Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Evelyn Starr
Word Count :83250
Publication Date :2010-08-24
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55410-596-0
Darkness, seduction, rituals…
There is seduction in darkness. In secrecy, and in secret rituals performed in dark and hidden gardens. Seduction in the strange and reclusive man who haunts the house next door. Seduction with which Jean Agnes, newly released from the old-fashioned, cloistered convent where she’d thought to live out her life, finds herself ill-equipped to deal. Seduction that hovers dangerously close to the thin line between perceived good and acknowledged evil.
Wistfully, I thought of myself in the safety of heavy black robes and veil. Remembered myself kneeling in prayer, content in prayer, content in the silence I’d been more than glad to obey, in the name of what I’d thought I wanted.
“Fuck!” I said, surprising even myself with the vehemence inherent in the way I said it. “Fuck!” I cried. “Fuck!” I shrieked, now aware of milky streams that spewed from between Gardner’s fingers. Steaming streams of primitive moon-milk, that erupted headlong from the tip of his shaft and spattered across my exposed thighs and abdomen, and all the gasping, wrenching and grasping private areas between.
“Fuck!” Somehow, I found strength to close my eyes.
Somehow, knowing what I’d never been precisely told, but what I’d at some long-ago time intuited with my own kind of primeval knowledge, I tried to steel myself for the invasion of that inconceivably massive flesh into me. I tried to tighten myself. Tried, with another kind of primeval knowledge, this one utterly hopeless but there nonetheless, to fix myself so that I would be able to resist. So that I would be able to prevent his invasion with what little sentience remained to me.
But my body would not cooperate. The folds there…the gaping maw and the striving lips, the aching depths and the steadily streaming inner reaches, would not be tightened. Loose, soft, they would not be denied that which it had already been ordained they would have.
“Fuck?” I was sobbing openly. Sobbing with all the broken heart and dashed hope for which I’d never had the chance to sob before. Sobbing for what I wanted, what I could not have…all the many and varied, completely incongruous things I might never have.
Almost against my will, I reopened my eyes. “You’re so innocent.” Gardner’s voice had changed. Had become thin and thready, had seemed to take on the kind of pulsing beat that had driven the scalding moon-milk from him.
He still massaged himself…massaged with fingers that seemed to have lost much of their strength and most of their direction. “One day I will understand your innocence,” he vowed in the same thready and unsteady tones. “I promise you I will understand why…how…a woman of your age, in this day and age, can still seem like some kind of medieval…”
He didn’t say it.
As if the notion was ludicrous.
And I remained powerless, with only that one repeated, pleading and cajoling word locked to my brain and my lips, to tell him how frighteningly close to the truth he’d just come.
“Fuck,” I whispered all but pleadingly.
And he laughed. “One day, soon, I will do to you what you want me to do.”