Seducing Their Nun [Unlikely Bedfellows 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jenna Stewart

  With his free hand, he reached between them and circled her nipple with his thumb. She arched her back into his hand. In response, she ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his neck.

  He set the pace with leisurely, almost sleepy moves. She compensated by feeding the growing surge to climax by touching him with her hands and lips, across his shoulders and along his jaw.

  He dove deep, pulling out and gliding in. Then he made short, tight jabs, just inside her entrance. Gulping, she pressed as closely to him as possible. “Hurry,” she urged him. “Oh, don’t stop.”

  He moved his hand from her breast to that point between them where they merged and took her clitoris between thumb and forefinger.

  “Yes,” she said on a moan. “Yes, yes.” Her thoughts shattered. She dug her nails into his arms and kissed his shoulder, sucking hard in an effort to stifle a scream of passion.

  “God, what a woman,” Jordan murmured close to her ear. “My woman.”

  Her climax rolled on and on. She threw back her head and gasped for breath even as she clenched her vaginal muscles and jerked her hips forward, riding Jordan’s penis and drawing him deeper within.

  So far gone was she, Jordan’s climax came without her knowing. She struggled to find her even keel for several minutes after he relaxed his hold and lowered her leg.

  “What a hold you have on me,” she said finally.

  “I can say the same of you. I can’t get enough of you.”

  She smiled, drained of all energy and yet feeling alive as she never had before. “I wish it could go on,” she said, stroking his jaw.

  “Why can’t it?” He pulled back and looked at her, a question in his eyes.

  “I asked God for a perfect day. He granted me that and a night, too. But now it’s over. It’s time for me to return to my life and you to yours.”

  He took her hand and kissed each fingertip. “It’s not that easy. You’re my life now.”

  “Jordan,” she whispered.

  “I love to hear you say my name. I love holding you and kissing you.” He skimmed his hand down her torso to her hips. “I love having my cock so far in your pussy you know it’s a part of you. If I could, I’d come inside you and know my sperm might join with you and start a baby. I see you in my mind’s eye, big with our child.”

  Her breath had quickened with each word. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I asked God for a day.”

  “You asked him to allow you happiness for the time you were here. I heard you.” He kissed her over and over, but she steeled herself against him. “Let me love you,” he urged. “Give me the chance to convince you that you belong with me.”

  “Not during the day.” Why had she said that? She meant to deny him altogether. She had to, or deny the rest of her life, the life she had believed in with all her being since childhood. Why try? She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  “Wanting something is no reason to have it. Satan puts things before you that you want, but they are not what God wants you to have.” She heard the words of Mother Superior as clearly as if she were there in the room.

  Following quickly, she heard Jordan’s voice saying that God would not deny her love or the arms of a man. Would God care that she wasn’t married to the man with whom she had shared her body, or would he be happy for their love?

  “Loving must wait until the night. During the day I must remain what everyone thinks I am. Promise me, Jordan.”

  He hesitated only a moment. “I promise.”

  * * * *

  When she walked down the steps in her habit, Jordan wanted to shout at heaven at the unfairness of it all. He’d finally found a woman he could spend his life with, and she couldn’t acknowledge her feelings in return.

  “I hid the car beside the house while you were showering. Lonnie won’t see it when he picks you up for Mass.”

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes, damn it. He had to remember that the woman who dropped her head in submission, who spoke in a small voice and deferred to those around her, was the nun, Sister Margaret Mary, and one side of the woman who had set his night on fire with her hot cunt and burning kisses. Accept one part of her, accept it all.

  He would accept it all.

  “Thank you, Jordan.”

  “I’ll be there to pick you up afterward.”

  “It’s Sunday, so Mass will be a little longer. Do you mind?” She sounded nervous, asking the question.

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Her tone needled him. Sure, he was relinquishing holding her, touching her, kissing her during the daylight hours—and that was damn hard—but did she think he’d be mad over waiting a little extra time? Touchy, touchy. She’s only doing what she thinks is right.

