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

by Jenna Stewart

  “Shut your fucking mouth.”

  Tipton took another step forward. “I ask again, who’s going to make me?”

  “Me and a friend.”

  Tipton looked around the yard. “Yeah? What friend?”

  “Mr. Colt.” Mark leveled his service revolver at Tipton and didn’t blink an eye.

  “Hold on a minute—”

  “Not another second. You should be heading for your car.”

  “Is that thing even loaded?”

  Mark fired a shot into the air. “Appears to be.”

  Tipton pointed at him. “You’re a fucking idiot. I’ll have you arrested, boy.”

  “You can try. Send the sheriff out so I can enlighten him on how one of the town’s upstanding citizens has terrorized a nun, a woman who came home to settle her dead mother’s home. It’ll make a good story for the newspaper, too, I think.”

  Tipton stormed to his vehicle before turning and spitting out, “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  “Oh, I think I do.”

  He waited on the porch with the .45 in hand until he was sure Tipton was gone. Drained, he sank down onto the top step, his hands hanging between his knees. Catherine had defended him, he had faced his first enemy outside a war zone, and he had held a gun on the man. Catherine defended me!

  He didn’t hear her come out, but he sensed her.

  “Come inside, Mark.”

  “In a minute.”

  She sat down beside him, tucking her dress under her knees. “Thank you for making him go away.”

  “He had something going with your mother?”

  “Yes.” That was all she said, but there was a wealth of emotion packed into the single word.

  “Has he propositioned you before?”

  “Since I arrived. I had no idea how to handle such a situation. Until coming here, I’d barely spoken to a man.”

  “You won’t have to worry about him again as long as Jordan and I have anything to do with it.”

  She smiled and then rested her head on his shoulder. Warmth welled up and filled him, spilling over. He thought he’d gasp with the heat of his emotions, the passion of them. He’d never wanted to lie with a woman more before, and he hadn’t even kissed her. As much as he wanted to take her to bed, he wanted to hold her, to talk, and to spend quiet moments in silence. He simply wanted to be with her.

  Then he remembered that she was his best friend’s girl.

  “You’re right. Let’s go in.”

  “If you’re ready for lunch, I could bring it out here. Jordan and I enjoy eating in the fresh air.”

  “That would be great. Need any help?”

  “No, I can do it.” Before she rose, she used her hand on his cheek—the cheek, dear God, covered in scars—to turn his head toward her. When her lips touched his, his heart thundered.

  Then she was gone, disappearing into the house. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to march in there like a whole man and kiss her until she begged him to take her to bed and fuck. Jordan said he should let Catherine help him, but he surely didn’t have anything like that in mind.

  His friend firmly in mind, Mark stayed on the porch until Catherine came out with a light lunch of soup and half a sandwich. When they went back to work, he kept his thoughts focused on the work. All the while, he dreaded the night, when he would be alone with the woman of his dreams who already belonged to his best friend. And, oh yeah, to God.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The evening came all too quickly. Jordan had said he might be gone until the next day, which meant Catherine faced the night alone with Mark. She remembered her first day with Jordan and how nervous she had been that they might touch or even that she might not know what to say. With Mark there had never been that sense of tentativeness. From the first she’d felt a kinship. Her love for Jordan wasn’t diminished, which only disquieted her. In the back of her mind was her mother’s journal where she’d detailed loving two men. Not that she loved Mark. But something about him affected her.

  She hung the dish towel on the hook on the front of the cabinet and went to find him.

  “Look at your ankle!” He sat in the living room chair, rubbing his foot. After pulling out the bed, he had removed his shoes and socks. The swelling looked painful.

  “I guess I didn’t do something right today.”

  “When Jordan comes home, you should ask him to take you to the beach a few miles up the coast. Walking in the sand will help build your strength and should help with the swelling, too.”

  “I’ll try it, thanks.”

  She stared a moment longer. “Would you mind if I helped?” All of the sisters took turns in the infirmary, and she knew a very small amount of healing. But one of the older nuns had sometimes required massage treatments in order to relieve pain enough to sleep, and that had been her charge.

  “Um, well, no. But don’t feel that you have to.”

  She sat on the side of the sofa bed. Taking his foot onto her lap, she began by pushing up the cuffs of his trousers to midcalf.

  “Forgive my forwardness,” she murmured.

  “Forgiven,” he said.

  With a firm touch, she wiggled her thumbs up the middle of his heel and soul. At the midpoint, he squirmed and grinned. “Ticklish,” he said when she looked up.

  “Really?” she said, smiling back.

  “Don’t you do it,” he warned.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, wide-eyed and skimming the tips of her fingers across the middle of his foot.

  “You’re being a devil,” he said, laughing.

  “Okay, I’m going to be serious now. I want you to rest well, and I’m sorry I worked you so hard today.”

  “It’s the first honest work I’ve done since being sent out with my unit in Korea. I appreciate feeling useful again, even if it’s only writing numbers in a book.”

