Sinful by Carolyn Faulkner Page A

bottom, which he’d also warned her he intended to do sometime in the near future. And when he used a strap he’d put on this bed – his old king – a long time ago to hold her wrists in place while he kissed his way slowly, languorously down her body, the astonished look became almost apoplectic.
    She’d held him off from this, and he hadn’t really thought about doing it until just now, but he couldn’t see any reason at all not to indulge himself, especially since her wandering hands had been so nicely neutralized.
    “Brandt, no! You can’t! Please!”
    Anyone who didn’t know their situation might think he was wielding the promised paddle on her reluctant backside. She was trying to talk him out of something that most women would give anything to get their mate to do. He didn’t say that, of course, because she wasn’t every woman. Nor was he going to allow her deep-seated modesty to deter him from his goal. Hadn’t in the past, wouldn’t in the future, either.
    It had been too long. He shouldn’t have let her stop him the times he had wanted to and he had allowed her to dissuade him. Now there was nothing short of an earthquake that was going to keep him away from that most beautiful, feminine part of her.
    Brandt took his time getting there, too, dallying for a long time at her breasts, teasing those buds into painful peaks by suckling hard, ignoring her whimpers and razing them with his teeth, tugging at them and nibbling a little, but not too much in deference to her inexperience. He trailed down her sides, licked his way around her waist, then down around her hips to kiss along the hip-thigh crease and found his home.
    Her legs were well spread because he was between them – she had no choice. There was no way she could even begin to close them around the breadth of his shoulders, and he was so tall that she couldn’t even bring them up and around him, either. She was trapped and he was going to do that which she dreaded even more than the paddle in some ways.
    There was no possibility that she would ever have known that anything like this position existed in her previous world. Missionary – with its inherent male dominance – was the only godly way to procreate, as far as that church was concerned. Any other innovations were frowned upon, especially since they often didn’t involve any possibility of pregnancy.
    She had come a long way since then, pretty much all because of Brandt. And even though he had helped her every step of the way and addressed ninety-nine percent of her hang-ups, this was one she didn’t think she’d ever get over. It just, plain and simple, wasn’t right .
    Now, he had already taught her to do the same thing for him, and that, somehow, seemed okay to her, probably, he’d pointed out when they were discussing it one night, because it put a woman in a submissive position.
    But this – this just went against everything good and natural, as far as she was concerned, and she told him exactly that, repeatedly, while he did just as he wanted, of course, and brought his mouth to within such a close range that she could feel his breath on that little spot he seemed to know so well. To her horror and deep shame, it leapt towards him and her entire body contracted almost painfully.
    He didn’t miss that blatant reaction, of course, he was eagle-eyed about everything about her. He knew practically before she did when she had a headache, and handed her aspirin, before she was cold and turned up the heat in the car or the apartment. He’d known she would love this, too, despite her misgivings and her sure knowledge that this – above anything else she’d done with him – was a sin.
    And it went without saying that, in regards to her in bed – or her behavior anywhere – he was practically clairvoyant.
    “Someone’s happy to see me,” he teased. Then, struck by the thought, he reached out to delve a bit lower, just to see if perhaps the rest of her was much more enamored