The Good Sinner's Naughty Nun (6 page)

"You wouldn't be fighting me. You'd want it as much as I. Of that, Sister Vivienne," his eyes gleamed wickedly, "I'd make certain."

"Women are not supposed to enjoy the act of procreation. Masculine lust is simply a burden women must bear to provide offspring."

This time his laughter was warm, indulgent. He leaned back in his chair. "Is that what they teach you?" Then he took another gulp of wine and shook his head. "Such a waste of a beautiful woman."

She walked slowly around his chair, ignoring the foolish joy she felt when he said that. "You lust for me because I am a nun. Your lust would fade if I was available to you. An ordinary woman."

His eyes narrowed. "Possibly."

"You are a wicked man, easily lured by forbidden fruit."

"You're no better, Sister Vivienne. All that curiosity stifled is not healthy for the blood. And your blood is no different to mine." He glanced over at the flap of his tent where it billowed slightly in a warm evening breeze. "You should leave. Go back, Sister Vivienne and do not venture out again. You might not be so fortunate next time."

"Sister Vivienne you try my patience. If you stay here in my tent those wide brown eyes of yours will get an education for which they might not be ready. I don't need to lay a finger on you to get my pleasure."

She looked at his lap, her own sex blossoming with yearning. "Oh?"

"Shall I show you?" He drew the words out so that they touched her intimately somehow, as if he'd stroked her pussy with his lips. "If you don't leave now and go back to your tent, I'll do it in front of you," he warned huskily. "I must release my seed. I can't wait longer. When a man is pushed to this point he has no choice."

Again he was brutally straightforward, trying to scare her into retreat.

It wouldn't work. She sat on his pallet, hands in her lap, watching.

He stared hard at her, his cheeks sucked in. "Very well, Sister Vivienne. Let this be your punishment for straying from your tent again. At least I warned you. Perhaps this will scare you enough to obey my commands in future." He began unlacing his breeches until a long, dark cock protruded from his lap, arched toward his belly, the head bulging and crimson, the veins prominent, filled with blood.

While she watched solemnly, he seized it in his hand.

Chapter Five

He was sweating, his eyes on her, as she sat there so primly on his pallet. His cock was afire, his balls so hard and full he, for once, knew not what to do with them. Under normal circumstances he would ask someone to suck them for him as he shot his load. But there was no one there to do it. And oddly enough no one else he wanted to call into his tent to suck his ripened seed bags. He was giving a performance in solitary splendor, he realized. Performing for this woman—this nun. Showing off for her. With his other hand he stroked and jostled those over-filled sacs. He leaned back spreading his legs even wider, flexing his hips. No point holding back now. May as well let her see it all. She'd soon go running back to her tent.

He'd once known a man who could get his own cock in his mouth. In that moment he wished he could do the same, although, somewhere in his maddened brain he knew that even that would not be enough for him.

Thierry hovered on the brink, but he still couldn't spend. He couldn't push himself over. That nun was watching, staring, remind him of his many sins. She hadn't moved an inch since he began handling himself.

Desperate, unhinged, he gazed at Sister Vivienne through a red mist and growled. "Help me."

She stood slowly and crossed the small space. He worked his cock frenziedly, his buttocks and thighs squeezing and heaving, his breath coming in quick angry gasps. Sister Vivienne got down on her knees between his spread thighs and whispered, "How can I help you, young man."

He grunted, feral, the chair shaking and creaking under him. "Mouth."

She blinked. "Like this?" She opened her lips and licked them, inches from his swollen, white-hot cock head. Another bead of his liquid dripped from his aching crest.

He hissed at her. It wasn't a yes, but the closest sound he could make. His hips thrust, knocking his cock to her lips. They parted again and he felt the tip of her warm tongue sweep his trembling crest, over the hole, lapping up his dew.

Thierry flung his head back, growling, gasping. Suddenly she was forcing his hand away from his cock. He wanted to weep, the need was so strong to finish, when he knew it was wrong. With a nun.

A nun. Forbidden fruit, as she'd said.

Finally, taking pity it seemed, she lowered her face and her mouth. Damp heat devoured his cock, squeezed it, milked it, pumped it. Her fingernails scraped over his thighs, her palms nursed his balls. Her tongue tickled his sensitive flesh on the underside, swabbed the moisture from its tip, circled the pulsing crest, lapped at the rigid veins with a soothing warmth.

He cried out in sheer unbridled relief. Thrusting, he filled her wanton mouth and throat and it closed on him, drinking him down heartily, thirstily. Thierry Bonnenfant's skull ripped apart and he lost his mind. Pressing the soles of his boots into the dusty ground, he thrust with his hips, groaning, shivering.

He came with the velocity of a warhorse. He came deep in the throat of a nun.

Or so he imagined. For when he opened his eyes she was still seated on his pallet, watching with interest, her hands clasped piously in her lap.

It had been so real. So real. He looked down at his cock, clasped in his own hand. Warm sperm dripped over his thumb and onto his thigh. His gaze returned to the woman on his pallet. There was a devious, amused look in her eye.

Somehow Sister Vivienne had got him into this shameful state—made him imagine it was her, kneeling between his thighs, nursing on his manhood and handling his balls with the practiced skill of a very costly whore.

