HIS FORBIDDEN OBSESSION

Jessa Kane

Copyright © 2019 Jessa Kane

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

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CHAPTER ONE

Private Griffin

“WHICH OF YOUR men is the least likely to be…moved by a pretty female, Captain?”

As soon as the elderly nun asks my captain that odd question, I know what his answer is going to be. Me. Of course he’s going to answer with the name Griffin. Most of the soldiers in this regiment pass their nights in the town brothel, spending their money on women and alcohol. My lack of interest in doing the same has made me an outsider—and that’s more than fine with me.

The captain crosses his arms and regards the nun thoughtfully. “I have someone in mind, Mother Superior, but I’m curious why you ask.”

After a quick glance over her shoulder at the group of my fellow soldiers, she steps closer to the captain and lowers her voice. “There is a young woman among us who cannot help but stir the lust of men. We’ve kept her hidden for many years because of her attractiveness, but obviously we have no choice but to bring her into the open today.”

She is correct that there is no choice.

My regiment has been tasked with transporting the nuns from their current home to a safer, more remote convent up in the hills, where we will remain with them for a week to ensure the building is safe from intruders.

There has been a rebel uprising in our country and the church has become a target, along with the government. All religious buildings are in danger of attack and their convent is no longer safe. We are helping them travel under the cover of night and will remain with them indefinitely until the rebel forces can be defeated. Ours is a country that values its religious institutions and the nuns are to be protected at all costs.

“You see, Captain,” says Mother Superior, folding her hands together at her waist, her expression severe. “I’m in need of someone to keep her safe from the other men.”

The captain is visibly skeptical, but he flicks an absent wrist at me. “I will assign Private Griffin to this most worthy cause. He is moved by no female.”

Snickers reach me from the other soldiers, but I ignore them, saluting the captain and standing back. I’m looking for a place to sit down and clean my rifle when the nun surprises me by clutching my forearm with her bony fingers. “Does the captain speak true? You are not the kind to fall prey to a woman’s wiles?”

I grunt in the affirmative. Although, perhaps she has gotten the wrong impression about me. I’m a red-blooded male with all the appropriate needs and urges. I had casual relationships that were physical before I joined the army—and they meant nothing to me. I am positive that I will not be moved by the nun she claims to be so pretty. While in the throes of his third divorce, my father taught me a long time ago that women are more trouble than they’re worth—and the more beautiful, the higher the capacity to make a man’s life hell.

As a thirty-year-old man, I’ve watched from the sidelines as this has proven true, time and time again, for my two older brothers back home, in addition to my own father. And now some of the soldiers in my regiment. They waste time writing to women and pining over snapshots in their bunk, while the women merely scheme over ways to make their men crazy with head games and ultimatums.

The men who don’t have women waiting at home throw their money at sex.

Either way, it’s always a woman making a man broke and miserable.

If the men in my regiment want to laugh over my ability to withstand the charms of women, so be it. I’ve heard them speculate that I’m impotent or a eunuch or that I prefer the company of men. None of those things are remotely true. When I fist my cock at night and bring myself off, it’s the female form I think about—though there is never a face attached. In real life, however, there is no woman who will ever tempt me to make bad decisions or act like a fool.

“Are you positive your willpower is so strong, soldier?” Mother Superior asks again. “She must remain untouched, you see. When her father brought her to us as a girl, her virtue being stolen was his deepest concern. It has been something of a challenge keeping her innocent.”

This is getting ridiculous. “I assure you, she will arrive at the convent with her innocence. I’m not a man who wants for willpower.”

Finally, Mother Superior seems satisfied. Mostly. There is a still a glint of anxiousness in her eyes. “Very well. I will bring her out now.”

When she turns and scurries into the convent, I shake my head, wanting to laugh for the first time in a long time. This job will be an easy one. I’ve been fighting in the field for months, witnessing bloodshed between the army and the rebels. I’ve killed men with my bare hands and dodged bullets on the front lines. To think that a young woman—a peaceful nun, to boot—is going to challenge me in some way is laughable.

Behind me, the soldiers are getting restless with the need to load these women onto the bus and complete today’s mission. They’re probably already thinking of ways they can blow their pay on booze and sex. We are only waiting on two more of our charges, the nun I’ve just spoken with and the young woman she believes can bring everyone of the male sex to their knees.

Again, I have the urge to laugh. Not going to happen.

My eyes narrow when Mother Superior emerges from the stone building with a small figure at her side. It’s a second nun in the customary robe, except hers has a large hood attached that covers her head and shadows her face. A rosary is fashioned around her waist, the cross dangling at her stomach.

A finger of uneasiness tickles the back of my neck and I frown over the involuntary reaction. It’s probably just my senses reminding me to be on guard during the journey ahead, since we’ll be going through locations of unrest.

The nuns stop in front of me, Mother Superior looking more uneasy than ever.

A second later I find out why.

“Private Griffin,” Mother Superior says quietly, positioning herself so that she’s blocking everyone else’s view of the second nun. “This is Sister Mercy. Please keep her safe, as we discussed.”

Then Sister Mercy looks up at me.

Claws embed themselves in my gut and I make a sound.

The ground rushes up at me and I brace for impact, but when I shake my head, I’m still standing—staring—at the most beautiful woman who ever walked the earth. Her eyes. I can’t even believe they’re real. Huge and golden and hopeful. Her hair is mostly hidden beneath her habit, but little auburn strands peek out at her temples. There’s a smattering of freckles across her nose, making me think of nighttime stars that sometimes pop up early, at sunset. And her mouth…

It’s not a mouth that belongs to a nun.

It’s a mouth designed for sinning. With me.

The need to taste it causes a static roar in my ears.

“I see you’re not as immune to her as your captain claimed you would be,” Mother Superior says. “Perhaps we should find someone else to escort her—”

“No.”

Sister Mercy will be put in someone else’s protection over my dead body. She would be mauled by the debauched men in my regiment.

Hell, I think a man of the cloth might break his vows for a taste.

Any man would. My own cockis stiff and pressing against my uniform pants. One look at her has turned me into one of the horny animals I typically scorn—and that pisses me right off.

With a growl, I pump my rifle in one hand. “Keep your head down and don’t give me any trouble.” I take her by the elbow through her robe. “Let’s move.”

CHAPTER TWO

Sister Mercy

OH NO.

This is terrible.

Private Griffin obviously doesn’t like me and now I will make it my mission to change his mind. I can’t help it. I always do this. Last year, right before I turned eighteen, Sister Mary Margaret transferred to our convent and I spilled milk on her during our first breakfast together. She couldn’t stand me after that, so of course, I showed up at her room every morning with fresh berries, coffee and a line of scripture, trying to start fresh.

Sister Mary Margaret transferred again. To get away from me.

It’s a horrible flaw in my personality, this frantic need to make people like me, but as Private Griffin urges me onto the bus, I can already feel a ramble building in my throat. He’s in for it now, poor man.

Midway up the stairs, he stops and turns. “Head down. Stay close.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I say brightly. “I know the drill.”

His grumbling sound vibrates the air between us. “We’re going all the way to the back. You’re going to sit in the corner, stay there and be silent.”

“Ooh, I don’t know about that. Can we compromise on whispering?”

“Why can’t you just be quiet?”

Wow. He’s even meaner than Sister Mary Margaret. And twice is tall, with lots of muscles, not that I’m noticing something like that. I’m not supposed to notice a man’s physical attributes and I’m definitely not. It’s against the rules.

“I’ll try to be quiet.”

Private Griffin makes another one of those prolonged grunting sounds and continues guiding me up the stairs. I keep my eyes downcast, letting him pull me to the back of the bus and deposit me in the very back row, up against the window. He takes a seat beside me, blocking me in with his enormous body. From beneath my hood, I can see his knees digging into the back of the seat in front of us, which is saying something, because the rows are quite spacious.

The bus lurches forward and with my heart in my throat, I say goodbye to the old convent as it passes in the window, the only home I’ve ever known. I’m going to miss it forever. Even the winter drafts and mice and creaky floors. I’ll miss my window facing the distant mountains, especially when they’re capped in snow. And I’ll miss—

“Are you crying?” Private Griffin says gruffly.

I shake my head vigorously, sending tears flying in every direction. “No.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

“I know.”

A few moments pass. “It’s all right if you talk, I guess.”

“I was going to talk anyway.” I rub at my nose with the sleeve of my robe. “Do you have any coins in your pocket?”

“Uh…yes.” His knees dig even deeper into the seat in front of us as he roots around in his pocket. As he does so, I hook a finger in the edge of my hood so I can regard the private. He’s definitely the frowning sort. But I suppose if it weren’t against the rules, I would admit he’s rather angular and handsome. His hair is windswept and deep brown, but the hair darkening his jaw is pitch black. There’s a permanent furrow between his brows and a dimple in the center of his chin.

Somehow I just know he hates that dimple.

Even though the Lord gave it to him.

How long has it been since I thought of the Lord?

It must be a full hour by now.

I worry my bottom lip with my teeth until the handful of change appears above my lap. “There. What do you need the change for?”

“There’s an anniversary edition of a coin I’ve been looking for everywhere, but I don’t think it’s here.” I poke through the offerings in his meaty palm. “Either way, the little clink sounds make me feel better when I’m blue. See, you did do something about my tears!”

He stares at me dumbstruck for a moment, before he shoves the change back in his pocket. “Keep your voice down. It’s…”

“It’s what?”

“It’s almost as distracting as your face.” He seems shocked at having complimented me—I think?—out loud, and clears his throat roughly. “Where does a nun find coins to search through, anyway?”

“The collection plate, of course—” I slap a hand over my mouth, lowering it slowly. “Don’t tell Mother Superior. I always pay it back when I find a coin I’m looking for. Most of the time.” My shoulders slump. “Now you’re really never going to like me.”

The private nearly shouts his reply at me. “Who said I didn’t like you?”

