Page 46 of Crowned in Sin
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
Outside, the organ starts to play the first notes. The introductory rites are about to start. I look back at the door, almost half expecting Father Valdoni to pull it open to come get me. But the door remains blissfully still as the music fills the cathedral.
We need to go, but instead of standing up, I scoot closer to her in the tiny space. She parts her legs to give me the room. Her light warm scent fills my nostrils, and the air between us starts growing thicker and warmer from proximity.
"I didn’t mean to humiliate you,piccola.” My voice comes out lower than I expect. “And I am sorry. Truly.”
Lydia finally looks at me. “Was that an apology, Don Nico? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“An apology? No,” I tell her as I start kissing her knee. “This is an apology.”
My hands find the hem of the red silk and push it up her thighs slowly. Lydia’s eyes widen when I push her legs wider to expose her completely to me.
“Nico, we’re at church. This is inappropriate.”
"I don’t care about being appropriate anymore,piccola." I press my mouth to the inside of her thigh, higher and higher, until she starts to shudder. "Do you know what I care about?”
She bites down on her own lip, all while her knees part for me.
“I care that youneverfeel like you need to hide when you're with me ever again."
She looks at me, and the rawness in her eyes dissolves away into a warm hunger that climbs into her cheeks. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I hook my fingers into the thin scrap of lace at her hips.
"Nico," she whispers.
“Remind yourself again what you are,piccola.” I nip at her thighs, leaving a warm and wet trail with my tongue along the tender flesh.
Her hands slide into my hair and then curl. I raise her leg over my shoulder so that she has nowhere else to go, and start kissing forward towards her slick wet heat.
“Your wife,” she breathes, trembling.
“Say the whole thing. Say that you’re my wife until you fucking believe it.”
“I’m your wife,” she says obediently.
I push her thighs wider and lower my mouth to her, and find her already soaked. “And what does my wife want me to do right now?”
“To make her feel good," she mews.
“Good girl.”
And that's the last thing I tell her before I start to feast.
The first taste of her sweet slit makes her eyes roll back as she moans softly.
My tongue runs in a straight line from her ass to her clit, lapping up every sweet drop before swallowing them greedily. Her legs around my head tighten and pull me closer. I reach up to grip her hips and pull her closer towards me while my mouth opens her further.
The organ music rises faster and louder until it’s loud enough to hide the moans bubbling out of Lydia’s throat as I work her with my mouth.
The scarf slides off one bare shoulder and she either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Her head tips back against the wall of the booth, and her hips chase my mouth for more contact.
"You taste so fucking sweet," I murmur against her. "So fucking good. Do you know what you taste like?"
“Like your wife?”
“You’re goddamn right.”
I slide one finger into her while my tongue keeps moving, and she clenches around me, tight and hot. A high desperate whimper breaks loose before she can stop it while the organ swells louder beyond the curtain.
