“She did warn you. I felt you being careful in every moment. I am fine. Better than fine. Why do novels always make virgins out to be fragile little things? I feel . . . powerful. Don’t you?”
“That’s good you feel that way,” he said. “Because I’m not done with you.”
Will, Arlo, her love, whoever he was, diligently began work on his goal of one hundred.
She had no idea where he got his unlimited energy from.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dear Father Porter,’” Angelika read aloud as she lay on her stomach naked.
Will was kissing down her spine. “Such erotic words.”
“We have been in bed all night, and a full day.”
“We have.”
“Well, I would have thought your inspiration would run dry hours ago.” The light was turning evening blue. “I need to get Adam’s dinner ready soon.” Her own stomach growled.
“Just read the letter before we return to real life.”
She began again. “‘I am writing to introduce myself. I am Father Arlo Northcott, and I am delighted to be selected as your replacement after your distinguished forty-two-year tenure as priest of the parish of Salisbury. Whilst I do not consider myself worthy of the appointment, given your reputation and service, I hereby conduct to do my very best—’”
“Apparently, my ink was not in short supply,” Will interrupted. He was kissing the small of her back. “You can skip the dull parts.”
Over her shoulder, she said with humor, “So can you.”
“I haven’t found any yet,” he said, and continued to prove he meant it. She didn’t know that her hips held such sensitivity, or that he liked them so much.
“It’s a well-written letter,” she defended, back to the task at hand. “And if it was indeed you who wrote it, I say well done. But I will skip over these sentences where you kiss Father Porter’s derriere.” As soon as she said it out loud, she realized what she’d invited. “Oh, no,” she giggled as the first kiss was pressed slowly onto her buttock.
He invited, “Please, keep reading.”
She tried to focus. “Here’s where it gets to a proper introduction. ‘Whilst I am only thirty-three, I believe I am fulfilling a calling to God that I first felt when I was six years old. I was fortunate that my dear parents saw my propensity for religious study alongside academics.’”
She had to stop to take some breaths.
The whisker-scratch kisses on her backside were unsettling, and delightful, and he knew it. “I knew you were a fine young lady who occasionally needs a little kiss on the backside to feel properly appreciated.” He moved lower.
“No, no, I’m ticklish there,” she begged, but his hands held her tight as he slid his mouth down the back of her thigh. “Oh, oh, stop!” Struggling was futile. He was very strong, but he always held her in careful ways.
He reached up to her buttock, squeezed it, then smacked it. “Keep. Reading.”
That felt rather nice, especially coupled with an order.
“I think I’ve forgotten how to read.” There was something in this letter that he obviously wanted her to get to. She fixed her eyes on the letter and concentrated on the handwriting. “It’s technically very good penmanship, but it has a nice quick feel to it. The little flicks of the letters as the sentences run on . . .”
Now she’d done it. Will’s tongue made its own little flicks on the inside of her ankle as he held her feet in a tight grip.
“It says here that you, or Arlo, lived in a seminary from the age of eight until the date of this letter. That’s a very secluded life.” She mustered some courage. “Do you remember anything from your past yet?”
“I remember things from last night,” he said with seductive intent, moving off the bed. When she looked over her shoulder, he was kneeling at the foot of it. Her stomach flipped in anticipation.
“So I’m not really defiling a priest if you can’t remember, am I?” It was a thought she’d swatted away throughout their varied, and filthy, couplings.
“I thought you wanted to know everything about me, but you keep dallying when the letter holds so much.”
“But we still don’t have absolute proof that you are Arlo Northcott.”
“It is a high probability; Father Porter recognized me, plus the ring I wore. I think you will agree with me if you just keep reading.”
She maintained her dignity as he took her ankles in each hand and began dragging her. As she slithered facedown across the sheets, she craned her neck to keep summarizing.