  Fuck it! What’s right is going back upstairs and spending the day in bed.

  Lonnie’s Nash came barreling down the lane. Jordan bent to kiss her, but she recoiled. “I can’t, Jordan. Please. If I kissed you, everyone would know. It would show in my eyes. I have to be careful.”

  “I understand. Sorry.”

  She gave a curt nod and hurried out.

  Jordan raked his hair back. Shit. How was he going to be able to handle this when every inch of him wanted to touch every inch of her every damn minute they were together?

  He waited until the sound of Lonnie’s car disappeared up the road before stepping out to retrieve his own vehicle from its hiding spot alongside the house.

  The morning was crisp and clear, with no mist off the ocean. Just the kind of day he loved. The drive home went quickly, the windows down and radio on.

  Before he went upstairs to clean up, he stopped by the kitchen. “Mandy, I’m bringing home a guest for dinner. Is that a problem?”

  “You know we always have more than enough for Sunday dinner. I just hope it’s a pretty young woman you’re bringin’ home. It’s time you were married.”

  Jordan dropped a kiss on the Negro woman’s cheek. “Don’t you worry about me. Why don’t you get married?”

  “You go on, now. I’ve done had me one man, and he was enough.”

  Jordan laughed, taking the back stairs two at a time.

  His mother came out of her room adjusting a pearl necklace around her throat when he reached the top of the steps and started down the hall to his room. “What is so amusing? And you’d better hurry and get ready if you’re coming to church with me.”

  “Mandy’s what’s funny, and I’m not going to church with you. I’m cleaning up and then picking up Sister Margaret Mary at the Catholic church.”

  His mother frowned. “You’re going to work on Sunday?”

  “No, I’m bringing her here for dinner.”

  She dropped her arms and stood back, ramrod straight. “You are not. I will not have her here.”

  “Why?”

  “She isn’t welcome.”

  “Then don’t expect me here, either. She’s my client and she’s a nun. What could you possibly have against her?”

  She stood there, lips thinned, silent. “All right then,” she finally muttered. “Bring her to dinner.” And she spun and stormed off, much as she had the other night. At the top of the main stairwell, she turned. “Where were you last night? I waited until eleven and you weren’t home.”

  “I stayed with a friend. I told you I might be late.”

  “All night is not ‘late’.”

  “I apologize. But I’ll likely be out overnight a lot for a while. A friend and I have a project going on, and it requires nighttime hours.”

  “Do I know this friend?”

  “No. But if things work out as I hope, you will.”

  “I see.” She walked stiffly down the stairs.

  What in hell was wrong with her? She’d been acting strangely ever since he got home and seemed to be getting worse. What would Catherine’s opinion be regarding his mother’s behavior? As something of an innocent—he grinned. Not quite so innocent now—and outsider, would she see signs of illness in his mother that he was too close to see?
>
  He had to get Catherine there first, so she could meet his mother. He wondered how the two women most important to him would get along. He knew his mother would come to love Catherine—how could she not? A sweeter, more wonderful woman hadn’t lived on Earth. He only hoped Catherine would like his mother, too.

  Whistling, he hurried to his room and ripped off his clothing. Buck naked, he started shaving and was nearly finished when he noticed the hickey on his shoulder. Grinning, he touched the bruise. She had more passion than she knew, and however sheltered she’d grown up, her body had a sense of what to do and how to do it when she lay with him. What they had was damn good. He only hoped he could convince her of it.

  He showered and dressed in minutes, choosing his blue suit instead of the black. There would be plenty enough of that at the table with Catherine’s habit.

  The phone rang as he was pocketing wallet and keys.

  “Mr. Jordan?” Mandy called. “Telephone!”

  “Thanks!” He strode to the hall extension while strapping on his watch. Then he planned to pack a bag to store in the trunk. If he stayed the nights with Catherine, he didn’t want to show up at home every morning in the same clothing.