“You haven’t smiled once,” I point out.

“I never smile.”

“So you do like me?”

“Never said that, either.”

“Oh,” I whisper, smoothing out my robe and trying not to have hurt feelings. “This is probably a good time to tell you my father left me at the convent when I was ten and never came back, so I have abandonment issues. At least that’s what Mother Superior tells me. I always think…maybe if I’d been better or more likeable, my father would have come back or not abandoned me at all.”

His tone softens considerably. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you’ll understand why I want you to like me.” He’s quiet for so long, I start to feel a little defensive, even though surely that must be a sin. Almost everything seems to be a sin. That doesn’t stop me from feeling put out over his indifference, though. “I probably would be doing the same with any soldier on this bus, you know. Trying to make them like me.”

I watch his hand flex into a fist where it rests on his thigh. “You will not associate with a single one of them, are we understood?” His big body shifts toward me on the seat. “Not unless you want their blood on your conscience.”

I put out my hand for a shake. “Say we’re friends and you have a deal, Private.”

He eyes it warily. “I don’t have any use for a friend.”

Trying to appear casual, I wait. But I don’t feel casual, whatsoever. There’s something about this man that makes me think he’ll be important to me. Not in a romantic way. Obviously. I take my vows very seriously. But I think he needs a friend as badly as I need one and since the regiment will remain with us at the new convent for a week, it’s likely we’ll be seeing a lot of one another. I’d like our interactions to be pleasant. And I can’t help wanting to know more about him, this surly male.

Finally, after some obvious deliberation, he takes my hand—and a long shudder wracks him. He pulls his hand away fast.

“Soft,” he mutters under his breath. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? We have a long ride ahead.”

If his words seem to have a dual meaning, I ignore the possibility and nod off a little while later with my head against the window.

CHAPTER THREE

Sister Mercy

I’M NOT SURE what wakes me up.

Perhaps a bump in the road or a bird calling to our bus as it passes.

But it takes me a few seconds to realize I’m more comfortable than I’ve ever been in my life. My head is snuggled into something that is soft and hard at the same time. I feel so small and protected, very unlike the feeling I used to have in my old bed at the convent. The narrow, lumpy mattress always made me toss and turn, leaving me with grogginess and puffy eyes.

One time, I asked Mother Superior if I could have a new mattress and she sent me off to pray for my materialistic soul. And she was right. A complaining nun is a disgrace. So I almost feel guilty now for burrowing my face into the warmth and protection of the…wait, what is this I’m lying on?

My eyes fly open, the wings of my heart flapping like a wild bird.

I’m sitting on the private’s lap.

My legs are thrown over his massive thigh and my bottom—

Flames eat at my cheeks.

My bottom is notched right into his lap.

In order for the Lord to forgive me this transgression, I’m going to be saying the rosary until I’m ninety. So…

So I might as well enjoy it for a few more minutes, right?

After all, it was an honest mistake. I must have searched out his warmth and comfort in my sleep. It wasn’t a conscious sin.

What is his scent? It’s sweat and soap and…fertile soil. I know that last aroma well because I often help some of the sisters plant bulbs in the fall. The combination of his three smells lulls me, but also makes my belly tingle. That alone tells me I should definitely apologize for my forwardness and go back to sleeping against the window.

Maybe just a few more minutes. Mother Superior is at the front of the bus and we’re tucked all the way in the back. Based on the gentle snores coming from the other seats, I’d say the chances of getting caught sleeping on the private are very low.

Nuns don’t think in terms of what they can get away with, Mercy.

Oh yeah.

I absorb one final second of heat, then start to wiggle my way off the private.

He growls in his sleep and traps me against him more securely.

My second attempt yields the same fruitless results.

While I’m sitting there trying to decide my next move, I realize there is something very large prodding me in the buttocks. A gun, perhaps? I slide my bottom over it, trying to determine the shape and my eyes shoot wide. I’ve never borne witness to male genitalia, but I’ve seen plenty of crucifixes and I know there’s something hidden under the white loincloth. But on the crucifix, the mysterious male part isn’t…sticking out.

Wanting to get a peek at the private’s face to make sure he’s asleep, I peel back my hood fully and look up. He’s definitely sleeping, but he’s far from relaxed. There’s a frustration etched into his masculine features and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Is he ill? Poor man. Maybe I should wake him and—

He mutters something in his sleep and suddenly I feel it. His hand beneath my robes. His palm on my ankle is coarse, but not unpleasant. No, the act of being touched by another human being is so foreign and satisfying, I almost moan out loud. The private’s hand moves higher, coasting up the curve of my bare calf and squeezing my knee, molding it like a sculptor does with clay.

A confusing wetness coats the juncture of my thighs and my breasts grow fuller, more sensitive, my nipples perking and tightening like the blooms of a rose bush in spring. I find myself wanting to open my legs wider—a sign that the devil has sunk his hooks into me and I must fight. I must…

My thighs encounter the scrape of his calloused hands next. They knead my outer thighs roughly, then change tack, brushing knuckles along the inner sensitive skin, right toward my femininity. Oh my Lord, he’s going to touch me there.

No, I mustn’t let him.

I’d have to leave the church in shame.

Already what I’m feeling must be against the very tenets of my chastity vow.

Because I think a part of me wants to know what it would be like if his hand went all the way to my untouched flesh and explored there.

No. No, you can’t allow it.

I gather my will and push Private Griffin’s hand down, away from my womanhood—and he stiffens beneath me. Awake. He’s awake.

I’m going to be found curled into his lap like a kitten and I can only imagine what he would think if he knew what was taking place beneath my robes. I can barely comprehend what his touch did to my body. Is it normal to be so damp?

Slowly, I look up at the private and find his nostrils flared, his lids so heavy his eyes barely appear to be open. His chest starts to lift and fall against my shoulder. I think he’s going to get angry with me. Lift me off his lap and bestow me back on the cold end of the seat. I never could have predicted what would happen next.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Sister Mercy,” he rasps. The hand that was beneath my robes just moments ago is now under my backside, sliding into his pants. “A man with weaker morals would have already taken you by force on this backseat with a hand over your perfect mouth. My morals are ironclad and still you drive me to such a breaking point that I have to fuck my hand to stay sane.”

I flinch at the profanity, so rarely heard by my ears, but the chemical reaction in my body is the opposite of scandalized. No, it seems to thrill to the gruff cursing. The bluntness. The honesty. I can only watch in fascination at the way Private Griffin’s teeth sink into his lower lip, his gaze zeroed in on my mouth.

His fist moves slowly at first, then with more and more urgency. Because I’m sitting directly on top of his actions, I don’t feel like a bystander. I feel like a participant—and while I know that is truly, dangerously wrong, I cannot seem to stem the excitement that rocks me. I think…I enjoy seeing his pleasure and knowing I am having something to do with it.

They should strip me of my habit and cross this instant.

“Look at that sweet fucking mouth. It whispers prayers when it’s made for screaming into my pillow.”

“Is it?” I breathe, my fingertips lifting involuntarily to trace my lips.

“Yes,” he grinds out. “God help me, I’d like to grab you by the hair and plow my cock right into it until cream drips down your chin.”

A shock ripples through my body at the way he speaks to me. It’s inappropriate and filthy and it makes muscles tighten where I didn’t know I had any. I should recite a scripture about temptation, but I can’t seem to remember a single word in the Bible. That wetness is growing worse and I have the most shameful urge to circle my bottom around in his lap.

Don’t you dare.

It’s bad enough that I’m allowing Private Griffin to…pleasure himself.

Yes, that is what’s happening here, isn’t it? His low grunts and the punctuated upward pumps of his hips are the telltale signs of mating. Even that I learned from the Bible.

“I’m almost done, angel baby,” he pushes through clenched teeth. “Let me see your hair. Let me imagine it in tangles on my stomach.”

I know I shouldn’t.

I know I’m probably going to fall from favor with the Lord, but my hands seem to perform the deed all on its own. I want to show him my hair. I want…no, I need to help him find release. That responsibility is like a throb inside of me that grows stronger with every passing moment. My veil comes off first, and that alone is egregious. Being so bold makes my fingers shake as they untie the white wimple at the back of my head. I hesitate for one heavy moment, but I can feel Private Griffin’s hand start to move faster, his upper lip beading with sweat and his chest heaving with anticipation and I can’t deny him. I don’t know how.

Pulling the final tie of the wimple, I let my auburn hair bound free around my shoulders and the private makes a choked noise, his hips jerking so wildly, I’m nearly unseated. There’s a squelching sound that makes my blood tingle, along with his blind eyes and slack jaw. Watching him in the throes of catastrophic pleasure, the strangest thing happens. A coil beneath my belly button tightens to the point I think something is going to burst, but it doesn’t. It simply remains like that, on the edge of destruction of oblivion. How can I be sure?

It scares me how much I want to find out.

How much I want to find out everything about Private Griffin and what just took place inside of his body. There’s even a part of me that wants to peel his pants down and explore what he looks like and find out what his satisfaction looks like after the fact. To witness what we did.

I want this forbidden knowledge so badly, I know I have to put distance in between us. Now. Surely the last little while has been the product of exhaustion, the darkness, and grief over leaving my home. It can’t be that I want him.

I’m not allowed to want him or any pleasures of the flesh. I’ve already crossed the line considerably and now I will spend my life repenting.

“Sister Mercy,” says the private, directly beside my ear. “You need relief. Climb your sweet ass back up on my lap and let me give it to you.”

“Relief from what?” I say, too quickly, hurrying to put back on my wimple and veil. “I f-felt nothing. I’m fine.”

A skeptical eyebrow goes up. “Isn’t lying a sin?”

“What we just did is worse,” I breathe, heat rushing to my cheeks. “And it will never, ever happen again.”

Before he can respond, I turn away as much as possible with his large body taking up most of the seat, and press my face to the ice-cold window. Don’t wish you were still in his lap. Don’t wish you were still in his lap.

