptions of God. Glorious, awestruck. When we ended together, I could feel you inside me. It felt…holy, blessed. How could anyone say such an act is sinful?”

  “Father Samuels would condemn us for it.”

  She nodded and pressed her lips to his neck and then his upper jaw and then his ear. If it were humanly possible, he’d be erect again. He’d lift her over his cock and slide into heaven using her warm honey to ease the way. Hell, he was still halfway hard from their last time, but he only was able to find three condoms from Emma’s bedside table. Evidently at least one of her gentleman callers didn’t want a little bastard running around. Jordan hadn’t planned to spend the night fucking Catherine. If he had, he would have brought more than three rubbers. He had to content himself with holding her or do without when they woke in the morning, and he wasn’t willing to give up the chance to meet the dawn deep inside his Catherine. Even so, his cock stirred. Like a born seductress, she wiggled her butt, placing her pussy in the danger zone.

  “Sweetheart, you’re about to feel what it’s like to have sex without protection if you keep on. I don’t want you to get pregnant, so maybe you’d better slide off to the side.”

  She flexed her hips. He about died. Then she swung her leg over and cuddled up.

  “Mother Superior might not let me come back if she knew about this.”

  “How would she know?”

  “Father Samuels. She wrote and told him my soul and I were in his care.”

  “He’s doing a piss-poor job if he let you ride home with Brendan Tipton. He knows what kind of man he was, that he and your—” Damned idiot! She didn’t need to hear about her mother’s lovers.

  “It’s okay, Jordan. I know about them. My mother had a journal, and he’s named.”

  “Did you say there were two men?”

  She was silent. He rolled to his side so he could see her. Taking her hands in his one, he held them to his chest. “Your mother was a sweet and generous woman. I don’t understand why she left you alone in that school, but I do know that when people let her, she gave a lot to this town. She helped nurse people in the last flu epidemic, and she’s given large amounts of money to the school here and other good causes. People in Ballymeade have a lot they owe to Emma Jacobsen, I don’t care how many men she slept with.”

  “You don’t condemn her?”

  “I liked her. Whatever she did with Brendan and the other man has nothing to do with me or how she treated people.” A sudden thought struck him. Her question and his mother’s comments formed a thundercloud in his thoughts. “You wanted to know my dad’s name. Is it because of the journal?”

  “Yes. But it’s okay. The other man’s name is Leo.”

  He exhaled. “Good.” Would it have mattered if she’d said Robert? It shouldn’t, but maybe. He’d always thought of his dad as having the strength of a lion, not just in body—he was big, like Jordan—but in character. He had been a well-respected jurist and a pillar of integrity, known throughout the western region. So, yeah, if he’d found out his father was screwing Emma Jacobsen in the same bed where he lay with Emma’s daughter, it would change a lot of things for him.

  Now he could put it all aside. His dad was dead, but Jordan lay beside the woman of his dreams. The past could stay in the past.

  Chapter Eighteen

 
“Catherine.”

  She heard the name as though through a fog.

  “Catherine?”

  “Just a few more minutes, Mama.” She rolled over, directly into something solid. Her eyes fluttered open. A man’s bare shoulder touched her nose. Jordan.

  Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled closer.

  He folded his arms around her, too. “You asked me to wake you at four.” He rested his chin on her head. “And thankfully, I’m not your mother, or I wouldn’t be able to do this.” His penis nudged her legs.

  “Hmm, that is nice.” In fact, desire to feel him inside her welled up.

  Jordan swept his hand down her back and squeezed her buttocks, and a new thrill ran through her. He whispered her name with such need she felt it with every nerve.

  “I want you, too,” she whispered back.

  “Slow and easy. We’ll take our time.” Moving his hand from her butt to her front, he lifted her leg over his hip and dipped his fingers into her vagina. “You’re wet,” he said, “and hot.”

  “I can’t seem to help it.”

  “I’m very glad.”

  Jordan rolled away from her and picked something up from the nightstand. In the dark, she couldn’t see exactly what he did, but from the sound of tearing foil, she knew that he covered himself. And then he turned back to her.

  “Put your leg high on my hip,” he said. Before entering her he swished his penis up and down, along the crease between her legs and across her clitoris. Her breath hiked and her hips jerked. She clutched at him and raised her head to press her lips to his. Immediately, he slanted his head and opened his mouth. For the first time, she slid her tongue into his mouth, tentatively exploring it and feeling the tug of his gentle sucking.

  At nearly the same moment, he found the entrance to her vagina and probed it. With a thrust of her hips, she invited him farther, and he accepted with slow, steady drives.