  “Hello.”

  “Jordan?”

  The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Mark?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  The voice at the other end of the line didn’t sound like the Mark he knew. That man had been big—in body and voice—and confident. This man’s voice held a tentativeness that should have been alien to him. “Hey, Buddy, I was going to call you today but I got tied up. Listen, I hate to cut your time with your family short, but we need to talk. I wondered if maybe you could come down here.”

  “You were going ask me to come to Oregon? Well, shit. Then you might be happy to know I’m already on the way. Cutting my family time is fine, really.”

  Just like Mark, to be ahead of him. But something was wrong in his tone, in his manner. “Great minds thinking alike. Where the hell are you?”

  “Seattle. Listen, I hate to be a pain in the ass, but is there any way you can come and get me?”

  “In Seattle?”

  “No, hell no. My train is due to leave in a few minutes, and we’re supposed to be in Portland around three. Is that possible?”

  “Sure. We’ll meet you at the station.”

  “We?” If anything, he sounded even more hesitant.

  “You’ll see. Don’t worry about anything, okay? Family is great, but you’re among friends now.”

  “Thanks, Jordan. I knew I could count on you.”

  “See you later, then.”

  When he hung up, Jordan couldn’t help harboring a few worries himself. His best friend sounded changed. What had that ambush had done to him? And his mother. She seemed always to be angry.

  Beyond all that, he was fucking a nun.

  Jordan smiled. Life was good.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Margaret Mary kept her head down and her hands fingering her rosary. This persona fit her so much more comfortably than the one she had adopted last night, but still she had to fight with everything she had to keep the joy and desire from her expression and her voice when Jordan strode toward her after Mass. Even acting as normally as she always did, Father Samuels looked at her with suspicion, probably because of the way Jordan smiled at her when she glanced at him.

  “Hello, Father,” he said when he reached them at the church steps. People milled around the area, talking before driving home.

  “You kept Sister Margaret Mary sightseeing too long, Jordan. She looks tired this morning.”

  “I told you, Father,” she said quietly. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Hmph. Too much excitement. Mrs. Miller has offered to have you to Sunday dinner.”

  “Yes, Fath—”

  “That’s not possible,” Jordan interjected. “My mother is expecting her. Our cook has already prepared extra.”

  Margaret Mary looked up to see how the priest took that news. He glared at Jordan. Did he suspect the way they spent the night? If he took one good look at her he’d have to. She must glow.

  “Are you ready, Sister?” Jordan asked politely.

  “Yes, Jordan.” She started after him when Father Samuels grabbed her arm. “You are spending too much time with him.”

  Affronted, she shook her arm free. “You said he was the best person for me to work with.”

  “I was wrong. I’ll find someone else.”

  “No!” The wide-eyed expression on his face showed his amazement at her answer and tone. She was no less surprised. “I–I’m sorry, Father, but Jordan has been a tremendous help. I will be here twice as long with anyone else. He cleans and packs and records everything for the legal matters as well.”

  “I am not concerned with legalities. I am worried about your soul.”

  She turned to see Jordan waiting from a few feet away, listening to the exchange.

  “You have no reason to worry about my soul,” she said loud enough for the priest to hear. “God is watching over me. I trust in His wisdom.”

  “I hope you know what you are doing, girl.”

  She snapped her head around and met his eyes directly for the first time. “Please do not patronize me, Father Samuels.” She began walking toward Jordan. Turning, she said, “And I am not a girl.” By the time she reached Jordan, she was shaking almost uncontrollably. She had never spoken to a priest so disrespectfully.

  “I know that was hard, but I’m proud of you.” Jordan opened the door for her.

  “I thought God would strike me dead right there and then.”

  Jordan climbed behind the wheel and started the engine without looking at her. “I was afraid to look at you back there,” he said. “I just knew everyone would be able to see that we’d spent the whole night loving each other.”

