Lessons in Sin

by Pam Godwin

Paralyzed, I didn’t take my eyes off him as he walked toward me in a slow, menacing manner. I suppressed the need to swallow and jutted my chin higher. For six weeks, I’d poked and pushed and drove the beast to the edge. I wanted to watch him unravel so completely he would have no other option than to send me home. I was here for the ruination. Mine. His. No matter how badly it hurt. This could’ve been so much easier. He could’ve gotten rid of me on day one, but his arrogance stood in the way. Now, we would both pay the price. He set down the phone, the ghostly music pealing around us. He didn’t try to speak over it. Instead, his hand shot to my hair, fingers closing around the roots, and with a force of aggression that emptied my lungs, he swung me out of the chair. My hips slammed into the desk as he threw me face down across the surface. The rough treatment should’ve panicked me, but I loved the feel of his iron grip, the heat of his legs against my backside, and his single-minded focus on teaching me a lesson. I wanted his lessons in sin. Stars danced across my vision as he shoved me harder against the desk. Then he was on me, his whiskered jaw scratching my cheek, his heavy frame folding around my back, tucking me against him as he panted in my ear. “I tried to protect you.” He curled his fingers around my throat and scraped his teeth against my jaw. “I tried, and now, it’s too late. I won’t be able to stop. Not with you.” Every thought, every snarky retort, died with...