With a frustrated sigh, Private Griffin scoops me up and deposits me back in the position I woke up in. “I can’t relax when you’re shivering.”

I sputter for a moment, but I can’t help but snuggle my cheek into his shoulder, the body heat already making me drowsy. “No funny stuff,” I whisper. “Promise on our friendship.”

His next sigh almost blows my habit back off. “I promise,” he mutters. “Get some sleep, angel baby.”

Oh dear. I like him calling me that far too much.

The next week is going to be complicated.

CHAPTER FOUR

Private Griffin

OUR MISSION, NOW that we’ve transported the nuns safely from one convent to another, is to reinforce the old, sprawling stone building and make it safe. The rebellion has not reached the mountains, but one day it might—and we will not leave them unprotected.

A cold shiver runs down my spine envisioning the convent under siege. Sister Mercy in danger from men crazed with bloodlust and a taste for violence. The vision is so unnerving; I have to stop my patrol of the perimeter to breathe.

What is happening to me?

I’ve thought of nothing but the beautiful auburn-haired nun since early this morning when I guided her sleepy body to the tower room and laid her down in a bed totally unworthy of her. She belongs in fine sheets and blankets as soft as her sun-kissed skin. She belongs in a bed with me, that’s where she fucking belongs.

My cock is stiff once again, my mind replaying what we did in the back row of that bus. Things that were definitely not allowed. Not in my position as her official escort and especially not in hers as a nun…though I couldn’t have stopped myself if my captain had stood above us and ordered it. Hell, God himself couldn’t have kept me from abusing my dick against the sweet curve of her ass. She is everything succulent and beautiful in this world and I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve been bewitched.

It burns a little, how easily she began consuming my every waking thought. My every fantasy, my every protective urge. For years, I have ridiculed men for falling prey to women and now I’m the victim?

No. I have to try and resist her feminine pull.

What is my other option? Ask her to leave the church for me? Marry her immediately? Bring her home and get her pregnant and rub her feet in front of a roaring fire and never, ever allow her to stop smiling?

My heart moves at a rollicking pace.

No.

No…all of those things sound terrible.

Don’t they?

In my periphery, I catch a small movement in the tower window and whip my head fully in that direction. A flash of auburn makes me burn like I have a fever, my dick throbbing madly in my uniform pants.

Before I left her in the wee hours of the morning, I quickly ordered her not to leave until I returned. Quickly, because if I didn’t get out of there, I would have ripped off her robe in my bare hands and taken her virginity like a fucking savage.

I have to get control of myself before I go back inside.

Today we will begin the process of securing all of the convent’s means of egress, including the tower room. I approached my captain after our briefing meeting this morning and told him I—and no one else—would be in charge of reinforcing the tower room and the surrounding area. He was taken aback at my aggression, but so help me God, if any of the other soldiers even breathe in her direction, I will rip them limb from limb.

Control yourself.

My jealousy and possessiveness take long minutes to subside enough that I can continue my patrol, but all the while, my gaze is fastened to the tower window. How will I be in her orbit all day without trying to get between her thighs? As a Catholic, I should be ashamed of my dirty fantasies starring Sister Mercy. Taking her from behind with her rosary belt wrapped around my fist. Eating her tight little cunt in the pew of a church while the saints look down on us.

I need to remember why I’ve always avoided entanglements with women. For pure self-preservation’s sake. They make men act in crazy manners, angry one minute and begging for forgiveness the next. They bleed men dry of money and their will—and they never stop wanting more. They are never satisfied.

A frown mars my brow when I can’t picture my nun playing head games or acting on greed. Or being dissatisfied no matter how hard I worked to provide. She has to have flaws, doesn’t she? Of course she does. And I’m going to keep that in mind today while I’m alone with her…for hours on end.

Yes, I’m going to remember how my father broke his back working in the factory and had to take to his bed to heal. It only took two weeks without a paycheck to send my mother off searching for greener pastures.

I’m going to remember my brother walking into his home and finding his wife underneath his best friend. And my other brother who pined for the same unavailable woman for years until the whiskey and heartbreak did him in.

After a quick trip to our makeshift barracks, I salute the soldier standing guard at the entrance to the convent and stride inside, my pulse hammering in my temples at the knowledge I’ll be seeing Sister Mercy soon. I’m about to begin the several stairways’ climb to the tower when Mother Superior comes around the corner and waylays me with a hand on my elbow.

“I trust you’re behaving yourself, Private Griffin?”

Thinking of how badly I needed to fuck my beautiful auburn-haired nun on the bus—and abstaining—I feel no guilt when I nod. “I am, Sister.”

She fans herself with relief. “Praise the Lord that there is a man on this earth who can control his lust and keep her pure. She is very valuable to us.”

“Valuable?” It’s an off choice of words and it makes me frown. “What do you mean she’s valuable?”

Redness suffuses Mother Superior’s cheeks. “I-I only mean that…” she sputters. “Why, every soul is valuable in the eyes of the Lord.”

“Yes,” I say slowly, though suspicion is prodding me in the side. “If you’ll excuse me.” I hold up my toolbox. “I’m going to inspect the tower for weaknesses.”

And try not to give in to my own.

A few minutes later, I’m standing outside of Sister Mercy’s door, prepared to knock when I hear heavy breathing on the other side. Not only that, I hear…a slapping sound. Sex. One of the other soldiers found her. They’re taking her against her will. Red violence bleeds into my vision and I kick the door open—

To find Sister Mercy playing…hopscotch.

She screams and stumbles in the final square, hands flying to her mouth.

I throw my toolbox down, my pulse still roaring in my ears. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“I-I…” She gestures to the squares she’s scrawled on the stone floor with white chalk. “I’m not allowed outside for exercise until your regiment leaves and I was going crazy just sitting here when it’s so sunny outside.” She sucks in a shaky breath, obviously still frightened over my entrance. “Do you not care for hopscotch?”

“I thought you were…” I swallow hard, no closer to finding my composure than I was a moment ago. “Never mind.”

Sister Mercy hurries to cover her game with a rolled up rug. “Don’t tell Mother Superior, okay? She thinks I’m praying.”

Kneeling on the floor as she is, adjusting the rug and gazing up at me with her huge, golden eyes, I am already battling rampant waves of lust. My dick is almost vibrating with the need to be sprung. “Why aren’t you praying?”

She shrugs, the corners of her mouth turning down in a way I don’t like. She should always be smiling. “I guess I feel a little like a fraud talking to the big guy after what happened…”

“I take responsibility for that, Sister Mercy. You could never be a fraud.”

Jesus Christ, the smile she gives me. I would crawl across a battlefield of broken glass for it. “Thank you, Private,” she murmurs. “Can we still be friends?”

With a grunt, I root around in my pocket and draw out a handful of change, walking forward to leave it in the center of her bed. “Rounded up some coins for you.”

Gasping, she leaps to her feet. “Oh, you didn’t!” She dives on the bed like an eager child, bending over the pile on hands and knees. Youthful exuberance or not, I can’t help but want to climb onto the bed behind her and unzip my pants. “Where did you get so much?”

“A few sleeping soldiers.” I shrug. “If they wanted to hang on to their money, they shouldn’t have left it lying around.”

She widens her eyes at me. “I won’t tell.”

A drop of come leaks from my cock and rolls down the inside of my leg. My God, she is temptation beyond belief, on her hands and knees, telling me she’ll keep a secret. What other secrets would she never tell a soul?

You aren’t going to find out.

Women are poison to men, remember?

And this one isn’t even available to you. She’ll only bring misery.

My heart rebels at the implication, leaving me torn. My mind is telling me she’d be trouble. My heart, however, assures me she’s nothing but perfect, honest goodness and light.

“Are you here to make the tower safe?”

“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “First I’ll check the windows and—”

“Oh!” She leaps to her feet on the bed with a gold coin pinched between her finger and thumb. “I found it. The anniversary coin.”

Before I can register her intention, my little nun jumps off the bed, right into my arms. She throws her arms around my neck with an excited squeal, her thighs wrapping tightly around my hips—and I groan loudly, my composure sapped. Just like that. I turn on a heel and carry her to the closest wall, pinning her against it. “I’ve been going mad thinking of you in that bed,” I breathe an inch from her mouth. “It’s not fit to cradle you. You deserve a bed like a princess.”

“I was fine,” she says tremulously. “I’m…happy with what I have.”

“Is that true?” I demand, scrutinizing her face. Why? Because I’m going to give her better? Fuck. How could I not want to try and make this girl’s life happy? None of my reminders about how women can wreck a man’s life are working with her so close, so touchable and sweet.

“Yes…” She wets her lips, making me crazed. “Yes, I’m content, Private Griffin. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to be the one who worries about you?”

I rasp the words before I can stop myself, but as soon as they’ve been uttered to the universe, I know I’ll never want to take them back. I’ll worry about her until the end of time. It’s as simple as that.

Sister Mercy on the other hand, grows alarmed, her body wiggling free of my hold. She’s halfway across the room before I can react.

“Don’t say things like that,” she whispers, worrying the rosary around her waist. “I took vows. Important ones. I’m not going to just cast aside my promises to the Lord for some handsome soldier.”

It’s embarrassing how much I like her calling me handsome. “Take that habit off and let me see your hair again.”

“No.” Her hands fly to her head. “I should never have done that.”

“You melted like butter in my arms, Mercy.”

She gasps. “That’s Sister Mercy to you.”

My mouth twitches. “Are you the same girl who jumped into my arms a minute ago?”

Her nose turns pink. “I was being friendly. Aren’t we friends?”

“Friends don’t wrap their legs around each other.” I shrug. “At least I don’t think so. I don’t have many friends.”

“But you’re so nice,” she deadpans.

I laugh. A quick bite of sound. I’m so startled by the noise, I almost turn around to see if someone else made it.