Sister Vivienne was one of two things—either a very naughty nun. Or a cunning witch.

He would find out, one way or another, before morning.

* * * *

Vivienne watched as the high color faded from his face. "Thank you for the lesson, Bonnenfant. That was most informative."

Breathless, he got to his feet and crossed the short space between them. She looked up at him. He put his trembling hand under her chin and she swallowed the scent of his seed. It was sticky on his fingers and now on her cheek too as he caressed it slowly with his thumb.

The gesture was more menacing than anything else, but she said nothing, just let him rub his essence on her skin.

"You're a nun," he whispered. "This is wrong."

"But you're a sinner," she pointed out. "Why should
wrong
matter to you?"

He sank to his knees, slid his hand from her face to her left breast and cupped it roughly through her woolen habit. "Forgive me, Sister. I can't help myself. My desire for you is too strong."

Vivienne gasped as he squeezed the round flesh of her breast, rubbing his large palm over the peaking nipple, until it was almost too sensitive. She drew back, faintly protesting. But he swayed forward, grabbing her wrists, pinning them behind her back on the pallet. Then he lowered his mouth to that small nub of roused flesh and closed his lips hard around it, sucking through her clothing. Sucking without mercy.

Instant pleasure spiked downward from the little point he tugged and licked, to the apex of her thighs, where she was already warm and wet, her pussy clenching, longing to feed on that lovely long cock she'd just seen shooting its load into the air. She let her tongue slide out to lick her lips and then as far as it could to taste his sticky seed on her cheek. He must have glanced upward at that moment, for he caught her in the act and his mouth suddenly left her breast.

"Do you like the taste of me, Sister Vivienne?" he demanded, his hands still holding her wrists behind her back. Her torso arched, bosom thrust outward and upward.

"No." He shook his head, his eyes very dark. "How can He? But I will only be responsible for my own downfall, not yours too. My poor, sweet," he kissed her taut nipple through the wool, "young," he lapped it just once, "pure," he nuzzled it and then his lips hovered just above it again, "virgin." He blew on it softly and she felt his hot breath drying the damp patch he'd made.

She squirmed, trying to push it to his lips again.

"Sister Vivienne have you been sent here to tempt me? Did the good Lord put you here before me as a test? Or is this the devil's work?"

She said nothing. What could she say?

"You must not fear, Sister Vivienne. I will never hurt you. Stay with me tonight. Let me taste all your delights and show you
my
heaven."

"You are right, Bonnenfant," she replied after a short, heavy pause. "The desire is too strong for us both. I am in danger of letting you corrupt me, tempt me into sin."

His right eyebrow arched, but he would not release her wrists. He was suspicious of her evidently.

"I am weak," she added, lowering her gaze to his bare chest. "I must pay penance for this."

"But you have done nothing, Sister Vivienne," he said, his voice cool and steady. "This is all my fault. I touched myself indecently before you. I put my crude mouth and my unworthy hands on your lovely, tender titties."

"Yes," she said uncertainly. "Well, I..."

"I am the one thinking about looking at your naked body and spending again in my own fist." His nostrils flared. Now he held both her wrists behind her with his left hand. "Perhaps if I can look at you. Perhaps that will appease this wicked need and keep me from worse acts against you." Slowly he slid her gown and shift to her knees. "It wouldn't be your fault, Sister Vivienne, if I should happen to see something that rouses me to devilish deeds again in your presence."

"No." She wasn't sure what she said no to, but it seemed necessary to say it, as he pushed her gown higher up over her thighs. Then all the way to her hips.

"Hmmm. Well, you're the expert. My knowledge and experience lies in other...areas." His long fingers moved slowly along her inner thigh until they reached the crease between leg and groin. His thumb briefly stroked her pubic curls and her pulse scattered like the seeds of a dandelion clock blown free in the summer air. "So soft," he purred. "So tightly curled."

Despite his claimed principles about nuns, he was touching her. Thank you, dear Lord! She'd never felt this much anxiety and need in her nether regions. She was usually glad to get the sex over with.

Now his firm hand circled her ankle and lifted it to the edge of the pallet. Vivienne felt cool air wash over her damp pussy and knew she was exposed to the warrior's wicked gaze. His hand rested again on her inner thigh, warm and firm. Slowly he pushed on it, easing her further open, while he stared down at her vulnerable sex. His touch was mere inches from her entrance, fingertips trailing over the soft, dark curls of her pubic hair, just missing her labia. She tried pushing herself against his hand, but he withdrew at once and admonished her sternly.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, toying with her flesh. "You have a very eager pussy, Sister Vivienne. Look down," he urged huskily. "See how it blossoms."

She closed her eyes, not needing to see.

He gently pinched her nether lips together. "You should be in a chastity belt, Sister Vivienne, to keep you out of trouble." Then he took his hand away and her eyes flashed open. She watched him lick his fingers. "Sweeter than the wine." He moved back, kneeling before her. "Has a man—or woman—ever touched you there before?"

"I can't do this with you watching me, Sister Vivienne," he complained tersely. "It was different before, but now you would be complicit in the crime. Now you know I'm looking at your virgin womanhood as I spend, and you should close your legs and stop me. But if you can't see me looking, you are not the one at fault."