Lessons in Sin - Pam Godwin Page 0,93

was too much pleasure, and she felt it, too. One of her hands moved from the counter to clasp my butt, her nails biting into my flesh, her cries loud and explosive.

It only spurred me harder.

“You sound so fucking sexy taking it in the ass.” With my lips at her ear, I nipped at her earlobe. “You love it dirty and hard in any hole you can get it.”

“Only with you, Magnus.” She gulped, trembling, holding my gaze in the mirror. “Only you.”

She came with a shrieking shudder that shook her tiny body. I pushed deep into her ass and pinned her to the sink, choking, heaving, and filling her with so much come I thought I would pass out.

I wanted it dripping out of her, puddling on the floor, and coating her gorgeous legs. Then I wanted to take her again.

“I’m dead.” She collapsed onto the counter, laughing.

I dropped my mouth to her spine, softly kissing as I eased from her body. The loss of intimacy was too much, so I hauled her up and pulled her chest to mine, joining our lips.

“You’re going to let me sleep now, right?” She encircled her arms around my neck.

“I have endless orgasms to give you.” I lifted her and carried her toward the shower. “You’re going to get them in every room of the house, on every flat surface. Then we’ll move on to the hundred acres outside.”

“Oh my God.” She moaned.

“Did I hurt you?” I set her on the seat in the shower stall, inspecting her flushed body. “I fucked you like an animal. Was I too—?”

“You’re perfect.” She lifted her pleasure-soaked smile to my mouth, kissing me lazily. “I love… I loved it.”

“Good. Because I’m going to live between your legs.”

I washed her. I loved her with kisses. Then I carried her back to bed and loved her with my body again and again and again.

I’d broken my vows and taken the virginity of my student. The youngest daughter of the Constantines. My day of reckoning would come. Until then, I would take profuse, unholy pleasure in the sin.

CHAPTER 33

MAGNUS

Hiking with Tinsley in the mountains became one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

The hours we spent on the trails weren’t about the destination. That time together was about bonding and learning and appreciating each other. It was about arguing and laughing and kissing.

I’d come to know her in depth at school, in the classroom, in the church. But seeing her among the evergreens and chasing her through the snow, I gained new perspectives.

Nature gave her a deep sense of wonder, like a salve for her mind, a place to rest her thoughts. She didn’t belong in the city. She wasn’t happy in a mansion. I couldn’t even picture her in a classroom anymore.

This was her home, amid the mountains, rivers, beavers, opossums, bats, and falcons. This was where she belonged, and I was right here with her, absorbing the land, welcoming it into my lungs, knitting her to my soul.

Our footfalls became our heartbeats, the trees our cocoon. Here, safe in our private world, we formed a ride-or-die connection that thrived in the forbidden. It was raw. It was dangerous. It was our comfort. We floated in a sense of wakeful dreaming.

I spent two weeks with her in the mountains, and for the first time in my life, I felt no inner battle. No regrets. She was the greatest blessing heaven could’ve given me, and I wouldn’t misuse or squander this gift. I would cherish her and protect her at all costs.

“Uh-oh.” She lay on her side in the bed, facing me. “I see brooding eyes.”

Neither of us wore a stitch of clothing, yet the only parts of us that touched were our gazes.

“My thoughts are pure joy,” I murmured.

“You know what’s pure joy? My silk pillowcase. Since your face is pressed to that cotton abomination, it’s no wonder you look so darkly menacing and grouchy.”

She said this while snuggling into her shiny ivory pillowcase, which was absurdly juxtaposed with my plaid flannel sheets. She was the only person I knew who would bring a fancy pillow covering to a cabin in the mountains.

It was also one of the few high-maintenance things about her. She didn’t wear makeup or paint her nails or fuss over her hair. But she was rather protective of her pricey undergarments. Whenever I ripped one, she turned feral.

She was a contradiction of her upbringing. A spoiled rich girl with integrity and a beautiful