Her breathing grew ragged. One hand slipped lower without thinking, pressing against the front of her habit where the ache was worst.
“Lift the skirt,” he ordered quietly. “Spread your legs and show me how wet you are.”
Claire glanced at the door, heart pounding. The guard could return any minute. But the risk only made her hotter. She gathered the heavy black fabric, hiking it up her thighs until the white cotton of her panties was visible. The crotch was dark with her arousal.
“Pull them aside,” Marcus growled. “Let me see that virgin cunt.”
With trembling fingers, she hooked the fabric to the side, exposing her smooth, pink p***y. Her c**t was swollen and peeking from its hood, her entrance glistening with slick.
“Jesus Christ,” Marcus breathed, sounding almost reverent. “So pretty
