Forbidden Reading Read Online Free Page B

Wrapping both fists around his erection she stroked her hands back and forth in unison. He was more than long enough to be contained within her grip. The bulbous end of his shaft poked out from between the curled finger and thumb of her right hand. Her left hand pressed into the dark thatch of curls that poked through the opening in his cassock. The scent of his arousal grew more noticeable and the quickening pulse of his excitement pounded beneath her fingertips.
    ‘Praise be to all the saints,’ he growled.
    She dared to glance up at his face and saw the manic glint that shone in his eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together with concentration and his jaw looked peculiarly square and manly. It was unnerving to accept that she was doing something so base in the sanctity of a church, but Justine thought the priest’s expression was even more disquieting. The idea of refusing him had long since passed and all that was left was her need to submit.
    As she snatched a faltering breath, Justine realised that her desire to obey wasn’t her only motivation: there was also the quandary of her own swelling excitement. Kneeling before him, squeezing her thighs together as she dryly tried to address her own arousal, Justine came close to sobbing with frustration.
    ‘Praise be to all that is holy,’ he glowered.
    She could feel him growing inexorably harder. Twisting her wrists lightly, she dared to increase her pace as she pulled his foreskin back and forth. Above her head she saw his pectoral cross keeping tempo as it bounced against his chest. The tassels decorating the ends of his stole swayed to and fro with the same rhythmic motion.
    ‘ Salope !’ he exclaimed. His hands had tightened into fists by his sides and his jaw was clenched with a fury that could have splintered the enamel from his teeth. In a guttural whisper he declared, ‘ Putain cochonne .’
    Justine didn’t know what the words meant but she suspected they wouldn’t be included in the pages of the phrase book she had purchased. She didn’t doubt he was insulting her and, given the circumstances, believed she was probably worthy of his vilest slurs. But those considerations didn’t stop her as she worked diligently toward wringing the climax from his length. The ordeal was proving more exciting than she had anticipated and Justine was overcome by her own need for satisfaction. As her hands worked on him – her biceps aching from the exertion and her palms glistening with a meld of her own sweat and the priest’s arousal – she couldn’t shake the demands of her pulsing libido. The inner muscles of her sex quivered with greedy need and the urgent pulse of her clitoris throbbed insistently. The folds of her pussy lips were indecently hot and fluid and she could have sobbed with the injustice of trying to satisfy the priest without being allowed to sate her own appetite.
    ‘Harder,’ he growled. ‘Faster and harder. Make me come.’
    She madly wondered if he would allow her to touch herself, then pushed that idea from her mind. Something in the priest’s staunch expression told Justine that he was a hard taskmaster and she felt certain he wouldn’t give in to her depraved request for release. It only took one glance at the wicked glint in his eyes and she remembered she was there to satisfy his demands and not her own.
    Yet that understanding did nothing to alleviate the torment of her arousal. Inside her bra her nipples stood as hard as bullets. Even the slightest movement was enough to send a shock of pleasure rippling through both orbs and she struggled to remain motionless while she worked on his length. Between her legs the viscous heat was sweltering and her longing to be touched was almost a physical ache. The yearning for satisfaction left her weak and miserable and she struggled to put her own needs out of her mind while investing her efforts in bringing him to climax.
    ‘Go on,’ he insisted. ‘Milk me.’
    The eye of his glans was