The New Beginning: Nunsignor Book I

Fireplace

Once the former devotional members of the church entered in the two-story house after playing on the snow, Judy went upstairs by changing the attires she used to wear outside before equipping herself with the pantaletot, scarf and gloves. When the blonde finished with dressing up herself, she hastily descended the stairway to the first floor, stepping in the kitchen, due to the fact she was longing to drink some water until her former lover's honeyed voice.

"Jude, I've a fireplace in the living room! Do you want to come?" The younger man enquired politely with a beaming, benevolent smile dancing upon his parchment, creamy as velvet complexion.

"Of course, but hold on a second!" At the moment, she took an unused, gleaming of sheerness glass from the high kitchen cabinet and subsequently twisted the faucet, allowing jet of lukewarm, fresh water pool her glass, thrumming inwardly, tunefully to herself. Warmness cemented her flimsy heart as its heart beats pulsated into her ears, when the British compatriot invited her in the living room to behold the fireplace. 

Instead of replying her plain, blissful exclaimation, Timothy just bobbed his head in agreement, walking away from the kitchen as his impending destination was literally the living room, in order to wait for his rara avis.

Meanwhile, the jet of water vanished as it no longer cramming the kitchen sink as the middle-aged lady sipped her glass of fresh, cool water as its liquid laced her tongue and organs, gushing down as a cataract, drenching the dryness's barrens. Shortly after sipping her water, she promptly stormed off the kitchen and heading towards the living room until the middle-aged lady embraced by a couple of enthralling, breathtaking fragments of the comfort and pure warmness. The dancing flames in the fireplace as the woods were igniting. Ashes encircling them as a ritual circle. Balmy warmness levitating in the air. Conveniently, dandily adorned. The former holy man was seating in the middle of the black gothic leather sofa, awaiting for his former lover which caught off guard Judy as she verged to choke with the recently sipped water, compiling her throat. Her caramel brown orbs momentarily, exceedingly widened when she choked, wedging her lips in a reluctant purse as Timothy couldn't suppress a jubilant, embarrassing chuckle, zinging his lips as an ethereally timeless soul, dwelling out of a mortal corpse. In the interval, the former nun joined him, strolling up to him.

When she gulped the compiling water in her throat, thereafter Jude took a deep breath and leaving the glass of water aloof on the goth coffee table, joining her former lover's company on the couch. 

"What an atmosphere!" Immense elation and wonderment were vomited in her soft whisper, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip. "Ya have never told me ya did have a fireplace especially here, Timothy!" She kept on with her exclaimation as Timothy stretched his mammoth, milky as vanilla hand, propping the couch backrest. In the meantime, their irises were transfixed on the dancing blazes in the fireplace, bearing a semblance of fiery sanctuary.

"It's a surprise, Jude!"

"Yar always full of surprises!" The former pious woman of the cloth emitted a hoarse, merry chuckle, curling her rosy-coloured lips.

"So as it's a surprise, don't you think it's marvelous, do you?" 

"Definitely! It's more than marvelous." Meantime, she sipped her glass of water and then leaving it aside on the coffee table, exhaling abruptly. 

"It's not as marvelous as your voice, Judy!" All of a sudden, the former sister of the church was dumbfounded by her former lover's kindhearted, velvety words as if she found herself being spellbinded by them at last. Ruddy pigment tinted her well-defined cheeks as sweltering heat crawled underneath her facial skin. 

"Aww, really?"

"I truly mean it." Sheer sincerity lingered on his tongue as she ducked her head modestly as soon as he winked at her, taking her petite, soft hand into his larger, secure one as his thumb managed to knead the back of her hand. Paroxysm and electrifying shivers sweeped her frail skeleton and body muscles. 

Indisputably unexplainable silence arched in the living room as they were relishing the serenity and the cozy ambience, molting their hearts as the blonde rested spontaneously her head on the younger man's broad, muscly shoulder, gasping begrudgingly. The fiery light's silhouette reflexed as dispersing sun rays on the carpeted flooring, gleaming their hairs and complexions. In addition to the grand French window's curtains were widely opened, permitting its day light to crawl through the window's glasses, bathing the room in pale, translucent light. Instead of apologising, the British aristocrat simply squeezed her hand, alleviating her.

"Everything is okay! Don't be shy for resting your head on my shoulder!" They found it for rather comfortable, when she was resting her head on his shoulder, utterly relaxing. 

Suddenly the older woman's eyelids heavier ounce was building inside them, whilst her body was ultimately betraying her as if it wasn't hers. It lead to an eventual passing out, drowning herself in a catnap, keeping the former aspiring Monsignor's wits about the dead body's weight on his shoulder, persuading him that his rare bird has already been kipping just moments ago. Once he sensed her unconscious condition, he laid her on the couch gingerly without disturbing her and commenced to inspect warily her facial features, admiring her ageless, endless grace, oozing of her. The sleep she wore as her eyelids were tightly shut, slits shaped, bewitching his vulnerable, warm chocolate brown pools as a calm, affectionate smile hugged his luscious, berry-coloured lips. The sight of a senseless, slumbering angel was fogging his vision and fogging his train of thoughts with explicit, graphic images which he wasn't supposed even to think of them, despite he couldn't put a finger on them. Kissing her cheek and then shifting his lips, sealing them with hers in a doubtlessly steamy, hardening kiss, interweaving with the muffled in low voice as its decibels gradually were increasing moans heaved their lungs. Romantic and sultry cuddles as their bodies were pressed, contacting mossy flesh with another pair of mossy flesh, whereas their essences mingle altogether. 

In the interim, her head was lying on his lap, diminishing the former man of the cloth's chances to get from the sofa in a jiffy as they peaked to minimal level.

"Rare bird!" The sole words that zinged his berry-coloured, dry lips sounded as a mellow, enticing murmur in the desert. 

To be continued...