Secret Santa Surprise: Book 29 in the Kindred Tales Series - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,74

bends down and takes her mouth in a kiss as sweet as Ellie always dreamed her first kiss would be. Well, that is until she was shipped away to be a priestess. Now she’s is not supposed to be kissing anyone. But somehow she can’t stop—even though she doesn’t know him. Doesn’t even know his name.

But one kiss isn’t enough. As he pulls away, she reached for him. Looping her arms around his neck, she pulls him back down. He doesn’t have to come—he’s nearly seven feet tall and immensely muscular while she’s barely five-five. But he comes anyway, allowing himself to be drawn down for more of the sweet-sticky forbidden kisses, flavored with the fruity punch he made her drink.

“Gods, little priestess,” he murmurs, when he pulls back at last. “That punch is potent stuff, isn’t it?”

He strokes her lightly, just over her breasts where her nipples poke against the coarse white fabric of her robes.

The touch is barely there but Elli feels her body respond at once—lighting up for him like the strange tree in the human’s party—the one they have strung with many small, twinkling lights. Her body feels like that now—sparking, lighting, coming to life under this stranger’s touch.

“Oh!” she gasps, her nipples peaking under his gentle caress.

“You like that, do you?” He cups one breast more firmly and strokes her tight nipple gently with his thumb. Even through the coarse robe, his touch stirs her almost unbearably. Elli feels as though the sparking has turned to a smoldering fire which might soon burst out into outright flame. More—she wants more.

And she suspects it isn’t just because of the punch, though that certainly helps things along. Also thanks to the punch, she no longer feels any guilt or obligation to stop doing what feels good. What feels right.

“Easy, little priestess—you’re panting,” he murmurs. After stroking her nipple through the coarse white cloth of her robe a moment more, he pulls his big hand away.

But Elli doesn’t want him to go.

“Touch me,” she begs, reaching for his hand and placing it on her other breast.

He strokes it, almost reflexively.

“I should go now,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Clearly the punch is working.”

“No—don’t leave me!” Elli thrusts her breast more fully into his big hand and rubs against him. Her whole body is on fire with need! “Please,” she begs, “Kiss me again—touch me some more!”

“Mmm, but I shouldn’t, little priestess…” Still, he allows her to pull him down for another long, sweet, lingering kiss. Elli slips her tongue between his lips and explores him eagerly. He makes a low growl in his chest and lifts her up, deepening the kiss as he pulls her close.

Elli feels like she can’t get enough. Her whole body is alight with desire and for once it doesn’t feel like a sin to indulge herself. She can do whatever she wants tonight and there is no one here to stop her. No stepmother, glaring at her and saying she ought to be ashamed, no Priestess Superior with her cold, judgmental eye. No one telling her it is wrong to do things that feel so good…so right.

She presses against the dark stranger eagerly and then takes one of his big hands—the one not busy fondling her breasts—and attempts to slip it under her robe.

She is bare beneath—having not been fitted for her special undergarments yet—and for a moment, she feels his fingertips brush the sensitive top of her mound. How she longs to feel those long fingers slip into her slippery inner folds and touch her special spot—the one she’s never supposed to touch herself.

She knows she shouldn’t touch herself there—and she certainly shouldn’t let a male touch her there—but somehow, since she drank the punch, it seems all right. It seems perfectly fine to indulge the hidden desires she’s had for so long, the ones she only takes out an examines in the privacy of her own bed at night…

The male’s fingertips slip for just a moment into her slit and she feels him brush over the tingling button of her special spot. Goddess, it feels so good!

But then he is pulling away—drawing back—a frown on his dark features.

“Forgive me, little virgin priestess, but I must go before I do something we both will regret,” he rumbles.

“Wait—no, please don’t go!” Elli begs him. But he is already gliding noiselessly out of the door and through the human party. No one sees him go—wearing the red hat with the white furry ball at