I blink at him. “You mean—” I cringe at the thought. “But it’s unclean.”
“Is it?” He drops his nose to the slope of my pubic bone. I try to close my legs, but his shoulders prevent me from doing so.
“Zephyrus.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “If you’re sure.” I can’t imagine I would taste good.
He sinks his weight into my hips, pinning me as his tongue darts out, swiping the divot at the top of my seam. Another slow, lingering swipe of his tongue, the end curled, dragging upward through the wiry hair. Sparks fly behind my closed eyelids, and I gasp as a wave of heat rolls through me.
He devours me with increased enthusiasm. When the heat of his mouth latches over me, his tongue flutters, bending the tension through my core. A low moan snags in my chest.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well, Brielle. I love how your body opens at my touch.”
The praise lights me up. I want to please him. I want to know him as he knows me, two hearts colliding, bodies connected in harmony. I do not think of who I was before this moment. I cannot regret following my heart, no matter how filthy the act may seem.
I spread my legs wider, groaning. His first finger slides in easier than the second, but once he begins to work me open, the pain lessens, my muscles relaxing to accommodate the intrusion. He curls his fingers, pushing against the walls until they give. The pleasure crests, warm and slow and drenched in heat.
“Zephyrus.” A whimper shudders out of me.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.” On the contrary, I’ve never felt so relaxed, so attuned to another, so unashamed in my nakedness.
He pulls away then. “Get on your hands and knees.”
I do as he commands. He lifts my dress, tossing it over my back. My exposed backside tingles in the cool night air.
The shame does not come. I have broken every vow, snapped them as easily as twigs. But I feel crazed by the West Wind’s smell, like sun warming the wet earth, the delicious abrasion of his touch. My senses snap and sharpen, and I am awake.
One palm coasts over the curve of my rear. A crack rings out, and I whimper, jerking forward as the sting of his slap erupts across my naked cheek.
His palm returns, rubbing the irritated skin until the hurt abates. My nipples catch the inside of my corset, peaked and aching.
“Too much?” he asks.
I’m panting as though I’ve run miles, but I shake my head.
“Brielle,” the West Wind murmurs. “You’ve been an obedient girl, but I see what desires lie in your heart.” He leans forward to suck my earlobe into his mouth. “Such thoughts are sinful and must be punished.”
I glance over my shoulder. Zephyrus continues to rub my backside with a look of sharp greed. “Will you do it again?” I ask, surprising myself.
“As your Text states: ask and you shall receive.”
My head drops forward, scarlet curls curtaining my face. I bite my lip as the smack rings out.
Abruptly, he grasps my hair, drawing my neck backward until it strains. His teeth hook into my shoulder, and a moan floods out of me. My body tightens as the West Wind, curled over my back, begins to slap my rear with increasing force, the hot wind stirring the sting into permanent irritation.
I am neither obedient, nor devout, nor pure. I am simply Brielle, a woman, desired.
Shoving two fingers into me, Zephyrus hammers them against my inner walls. Tension spirals as choked moans fall from my open mouth. Then release rips and roars through me.
My body contracts on a wave of heat. I’m so far gone I don’t realize Zephyrus has removed his fingers until the head of his sex nudges my entrance.
“Slow,” he reassures me, and sinks in.
My loosened muscles allow him deeper penetration compared to our previous attempt. A continuous push and retreat, a wonderful, breathless stretch. When he’s fully sheathed, he murmurs, “All right?” One of his hands clasps the back of my neck. The other grips my hip.
