His taste, far deadlier than I’d remembered.
His cock, sliding against the outside of my clothes, quickening my pulse and soaking my panties with forbidden arousal.
“Despite what my church may believe…” Bastien’s thumbs hooked in my shirt, the warm pads of his fingertips sliding against my skin and cutting through my nerves like hot butter. “I can’t renounce you.”
His palm slid up my naked torso, divesting me of my shirt, while one hand cupped a shiny chalice, drops of wine already making their way between my breasts. Staining the satin bra I wore, pooling in my navel, soaking a rebel river of red along the elastic of my panties in unholy consecration.
“I know the taste of sin, sweet Tressa. I’ve tasted it every night in my dreams. Craving you is a new and deadlier form of hell than the last I’d overcome.” He dropped to his knees, the empty cup slipping to the floor and soaking his white robes in scarlet before his tongue met my flesh in slow swipes, eyes glinting to mine as he held me flush to his mouth.
Soft mewls formed on my lips as my body fell apart in his arms, limbs loose as he worked his way up my body, tongue tasting every inch of the blessed wine from my skin as he went.
“I am very surely a prisoner to you, my dove.”
Finally, his hands reached the cups of my bra, fingers splaying over the round flesh as he breathed against my ribs. “I’m caged to the dream of anointing you from head to toe. My desire to christen the throne you deserve to sit on.” His fingers hooked into the fabric of my bra and pulled, revealing my breasts to him. His irises warming with fire, he shot his tongue out and tangled with my nipple while the fingers of his other hand worked against my breast, kneading gently at first, before the pressure grew harder, more desperate.
“The thought of being good enough for you, to own the very heart of your soul, that’s what keeps me up at night.” His hands worked both of my breasts now, tongue darting out to pay the other attention before he stood to my height, hands cupping my neck and forcing me to look nowhere but him. “You’re not my dark night of the soul, Tressa, you’re my light at the end of the tunnel. When I talk of rebels, I talk of people like you and me. Soul mates, both of us driven to leave the world brighter than we found it. That’s the thing I love the very most about you, always willing to do all the wrong things for all the right reasons. I love your rebel heart.”
I swallowed, emotion ravaging the remaining nerves of my throat before wild tears burst the levees of my eyelids. “If I’m a rebel heart, wouldn’t that make you a rebel saint? My holy man, saving the world one soul at a time.”
His chuckle sent sparks down my spine.
“S’pose it would.” His grin quirked, eyes twinkling. “But rebel hearts change history.”