“Why don’t you have friends, Private Griffin?” she asks quietly.

“Just Griffin, angel baby.” Before she can chastise me for the endearment, I hurry to answer her question. “My fellow soldiers let women lead them around on a leash, emptying their pockets and turning their lives inside out for sport. They know I think it’s pathetic that they’d give up so much ground to a fickle female. Sometimes when a man doesn’t want the truth, he avoids the one who’ll give it to him. So I don’t have a lot of friends.”

“Because you’ll tell them the truth.”

“That’s right.”

“That you think they’re pathetic for loving women.”

I grunt. It sounds pretty terrible when she says it out loud.

Mercy is frowning and I have a feeling I won’t like what she’s going to say next. “Why would I want you to be the one who worries about me, then? Won’t you treat me like I’m fickle?” Her voice softens. “Won’t you avoid loving me too much because you’ll think yourself pathetic if you do?”

My stomach lands in a heap on the ground. “No. God no.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” she whispers sadly, before brightening like the sun beaming out from behind a cloud. “Anyway, I’m late for morning prayers. Would you kindly escort me to the chapel?”

I can only nod like a simpleton as she dons her cloak, pulling the hood low to hide her face. I’m deep in thought on the way down the stairs, replaying our conversation, while Mercy hums a hymn happily beside me, as if she hasn’t just dropped me into a pit of boiling despair. Is she right? Would my cynical nature prevent me from being good to her?

No. Nothing would.

How will I convince her of that? And when I do, it’ll only be half the battle, because she seems determined to obey her vows, even though I know she’s attracted to me. The connection between us is unmistakable. And not having her trust my intentions is murder. She might as well cut me clean through with an axe.

I hustle her through the main floor of the convent and leave her at the door to the chapel where she skips in to join the other nuns, waving back at me cheerfully.

“Bye, Private Griffin.”

“Bye, Sister Mercy. I’ll be back to escort you to your room in an hour,” I call, my voice unrecognizable under the layer of affection. Jesus, I barely stop myself from jogging after her to say goodbye again. For what reason? One goodbye is perfectly good enough.

As I turn to leave, I notice Mother Superior watching me with a hawk eye, but I nod and continue on my way. Minutes later I’m back in Sister Mercy’s room, lamenting the fact that her possessions haven’t been unloaded from the bus yet. I’d do anything to see the things she holds important.

I begin work on the shoddy, drafty window, intending to seal it up tight so she’ll be warm at night…but while walking past her bed, I’m distracted by the unmade sheets. Sheets that touched her while she slept. And hold her scent.

Sauntering to the bed, I fist the closest bedclothes and bring them to my nose, groaning at the crisp berry scent that belongs to Mercy. I drop the sheets and attempt to focus on my work. But the harder I try to ignore the pull of her bed, the more it calls to me. And eventually, I have no choice but to give in…

CHAPTER FIVE

Sister Mercy

PRAYERS FINISHED EARLY. Since Mother Superior assured me all of the soldiers were having lunch outside the convent and I’m free to roam, I decide to use my spare time to have a much needed shower. After the bus journey last night, I’m feeling kind of dusty, not to mention the newer, lumpier bed has made my back sore and I think the hot water will do the trick.

Standing beneath the shower spray, I can’t seem to keep my mind from drifting back to Private Griffin. I hope he’s not in my room when I return. I also very much hope he is there. How confusing is that? His handsome face makes me sigh and irritates me at the same time. Even during prayers, I continued to consider how his bristly chin would feel if he were to…well, if he were to kiss me…

Which will never, ever happen.

I can’t believe I had such a thought while kneeling in front of the altar.

I’m lucky a lightning bolt didn’t smash through the stained glass and strike me dead. Honestly, it would serve me right. It isn’t proper to wrap my thighs around a man. I think I knew that deep down, so why did I do it?

Why can’t I seem to stop wanting to do it again?

I take a quick peek outside the shower to make sure no one else is present in the bathroom, then I sneak the razor out of my habit, where I’ve hung it on a wooden peg. Shaving one’s legs isn’t necessarily against the rules, but I don’t think the other nuns would be impressed if they knew how regularly I perform the ritual. There’s just something about smooth legs against my sheets that makes me feel girly and clean. I’ve completed the task and I’m about to stow my razor back in its hiding place when my hand detours and I find myself making a neat, inverted triangle out of my pubic hair.

And then I change my mind and do away with it altogether.

“Oh dear, Mercy,” I whisper, trailing a finger over the pale, silky skin left behind. “The devil is preying on your soul.”

There’s a wicked desire stirring in me to tease my finger lower, to see how it might feel, but I’ve sinned enough for one day, so I hurry to dry off, instead. Getting dressed in the steamy bathroom sounds awful, so I decide to hasten to my room without being seen. I put on my thin, white slip and leave off my habit, intending to get dressed once I’ve arrived at my room. Surely Private Griffin is no longer there and is having his lunch with the rest of the soldiers.

Ignoring my shameful disappointment, I fly down the stone hallway barefoot with my wet hair around my shoulders, slipping quietly into my room—and then I skid to a halt.

Private Griffin is very much still in my room.

In fact, he’s in my bed, lying on his stomach. Grunting and bucking his hips.

What is he…doing?

A low throb begins to beat low in my belly, my thighs turning to rubber. I should turn and leave, because although I don’t know what he’s doing, it’s obvious I’ve come upon a deeply intimate moment. I can’t help but feel, down deep in my bones, like the moment also belongs to me.

Without thinking, I move closer, fascinated by the clanking of his open belt. Metal strikes metal every time the private thrusts his hips. From my new vantage point, I can see there is a mound of sheets bunched beneath his belly button and he appears to be ramming himself against it, hard enough to make the bed groan. His mouth is open, eyes squeezed shut, as he drives his hips furiously into the tight cluster of sheets.

It’s hard to tear my eyes from the private, but I look down at my own body and find my nipples pebbled against the thin, damp bodice of my slip, dusky pink visible clear through the material. And as I walk around back of the private and notice his shirt has ridden up, allowing me to witness the savage flex of his buttocks and lower back, liquid heat pools between my thighs and I whimper involuntarily.

A ripple of awareness shifts Griffin’s back muscles and his movements slow, but they do not stop. “Come here and look what you do to me, Mercy.”

I’m already moving, as if in a trance, to the side of the bed.

He bites out a curse when he sees me, his gaze running the length of me, pupils dilating. Once again, his hips begin to pump at that frantic pace, his grunts reminding me of an animal. “Where are your fucking clothes?”

“The convent is empty,” I say breathily. “I didn’t think anyone would see me.”

“Well I see you.” He licks his lips and grinds his hips slowly, using a hand to gather the sheets closer to his lap. “I see every sacred, little inch of you.”

“But…I can’t see you,” I whisper, shame coloring my face.

Griffin’s jaw pops. “What are you asking to see, angel baby? My cock?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Have you ever heard that word before?”

“Only in reference to a rooster.”

He chokes a laugh, then crooks his finger at me, beckoning me closer. When my knees bump the edge of the bed, Griffin peels away the sheets from his lap, baring a thick trunk of veiny flesh. It protrudes like a tree root from the juncture of his thighs, the base surrounded by a thatch of black hair.

Seeing this foreign, male part of Griffin excites me in a way I could never have expected. My tongue turns heavy in my mouth and lightning zips from my toes to my fingertips. I bet it’s delicious.

Oh lord, what is happening to me? Moisture slicks my sex and my knees knock together. There’s a tricky tingle in my tummy and I dance around, shifting side to side, trying to make it stop.

“Christ almighty. Have I got a horny, little nun on my hands, Mercy?”

“I don’t know what that means.” My voice sounds thick. I’m tingling everywhere, from my fingertips to my scalp. My palms itch to wrap around that huge, heavy-looking part of him and learn its secrets. Intuition tells me Griffin would like that very much. “W-what were you doing with it?”

Griffin wraps a fist around his stiff male part, massaging it in a way that makes me sob with envy. “The sheets smelled like you,” he rasps, eyes glazed. “I wanted to mix my scent with yours. Needed to.”

I feel the right strap of my slip fall to the side, leaving my shoulder bare, and it’s bad how desirable it makes me feel. All of this is so very bad, but I couldn’t turn and walk away if my life depended on it. I’m magnetized to this bed, this man, that thing between his legs. Why does it call to me like nothing else?

“Are you going to keep going?” I whisper.

“No, Mercy. I’ve got something better in mind.”

I’m not given a mere second to feel disappointment because Griffin’s arm bands around my hips and I’m thrown down on the bed in front of him. My slip gets caught around my hips and I struggle to pull it down, before he spies the naughty thing I did in the shower. My efforts cease, however, when hunger transforms Griffin’s face. Not any ordinary hunger. No, he’s a predator…and his prey appears to be the wet flesh between my thighs.

He pries my legs apart forcefully and stares at what he’s revealed. “How’d that little thing get bare?”

“I did it myself,” I whisper. “Don’t tell on me.”

“You should be the one telling on me, dammit. I’m in here fucking your sheets like a dog in heat.” Eyes still fastened on my core, he growls and pushes my knees wider. “And now I’m going to—”

“What?” I cry, unable to keep from writhing my hips. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to give you the licking your drenched pussy is asking for, Mercy.”

“Wait!” Panic collides with heat within me. “Will I still be a virgin?”

“For now.” The private jerks down the bodice of my slip, groaning at the sight of my breasts. “God was cruel to put tits like those on an innocent nun.”

“Why?”

“They all but guarantee you wouldn’t stay innocent for long.” Griffin’s mouth finds mine and breathes there, without kissing me. “Along with your big eyes, cock-ready mouth and tight pussy hole. I’m going to claim them all, you hear?”

Yes, that’s what I want. That’s what I need, despite knowing I shouldn’t. I’ve never been safer or had a greater sense of belonging than I do right now with Griffin looking down on me with dark, covetous eyes.

