Sinner (Priest, #2)

by Sierra Simone

The moment her lips touch mine, I’m lost. To myself, to her, to any memory of what is right or true or necessary. Ecstasy. That’s what it’s called when saints experience spiritual euphoria, and I’m no saint, that’s for fucking sure, but this…this is ecstasy. The small whimper she makes when I slide my hand to the small of her back and jerk our bodies close together. The hesitant flicker of her tongue against my lips. The clean, sweet taste of her, the rose smell of her skin, the satin submission of her soft mouth under mine. The trusting way her hands lace and hang around my neck. And the tiny noise she lets out as I make her mouth fully mine—her tongue, her teeth, her lips—I hold nothing back. I turn so she’s the one backed against the stove, and I cage her in everywhere—my arms, my feet on either side of her feet—and I give in to every dirty urge pounding through me. I press my cock against her, my hands find her ass under the cheap fabric of her jumper, and I bite her lower lip until she moans. I keep it trapped between my teeth as I pick her up and deposit her on the counter next to the stove, and she parts her legs for me to step between as if we’ve done this a thousand times before. The moment our bodies touch again, the moment the wide ridge of my erection brushes against the place between her legs, she lets out a gasp so sweetly surprised, so endearingly amazed, that I have to fist my hands in the skirt of her jumper to avoid doing something truly filthy, like play...