Lessons in Sin - Pam Godwin Page 0,42

my back, and goosebumps stampeded across my skin. Bare skin.

No panties.

Yeah, I’d come prepared.

His outrage was immediate.

“You’ve been like this all day?” His voice roared, his expression thunder, booming, deafening in his anger.

“You said you didn’t want to see my underwear again.”

So I’d stopped wearing them, holding out with wicked hope that he would get an eyeful the next time I scrubbed the floor. Well, he was getting an eyeful now, and it produced a quivery, satisfying rush of warmth between my legs.

He was right. I craved his attention. Good or bad, positive or negative, platonic or sexual, I was crying for it.

His heated gaze gave it to me, never leaving my exposed backside as his hands fell to his belt. In a swift movement, the leather strap pulled free and dangled from his fist. Then…

Crack!

I lay there, suspended in that split second of shock between the strike in my ears and the pain it would bring. With my neck craned, I watched in frozen silence as he reared back the belt and swung again.

The second blow landed just as the fire from the first erupted. It spread outward, radiating across my buttocks and stabbing deeply and with precision directly into my bones.

Mouth dry, muscles locked, I gasped without sound.

Then he beat the unholy hell out of me.

The instrumental church music played on. His strikes kept time with the toll of the bells, and his labored breaths built in crescendo with the flute.

I couldn’t breathe at all. My teeth sank into the insides of my cheeks, and the metallic taste of blood wet my tongue. The urge to reach back and protect my burning butt was enormous. Instead, I clutched the edge of the desk and focused on him.

The unfazably frigid priest was gone, and in his place was a feral, ravenous, vengeful god hell-bent on punishing my ass. He grunted through every hit, his teeth clenched and bared, and the sounds of his breathing so heavy and fast he drowned out the music.

I’d never heard or seen a man so worked up. And I was the source of that. The fuel for his fire. I was freeing him.

It did something to me. Called to me. Shook me like an awakening.

As the shock from the pain subsided, my mind began to calm. My limbs loosened, and I relaxed into the belt that rained down on my flesh.

Trickles of liquid heat pooled between my legs, opening the muscles and rippling through me in heavy pulses of need. I adjusted my hips, positioning my clit against the edge of the desk. With each driving blow from the strap, I let my body rock, grinding that bundle of nerves against the hard surface.

As the music climbed, his strikes came harder and faster, and everything increased in intensity—my hunger, my trembling, my pleasure. I rose to the precipice, reaching.

Until the belt hit the floor.

A heartbeat later, he was on me, stretched over my back and hauling my pussy away from the desk, denying me that friction.

“You will not come.” He ruthlessly kicked my feet apart as if he didn’t so much as want my thighs clenching the spot where I ached.

His cock lay along the crevice of my buttocks, rock-hard and miles long, straining behind his zipper. He felt huge, monstrous, throbbing to get inside me.

I wriggled my ass.

He fisted my hair and yanked my head to his shoulder with such viciousness I thought my neck might break. His teeth pressed against my cheek, his lips pulling back and his breaths lashing like an inferno blowing through the gates of hell.

His muscles were coiled, his entire body flexing against me. Or away from me. He was fighting demons.

“Leave.” His hand tightened in my hair, at odds with his hoarse command. “You must go.”

Trapped beneath him, I didn’t have many options. Leaving wasn’t one of them.

I angled my neck, struggling against his hold so I could see his face. When I finally turned enough, when I met his stark gaze, my heart stopped.

A blood vessel throbbed in his brow. Guilt etched his beautiful features. And the pain in his eyes…it devastated me. It wrenched open the door to my soul and stuffed every useless corner with self-loathing and regret.

Magnus was never going to expel me.

And he never wanted to want this.

When it came down to it, after he fucked me, what was I going to do? Would I actually report him? Get him fired? Arrested? Or, the most likely scenario, murdered by my family?

The song