The Virgin

He had to have her. He had to. He couldn’t imagine a world where she belonged to any man but him. So he would have her. Whatever it took. He would have her. No matter what he had to do. He would have her. Even if it killed him.

He would have her.

Even if he had to kill for her.

26

Upstate New York

ELLE COULDN’T STOP smiling. At first she tried to stop when she realized someone might notice her behaving oddly. After all, she probably hadn’t smiled five times in the past six months. But when alone she gave up the battle against her own happiness. Why not smile? She’d had one of the most amazing nights of her life without Søren, without Kingsley, without a man anywhere near her. All day long and all night, all the next night long and all the day after, she thought of Kyrie. Kyrie’s face with its elfin beauty and her small body that fit so nicely against Elle’s, and her scent like ocean water and the beach and the warmth of the California sun...

Flashes of memory from their night together intruded into all of Elle’s thoughts. The sheets she washed and folded reminded her of the sheets she’d taken Kyrie’s virginity on. And the sunlight breaking through the spring cloud cover reminded her of Kyrie’s smile. And for two nights Elle had lain alone in her bed praying Kyrie would come to her again. But the girl was too good at following orders already. Elle had told her to wait a few days, and wait Kyrie did. So Elle waited, too. Impatiently, wistfully and in a near-constant state of arousal. Images from their night together hit Elle’s brain like an electric current. Her knees went weak—literally—and she’d have to stop every few minutes and brace herself on the counter, catch her breath, refocus her thoughts. She hadn’t walked around in this sort of lust-filled daze since she was a teenager waiting for Søren to have her. She needed Kyrie, needed her now, in her bed. And Elle needed to top her, dominate her, use her. For years, Elle had ignored her dominance fantasies but now she gave free rein to them, all of them. There was no one to stop her now from doing whatever she wanted to do to Kyrie. No priest, no king. And not even God would get in the way of Elle doing to Kyrie everything she dreamed of doing.

And these were her dreams.

Next time she and Kyrie were in bed together, she would tie that girl spread-eagle to the cot and give her so many orgasms they’d need a calculator to total them all up.

Gagging might be a good idea. That many orgasms could get loud, after all.

Oh...maybe a blindfold? Kyrie would be able to focus on what she felt if Elle took her sense of sight away.

Would Kyrie like pain? She could start with a spanking and together they could work their way up to harder stuff.

Wait. Had Elle ever spanked anyone in her life? Swatting Kingsley on the ass when he wore a pair of particularly tight and well-tailored trousers didn’t count.

This was a convent. Candles everywhere. Maybe Kyrie would like candle-wax play. Who didn’t like candle-wax play?

So many ideas, fantasies, dreams...all Elle needed was another night with Kyrie. And another. And another. Then a whole week with Kyrie. A whole year. They needed their own bedroom, their own house, where they could do everything they wanted.

House?

“Oh my God, one night with a girl and I’m already packing the U-Haul,” she said out loud.

No to the house idea. They’d start with a hotel room and see where things went from there.

Elle gave up her work and stared out the window of the laundry room. The trees swayed in a spring breeze. The sun dappled the leaves that shone with morning dew. The sky was a brilliant blue. This was her world and it was good. And she, she was happy. Elle was happy for the first time in a long time. She was happy without Søren. It was possible. It could happen. It had happened. She could leave him and move on with her life. Hope was Heaven, and she had Heaven in her heart.

Once upon a time she thought the world would end if she ever had to live without him.

And here she was, without him. And here was the world, spinning on its axis as usual.

She had survived the end of the world and found at the end a new beginning. And if she’d survived the end of the world, surely she could survive anything now.

“Eleanor Louise Schreiber, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Elle started and dropped the sheet she’d been halfheartedly folding and spun around.

Her mother stood in the doorway of the laundry room glaring at her with fire in her eyes.

“Mom? You scared the shit out of me.”

Her mother shut the door behind her. That wasn’t good. Mother Prioress discouraged private conversations at the convent. Whatever her mother had to say, Elle knew she wouldn’t like it.

“I will ask you again,” her mother said as she stood in front of Elle. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Laundry?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m doing laundry. Like I do every day.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, I swear—”

“Answer me this then. Do you want to get kicked out of here? Do you?”

“Of course not.” Elle stammered as she answered, scared and confused.

“This is an abbey. We have rules here. Vows. And while you’re here you have to respect that.”

Oh shit. Kyrie.

“Mom, I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh no, you never mean to do anything you do. I bet you didn’t mean to sleep with your own priest, either. And you didn’t mean to keep sleeping with him for six years.”