Of course, this thing between us won’t be forever. His regiment will only be here for the week and then life will continue as usual, just in a new location for me. No matter where he or I go in this world, though, we’ll always have this secret, and I can’t help but be grateful for it. Maybe God will forgive me these few transgressions if I promise never to repeat them.

That resolve is firm within my breast. Until Griffin’s mouth parts over mine and my resolution scatters like feathers in the wind.

Oh, this is better than breathing.

The rhythmic opening of our mouths, the way our tongues dance into one another’s mouths and mate deliciously, without fear of being crude. Griffin sinks into the kiss with a hoarse moan, his pulls of my mouth growing desperate. I’m like clay beneath him, molding to his muscular frame, my lips being taken. Taken.

“Fuck,” he grits out, breaking the kiss and diving into my neck to taste me there. He can’t seem to settle on a spot and I love it, love it so much as I tunnel my fingers into his hair and twist, whimpering while his mouth moves down the center of my breasts, nipping at the sensitive skin of my belly.

My thighs fall open in an instinctual welcome. I know nothing about men licking women between their thighs—or if that’s even a typical act—but I know if he doesn’t do it to me, I’ll die. And the first swipe of his tongue through my folds has me screaming into my cupped palm.

Oh Lord.

Oh Lord.

What is he—ohhhh.

“What is that?” I cry out, pulling him closer, lifting my hips toward his magical mouth. “What have you found?”

“That’s your clit, Mercy. Do I make it feel good?”

“Yes. Yes. Oh yes.” Should I be wrapping my thighs around Griffin’s head? I don’t know and I can’t stop. They’re doing it all on their own and trembling, trembling so hard. There’s something inside of me that’s twisting like a yoyo being wound up, preparing to drop. What is this?

“Christ, you’re hot for it,” he groans in between licks. “Wetter’n fuck, aren’t you, little nun? Rubbing that pussy all over my kiss.”

I want to order him to stop speaking to me in such a filthy manner, but instead I moan, “More. Keeping talking.”

His laughter is dark and it vibrates me right there, making my back arch. “I see you, Mercy.” His finger tests my opening and twists inside, building the pressure in my middle to an extreme. How much more can I take? Where does this lead? “You’re not meant for this life. You’re meant for a life of riding my big dick, angel baby. And that’s what I aim to give you.”

Protest.

My life is supposed to be with the church.

Say something.

But I can’t. I can’t do anything but feel the gentle tease of his finger inside me—there’s another spot that feels good?—and the suction he drops over that sensitive nub. My head thrashes on the pillow as the inferno builds, washing over me in a blinding wave of pleasure. “Griffin!” I scream his name through chattering teeth, lust and relief and euphoria racing along my nerve endings. Still I hold his mouth fast against my sex, sobbing and shaking, never wanting it to end. “Yes, yes. Please, so good. So good. I can’t stand it.”

“I know. Me neither, angel baby,” Griffin croons, coming to his knees between my wilting legs. His hand is on his straining cock, stroking madly, directly over my femininity. “Look what you did to me with that horny cunt.” He grunts, his jaw dropping open as moisture shoots from the tip of his sex, landing on my stomach in white ropes. “Ahhh, look what you did, Mercy. Christ.” His hips jerk, his flesh turning purple in his death grip. “You made me bust before I could fuck you. You tasted too goddamn good.”

His admission fills me with such feminine pride and pleasure, I feel my lips stretch into a smile. When Griffin sees my expression, he breathes my name and falls on top of me, gathering me in his arms.

A sense of rightness settles over me like a blanket, leaving me shaken.

There has only been one constant in my life. The church.

My calling.

I’ve known the love of one man, my father, and he didn’t even love me enough to stick around, return for a visit or even write to me.

Griffin himself has admitted he doesn’t have an affinity for women. What makes me think I’ll be any different if I give him my trust? For all I know, if I take that leap—a leap my heart is begging me to take—I could be abandoned again. Cast aside like yesterday’s news.

No, as much as I want to believe I’m special to this man, I can’t.

How could I ever be sure?

When Griffin lifts his head and gives me a lopsided smile, I fall deeper, skidding down the slope so far, I can’t barely see the top of the mountain. I’m about to tell him we can’t be together like this again, but he speaks before I can.

“Meet me tonight. I’ll wait for you outside the north entrance.”

I can’t, says my mind.

But my heart speaks for me instead. “Okay, I will.”

I watch from the tangled sheets as Griffin fixes his clothes and leaves with a longing glance back at me over his shoulder—and I ignore the sense of impending doom in my belly.

CHAPTER SIX

Private Griffin

IT TAKES MY staunchest willpower not to leave the barracks too early to meet Mercy. Being away from her for these last several hours has been hell, but I can’t risk making the other men suspicious. They’re well used to me being a lone wolf and spending time on my own, however, so they don’t question me when I mutter that I’m taking a walk and head for the rear of the convent.

Tonight I’m going to ask Mercy to marry me.

I don’t have a ring yet, but I will not wait to make her mine.

I need the words out of her mouth. I am yours, Griffin.

I’m jealous of our maker for having received her vow, when I have not.

When I have her agreement, I will take her from this place and make her a home. Give her children and spoil her until she pouts when she doesn’t get her way. I want that with an urgency that defies explanation.

I’ve been foolish to think love couldn’t bring me to my knees. Fate was merely waiting for my soul mate to come along and now I’m a believer in…hell, fairy tales, I guess. Isn’t that what this is? She’s an angel and I’m a bloody soldier and she redeems me with her touch, her smile, her presence. My chest used to lie hollow, but now it’s so full, the seams of my very fabric as a man are being tested.

Not to mention the seams of my uniform pants.

I’m rock hard, as usual, in anticipation of having her near.

My angel baby is a secret sexpot.

Her excitement over seeing my cock for the first time will forever be etched into my memory. That was not a virginal reaction, but she couldn’t be less educated or experienced when it comes to fucking. She didn’t even know about her clitoris, for chrissakes. And yet, she came to life when I peeled back the sheet to reveal my dick, her nipples budding, thighs squeezing together. With the slightest encouragement, I think she would have taken me in her mouth.

I slow to a stop, groaning into the crook of my elbow. If I don’t stop thinking of sweet, little Mercy sucking my cock, I’m going to come in my pants and that’s not going to work. Next time I find relief, I will be nine deep inside this girl I love.

Jesus Christ. I love her.

My heart bangs against my ribcage. I thought if this ever happened to me, I would be miserable. Or perhaps the recipient of a head injury. But realizing I’m in love with Mercy is nothing like that. No, it’s like being set free. It’s hope.

I’m distracted by my thoughts when I hear voices approaching.

Not wanting to be seen on my way to the convent in the middle of the night, I step into the shadows, narrowing my eyes as the captain comes into view in the distance, Mother Superior at his side. They’re having a low conversation, complete with a lot of wild hand gestures. What the hell could they be speaking about at this time of night that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?

This is not the first time that Mother Superior’s demeanor has struck me as odd. It’s almost like she’s anxious about something, but about what?

Mother Superior and the captain walk out of view, still deep in conversation, and I make a mental note to do some digging into the elderly nun in the morning. Anyone who associates with Mercy is now a concern of mine and I don’t care how trustworthy they appear to be, they’ll face the scrutiny of a protective husband.

If she says yes.

Unease trickles into my chest, but I ignore it. Of course she’s going to say yes. She might have had doubts about my intentions before, but I made it clear this afternoon in her bed that I’ve claimed her. That means forever. I’m committed to her until my heart gives out—and if she still has uncertainties, I’ll smash them to pieces tonight and leave no room for anything but her trust.

And God willing, her love.

I reach the door and knock once. It opens to reveal Mercy in her robe and habit. She’s a far cry from the girl I orgasmed in her slip this afternoon, but she’s no less beautiful. I can’t stop myself from pulling her up against me and slanting our mouths together, swallowing her answering whimper with newfound greed. Mine, mine, mine. This woman is mine.

Pride dances in my blood when I pull back to find her pink-cheeked and bleary eyed. “Hello,” she murmurs, swaying toward me. “You smell nice.”

A bite back a laugh. “So do you.”

She bounces a little. “I haven’t been outside in days.”

When I build her a home, she’ll have a safe place to be outdoors. As much as she fucking wants. “Come on.” I thread our fingers together and watch her breath catch. Damn, mine catches, too. “There’s a field not too far from here.”

Ten minutes later, I’m in a dream.

I’m standing in a green glen watching Mercy dance in the moonlight.

As soon as we arrived, she kicked off her shoes and removed her habit, tossing them onto the ground. With her hair in auburn waves around her shoulders, she spins in happy circles and catapults my doomed heart into my throat.

Permanently.

Dear Lord, I don’t just love Mercy, I’m obsessed with her.

I’m infatuated with every nose wrinkle, every giggle, every sigh.

I try not to let it show on my face, lest it scare her away, but it takes an effort when all I want to do is cast her down to the ground and count her freckles, memorize her every expression, kiss her until she thinks of nothing but me.

“Oh, it feels wonderful to be outside,” she breathes, flitting around me in a circle. “Before my father left me at the convent, I used to go swimming at a pond near my house. I would stick my feet down deep in the mud and wiggle my toes. It was the most incredible feeling.”

“That all changed when you arrived at the convent?”

“At first they tried to keep me indoors and focused on my studies, but I had a penchant for playing pranks and they quickly started kicking me out in the daytime.”

“You were a prankster,” I drawl. “Somehow I have no problem seeing that.”

She stops moving long enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “Very impolite of you to say, sir.” Her lips tug at the corner. “I used to put frogs in Mother Superior’s bed. Big, nasty ones.”

Imagining a little auburn-haired imp running around the convent and making mischief tugs at my chest. “Did she punish you?”

“Hmm. Not really,” Mercy says, sounding surprised. “She’d say, you’ll serve your purpose one of these days, child. I always wonder what she meant by that.”

