by Pam Godwin
Swear to God, I felt him in my womb. I felt him all the way to my chest. I felt him in every corner of my soul.
Then I felt something different. Something changing. My core muscles unclenched, loosening, accepting, and the discomfort melted into staggering, overwhelming pleasure.
I wrapped my legs around him, his body like a marble altar as I pulled him closer, deeper. “Harder.”
He watched my face, kicking his hips, testing each stroke while adding more force. So fucking good.
Jaw locked tight, eyes afire with desire, his expression blazed with intensity, like tunnel vision, as if he focused exclusively on my reactions and nothing else existed.
The sensations he scattered through me were unfathomable. Especially once he got going and really let the reins out. His muscles flexed and bunched, his body a sensuous line of sex. He was built for this, hands down. The man knew how to fuck.
I fucked him back, grinding my hips and holding his magnetic gaze between greedy kisses. Our hips moved as one, skin slick with sweat, limbs entangled, and hands groping, caressing, loving.
I loved this.
I loved this with him.
“Slow down, slow down,” he whispered. “You’re going to come.” He pressed his lips against my blissful smile. “But not until I tell you.”
This was the man beneath the collar. He believed he was a monster. Maybe that was true when he was with other women. But he wasn’t like that with me.
A conversation loomed on the horizon that neither of us was ready to have. But right now, one thing was certain. He took me with every ounce of passion in his body, holding my gaze, kissing my mouth, gripping my throat, and grinding his hips. Magnus didn’t just make love to me. He made love to me harder than any man ever could.
Sinking my teeth into my lip, I focused on the friction of his skin against mine, the hard length of his cock rubbing across my clit, and his tight ass. My God, his ass was the best place to hold on. All those contracting muscles, like boulders grinding beneath my palms, had a wicked effect on my libido.
And his dirty talk only added fuel to the fire.
“Yeah, that’s it. Take it. Fuck it like a dirty girl,” he rasped, his voice seductively dark. “Goddamn, look at you.”
I could only imagine what I looked like. A wanton creature with her legs splayed open and her tits bouncing and her eyes shining with infatuation, adoration, and maybe, if she was stupid enough, love.
“You’re mine, Tinsley. No one’s going to touch you again. No one but me.” His thrusts deepened, growing harder, punctuating each word with ferocity. “You belong to me. No one else. Mine, Tinsley. Fucking mine. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Always.”
I meant it. No matter what happened, no matter who I was forced to wed, I belonged to Magnus Falke from this day forward.
The air changed with his declaration and the direction of my thoughts. It thickened, deepened, and our bodies came together in a more profound way, fusing on a soulful level that transcended the lust burning between us.
Each thrust felt like an expression, an extension of something growing beyond our flesh and bones. I felt my world expanding, and where I’d once only known loneliness, I now felt warmth and soul-deep happiness.
His hand found mine and held it between my breasts with our fingers entwined.
Then he kissed me, looked directly into my eyes, and growled, “Come with me, baby.”
His will was my command. God knew I could come just from the sound of his voice. As he bore down and thrust with the perfect pressure and rhythm, I dove into his gaze and right off the cliff, soaring with him, moaning with him, and falling with him. For him.
“Tinsley, fuck. Oh, God, fuuuuck.” He slammed to a stop, buried to the hilt, and dropped his head back, roaring my name.
That strong jaw worked as he came, his muscles straining and body shaking. I was so entranced by the glorious sight of him I forgot to fill my lungs.
“Breathe, gorgeous.” His mouth covered mine, his tongue licking lazily.
Once we both floated back to the ground, he let his flaccid cock slide out of me, only to replace it with two fingers.
“Have you missed any pills?” He circled my opening, tormenting and arousing sensitive tissues.
I shook my head.
We’d never talked about this, but of course, he knew everything about me. I was on the pill to help regulate my heavy bleeding, and he had to sign off on all the medications that came into the school.
He pushed his fingers inside me, scooping and pressing as if to keep his come from falling out.
“You’re such a caveman.” I flopped a leg over his thigh, enjoying the view of him playing with my body. “I want to do it again. Unless, of course, you can’t? What’s the recovery time for old men? Will you be needing Viagra?”
In a blur, he was on me, tearing his teeth into my boob and wrenching a howling scream from my throat.
“We’re leaving.” He kissed the bite mark, watching me.
“Back to your rectory? I don’t want to stay in the dorm. I have a couple of weeks with you and—”
“We’re leaving the campus.” He stroked a thumb across my lips. “I’m taking you into the mountains.”
CHAPTER 31
MAGNUS
Very few residents hung around the village during the holidays, but I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me leave with the youngest Constantine daughter. So I put her in a cab and sent her into the White Mountains without me.
Then I waited an agonizing three hours.
During that time, I could’ve changed my mind. I could’ve made a dozen different choices that didn’t fuse her fate with mine. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. This was happening. Not because I’d planned it. But because it was destined. We were inevitable.
I hadn’t been called to be a priest.
I’d been called to be hers.
