Sins On The Skin

XIII.

Lord Byron said that, ‘Pleasure’s a sin, and sometimes sin’s a pleasure.’

What he failed to mention was that sometimes sin was holy and pleasure was the staircase leading up to heaven. Not everything concerning carnal needs is connected to Hell.

For instance, the pleasure she was experiencing as she stared up at him with those wide, dark brown eyes could hardly belong to the eternal furnaces of Hell.

But then again, nothing existed beyond that moment.

Not heaven.

Not Hell.

Nothing.

“Come here.” He murmured and patted his lap softly. There was a brief pause before Guinevere could find the courage to face him eye to eye but when she did, she didn’t give him time to speak or even think. She commanded him to feel.

Her palms came to rest on either side of his face, the light stubble scratching her soft skin.

Nathan sat there, unmoving, as he let her take full control.

Her lips slanted over his, over and over before moving along his sharp jawline and throat.

Nathan’s fingers came to grip the soft tresses on her head, tugging them upwards and forcing her to face him. “Does this mean I won?”

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing, anymore but sure, you won.” Truthfully, the winner wasn’t Nathan but he’d never know that.

She’d never tell him.

Her teeth grazed his earlobe, teasingly, feeling victorious as she heard him groan. “We need to be quiet.”

During different circumstances, he might have narrowed his eyes at her and muttered something smart but right then and there, he was having trouble keeping his wits to himself. “No promises.”

Pressing another kiss to his throat, she slid lower.

No objections were made.

Guinevere fell to her knees, her pale yellow dress pooling around her with effortless grace. Her nails dug into his thighs before slowly moving upwards. He instinctively shivered as the sensation registered in his fogged brain. Even though his trousers were in the way, he could feel the light sting as it traveled to his upper thighs.

Her hands fumbled with his belt a bit before finally opening it and dragging down the zipper of his pants and releasing a shaky breath at the sight that greeted her.

The hands of a pianist were supposed to be deft like the paws of a cat, not awkward and tense. Why was she so damn anxious? The answer was more than simple, she was growing more and more excited as seconds ticked by.

Nathan groaned when the first contact was made. Her fingers had barely closed in around him and yet, he was already on his way to Nirvana.

“Oh, fuck.” He exclaimed, involuntarily arching his back, allowing her to take control. He didn’t force himself in her mouth, he didn’t guide her movements, he simply sat there, waiting.

There was nothing vulgar about the way her mouth closed around his length. There was only beauty. That pure beauty that allowed animalistic urges to come to the surface. That beauty that showed that even if people have evolved, they are still primal brings at their core.

There was nothing vulgar about the way her tongue teased him, about the way her eyes remained locked on his the entire time. Nothing at all.

Still, the thoughts running wild in his mind reeked of vulgarity and decadence.