  “I had the same fear.”

  “Being with you and not holding you is going to be harder than I thought.”

  “Are we really having lunch with your mother?”

  “We sure are. Then we’re going on to Portland to pick up a good friend. No working on Sunday.”

  “Oh, Jordan, I can’t, really. There’s so much to do.”

  “Tomorrow is soon enough. And we’ll have an extra pair of hands.”

  “I don’t know—oh my goodness!” He drove up a driveway and stopped before a house nearly as large as the nuns’ dormitory at St. Agnes. “This is where you live?”

  “All my life. The house was too large for us, even then. It would have been different if I hadn’t been an only child, but now it’s like living in a cavern for Mother. At least when Dad was alive they entertained a great deal.” He leaned over the steering wheel, staring up at the three-story, stone structure. “I’ve been trying to convince her to get something smaller, but she won’t have it.”

  “I understand. It’s her home.”

  He turned his warm gaze on her. “See why I love you? You’re so sweet.”

  Jordan walked around the car and extended his hand to help her out, but she hesitated to touch him in any way. What if his heat drove her crazy?

  “It’s okay,” he said, reading her mind. “Whatever we feel now we can make up for tonight.”

  Tonight. Living a double life was hard. She spent the daylight hours longing for the darkness.

  Jordan’s mother met them at the door. “Thank you for inviting me to dine with you, Mrs. Parnell.”

  “Jordan invited you.”

  Margaret Mary withdrew from the animosity that rolled off the woman. Jordan’s hand tightened on her elbow, giving her strength. She would need it if this was any indication of their mealtime.

  “I believe Mandy has already laid the table.” Mrs. Parnell swiveled on her heel and walked off, leaving them to follow.

  “You’ll like Mandy,” Jordan said.

  “Is she the cook who wants to fatten you up?” she asked, smiling.

  “
Yeah. Wait until she lays eyes on you. She’ll be packing even more in that lunch basket.”

  Margaret Mary laughed. She couldn’t help what Mrs. Parnell might think.

  Jordan led her to the dining room and held out her chair before doing the same for his mother. Before he could take his own seat, an older Negro woman entered through a different door. She stopped short when she met Margaret Mary’s gaze.

  “You must be Mandy, the wonderful cook Jordan is always talking about.”

  The woman grinned. “He’s a sweet boy, but he’s a mite thin after fighting overseas.” She set a bowl of potatoes on the table. “Not a future wife, I see,” she muttered to Jordan.

  The lunch of roast beef and vegetables was delicious, but she could hardly eat. Jordan sat across from her, so close and yet too far. His mother barely spoke, no matter how often Margaret Mary tried to engage her in conversation. What had she done to inspire such anger?

  “Sure you don’t want pie?” Mandy asked her when she came in with dessert plates and coffee.

  “Positive, thank you.”

  When Mandy served Jordan and his mother and then withdrew, Margaret Mary gained the strength to ask why she didn’t eat with them.

  “Why, she’s a servant. This is the family table.”

  “I’m sorry. I just thought—”

  “You did not think, obviously.”

  “Mother, stop it!” She had only heard Jordan sound angrier with Mr. Tipton. She gave him a warning shake of her head and saw him draw a deep breath.

  “Sister Margaret Mary is our guest.”

  The woman drank her coffee. Margaret Mary should have stayed quiet, but she couldn’t resist trying again. This was Jordan’s mother. Even if she would always be a nun to the woman, she wanted her to like her. “I’d like to offer my condolences on the death of your husband, Mrs. Parnell.”

  Instead of affection—or even tolerance—Mrs. Parnell’s gaze was full of hatred. “He died two months ago of a heart attack, right after I told him I’d never give him a divorce.”

  What was she to say to that? Was there some hidden meaning she should infer?

  “Two weeks later, your mother jumped off the cliff outside her front door.”