Forbidden Reading Read Online Free

church. The reverential tone was replete with pious righteousness. ‘That’s why I’m doing it. I’m doing it for La Coste .’ Strangely, she thought, the answer sounded right. Content that she knew her motivations, even if she didn’t fully understand them, Justine settled back in her pew and continued to reflect on the church’s majestic interior. She told herself it was better to think about anything other than the pleasure she had received beneath Mrs Weiss’s cruel tutelage. Memories of the diabolical excitement continued to plague her with a guilty charge that she didn’t want to revisit. The black arousal of exposing herself, being touched and then being striped, had left a mark that lingered longer than any of those weals that had been sliced across her backside. Justine shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat of the pew, trying not to acknowledge the discomfort that still lingered in her behind and reminding herself that it was unseemly to be recalling such a licentious episode in the hallowed sanctuary of a church. The internal censure was enough to make her turn her thoughts back to the splendour of the church’s decor but not quite enough to stop her nipples from aching with an unfulfilled need.
    ‘You must be Justine.’
    She blinked in surprise when the man spoke to her. There was the inflection of a strong French accent in his flawless English but, other than that, he was nothing like what she had expected. Mrs Weiss had said she would be contacted in the church but she had given neither name nor description. Justine hadn’t known if she would be approached by someone older or younger, black or white, or even male or female: but she had never expected her contact to be a priest.
    Too startled to respond, she simply gaped at him.
    ‘Am I correct? Are you Justine?’
    He stood before her wearing brilliant white vestments over his long black cassock. The addition of chasuble, stole and pectoral cross made it look as though he had just finished preparing for the early evening mass and Justine searched his face to be sure he was really her contact. Mature and darkly handsome, he would have, she supposed, the air of a dependable, trustworthy cleric to his congregation. Yet she detected something less attractive in his thin-lipped smile. His black eyes shone with a wicked glint and, if she had been of a paranoid nature, Justine could have believed he was glowering at her with concealed distaste.
    ‘Is Justine your real name?’ he began. ‘Or just a germane identity to hide behind for the purposes of this transaction?’
    She started to reply but he was already shaking his head and taking hold of her wrist. His hands were large, the knuckles brushed with hairs as dark and wiry as those on his head. ‘No matter,’ he decided. ‘I have only one question for you and, as you are in my church, I expect an honest answer.’
    Justine nodded. His fingers were warm and strong around her wrist. Despite the comfort that came from seeing a man in ceremonial robes she got the impression of cruel power from his grip. Stifling her nerves, trying hard to disguise her apprehension, she said, ‘Ask what you will, Father. I shall answer as honestly as I am able.’
    ‘Are you worthy of acquiring La Coste ?’
    She swallowed.
    Mrs Weiss had warned that the manuscript’s seller would want to make sure it went to a worthy recipient, sneering her contempt as she complained about this clause in the sale. ‘Marais is selling because he needs the money,’ she had explained. Unconsciously her tone slipped into a monologue of vitriol. ‘So Marais plays these petty games – as though he’s giving up a first-born child – yet I could be outbid by a recycling plant if the offer was more lucrative to him. I’m only glad I was the first one to get the money in an escrow account this time, although I had to filter it through half a dozen agents to keep my identity from him. But it’s still insulting. If I didn’t