It was a small space, but cozy, her bed covered with a quilt she’d sewn two winters ago. Her easel sat in the corner with a half-finished painting on it, a view from her bedroom window she’d started and never finished.
Jean-Phillipe was stoking the small fireplace, flames curling and waving, though she was unsure how he’d gotten it going so quickly. He smiled as he stood, holding his outstretched arm to her once more.
And despite everything inside her screaming at her to stop, she stepped forward, taking his hand.
He pulled her into his embrace, snaking his arms around her waist. He smelled of smoke and animalistic musk, a hint of jasmine that wafted past her nose as she pressed her palms to his chest. Her hands met firm muscles, her eyes wide as he gazed down at her.
“What are you going to do to me?” Isabelle whispered, unable to stop herself from trembling.
That too-large smile curled his lips once more, low laughter rumbling in his chest.
“I’m going to ruin you, darling, and I’m going to enjoy doing it. I know that’s what you desire.”
Before Isabelle could consider the meaning of his words, he pressed his lips to hers, the warmth surprising her. She breathed in, trying to push himaway, but he pulled her closer, tightening his grip on her waist. His tongue flicked against her lips, and he sucked the lower one into his mouth, chewing on it and stirring the embers between her thighs.
Jean-Phillipe restrained her with one strong arm, the other trailing a line up her body, over her stomach and breasts, before cupping her cheek. Isabelle moaned into the kiss, her body betraying the lust that pulsed through her, overwhelming the fear raging in her mind.
Slowly, he backed her up to the bed until her legs pressed against the firm mattress. He turned her roughly, pressing his nose to the back of her neck and breathing in deeply like he was taking in her scent.
“Moon mother, protect me,” she whispered, unable to stop the prayer from slipping past her lips as she clasped her hands together.
A grumble of dark laughter filled the room, and there was a grip at her chin, Jean-Phillipe pulling her gaze back to meet his.
“Your goddess won’t protect you here, darling.”
His hand settled at her throat, and he heaved a great sigh, his eyes sparkling.
“Shall we get you undressed?”
Lithe fingers were at her back, unlacing her corset with surprising nimbleness. It was the first piece of clothing to be shed, though her skirt and chemise quickly followed, her body bared before him. All that remained was the cilice around her thigh, the metal chain a stark reminder of her sins.
“The moon mother up to her normal tricks, I see.”
Isabelle tensed for what she knew was next, but was surprised when he turned her back around to face him, pushing her gently so she fell onto the bed. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, wrapping her arms over her chest as if that would help steady herself.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, tears burning in her eyes and a knot welling in her throat.
“I’m doing it because I can, and because I want you. That’s all you need to know. Now, on your back.”
Isabelle obeyed as if on instinct, her body moving of its own accord.
She lay down, dark hair like a halo around her head as she held her arms at her sides, goosebumps prickling her skin. It was strange to be so exposed, fully nude while this man stood over her with a look so hungry it was as if he wanted to devour her. She was at his mercy, and the thought sent an erotic thrill through her, her face flushing with shame even as her core throbbed with wicked want.
Jean-Phillipe chuckled, spreading her legs wide as a whimper escaped her throat.
“Don’t act so coy, darling. I know what you need, what youcrave. Were your past lovers too easy on you? Too tender, too kind?”
He squeezed the cilice, clutching her so fiercely that she cried out, eyes widening with terror. The tines bit into her flesh, the erotic twist of pain heating her center until he let up his grip. He massaged circles with his thumbs as the pain subsided, a strange tingle of delight lying in its wake.
“A sweet thing like you requires a firm hand.”
Jean-Phillipe crawled onto the bed–still fully clothed–straddling her hips and sending another tremor through her. Her arms were pinned to her sides as he leaned in close.
“I want you to enjoy this,” he whispered in her ear, tingling the sensitive skin of her neck.
He sucked the tender flesh into his mouth, the wetness of his tongue sending a jolt to her core, her body clenching with need.
She cried out when he pulled away, mortified by her behavior and more so by the knowing smile spreading across his face.
