The Saint

He nodded and fixed his eyes on the ceiling as Nora pressed his knees apart and settled between them. She licked her fingertip and slowly pushed it inside him. She went in deep but not too deep. She stopped when Nico gasped in pleasure.

“Good?”

“Parfait.” He kept his eyes on the ceiling as if too embarrassed to look at her while she touched him so intimately.

“Good.” She pulled her finger out of his tight passage and grabbed her riding crop. She twirled it once before catching it in the middle. Carefully she eased the narrow shaft of the handle a few inches inside him.

“See?” she said as she massaged a spot inside him. “Crops aren’t made only for pain.”

Nico said nothing. He had apparently lost all powers of speech. Nora took him in her hand and stroked his incredible hardness. Then she dipped her head and licked him from base to tip and then back down the full length of the shaft again.

Nico groaned and grasped at the sheets. She loved nothing more than making a beautiful man writhe.

“Have you ever been with a woman who f**ked your ass and sucked your c**k at the same time?” she paused to ask.

“Yes, if you count fingers.”

“I do. But don’t worry. I’m not done proving myself yet.”

She sucked him deep into her mouth again. Hard, harder, so hard he gasped.

“Are you ready to come for me?” she asked in French. It had been one of the first sentences Kingsley had taught her.

“Oui.”

“Not yet,” she said, purring the words. “Not … quite … yet….”

She licked him a few more times for her own pleasure, relishing the velvet skin, the earthy taste, the fullness of him in her mouth. Gently she pulled the riding crop handle out of him.

Rising up, she clasped him in her hand and massaged him with long, thorough strokes.

“Get there for me,” she ordered. “Get right to the edge of your orgasm and stay there. Are you there?”

Nico nodded and closed his eyes tight.

“Stay there at the edge, feel how sharp that edge is, Nico.”

“It hurts,” he gasped through clenched teeth.

“I know. Pleasure can hurt worse than pain sometimes. In three seconds, I’ll let you come.”

She reached out and took the empty wineglass off the bedside table.

“Un … deux … trois,” she said, and brought the wineglass over the tip. He spurted into it, coating the sides with his se**n as he winced from the intensity of his release.

After she’d collected every drop of him, Nora held the glass up in the light of the fireplace.

Nico opened his eyes and propped himself on his elbows, watching her.

She took the uncorked bottle of Rosanella Syrah and poured an inch of wine into the glass. She swirled the wine, letting it lap the sides.

“The two fruits of your labors in one glass,” she said. “Santé.”

She raised the glass to her lips.

“Nora …” Nico panted her name.

In three deep swallows she drank the wine down.

“My favorite vintage,” she said.

Nico sat up and looked at her as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“You win,” he said.

“Thought so,” she said and sat the glass aside. “I also have a fun trick with whiskey, but I don’t drink hard liquor anymore. Zach won’t let me.”

Without a word, Nico pushed her onto her back and kissed her with shocking, breathtaking passion. His tongue delved into her mouth as if seeking the taste of himself on her tongue.

“You are dangerous,” Nico whispered against her lips. “You can make a man want things he can’t have.”

Nico took a shuddering breath as if trying to calm himself. He eased away from her and stretched out once more on his side in bed.

“Talk to me before I tie you to the bed and never let either of us leave it,” Nico said.

Nora laughed and lay on her side to face him.

“I should tell you about the first time I met your father,” she said. “Really met him.”

“What was he like?”

“Nothing like you,” she said.

“Is that bad?”

“Not at all. That house I wandered into with the wild orgy going on—that was your father’s house.”

“I can truthfully say I’ve never been to an orgy. Although the days we harvest and stomp the grapes come close.”

Nora grinned. She’d love to be with Nico at the grape harvest. Maybe she could sneak back for it. If her conscience would let her.

“You’ll be glad to hear that a bottle or two or possibly even three of Syrah was involved when I met your father finally.”

“He has good taste in wine and women.” Nico grinned at her. “Where were you?”

“You’ll never guess, considering your father was there. But the first time Kingsley and I talked, it was, of all places, at church.”

17

Eleanor

ELEANOR ADJUSTED HER DRESS ONE FINAL TIME, straightened the baby’s breath the stylist had woven through her hair and picked up her bouquet of bloodred roses. Bach’s Minuet in G Major began and after one steadying breath, she stepped onto the red carpet and headed down the aisle toward Søren.

She’d practiced her walk last night at the rehearsal. Right foot forward, step together, stop. Left foot forward, step together¸ stop. She repeated those instructions in her mind over and over. The words forced her to walk slowly when all she wanted to do was run down the aisle and fly into Søren’s arms.