  She wiggled his big toe. “Don’t say ‘only.’ Your knowledge was invaluable.” Without using too much force, she smoothed her hands down his foot, toe to ankle, and up the short expanse of exposed leg. Silently she worked for twenty minutes or more—up the bottom of his foot, down to the ankle, and up his leg. The routine distracted her to the point that she didn’t notice the passage of time, only the feel of his foot, the smooth skin. Angry, red scars and damaged muscles now relaxed under her fingers. The swelling had gone down, but the rest of Mark’s body held all the tension of a tiger ready to leap.

  “Catherine? Thanks, but I don’t think I can handle much more.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought I was helping. You should have said if I caused you pain.”

  “You did help my foot, and I appreciate it. It’s just that, uh, there must be something about handling the foot that affects a man.”

  She bunched her brows in thought. “Affects him how?”

  “In a, uh, sexual kind of way.”

  A quick glance at his groin showed what he meant. His trousers tented in front and his eyes had darkened, like Jordan’s did when took her to bed.

  “You kissed me today, Catherine. Was it just a thank you for getting rid of Tipton?”

  “Something about you calls to me. I think it’s your loneliness.”

  “Are you lonely?”

  “I was, growing up. I missed my mother, and I was always so different from the other girls.”

  “You didn’t have any friends.”

  She shook her head, still holding his foot in her lap.

  “That’s how I’ve felt since I got all shot up. Different, alone, and invisible.”

  “You’re not invisible.”

  “Not to Jordan. Not to you,” he added softly.

  “No. Not to us.”

  Time seemed to stand still as Mark lifted his leg from her lap and leaned forward. Their lips barely touched, but she felt the kiss throughout her body. Every nerve made itself known.

  He leaned back. “I don’t want to step on Jordan’s toes.”

  “I love him. I feel very c
lose to you. He told me last night that he sensed we had a bond he and I didn’t have.”

  “Do you think he knew this might happen?”

  She had to think. His lovemaking last night had been more tender than rushed, but he hadn’t said anything about her and Mark.

  “I don’t know. Do you think he would hate us?”

  “He told me you might want to help in some way. He said you were the kind of remarkable woman who would want to help me. I had a feeling there was more to it.”

  “But will he hate us?”

  “He wouldn’t have left us here if he’d had an issue.”

  Catherine hoped Mark was right. Jordan knew her so well—better than she knew herself. Because of that, he knew that she dreaded that her mother’s shortcomings might be her own. So if he left her here in Mark’s care, he had a reason.

  “Do you mind the thought of being with me, Catherine?”

  “Do I mind? No, Mark. Do you mind the thought of being with me? A plain, inexperienced, naïve nun? I have no idea what I’m doing, exploring this life.”

  “I would be honored to make love with you.” He looked into the corner of the room as though seeking an answer. “The scars don’t bother you?” Then he focused on her face. No lie would escape his notice.

  “What scars?”

  The groan sounded as though it was ripped from deep within. She stood between his legs and cradled his head against her breasts. Swaying gently, she waited until he gained control.

  When he struggled to his feet and took her lips this time, there was no hesitancy, no holding back. Her heart raced. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her tongue with his. When they sunk to the bed and he broke the kiss long enough to reach to turn out the light, she stopped him. “Leave the lights on,” she said. “I want to see your face while we make love.”

  She knew she’d said the right thing when his eyes flashed with fire, flames that she felt herself, deep in her belly.

  Thank you, Lord. Though, the Lord might not be pleased with her.

  Thank you, Jordan.

  * * * *

  Mark had never felt anything like sliding his way home inside Catherine. She rose up to meet him, a naked goddess with firm, round tits and smooth, silky skin. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, of tasting her. For the first time since waking in the helicopter whisking him to the field hospital in Korea, he forgot the pain and knowledge that he would never be the same man he had been. He forgot the stares of horror and pity and the conversations that ended in awkward silences. His mind was occupied by the woman beneath him and the absolute heaven of being engulfed in her hot, wet pussy.

  “Mark. Mark.” She arched her back. He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, as greedy as a babe.

  With renewed strength, he drove into her. She bucked against him, her labored breathing alerting him to the fact that she was close. So was he. It had been so long.

  He gave up her nipple in favor of her mouth. His dick probed her inner recesses as his tongue claimed her mouth. She pulled on it with her lips and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  Shit. Any minute he was going to come. She had to come first.

  Her groan was deep and sensual, cutting through the fog keeping him from sanity. Faster, then harder, he thrust into her. Her pussy gripped his entire length, squeezing him, encouraging him to answer her feminine call, as ageless as Adam and Eve. Thank God he’d kept a condom in his wallet, like a good Marine. After seeing his face in the mirror in the naval hospital in Hawaii, he’d thought it would go bad before he ever had the chance to use it. But miracles happened after all.

  He came in an explosion, lost in the feeling of release and bondage at the same time. Physical release was more intense than it had ever been—harder than his first time, even. And because of that, he was bound to this woman in a way he never had been to any other. She took him to her body, scars and all, with a graciousness he couldn’t believe. He hoped to hell he was right about Jordan. If it came down to a woman—any woman—and his friend and partner, he wasn’t sure how he would let Catherine go. Please, God. A second chance here, please.

