Lessons in Sin

I didn’t want this. Not these feelings—the uncertainty, the hunger, the endless fucking dread.

Praying should’ve come naturally to a man of my vocation, but it’d never been that way for me, and it certainly wasn’t now. I couldn’t pray on this. I couldn’t talk to Crisanto about it. I didn’t know how to put any of it into words.

I was turned around, fumbling in the dark and losing my way. Everywhere I looked, she was there.

Because she was the only place I wanted to be.

The confessional was a revolving door. Students and faculty from both schools came and went, getting their confessions in before Christmas break.

I was scheduled to sit here for several hours to make sure everyone had an opportunity to confess between their classes or during lunch.

By the end of my shift, I’d heard from most of the students. Except Tinsley. I wouldn’t. She didn’t practice the sacraments unless she was forced.

The door opened with a new penitent, and I recognized his voice immediately.

Tucker launched into the formal dialog, and I gritted my teeth through my parts. Then he confessed his sins.

“I know who I’m going to marry,” he said. “When I graduate, my parents are giving her to me, and at first, I wasn’t thrilled. I mean, being the only Kensington heir and all, I always knew I would have a certain kind of wife, one who was specifically suited for me and our family brand. But I wasn’t excited about the idea. Until I met her.” He took a breath. “She’s a knockout. Like a perfect ten up here and down here.”

I couldn’t see his fucking gestures, but in about two seconds, he was going to see my fucking fist.

“I know that’s you, Father Magnus. I asked who was doing confessions today. So the reason I’m here is to tell you to give her some free time. I haven’t seen her much since the Winter Formal, and she doesn’t answer my texts or calls. I kind of freaked out over the whole blood-on-the-floor thing. Whatever. I need her to understand how things are going to be. She’s only going to school here to help me get acquainted with her. So I need you to free up her schedule and give me some time with her if you know what I mean.”

“No, Tucker.” I kept my voice even, despite the rampage roiling inside me. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“She’s going to be my wife. I can do whatever I want with her.” He coughed. “After we’re married, of course.”

“Is this your confession?”

“Well…no, I don’t have any sins to discuss.”

“Get out of my confessional.” When I didn’t hear movement, I leaned toward the latticed screen and roared, “Get out!”

He flew to his feet and ran, slamming the door behind him.

I was unraveling, shaking, my heart banging in my chest. I barely made it through the next two confessions without putting my fists through the wall.

Then I sat there in silence, alone with my loud, tumultuous thoughts.

The Tucker Kensington situation was a delicate goddamn mess. The Constantines weren’t mafia. They were worse. Insidious, secretive, and subtle in their brutality. If I raised one finger to interfere in their business, my body would never be found.

As if that would stop me. No matter what happened between Tinsley and me, I wouldn’t stand by and watch her get handed off to that entitled prick.

With my elbows on my knees, I dropped my head in my hands and tried to measure my breaths. Minutes passed. I checked my watch. It was time to close up.

The door opened and shut. Someone knelt on the other side of the screen, creaking the padded step.

I clenched my jaw, debating the prudence in telling whoever it was to fuck off.

Tinsley’s wearing off on me.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Her enchanting voice sliced through my impatience and melted my anger. “This is my second confession.”

Pulse detonating, I leaned toward the screen and placed my palm on the lattice. “I’m listening.”

“Whew.” She blew out a breath. “I was afraid it wasn’t going to be you behind there.”

“Why are you here?”

“To confess.” Her silhouette edged closer, and her palm pressed against mine on the other side of the screen. “Probably isn’t much of a confession. It’s pretty obvious I have feelings for you. Feelings I shouldn’t have for my teacher. Or a priest. Maybe I shouldn’t crave the things that I do, but I really need…I need you.”

A hot ember formed in my throat, and I lowered my hand. “In what capacity do you need me?”

“In every capacity. All of it. But we can start with your cock. I want to see it—”

“Stop.”

“—touch it, put it in my mouth, and—”

“Enough.”

“—ride it.” Through the nebulous screen, her labored breaths chased mine. “What are you hiding, Magnus? What do you want?”