The Good Sinner's Naughty Nun Read Free Page A

week and his prick was on the alert for possibilities.
    Determined to get free of her captor, she almost succeeded. The soldier nearly dropped her as she kneed him hard in the belly and her foot swung into the poor man's groin. Thierry winced. Poor Dominic. That had to hurt. He took another hungry bite of the pheasant, eyes pinned to the woman's arse as she was spun around again and hauled back over her captor's broad shoulder. In the struggle her wimple was loosened, showing a sliver of dark brown hair. No grey visible at all. Another flash of leg started his juices flowing in earnest and he couldn't look away. The damn woman was lucky she was a nun or she'd be on her back by now in the dirt, those kicking legs spread nice and wide for a rutting she wouldn't soon forget.
    Dominic started back toward the animal tent, carrying her high, his helmet knocked to the ground, his gloved hands tight around an apparently trim waist. The rough material of her garment, now gathered inward and given more shape by the soldiers grip, pulled across her top half. A pair of full, round, pert titties jostled above the man's head as he lifted her higher still, trying to save himself from further wounding by her vicious feet.
    Thierry flung the pheasant bone to the ground and wiped his lips on his sleeve. Damn. Those were very nice tits and he happened to be quite an expert on the subject having fondled and kissed more than a few in his day. He was hot now. What he needed was a rapid cock-handling to ease his nerves and prepare for a restful sleep, ready for a hard day ahead of them all tomorrow.
    Just as he turned away from the struggle by the campfire, the woman fought her way free and headed determinedly for Thierry's tent. The soldier would have pulled her back again, but Thierry held up his hand, an appeasing gesture to the other man. Her steps picked up speed as she approached, shoulders held firm and proud chin up. The heavy wool habit swirled around her ankles, luring his gaze downward, remembering the pretty legs he'd seen and making him think again about what he'd like to do to them—between them specifically.
    To a nun . He sighed heavily. Well, he always knew he was a sinner and probably beyond redemption. Now he knew he was certainly damned to eternity in Hell's fiery pit for thinking lustily about a nun.
    Just his luck to be this aroused and have no available woman nearby. There was always male company as an alternative and he was not averse to finding pleasure where he could. But tomorrow they crossed water and anything could happen; they might not make it to the other side. Tonight, therefore, could be his last night on earth and what he really desired was a final supper of pussy. Hot, tight, wet pussy, preferably coming all over his face.
    Sadly, all he had was an irate nun, coming over to pick a fight. The only thing his face was about to get all over it was a slap.
    He braced for it, arms folded, feet apart. He'd let her take her best swing. Then she could spend the rest of the trip shackled and gagged as punishment.
    It was for her own good , he would explain somberly to his king, I had no other choice .
    She might be a wretched, holier-than-thou nun, but she was still a wench underneath that habit, still inferior to him, still the lesser gender. She was asking for trouble—a danger to his men and to herself. King William would understand why he had to restrain her for the remainder of the journey and she was about to give him the excuse to do it.
     
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    Bonnenfant —Fairchild, she mused, translating his name from the French. How appropriate. He was a very good looking man, his colors light, his features almost angelic. Since they'd arrived at the camp he'd stomped about in naught but breeches and muddied boots, showing off a splendid physique, muscular but lean. From his humble garb there was little to distinguish him from the other soldiers. Nothing but his sheer male beauty.
    Fortunately she was immune to