I’m pretty goddamn curious myself. My sixth sense is buzzing and as soon as the sun comes up tomorrow, I’m going to question Mother Superior myself. “Do they always keep you locked indoors?”

“Only when there are men around.”

I process that. “Why do you think it was so important to your father that the nuns keep you innocent of men?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I was so young I can’t recall the conversation between him and Mother Superior. All I remember is my father patting me on the head and leaving.”

In other words, not the kind of affection a man would show the daughter he was so concerned about protecting. “Come here, angel baby.” After a momentary hesitation, Mercy closes the distance between us. I guide us down to the ground and settle her in my lap. “If you want me to find him, I will scour the earth, Mercy.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” She leans her cheek against my shoulder and looks up at me. “I don’t know if I’d want that anymore. I mean, he would have come back if he was able. I’d rather pretend he’s out there somewhere happy, instead of knowing he was felled by the rebels. Or worse. He just didn’t want a daughter.”

I trace the curve of her lips with my thumb. “Who would reject such joy?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “To know you is to hold on to you at all costs.”

“Griffin,” she whispers. “When did you learn to speak so poetically?”

“Words are easy to come by when they’re honest.” I shift our bodies and lay Mercy down in the soft grass, marveling at the way the moonlight plays over her beautiful face. I gather the hem of her robe in my hands, lifting the garment so I can kiss the insides of her naked thighs. “There’s nothing more honest than this.”

I swear to God, I’m seconds from mounting her. I’m desperate to be close to her and that innate sweetness as humanly possible. But she surprises me by sitting up and chewing on her bottom lip. “Can I see it?” she whispers, settling a hand on my belt buckle. “Please?”

She’s begging to see my cock, I realize, and the remaining blood in my brain rushes south so fast, I grit my teeth in pain. “Sure, angel baby.” I lean back and unfasten my belt and uniform pants, careful not to catch my erection in the teeth of my zipper as I lower it. When my shaft springs free, Mercy lets out an excited gasp and I almost lose my seed in the grass.

Her tits shudder up and down, her fingers stretching toward my dick, before curling into her palms. “D-does it…hurt?”

“It’s a good kind of hurt. Like when I was licking your pussy.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “Does yours like to be licked?”

I catch her chin and lift. “It’s my cock, Mercy.”

“Cock,” she whispers, trembling.

“That’s right. And fuck yes, it likes being licked.” I push my thumb into her mouth slowly. “Are you going to wrap these pretty lips around it?”

“Yes.” She falls on it like a starving woman, taking my cock to the back of her throat on the first pull, moaning when I let out a shocked spurt onto her tongue.

“Fuck,” I growl, wrapping her hair around my fists. “Easy, Mercy. Don’t finish me. I’m getting in that pussy tonight.”

I’m not sure she hears a word out of my mouth. Jesus, she’s a fiend, wrapping my shaft in her hands like a greedy girl and pumping the throbbing flesh in her fist, sucking me with hollow cheeks and excited eyes. My back hits the earth, and staring up at the stars, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, lying there with the most amazing girl in the world sucking me like the world is ending. My balls are rock hard and showing signs of giving up the battle already, but I bear down on my willpower and breathe, breathe.

“Enough, Mercy,” I rasp, jackknifing and flipping our positions. She’s panting on the ground underneath me and I’m aching to be skin to skin, so we work together to get the robe off over her head, throwing it aside. My shirt comes next and then it’s just the uniform pants around my knees, and her flimsy, white slip. No panties in sight to hide that bare, little pussy from me. “You want to fuck, little virgin girl?” I growl, hitching her legs up around my hips. “You want your first man so bad, you’ll take him down your throat or however you can get him?”

“Yes,” she sobs brokenly. “Now, Griffin. I think I n-need it.”

Reaching down, I fist my cock and drag it up and down through her folds, finding her slick and ready. I work the first few inches in with some difficulty, then order her to brace herself, before I plunge the remaining distance, feeling her innocence tear away.

“Son of a bitch,” I breathe into her neck, feeling her hammering pulse against my lips. How do I keep from spending immediately into something so tight? She’s pulsing and squeezing around me like a relentless fist and it’s everything I can do to stay still while she wiggles around, getting adjusted. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Mercy. Tell me the pain isn’t so bad.”

She hiccups in my ear once, twice…then she whispers, “I love it.”

It takes me a beat to believe I heard her right. “You’re a goddamn miracle,” I bite off, rearing back with my hips and thrusting like an animal into her snug, squelching cunt. Beneath me, Mercy arches her back and takes the pounding I have no choice but to give her, those sexy tits bouncing with every frantic drive. “I’ll give you everything. My world at your feet, angel baby. My fortune, my life, my labor. I will sweat and work myself to the bone for your fucking smile. For your love. Do you hear me?” I wrap my hand around her throat and watch her eyes light up. “I love you and you’re mine.”

I think she’s going to answer me, but she screams, “I-I’m…it’s happening,” instead, digging her fingernails into my shoulders and raking them down my back. “Harder, Griffin. Deeper.”

She climaxes like a wildcat, making ribbons of the flesh on my back and digging her heels into my ass. I think she’s going to go limp after the force of her orgasm, but that’s not what happens. My horny little nun pushes me onto my back with shaking hands and starts to ride me like she’ll die without more cock.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she whines through her clenched teeth. “I love it. It feels so good. I can’t stop.”

“Christ, Mercy. I don’t want you to,” I groan, taking two tight handfuls of her butt cheeks and helping her ride my dick, fast and furious. “That’s your own personal nine inches, angel baby. That’s your fucking playground. Own it.”

Her palms smack down on my pecs, her gaze going hazy, hips bucking so hard they’re a blur—and she comes again, moaning with her head thrown back, tits thrust out proudly. She’s the sexiest sight to whom I’ve ever had the pleasure of bearing witness, and the combination of her magnetism and the friction of her pussy bouncing up and down on my cock pushes me off the deep end.

“Mercy!” I bellow, rolling her back over and slamming deep, deep, grinding the base of my cock on her swollen clit, making her call my name—and that alone, hearing Griffin in her throaty, angelic voice, brings my come racing to the fore and filling her in thick spurts. “I love you. God, I fucking love you.” I yank her thighs higher around my waist and lean into the never-ending rain of pleasure, my face buried in her gorgeous hair. “Mine. All mine. You are all mine.”

When I drop down onto her, she welcomes me with open arms. I can feel her lips smiling at my temple and I’ve never been happier in my life. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve ever been happy. This is what it feels like, like I could erupt from contentment and love. I can say with conviction that I’ve never experienced this.

It’s all Mercy.

My Mercy.

“Marry me,” I say quietly, kissing her temple. “Trust me to spend the rest of my days making you happy.”

When she doesn’t answer right away, ice runs down my spine.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sister Mercy

“MARRY ME,” HE murmurs, kissing my temple. “Trust me to spend the rest of my days making you happy.”

My heart leaps in my chest.

I’ve never felt happier than I am right now, lying in this man’s arms. I don’t know how it happened, but he’s become my staunchest ally, closest friend and lover in the space of one day. If he were to leave tomorrow, I think I would crumble.

I’m also terrified to say yes to his proposal.

How can I be sure he really wants me after only one day?

How can I give up my safe hold, the church, not knowing what lies ahead?

The last time my life changed so rapidly, I felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under me. I went from a normal life to an isolated one of frugality and prayers and women four times my age who wanted little to do with a child. But eventually it became my new normal and I’m afraid to give it up.

Furthermore, I took vows.

I promised to serve the Lord.

Can I really just cast aside that responsibility for someone who didn’t even like women up until today, seemingly? What if he changes his mind? After one day with him, he already holds my heart in his hands. How would it feel to be abandoned by him after a month? Or a year?

Therein lies my real fear. Being left behind. Set aside.

I don’t know if I can open myself up for the pain.

At least I know the convent is safe and will never abandon me.

Griffin tips up my chin, concern etched in his face. “Mercy?”

“Thank you for asking me,” I whisper, a wrench turning in my chest. “But I don’t think I can say yes.”

There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, but he hides it quickly, transferring his gaze to the moonlit glen. “Is this because I don’t have a ring yet?”

“No. Of course not.”

“I’m going to get you one, as soon as we leave here. As big as you want.”

I push against his chest until he lets me go and climb off his lap. “You haven’t changed your opinion of women at all. You really believe I would say no to you as a way to get a-a…big, flashy ring?”

Griffin stands, refastening his pants with jerky movements. “Why the hell else would you say no?”

I stoop down and gather my robe, pulling it on over my head, then searching the ground for my discarded habit. “I’m a nun, Griffin.”

His laugh holds no humor. “You’re not a nun, Mercy.”

My breath hitches in my throat. “What does that mean?”

“If you were meant for this life, you wouldn’t have ridden my dick for broke your first time out of the gate. You need the kind of satisfaction you won’t get from reading the Bible, angel baby, and you’re going to spend your life getting it from me if I have to tie you up and kidnap you.”

“Brute,” I gasp.

“That’s right, I am.” He pounds his chest with a fist. “I’m honest about it. At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

Tears rush to my eyes, a sob wrenching from my throat.

Griffin’s face transforms, going from irritated to devastated. “Oh, Mercy, I didn’t mean it, angel baby. I’m fucking sorry.” He reaches for me, but I whirl away. “I’ve never felt like this,” he rasps behind me. “I didn’t know I could, all right? Now you’ve turned down my proposal and I’m not sure I…hell, how can you expect me to live without you now? I’m in love with you. So bad it hurts all over.”

I’m in love with you, too.

I want to say the words out loud, but my pride prevents me. He’s essentially just implied that I’m a fraud and the accusation burns, especially because…it’s the truth, isn’t it? If I was really committed to my calling, I wouldn’t have lain with Griffin in this field. I wouldn’t have raced down the stairs to meet him with breathless anticipation…the kind I never feel when attending prayers or mass.