Whether this was kismet, God’s will, some divine decree, or a fucking cosmic alignment, I didn’t care. I didn’t need an explanation to be with her. Just like I didn’t need an explanation to breathe. I did both by instinct.
No one in the village witnessed her departure, and three hours later, no one was around to see me leave, either.
I sent texts to Crisanto and a few faculty members, letting them know I’d decided to go to my cabin for the remainder of the break. Not unusual since I spent the summers and most holidays there.
On the way, I stopped in a small New England town and picked up a couple of weeks’ worth of groceries.
A couple of weeks with her all to myself.
My dick was already hard, and it stayed that way through the one-hour drive.
The onset of dusk shrouded the winding, heavily wooded road in darkness. But I knew every turn and incline. I’d bought this land nine years ago and renovated the timber-frame cabin. At that time in my life, I needed the isolation. I hadn’t trusted myself around people and didn’t know how I would fare as a priest.
As it turned out, the collar hadn’t fixed the cruelty inside me. But it had taught me how to control it.
I navigated the car onto the final dirt road and drove carefully along the steep hill to the cabin. The moment I parked and turned off the engine, the front door opened.
She stepped out, hovering over the porch like an angel.
Goddamn. I was so fucked.
She was the princess of Bishop’s Landing, born of rolling green lawns and blood-soaked money. The Constantines had maintained their monopoly through generations of inheritance, nepotism, and intermarriage between ruling families. But the woman on my porch wasn’t like them. She didn’t fit.
She was too pure. Too celestial.
Illuminated by moonlight, she was a chorus of pearlescent hues from her golden hair to her snow-white skin.
As she sauntered toward me through the snow, my fingers tightened on the steering wheel, my eyes tracking her alluring form. She’d changed into a thin shirt. No bra. The frigid chill vaporized he
r breath and turned her nipples into sharp little bullets beneath the blouse.
I was gobsmacked by her. Staggered. She floated toward me like a tiny body of fairy dust from heaven, burning with incandescence as she entered my cold dark atmosphere.
She was the shooting star in my life, appearing as a streak of light in the night, compelling me to make wishes and never take my eyes off her.
When she reached my door, I climbed out and touched her parted lips, aching to kiss her.
“Where’s your coat?” I shrugged out of mine and wrapped it around her.
“Where’s your collar?”
“I’m off duty.”
“Does that mean no bossiness while we’re here?”
“Didn’t say that.” I opened the trunk and started unloading groceries.
“What about church? You left the Bible behind, too, right?”
“Didn’t say that, either.”
“Oh, good.” She pursed her lips. “I was afraid we might actually have fun while we’re here.”
“Get inside before you catch a cold.”
“Okay, Boomer.” She loaded up her arms with bags of food.
“Call me a Boomer again and—”
“Boomer.”
She took off, but not before I slammed a palm across her ass hard enough to make her scream.
The cabin’s open floor plan, two-story ceilings, and well-placed windows provided views of the surrounding mountains from every room. It had the same basic structure as my private rectory—kitchen, sitting room, bathroom, bedroom—just on a grander scale.
She followed me from room to room as I put away groceries and checked the heating and water systems.
“When you said cabin in the mountains, this wasn’t what I pictured.” She paced along the windows, staring out into the dark. “I imagined the Unabomber shack or something equally…psychotic.”
Without comment, I tossed logs into the stone fireplace and gathered the kindling.
“There’s a river running down the mountain back there.” She jabbed a finger toward the rear door, her voice rising octaves. “With multiple beaver dams. There are whole families of actual beavers living just a few feet from your back porch, and they’re not afraid of me. I sat right beside them, talking to them while they gathered twigs and roots.”
My lips twitched. I knew she would love them.
“While I was waiting for you, I explored the property.” She leaned beside the fireplace, studying me. “There are paths everywhere. No other cabins. In just one hike, I saw deer, otters, a raccoon, red fox, and peregrine falcon.”
“We’re in the mountains, Tinsley. In a protected area near the state park.”
“How much land do you own?”
“One hundred acres, give or take.”
“With snow-plowed roads, unparalleled views, and a cabin that’s been upgraded with modern utilities. This place is worth a lot of money.” She narrowed her eyes. “I thought your vows were obedience, chastity, and poverty.”
“Priests don’t take vows of poverty anymore. We own houses and pay taxes just like the next guy.”
“How much money do you have?”
The fire ignited, and the flames spread across the logs.
I stood, facing her. “A lot.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Does it matter? Does it change the reason you’re here?”
“No, I mean, I knew you were a self-made billionaire. But you never mentioned a cabin in the mountains, and I’m just wondering how many other things I don’t know about you.”
There was a lot she didn’t know. A lot of ugly things. I intended to tell her everything while we were here. She needed to do some soul-searching, and I wanted her to have all the information.
But right now, I didn’t want to think about the ugliness of my life. I’d waited four months to indulge in her perfect beauty, and I was coming to her after a nine-year dry spell. I was beyond ravenous.
“You’re gorgeous.” I prowled toward her.
“You’re evasive. And I guess you’re not completely awful on the eyes.” Rather than retreating, she stepped into me and slid her hands around my hips. “This ass, though.”
