Page 66 of Lessons in Sin

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“You know where the cleaning supplies are.” I released her, returned to my desk, and opened the laptop.

Her hands went to her hips, her expression fevered with hunger and frustration.

She thought I was the one punishing her all these months, but she was the one with the claws and teeth and shackles on me. If she strutted over here and sat on my cock, I would feed it to her, every inch, in any hole she wanted it.

I would go to prison for her.

I would bleed for her.

I wondered if there was anything I wouldn’t do for her, and that thought was a torment in and of itself.

She had the power to level my world.

For the next hour, she scrubbed the floor on hands and knees in her schoolgirl uniform. Halfway through, she’d subtly, casually, inched her skirt up her back, exposing her gorgeous, heart-shaped ass.

“Demeaning bullshit.” She crawled past my chair, every word out of her mouth making me hard as a rock. “Chauvinistic pervert.”

Moving along on all fours, she arched her bare cheeks in the air, giving me a direct view of the glistening wetness between her thighs.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the freak flag you’re flying in your pants.” She smirked at me over her shoulder. “Kind of hard to miss.”

She crawled around the corner, out of sight, leaving me aching, throbbing, gripping the armrest to keep from pulling my cock out and jerking off.

I couldn’t bear it. Not another second of this torture.

My feet were already moving, my steps rounding the desk. Huge blue eyes in a delicately elven face watched me approach. Shimmery white-blonde hair cascaded down her slender back. A pink tongue peeked out, wetting plush lips, and my damn heart rammed against my rib cage.

“Stand up.” I didn’t wait for her to obey.

With a fist in her hair, I hauled her to her feet and bent her over my desk, ass up.

“Oh God.” She whimpered, her breath bursting in wispy bits and pieces. “I want this, but I don’t want you to resent me. Your vows…”

Priests broke their vows every day. They only lost their jobs if they got caught.

I kept this to myself as I kicked her feet apart and gripped her thighs. Angling her hips to thrust up and out, I bent down and buried my face.

With my teeth against her sexy, toned backside, I gave her sharp bites of pain intermixed with languid, swirling kisses. She squirmed and writhed as I worked my way toward her center.

When my tongue reached her greedy, wet pussy, she lifted on her toes, flattened on her heels, and released tatters of sound meant only for me.

I ravished her untried flesh, my nose buried in her ass crack and the heavenly scent of her intoxicating my senses. With each pass along her swollen slit, my tongue ventured deeper, more aggressively into her hot clasp, twisting and flicking and making her moan.

She tasted like innocence and sin, temptation and ruination, and I couldn’t stop eating, sucking, and imbibing her like an addict whose only thought was to consume and indulge and seize the moment.

“Please.” She thrashed on my desk, her hands clawing through my papers, her body convulsing, shaking, aching to come.

I edged her toward orgasm, and right before the peak, I ripped her away from the fall. Over and over, I brought her there, surfing right up to the cusp, teasing, peaking, and teetering on that razored edge. With frantic need pulsing beneath her skin and pooling between her legs, I stopped, leaned back, waited for it.

“Please,” she whispered, trembling, rocking, panting. “Magnus, please, fuck me. Let me come. Put me out of my misery, damn you.”

Music to my ears.

For the next hour, I showed her how a sadist made a woman beg.

I taught her my lessons in sin.

“I hate you.” She lay facedown on my desk in a puddle of shivery, horny desperation. “Please, please, please. I beg you. I’ll do anything.”

Leaning forward, I stretched over her back and rested my brow against her spine. With two fingers still buried in her cunt, I groaned at the feel of her clenching, spasming, so hot and needy.

She hadn’t come. Not once since we started. But she was about to explode, and it was going to be the best fucking orgasm she ever experienced.

I twisted my wrist, running my fingers along her deliciously drenched flesh to circle her clit. My other hand lowered my fly.

The sound of the zipper had her craning her neck, but she couldn’t see my erection. I pulled it out beneath the edge of the desk and fisted the unwieldy length.

I’d never been this hard. It didn’t even feel like my cock. It was a goddamn steel bat encased in fire.

As I rubbed and massaged her clit, she reached back and clutched my ass. Her nails sank into the skin above my slipping waistband. Pinpricks of heat where her passionate fingers held me became jolts of electricity surging straight to my groin, thick and molten.


Tags: Pam Godwin Erotic