“I may not know much, but I would love it if you would teach me.” When she tried to step back, Mirela caught her wrist. “Please, Claire,” she said softly. “Teach me how to be close to you. How to love you with my body.”
Claire blinked, the corner of her mouth curving upward. “You want to know what it’s like to be intimate?” She leaned closer, her breath brushing Mirela’s ear. “To want.”
Her gaze lowered, reverent, lingering on the gentle shape of Claire’s body. “I already know what want is,” Mirela said, as she could only imagine what she looked like underneath the nun attire. But when they were pressed together, she knew Claire was all softness wrapped in the fabric of devotion.
“But what I’ve seen means nothing. What I want is to understand what pleasesyou,”Mirela said in a whisper before she pulled at the robes, raising it up enough to show tanned, gorgeous, thick thighs.
She had to stop to gather herself. Whatever thought she had of Claire’s body was nothing to what was slowly being revealed to her.
Her mouth parted in disbelief of what the clothing had been hiding. She continued pulling until she was face to face with Claire’s clothed cunt. That was how she hadheard some people call a woman’s most intimate part. Looking up at Claire, she noticed the subtle nod.
Her hands became bolder, especially when Claire helped her by holding the robe. Claire wanted this just as much as she did, and it gave her enough reassurance to pull the under garment down.
Claire was a goddess among women, and if there really was a God, she knew that He had picked her specifically for Mirela to apologize for all the things she had been through.
Apology accepted.
She would indulge in her gift for as long as her body would allow her.
Exhaling on top of dark curls, Mirela looked up once more. Another nod, this one more enthusiastic. Keeping her eyes locked with Claire’s face, Mirela dove in and lapped at her very essence. And when Claire exhaled her name, soft and trembling, Mirela knew she would want to hear that sound every single day of her existence.
Chapter eleven
Claire
Clairewashavingareally hard time believing that Mirela had never, ever pleasured someone; at least with her mouth and tongue. How could someone inexperienced make her legs tremble the way they were?
Holding her habit with one hand, she clutched onto red hair, guiding Mirela exactly where she wanted her. She wanted to learn, and God willingly, Claire was going to teach her all the places she could use that pretty mouth of hers to make her cum, starting with her cunt.
Claire closed her eyes, threw her head back, and moaned. Her nails raked against Mirela’s scalp, earning the most beautiful sound she had heard coming from a humanever. The vibration of Mirela’s moan coursed through her chamber.
The woman between her legs was hungry, and with each touch of her tongue to her opening and with each stroke to her clit, Claire felt like she was about to dissolve into a puddle.
“Mirela,” she gasped, letting go of the habit and grabbing onto Mirela’s hair. “D–don’t stop please.”
Mirela’s mismatched eyes shot up to look at her, snuggling closer to Claire’s cunt, now holding on to her thighs tightly. Her callused hand felt incredible on her skin, and she hoped that by the end of all of this, she would carry the marks of Mirela’s hands on her skin proudly.
Mirela pulled away once, her lips glistening with Claire’s wetness. The sight alone was enough to send her over the edge.
“You taste like everything that is holy,” Mirela said, moving her hands from her thighs to the juncture of her legs. Using her thumbs, she spread Claire even more. “You are God sent. Just for me to have.” Mirela sucked her lower lip in then licked her upper one.
“I want more.” She released a guttural groan right before latching on to Claire’s clit and sucking it hungrily.
If it wasn’t for her iron grip on Mirela, Claire knew she would’ve fallen. The attacks were slow yet overbearing. It didn’t take long, just a few strokes of Mirela’s tongue, afew caresses of her thumb to her clit, and her entire body contracted.
Her grip on Mirela’s hair was almost painful as Claire released a scream that echoed within the holy walls of the cathedral. Her vision blackened, and all she saw were stars. All she felt was her skin on fire, and all she knew was Mirela.
***
Mirela
Claire’s cries were as beautiful as when she sang, and she knew, deep in her chest, that she would spend a lifetime chasing them again.
When she finally pulled away, she took her in. Proud of how disheveled and undone Claire looked. And to think that it was all because of her that this gorgeous woman was breathing hard, legs quivering, eyes half closed, lips parted. That was her doing…
God, she wanted to paint her just like that, keep that memory of Claire undone just for her eyes to see over and over again when she missed her. The flickering candlelight wrapped around her, catching on her darker skin, made her seem almost unreal.
Before Mirela could speak, Claire reached for the fabric clinging to her and let it fall away. Mirela’s mind wentblank. Her breath caught as she took in the sight before her. Claire’s body was…breathtaking.
