Lessons in Sin

With nothing left to do in the kitchen, I moved to the sitting room and lowered onto the couch with a rosary. Then I occupied my mind and heart with prayer, my fingers rhythmically moving along the sacred beads, my whispered words like a chant.

I’d sought priesthood for the wrong reasons, but it had been the right decision. After nine years in this life, I felt reformed, absolved, healed.

After nine years, I felt my path taking a sharp turn and shooting in another direction.

When the back door opened, every molecule in my body sizzled to life. I kept my head bowed over the rosary beads, eyes closed, mouthing the prayers, even as all my senses followed her approach.

The sounds of her coat, hat, gloves, boots—everything hit the floor. A second later, I felt her standing before me, silently waiting for me to finish. I let her wait, focusing on the words. Then I set the beads aside.

Her arms hung in repose at her sides, her stare bright and flinty. “You’re a hard man.”

A hard man to love.

She didn’t have to voice the subtext. It shouted from her eyes.

“Does God forgive the person you were?” she asked.

Nine years of Crisanto’s counseling made it easy to answer. “Yes.”

“Do you? Do you forgive yourself, Magnus?”

I’d never asked myself that question, and I paused, poring over the significance before landing on the truth. “Yes.”

She nodded slowly, tugging on her bottom lip before stepping forward and setting a knee on the cushion beside me. I leaned back, inviting her to climb on, and she didn’t hesitate.

Straddling my hips, she circled her arms around my neck, enveloping me with the fragrance of lemon drops, fresh snow, and mountain air.

“I’m still not afraid of you.” She brought our foreheads together. “Do you know why?”

“Tell me.”

“You encourage me to learn and go to college. You trust me with the secrets you hide from others. You hold me when I cry over opossums. You clean the gym floor in the dark when I bleed. You crave my humiliation in private, but you never degrade me in front of others. You raise me up. You protect me. You’re my constant defender.” She ghosted her lips across my cheek. “So no, I’m not scared of you. I treasure you beyond words.”

Shameless bastard that I was, I grew hard. Rock-fucking-hard beneath her sweet little ass. I wanted her. I needed to bury myself inside her and make her come on my cock again and again and again.

“But hear this, Magnus Falke.” She gripped my jaw, eyes flashing. “If you ever cut or burn me, I will fuck up your world.”

“I have no doubt, Miss Constantine.”

“Do I smell lobster?” She grinned.

“Dinner will wait.”

I slanted my mouth over hers and eased my tongue past her teeth. Unrushed. Sharply focused. My lips anticipated it, needing her sweetness and magical aura that was unlike anything in the universe.

She was my greatest fantasy, shimmering with life and pumping blood through my cock. I craved her every breath, thought, and tight hole. Whether or not I deserved her, I was going to claim all of her tonight. Right now.

I put away the lobster pie and carried her to the bedroom, overcome with excitement and sexual longing. I felt it in the friction of our lips, the heat of our kiss, and the tremors in my legs. Everything shook as I laid her on the bed—muscle, breath, and heart. I was beyond redemption and didn’t care.

She was my enlightenment, my everything. She showed me how to have sex without pain and experience it on a whole new level. A lost-and-found, can’t-get-naked-fast-enough, all-consuming, soulful level. Without her, the world would never move again.

Within seconds, I stripped off our clothes. Our kisses turned messy, incapable of parting for air. We rolled across the mattress, moaning, hips grinding, wanting to fuck so badly. I was a starved animal, freed from my cage, and she was the sin racing through my veins.

But I forced myself to slow and take my time. With my lips and hands on her delectable body, I taught her what it meant to be worshiped by a fallen priest.

For the next hour, I memorized her. The image of her underneath me spun my breathing out of sync. She was stunning, beautiful, so goddamn perfect I wanted to spend the rest of my life at her feet in devotion. As I kissed and caressed her beauty, I was all instinct and emotion, desperate to have her. Not just her body. I was desperate for her love and long-term happiness.

Since the night we’d met, I’d been involved with her on a level that transcended every professional, emotional, and physical relationship I’d ever had. It began with our first interaction, involving a bat. Four months later, my attachment to her was vibrantly alive and demanding. I was committed. Dedicated. It would terrify her if she knew how invested I was in our bond.