She squeezed my backside with bold fingers.
I touched my mouth to hers, basking in the feel of her pouty lips. They pushed out, begging to be sucked and licked and bitten. I ran my nose alongside hers and skimmed my hands down her shoulders. Simply touching her like this put me in such a state of warm, peaceful happiness. It didn’t feel real.
None of this felt real. Apart from the supple scoops of tits in my hands with their pointy, irresistible peaks. These were definitely real. And her soft mouth against mine. Didn’t get more real than that.
I banded an arm around her lower back, hauling her close as I captured her lips, devoured her breath, shredded her clothes, and fucked her against the wall.
Her moans vibrated against my throat, and my cock stroked in and out, the friction slick and hot and so damn addictive.
I moved her to the couch to leverage my thrusts, but I couldn’t get deep enough. I tried to bury myself inside her—my body, my entire being—digging harder, heavier, with more and more intensity.
“Fuck, Tinsley.” My breaths were choppy and feverish, our tongues tangling outside of our mouths, our lips coming together, parting, and colliding again. “So fucking good.”
“Is it always this good?”
The heat of her pussy molded to me like a wet glove, made for me. The shape of her body fit snugly in the bend of mine, flexible, pliable, the perfect size for me to position and carry around. Her eyes never left mine, staring so fucking deep into my soul I felt stripped, exposed, and vulnerable in a way I could never let myself be with anyone else.
“No.” I stroked my knuckles along her beautiful face. “No, it’s never felt like this.”
Her sexy softness absorbed my hardness as I took her in every room of the cabin. On the rug before the fireplace, bent over the kitchen table, against the shower wall, and in my bed, I tore her pussy in half. And I was only getting started.
I would never get enough of her. Not in two weeks. Not in a lifetime.
Hours later, we lay in bed, naked, exhausted, serene. She sprawled facedown across my chest, her cheek on my heart and her gaze angled toward mine. We stared at each other for the span of a timeless moment, floating in postcoital bliss.
As her eyes grew heavy and her blinks grew longer, I knew I was losing her for the night.
I reached over and shut off the light, my hand going to her long, satiny hair, stroking from roots to tips. “You’re my first.”
“Your first girl to pee on the floor.”
“Yes.”
“Your first to bleed on her shoes.”
“Yes.”
“Your first tampon insertion.”
“Yep.” I felt my lips quirking into a smile, such a strange sensation.
“Man, I’m classy as fuck.”
“You’re classy, even under duress. Especially then.”
“Thank you.” She kissed my chest, her voice drowsy. “I’m your first orgasm in a church.”
“First and second.”
“Oh, yeah. The confessional blow job.” She sighed. “That was so hot.” Her eyes drifted closed. “What else?”
“You’re my first overnight.”
“Like the first girl to sleep beside you?”
“The very first person.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Happy to help you work through those commitment issues,” she murmured, snuggling closer to my neck.
I hadn’t allowed this level of intimacy with anyone, not even my regular lovers. When I wasn’t fucking a woman, I didn’t want her around.
The soft rhythm of her breathing told me she’d fallen asleep. The warmth of her body atop mine lulled me to follow her.
“You’re my first.” I ran my fingers through her hair, content to my marrow. “And my last.”
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CHAPTER 32
MAGNUS
I woke with her mouth on me.
A warm, delicate mouth sliding along my semi-erection, making me harder with each breathy pass.
“You were soft just a second ago.” Tinsley pressed her smile against the crown, her golden hair shining in the morning light. “I woke early just to get a glimpse of the rare sighting. You were so adorably squishy and limp—”
“Less talking, more sucking.” I shoved her face down and thrust.
She choked and came up for air, laughing. “And big. I was going to say that but—”
I pulled her mouth down on me again while driving my hips. Christ Almighty, my balls drew up. My toes curled, and my back bowed as overwhelming pleasure surged through me.
She took my cock to the back of her throat as if it were her penance. Then she took me between her legs as if I were her lifeline.
Tinsley Constantine didn’t need any man to save her. But I wanted to be the one she depended on. Everything inside me demanded I provide for her, starting with a means of escape from the future her mother was scheming.
With the right incentive, I could be a tenacious son of a bitch. And Tinsley was that incentive. It was in my nature to keep a firm hold on her. She would call it controlling. I called it protective. Maybe possessive. Definitely jealous.
No matter my flaws, I was going to take Tucker Kensington out of the equation. The thirty seconds he’d danced with her was all he would ever get. She was my charge for five more months, and I would use those months to sort out her future.
After we came down from our groaning, explosive orgasms, I gathered her in my arms with my back against the headboard.
“Best night’s sleep ever.” She straddled my lap, her face nuzzling my neck and the light tickle of her lips softly kissing.
“Agreed.”
“And morning sex. Another first for you?”
“Yes.”
“What a sad life you’ve led, Mr. Billionaire Bachelor of New York.”
“I’m making up for it with you, Your Highness.” I slid a hand along her beautiful backside and teased the tight ring of muscle between her cheeks.