Fraud.

The word rings in my skull.

“Mercy,” Griffin said. “Let me hold you.”

“No. I just need to be alone.”

He curses under his breath. “I’ll go insane if you leave hurt like this.” I hear him swallow. “I don’t think you understand exactly how deeply this love runs. I’m not sure if I can control what I’ll do if you won’t see me. You’ve obsessed me.”

A thrill shivers up my spine, my nipples pebbling rapidly. God help me, I like him being obsessed. I’m obsessed right back, aren’t I? With his face, his body, his warmth, his scent, his jealousy, his protectiveness, his voice. I need him. Again. Right now. I want him to throw me down and shove that huge part of himself deep inside me and ride away his pain. His relief still runs down the insides of my legs in rivulets and I mash my thighs together to savor the sensation.

But I’ve already proven to be weak of will tonight and if he muddles my senses again, I’ll never make the right decision. Stay safe at the church or take a risk with Griffin. Which will hurt the least?

Choose safety, whispers a voice in the back of my head. Save your feelings.

My heart disagrees vehemently. It wants me to throw myself into Griffin’s arms and tell him, yes, take me anywhere. I’ll go anywhere with you.

“Mercy…” he says, jaw popping as he comes toward me. “I meant what I said. I’ll take you regardless. I refuse to be without you.”

He’s serious, isn’t he?

I’m trying to make a decision when I don’t truly have one at all. I just need somewhere to think or I’ll hurtle myself headlong into this mutual obsession that could one day leave me heartbroken and alone.

“Please, I’m scared,” I whisper.

He makes a gruff sound. “No. Never with me. I’m your protector.”

I don’t know what to believe. My heart or my head. Knowing if he touches me, I’ll give in, I turn and run down the hill toward the convent.

“Mercy!” he bellows after me.

He gives chase, but I’m nimble and much smaller than Griffin—not to mention, I’m wearing all black—so I weave my way through the trees, crouching low and hiding as he sprints past me. Tears stream down my face over having deceived the man I love, but at least now, I can consider my options—

“Well, well.” Mother Superior steps out from behind a tree…holding a rope? “You’ve made this very easy, Sister Mercy. We thought we’d have to shoot Private Griffin to get you alone.”

“Who is ‘we’?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about? Why are you out here so late…”

My question trails off when the regiment captain appears in the distance, a sick smile on his face. “The car is running. Need help securing the merchandise?”

“No.” Mother Superior pulls a gun from a hidden pocket in her robe and points it at me. “Don’t make a fuss or we’ll tie you up, understand? And that would be a shame. We’ll have a harder time selling you to the brothel with rope burns.”

Private Griffin

I’M READY TO tear my hair out.

It’s been an hour and I can’t find her anywhere.

I keep seeing the tears in her eyes before she ran from me and I want to claw the beating heart straight out of my chest. God, I fucked up so badly. As I’ve been searching for her the last hour, I’ve realized how much I didn’t take into consideration before I asked Mercy to marry me.

I haven’t give her enough to time to trust me and she has serious issues trusting men after the way her father left. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I all but professed my disdain for women as recently as this morning. Of course she’s hesitant to say yes. Why wasn’t I gentler with her? Why wasn’t I more understanding? Instead I threatened to tie her up and kidnap her.

Idiot.

Mercy is sweet and sensitive and I need to find her. Now. Before I lose my mind. I’m going to hold her in my arms and tell her she can have time to make a decision. If I have to take leave and camp outside the convent for weeks on end, I will do it until she’s confident in my love.

My search of the chapel is fruitless and I’m running out of places to look. She’s not in the tower. Not in the kitchen or bathroom. And there’s something eating at my consciousness, my thoughts continually drifting back to seeing Mother Superior and the captain together outside right before I met Mercy.

Trusting my gut, I take the hallway to the lower floor bedrooms. I know which one belongs to Mother Superior because I overheard the men discussing her insistence that she didn’t want protective bars on her window, so she could let in fresh air from the freesia bushes beneath. I know right where those are located.

When I open the door and find her bed empty, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I’m already turning to run down the hallway in search of the captain—or both of them together—when a paper-thin voice reaches me from the dark. “Private?”

I stop in my tracks, watching as a short, middle-aged nun creeps out of the shadows, a rosary twisting like vines around her fingers.

“You’re looking for Mother Superior.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t answer her. “Where is she?”

Her hands twist in her robes. “I-I just can’t stay quiet. It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” I demand, hoarsely, pressure crowding my throat. “Mercy is in trouble, isn’t she?”

After a brief hesitation, the nun nods. “They took her to town.”

“Why?”

“It’s wrong. It’s wrong.”

I grab the woman by her shoulders and shake. “Tell me now.”

A sob wracks her. “Mother Superior didn’t want to take the child, but her looks and youth give her value, you see. We’ve been running out of money to sustain ourselves. With the rebels burning down churches left and right, we’re not getting our usual stipend anymore. And the rebels themselves will close in one day.” She wets her lips. “Mother Superior heard they will take bribes to leave an establishment in peace. She hopes that selling Sister Mercy will keep them at bay and we’ll have enough left over to let us live in relative comfort…”

I don’t hear the rest over the thunderous roar in my ears. “Sell her to fucking who?” I rasp through my clenched teeth.

The nun bursts into tears. “A brothel. Your captain told her of one not far away from here—”

The rafters shake with the force of my shout and send the nun scurrying off into the dark. This can’t be real. My sweet Mercy being sold to a brothel? That’s what Mother Superior and the captain have been plotting? She must be giving him a portion of the profits to provide protection and transport—and I will gut them both without thinking twice for daring to put my love through hell. I will rip the town the shreds if one hair on her head is out of place, so help me God.

With my heart in my mouth, I sprint for the barracks in the darkness and throw open the doors. “Take me to the goddamn brothel!” I growl at the room full of sleeping soldiers.

One of them, Private Jones, sits up and rubs his eyes. “Finally.”

Sister Mercy

I’M KNEELING ON the floor of some kind of darkly lit office, though it’s far different from the church office at the old convent, which is all I have to compare it with. This one’s full of ostentatious furniture and stained-glass lamps and a thick, red rug. There’s an expensive-looking desk in near the window, velvet curtains lending it a lush backdrop.

My habit has been stripped off, along with my robe, leaving me in nothing but my grass-stained slip. I’m shivering, not only from the cold and shame of being so scantily dressed, but out of fear. What is to become of me? How could this woman I’ve known eight years leave me in this place against my will?

Mother Superior stands to my right with the gun pointed at my head, while the captain leers at me from the opposite side of the room. They’re quiet, waiting for something or someone, but they won’t share any details.

And all I can think of is Griffin.

I’m here, my throat aches to scream. I’m here. I’m sorry I ran.

With the dire circumstances of my future staring me in the face, it’s so obvious he was offering me a beautiful one. I miss him. I miss his hands and how completely and totally safe it felt being in his arms. Will I ever see him again?

I don’t think so.

Even the shrewdest person wouldn’t put the truth together and track me down. Who would suspect a nun and a decorated army captain?

Griffin calling my name on the hill echoes in my mind and a miserable whimper escapes my lips, my shivers increasing in intensity.

“Don’t fret, dear. God has a will for everyone. When he gave you a face and a body like that, he knew what they would be used for, didn’t he?”

My Lord, she’s mad.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. The crazed glint in her eyes, the nonsense she speaks. God did not intend me for this life. He gave me free will and this is not a choice I’m being given, it’s a sentence.

“You’ve significantly decreased your value by rutting with the soldier. We tried to work as fast as we could, arranging this meeting. But he didn’t even make it one fucking day without taking the prize of your virginity, did he?” She snorts. “No matter. You’ll still catch a fine price. A fine price.”

“Oh yes, she will. I’m considering being your first customer,” coos the captain. “I’ll have more than enough cash to pay once I get my cut.”

Mother Superior makes a sound of disgust, but the door opens before she can respond. In sways a statuesque woman with a thin, cherry-scented cigar perched on her lips. “I’ve got give minutes for this meeting,” she sighs. “Dazzle me.”

The woman stops and turns, making eye contact with me for the first time.

She stubs out her cigar hastily.

“Well look at you, sweetheart.” She catches my chin and yanks it up, making me wince. “You’re going to incite a brawl.” A sharp glance at Mother Superior. “Virgin?”

“She’s had only one man.”

The woman hums, tilting my face side to side. “With a face like this, the men won’t care, will they? How much?”

“A hundred thousand.”

The woman’s eyes widen briefly. “I would have agreed to that price if she was still innocent, but I’ll have to knock the price down to seventy-five, since she decided to be a naughty girl. Nonetheless, she’ll return my investment in the first month.” She winks her false eyelashes at me. “It’s going to be a busy one. You’ll call me madam from now on. Take her to the south parlor and clean her up.” I’m scooped up from behind by a set of hands, from a person I can’t see, and I’m being dragged from the room, when I hear a commotion coming from somewhere in the building.

“Mercy.”

I choke back a cry. That’s Griffin’s voice. He’s here.

He found me.

The madam studies her fingernails, wiggling them in the lamplight. “Oh dear. I’m guessing that’s the one man she’s had.”

“How did he find us?” hisses Mother Superior at the captain. “Get out there and stop him.”

The captain doesn’t seem to be listening, however. His terrified gaze is glued to the doorway where I can sense Griffin is standing. I just know he’s here because I already feel safe. The set of hands beneath my arms go limp and I hear a thump. I twist around from my place on the floor to find Griffin holding two guns, one pointed at Mother Superior, the other at his captain. Mother Superior has dropped her arm in shock, but starts to take aim at me again now.

Griffin cocks his gun and she freezes.

“Drop the weapon now. Don’t even think about drawing on me, Captain.”

Slowly, the captain removes his hands from his jacket and puts them up.

