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Chapter 33
Sammi
12:01 AM SATURDAY
I have candles all around me, white lilies in my hair, and a hunky Australian between my legs.
“Have I ruined your life yet?” Lock asks. He lifts one of my calves over his shoulder and pushes my back against the golden wall of the temple so hard, the flames of the candles tremble.
“Oh, definitely.” I balance on tiptoe and trust my cunt at his face. “Ruin it harder!”
It’s insane, what we just did.
Hell, it’s insane, what we’re about to do.
Whatever blessing that monk put on our tattoos earlier probably didn’t come with the instruction to fornicate in a sacred temple at midnight.
Then again, I guess it might have. We’ll never know.
We don’t speak Thai.
“And what other bad decisions would you like to make tonight, darl?” Lock says in between kisses to my inner thigh. “We’ve already made enemies of the Thai mafia…stolen a sacred artifact…kidnapped a ladyboy…”
“Ladyboy Celine Dion is here of her own free will,” I remind him—and then I grab his hair andmakehim lick my pussy.
“Mmph” is all that Lock says back.
Damn right.
His tongue slides up and down my pussy lips, making my hips buck against him. I want more. Ineedmore.
And if he won’t fucking give it to me, I’ll take it for myself.
It’s probably a sin by the standards of one religion or another, the way that I want Lock right now. More likely than not, it goes directly against the teachings of several.
The Buddhists have their detachment. The Hindus have karma.
But right now, my only religion is Lock’s tongue between my thighs, and I’m praising it accordingly.
“Oh god,” I moan. “Oh god—oh GOD—”
“Is that what you’re calling me now, darl?” Lock asks.
I glower down at him.
“Ah, well. Don’t stop. It’s flattering.” He shrugs, shooting me that billion-dollar grin before he goes back to work.
“Oh…ohgod,” I continue as his tongue finds my clit.
I was raised Catholic, so I’m sure I’ll feel accordingly guilty in the morning.
Not for long, though.
This is our last little sin before we become husband and wife.
I try to keep it all straight in my head, the unlikely chain of events that have led up to this point.
Eggs’ infidelity, which I’m realizing smarts only slightly less than his assessment that I’m too boring to be anything more than a wife.
