Page 65 of West Bound

“You tell me I’m gorgeous when I’m wet for you. You say you can’t wait to be inside me, and how well my pretty little cunt is gonna take your cock.”

“All true. So far, your dream version seems accurate.” His fingers start to move gently over my clit again. “Seeing how wet you got for me today, bent over like that in front of him. Getting to show him how perfect you are. I loved every second of it.”

“I loved it too,” I confess. “Does that make me terrible?”

“No. That makes you human. Men like him deserve what they get.” His lips brush my shoulder, and he picks up his rhythm again. “And you deserve so much more than he ever gave you.”

“You’re good at this,” I whisper.

“We’re good at this. It’s your dream. I’m just playing the part.” He drags his lips over my throat, and I rock back against him as his fingers circle tighter over my clit. “Tell me what else I say.”

“You make me say your name. You make me beg for you.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, a touch of surprise in his tone.

“I want you to stop treating me like a nun. Just for a little while.” I brave out the request.

“I’ve never had my hand between a nun’s thighs begging her to tell me her fantasies in the middle of the night. So I think we’ve got that wish covered.”

“Well. There’s that at least.” My words end on a moan, and I grind back against him.

“Oh fuck. Listen to how perfect you are. Keep moaning like that. I want to hear you.”

His fingers slip inside me, and I whimper at the intrusion. Another gasp follows when he grinds the heel of his hand against my clit. He slowly increases his pace, patiently waiting and listening to the sounds I make to direct him.

It’s so damn good that I almost don’t want to come. I don’t want it to be over yet. Tonight I’m celebrating being liberated. Having my freedom back and not having to think about what tomorrow looks like, or what it means if I go back to the convent. Tonight, I get him to myself.

“That’s it. Keep going, sweetheart.” I’m brought back to the present when I hear how loud I’m breathing, practically panting for air, and whimpering as he brings me to the brink.

I press my face into the pillow, trying to stifle how loud I’m being when it feels like it’s echoing off the walls, my lips pressed against the cotton sheet until he nips at the spot where my shoulder and neck meet.

“No. There’s no one to hear you out here but me and the trees. So don’t you dare silence yourself.” He corrects me firmly, softly kissing the spot on my shoulder he just nipped.

He’s right. With him, I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to be embarrassed. There’s no judgment. I can just let myself go.

I give him what he wants, moaning loudly as his fingers glide in and out of me, and I use his rhythm to take me crashing into the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever. All because it’s him with his hands on me. His words coaxing me on with the heat of his body at my back. It’s everything I could have asked for, the freedom I’ve desperately needed.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Levi

She’sthe prettiest mess I’ve ever seen in my life. Her hair tangled, and her nightgown bunched up and falling off one shoulder. Her breast on the verge of spilling out while she lets herself go for me. Her hips rock against my hand, and I’m doing my best to follow the rhythm she dictates when she comes. Her sweet little sounds make me harder than I think I’ve ever been.

“Wow…” she murmurs as she catches her breath.

“That good?” I can’t stop myself from gloating a little bit.

“So good. I think I saw stars.” Her melodic, amused voice fills me with fucking pride.

“Next time we’ll have to try for galaxies.” I kiss my way down her jaw, pausing when I realize what I’ve said. She turns her head, ever so slightly in my direction, and kisses me tentatively on the lips, her lashes lifting as she meets my eyes.

“Sorry.” Her eyes go wide at the realization of what she’s just done. “I didn’t mean?—"

I kiss her back, running my fingers up her neck and threading them through her hair as I tilt my head to take the kissdeeper. Her tongue teases mine, and she rolls to her side, her hand running over my shoulder and chest in exploration until we’re both out of breath and have to part for oxygen.

“You don’t have to be sorry with me.”

“No?”