“Mercy,” Griffin says raggedly. “Are you hurt?”

“No. No, I’m fine.”

His eyes close briefly, a prayer on his lips. “I’m going to get you out of here, angel baby.”

“Angel baby?” A snickering soldier appears behind Griffin, appearing to be guarding his back with a raised gun. “Did I really just hear that come out of your mouth?”

“You’re goddamn right you did. That woman right there is my life.” With cold fury in his eyes, he splits a look between my abductors. “And you two tried to take her away from me.”

The captain turns and jumps through the glass window, leaving shattered shards in his wake and I jolt with shock. The madam curses. I know from walking into the building that we’re only on the second story, probably not high enough to kill the captain, but surely the impact will cause him serious injury.

“Coward,” Griffin spits. He lowers one of the guns and holsters it, keeping the other trained on the elderly nun. “There’s nowhere he can go where I won’t find him. The same goes for you, Mother Superior.”

“This is all a big misunderstanding,” the nun titters. “You don’t think I could be capable of something like this.”

Griffin ignores her. “Come here, Mercy,” he rasps, helping me off the floor with his free hand and tucking me into his warm side. And I watch in complete shock as Mother Superior runs for the broken window, clumsily climbing onto the sill. “No,” I cry, reaching out for her. “Please, don’t—”

She falls backwards through the opening.

I scream and press my face into Griffin’s chest.

Astonishment still has me in thrall when the madam walks over to the window and peeks out. “Well. He made it. She didn’t.” She turns to Griffin with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you’re accepting offers for the redhead?”

“I’m more than happy to send a third person out the window, man or woman,” he grits out. “If you’re lucky, I won’t burn this place to the ground.”

“Noted.” The madam nods at me. “It’s hard to come by the love of a good man. Hold on to that one.”

“I will,” I breathe, turning in Griffin’s arms. “If he’ll still have me.”

“If I’ll still…” He kisses my forehead hard. “Mercy, I would have scoured the earth to find you if it took me to my dying day. You are my woman. I will never draw another breath where I’m not thinking of you at the same time.”

A chorus of whistles comes from the doorway.

I peek one eye out from behind Griffin to see a group of soldiers watching us with interest, fondness…and surprise. “Look who’s the fool over a woman now,” one of them drawls, drawing laughter from his friends.

“Damn right I am,” Griffin breathes, kissing my mouth with devastating possession. “Proud of it.”

EPILOGUE

Private Griffin

Five Years Later

I OPEN THE door to our bedroom as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake my sleeping wife. God, I love calling Mercy my wife. The word alone has the power to soothe my soul and make me hard as nails, like I am right now, just looking at her sleeping outline in the bed. Her auburn hair is spread out on her pillow, the softness of her skin highlighted by the silvery moon rays coming in through the window.

We married the morning after I rescued her from the brothel. We didn’t even bother returning to the convent for her possessions or mine.

You’re the only thing I need, she whispered, as I carried her down the stairs of that place wrapped in my coat, while the soldiers cheered behind us. Though that night is one of my worst memories, it’s also one of the best, because it’s the night Mercy agreed to be mine forever.

Since then, the rebel uprising has been quelled and Mercy likes to claim the victory only happened after her husband was promoted to captain. I take my job very seriously, but I take my marriage far more seriously, so my work is done at the local base. Never in the field. If I had to spend a night away from Mercy, I’d go mad.

Tonight marks the first time since we married that we didn’t fall asleep in one another’s arms. But I had business to attend. Long overdue business.

My wife stirs beneath the sheets and turns over, smiling up at me drowsily.

Heaven above, the power of her beauty still knocks the breath clean out of my lungs. Motherhood has made her glow even brighter. Listening to her sing our daughters to bed every night fills me with a contentment and love I never thought possible. Not until Mercy. I could burst open from the magnitude of it.

“You’re home,” she breathes now, reaching for the lamp.

“No,” I rasp,” Don’t turn it on—”

The lamp clicks before I can stop her, casting the room—and my blood-covered body—in light. “Griffin,” she gasps, sitting up and crawling toward me on hands and knees, naked, as she always sleeps. When she reaches me, she settles her hands on my shoulders, understanding dawning in her beautiful eyes. “You found the captain?”

I grunt an affirmation, remembering with satisfaction the way his eyes had gone blind during that final twist of the knife, as I whispered “this is for my wife” in his ear. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

She runs her palms down my pecs and stomach, taking the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head. “We don’t hide anything from each other.”

“No,” I say, groaning when she scratches her fingernails down my chest, grazing my nipples. “Never, angel baby. Never.”

It’s funny how I used to scorn the men in my regiment for obsessing over women when I’ve become the most obsessive son of a bitch who ever walked the earth. If she cries—even happy tears—it brings me to my knees. One time she scraped her ankle coming up the stairs and I almost passed out from fear that she was going to die. Don’t even get me started on childbirth. I had to be restrained in the hospital basement.

I’m my wife’s servant. I worship the ground she walks on.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now, she unzips my pants and situates her fist around my shaft, turning my breath into ragged puffs in an instant. So help me God, her eyes still light up with glee when she touches or sees my cock and it puts me in a painful state of arousal, every moment of the fucking day. My wife is obsessed with my dick and strokes it excitedly now, her teeth sinking into the pillow of her lower lip.

“Did you kill that bad man all for me?” she whispers, shyly.

“Yes,” I groan, precome leaking from my tip and dripping onto the bed “You are worth killing for, Mercy. You’re worthy of anything and everything.”

I shoot off a little more come and she collects it lovingly with her hands, making eye contact with me as she spreads the moisture across her hot, little tits.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “Oh fuck, little girl.”

With a toss of her gorgeous hair, she turns and falls forward onto hands and knees, presenting me her tight backside. “Can I please give you a reward?” Her knees slide farther apart, revealing her pink asshole. “I want to give it so bad,” she murmurs, giving me a pleading look over her shoulder.

I settle my hands on her buns and massage them roughly, eyeing up the back entrance I know she’s offering me. To say my wife is…adventurous would be an understatement. And just like her, it’s a gift from the Lord himself. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s enticed me to make love to her in public parks or film us so we can watch the footage later and fuck like animals.

She’s naughty. She’s kinky.

She wasn’t meant to be a nun, but sometimes, like right now, I swear she’s a motherfucking saint. And if anyone ever looks twice at her when we’re out, I clean their goddamn clock and ask questions later. Mercy is mine. End of story.

“Please let me have it, Griffin,” she whines again, rubbing her bottom against my lap. “I’m such a grateful girl. Use me.”

I’m groaning as I reach for the lube on our bedside table, my cock already full to bursting. Lasting for hours with Mercy has never been a reality. She turns me on to such an extreme, I’m usually only inside her for fifteen minutes before she wrings my come out with her little sexpot body. And that’s just fine, because by the time that fifteen minutes is up, Mercy is usually a sobbing mess from her multiple orgasms.

Have I mentioned I love my wife?

“I love you,” I tell her now, wrapping her hair around my left fist and pulling her face back for a wet, promissory kiss. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says huskily, seriousness dancing in her eyes momentarily. “You could have been hurt.”

“No, Mercy.” I rub my cock against her asshole, up and back, before easing in my thumb inside and watching her perfect mouth fall open. “Nothing keeps me from you. I could never lose a battle with this much on the line.”

“Put it in,” she purrs. “I missed it.”

This is what I’m talking about. She’s a fiend for my cock and I feed it into her now, inch by inch, pressure flooding into my stomach. “Ah, Jesus. I love fucking this sexy, little ass.” I wrap an arm underneath her waist, finding her clit with my fingertips and stroking as I sink in deeper, deeper, listening to her moans gather strength.

She looks back at me over her shoulder, face flushed. “This feels too much like a reward for me,” she whimpers. “You better do it harder.”

My balls wrench up and I barely keep from coming, but I hear her loud and clear. She wants it rough and I give Mercy what she wants. Always.

I also know when she wants it rough, she wants to play.

For a while after leaving the church, Mercy felt shame for betraying her vows.

Not now. We found a way to own the shame. To embrace and enjoy it.

“This dirty, little nun wants it hard?” I tackle her onto the bed, still abusing her swelling clit with my middle finger, thrusting my cock into her snug back entrance and watching her pale cheeks jiggle from the force. “Better come fast or you’re going to be late for prayers,” I say in her ear, and she goes wild, sobbing and pumping her ass back to meet my drives. “I’m going to drip out of you every time you kneel and you’re going to love it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she wails, clawing at the bedding. “Yes.”

A shudder goes through her, moisture slicking my fingers, and I roar with victory over her finding her pleasure. Then I drop my hands on top of hers, holding tight, and I go for broke, slamming in and out of her sweet, pink asshole until lightning strikes and turns my spine to a livewire. My hips slap against her backside, my seed flying in every direction while I grind out her name, over and over again.

It’s heaven.

It’s life with Mercy.

It’s our life and I’ll treasure the woman I’ve been given every single day.

THE END

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The Loner’s Lady

is available now!

Lyssa had one job. Pretend to be her best friend’s doting girlfriend during a visit with his reclusive, ex-military hero father, John. But who could have predicted she’d be instantly attracted to the intensely rugged mountain man? Or that, despite their age difference, he’d not only want Lyssa, too—forever—but would catch on to the ruse immediately?

No way in hell Lyssa was his son’s actual girlfriend. They weren’t even convincing liars. Forcing them to admit the truth, however, could hurt his son and John refused to do that. One thing he couldn’t refuse, though? His burning hunger for Lyssa. And if he wasn’t mistaken, his son continued to create situations that left him and Lyssa alone. Not touching his golden beauty before the truth comes out might prove to be the one obstacle in John’s life he isn’t strong enough to overcome…

…and the result could be a wild, enduring love for the ages.

Get it here:

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

Want more Jessa Kane?

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Epilogue

Want more Jessa Kane?