  He rolled off and lay beside her. What now? That was incredible was such a cliché, and Catherine deserved better.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Weak, but the truth.

  She turned onto her side and rested her hand on his chest. “It was wonderful. You were wonderful. Thank you.”

  He covered her hand. He couldn’t look at her because his eyes had welled with tears, and what kind of Marine cried after great sex? “I should thank you.” They lay there silently with the ocean roar as background.

  “You asked about my childhood,” she said in a low voice he barely heard. “I was taller than the other girls. Clumsy and plain. My lips were too big. My eyes were spaced too far apart. My front tooth was crooked. Some of the sisters made an example of me in class, and the other girls picked up on it. I know how it feels to be the object of curiosity and then scorn.”

  Mark stroked the top of her hand with his thumb and let her talk. But he couldn’t help but contrast her younger years with his own, boisterous, full of work as well as play, but always full of love. Who could subject a little girl to such a life as hers? What was wrong with those fucking nuns, anyway? They should be horsewhipped.

  “I never had friends, I had no family. So when I graduated from high school, I really had no idea of what to do with my life and nowhere to go. Staying at St. Agnes as a postulant seemed logical.”

  “But there’s so much else to life. Places to see.”

  “I don’t want you to think I’ve been unhappy. I’ve lived a fulfilled life.”

  “And now?”

  “I prayed that I would be able to experience love with Jordan. God granted my wish and sent me you, too. I will always have these memories.”

  He faced her at last. “Couldn’t you leave the convent?”

  She closed her eyes. “I’ve been with the sisters—my sisters, my community—for almost fifteen years. Leaving them would be very hard.”

  “But for Jordan? For us?”

  “Don’t ask me, please. This is a place out of time. I don’t deserve it, but through God’s grace I know some of what it means to be a woman. A real woman.”

  “You are a real woman, Catherine. A beautiful, vibrant woman. Your habit didn’t hide that. But how can you go back to that life after…” He swept his hand toward her naked body.

  “I might not have been called to a true vocation when I was seventeen. I can’t say one way or the other. But after living in the convent all these years, it is home. With God’s help, I’ll find my way back, if they’ll have me.”

  He stroked her hip and pulled her to him. He faced her with his left side visible. He didn’t mind. She saw him as he was and accepted him. “Will you pray for me?”

  She caressed his cheek, skimming the scars with gentleness. “I already have. I always will.”

  His heart knew before his mind. He loved this woman. He’d never let her go.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Catherine lay on the sofa bed listening to Mark make his way up the stairs. Her breasts ached to be touched, and between her legs, she knew a hunger she was coming to recognize. Jordan and Mark had become her lovers. Just as her mother had taken two men to her bed, so had Catherine. The enormity of the similarity didn’t escape her, yet still she wanted Mark.

  Or Jordan.

  Had her mother experienced the same yearnings? If so, no wonder she’d given in.

  Catherine rose and walked up the steps, uncaring that she wore nothing. Mark came out of the bathroom as she reached the top. His eyes sparked with appreciation, and she smiled as she saw him for the first time as God created him.

  Broad shoulders led to a muscular chest and narrow waist and hips. But she had a hard time averting her gaze from his penis.

  He noticed, and he reached down and pumped it. Immediately, it grew and thickened. Her breath hitched. Nothing else short
of the house coming down could have averted her attention.

  “Have you not seen Jordan?”

  She shook her head. “We keep the lights out.” She gave him a small smile. “My request. I was too afraid to let him see me.”

  “You shouldn’t be. You’re beautiful.”

  “I’m plai—”

  “Don’t say it!” He stepped closer, still stroking his penis. “Don’t ever say that again. You’re not plain. There’s no sin in being beautiful, and you are. Those nuns were crazy. Or blind,” he added.

  She licked her lips and took in his penis again. Mark had moved close. The bulb-shaped part that capped his penis had turned deep purple in color. The color of passion. Her heart fluttered. She fisted her hands at her sides in order to keep herself from knocking his hands aside and taking his place.

  “This is my cock.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to do it, but Mark took her hand and placed it on his hard flesh. It twitched when she touched it. He bent her fingers around it and guided her hand up and down. His cock was a rod of steel covered in velvety flesh. Once holding it, she couldn’t help but stroke it, caress it. It looked huge. No wonder she felt so full whenever Jordan or Mark made love to her.

  “Ahhh, that feels good,” he said. “Press a little harder there,” he murmured when she reached the root and a large vein.

  “Do all men look like you?” She stepped closer yet so that the head pressed her stomach.

  “Basically. Alike but different. Some men have short cocks, some longer.”

  She widened her eyes. “Longer than you?”

  He laughed. “Sadly, yes.” Framing her head with his hands, he took her lips in an openmouthed kiss. His tongue probed her mouth, and she took it in and sucked.

  “I want you again,” he said and then continued kissing her.

  She took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

  “Does Jordan have more rubbers?” he asked. “Please say yes.”

  “Condoms? They’re in the table by the bed.”

  Mark lay down on the side of the bed nearest the table and pulled her atop him.