Archer growled, the path of his mouth finally reaching the apex of her thighs, and he descended on her. His mouth fell upon the very center of her, his tongue darting out to lick between her folds.
Every nerve in Emilie’s body fired at once, lighting up like the night sky, and all she could do was throw back her head. Spurred on by her moans, Archer began to feast on her.
His mouth worked her over, kissing and licking and sucking all in kind.
Emilie spiraled in on herself, becoming nothing more than a being of pure pleasure, pure light. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that it could feel like this.
Archer continued what he was doing, his tongue darting out to circle and toy with the most delicate part of her. He lapped at her in long, languid strokes.
A tug began in her belly, something calling to her that had Emilie throwing back her head and closing her eyes. She called out Archer’s name, more of a prayer than anything, as her body wound itself tight.
What is this? What is happenin’ to me?
Emilie could barely think, could barely do anything except for focus on the roiling mass of pleasure at the very center of her being. And it was growing every second.
Finally, when Emilie was convinced that she couldn’t stand another moment of what was happening to her, everything came crashing down. Wave after wave of pleasure had her body wringing itself into spasms.
Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps as everything within her tensed, her climax finding her.
Emilie called out something, but she didn’t know what. She was too far gone. Too lost in the pleasure that had taken over her entirely.
Archer continued to lap at her, continued his work between her thighs with little regard to the shattering pleasure that was working its way through her.
Slowly, so slowly that Emilie could barely tell it was happening at first, the pleasure began to recede. The waves became smaller, the spasms farther and farther apart.
Her breath began to return to her, and just as quickly as everything had come over her, it started to fade.
Spots danced in her vision as she finally opened her eyes, blinking down at her husband.
Archer was still kneeling before her, but his mouth was no longer pressed against her. He was staring up at her from between her thighs, gray eyes dancing as a self-satisfied smirk tugged up the corners of his lips.
Emilie chuckled despite herself.
“Ye look as happy as a pig in mud,” she mumbled.
“Any man would be happy when feastin’ on his favorite meal.”
Archer winked up at her, moving so that he could push himself up to standing.
As he moved, a glint of the light flickered off the wetness on his lips, drawing Emilie’s eyes directly to it. She stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what it was.
It’s me wetness. It’s from me.
Emilie’s heart plummeted, the realization of what she’d just done washing over her. She glanced down, immediately spotting her skirts still hiked up around her waist.
And right there, plain as day and still exposed to the world beyond, were the most private, delicate parts of herself.
The part of herself that no nun should ever allow a man to touch.
Emilie’s stomach lurched, heat flooding her cheeks as tears pricked at her eyes.
“Nay,” Emilie breathed, the word meant entirely for herself as she shoved off the desk, sending her dress falling back down around her ankles where it belonged.
“Nay what?” Archer asked.
His voice was still lighthearted, letting her know that he had no clue the change that had just overtaken her. He reached out, his arms encircling her and moving to pull her toward him, but Emilie protested.
She wished that she could step back, that she could easily put distance between them. But the desk was still at her back, and his arms were on either side of her.