Lessons in Sin

by Pam Godwin

“This isn’t a school. It’s a prison. Or hell. I’m in hell.” Resentment snarled through me as I whirled toward my mother. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. It was just a blow job. You can’t lock me away for that.”

“The Queen of England is the longest-serving female head of state in world history. She didn’t achieve that status by engaging in oral sex with a Burger King employee. She earned it through duty, respect, and marrying appropriately.” Her chin snapped up, eyes blazing. “It’s your role as a Constantine heiress to do the same.”

“I’m eighteen.” I clenched my hands at my sides. “I can put my mouth wherever—” “You’re a Constantine. Your mouth represents this family, and I decide what you do with it.”

But I wasn’t like other girls. I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes or have regrets.

Somehow, I was supposed to learn life’s lessons by being perfect. What a load of shit.

Okay, so he loved Jesus and worked out.

My destiny was of my own making, and I was willing to ruin my reputation to get the hell out of here. If he stood in my way, I would take him down with me.

“I promise you this.” I squared my shoulders and stood, facing him head-on. “I’m going to make your life a living hell.” “Hell is fast approaching, little girl. But I assure you, it’s not coming for me.”

“Look, I know you have a job to do with punishing bad girls and all. But I’ll be straight with you. Heaven’s not the right scene for me. I mean, if Ozzy can’t make the guest list, how lit can the place be? Like who’s going to be there? A bunch of uptight, rule-following overachievers with their side parts, cringey dance moves, and last-season jeans? Sounds like the moms of TikTok. Hashtag OldTok. Yawn.”

I didn’t care if I was perceived as disobedient, entitled, or promiscuous. But I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone thinking I was dumb.

“Touch your lips to his feet.” “Ew! What?” My gaze flew to the crucifix. “I’m not doing that!” “Ninety minutes.” “Oh my God, what is this? Do you have some kind of foot fetish?”

Losing my virginity was high on my to-do list. Giving it up to a priest, though? This priest? The notion was insane. Petrifying.

“If my mother has it her way, I’ll never see the inside of a university. An educated woman doesn’t make a good trophy wife in a loveless marriage with a man who’s twice her age. It’s best to keep me dumb, unambitious, and subservient.”

“You’re late,” I snarled, torn between kicking her out and giving her something substantial to choke on. “Oh, come on.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Only two minutes late. Are you seriously going to be a vagina about it?” “A vagina?” “The fleshy pink canoe between a woman’s legs.” She panted, trying to catch her breath. “I know it’s been a while since you paddled one, but surely you remember what it is.” “I do remember. Quite fondly.”

“But don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, Father Magnanimous. Whenever I feel like giving in, I remember I have a lot of assholes to disappoint.”

“You might be fooling everyone else with that collar around your throat. But I saw the way you looked at her, priest, and I don’t like it. If you hurt her, I will come for you.”

I wanted his lessons in sin.

“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.”

“I’m not a liar, Tinsley.” He lowered his free hand to the front of my thighs and gathered my uniform in his fist, dragging the hem up my legs. “But I lied to you once. I’m interested in everything beneath your skirt. Every hole. Every drop of blood. Don’t make a sound.”

He was right. I craved his attention. Good or bad, positive or negative, platonic or sexual, I was crying for it.

Nine years. I hadn’t touched a woman, smelled, tasted, or kissed a woman in nine years. The heat from her lips was staggering, the honeyed flavor of her tongue more sinful than I could’ve ever fathomed. The sweetest heaven. My heaven, my salvation—neither of which I deserved.

We could’ve been the last humans in the world, for all I felt was her.

“So help me God, if you so much as give Tucker your mouth, I’ll bloody your damn hide so completely you won’t be able to sit for a month. Do I make myself clear?”

“I won’t kiss you again. I don’t want to be that person, the one you resent. If you break your vows, you should do it for yourself, not for anyone else.” She inclined her head. “Goodnight, Magnus.”

“Magnus—” He grabbed my throat, hard enough to spin up my pulse, and brushed his lips against my ear. “Be a good girl this afternoon.” A dark, dominating whisper.

Maybe I should call my mother and tell her that her decision to send me to an all-girls Catholic school had cured my curiosity with boys. I was no longer interested in giving blow jobs to college guys who worked at Burger King. Now I only wanted to spread my legs for men twice my age who bit and spanked and wore clerical collars.

The man he’d pretended to be for the past nine years was a lie. He was danger. Sin encaged in muscle and bone. A demon wearing the face of a god, the collar of a priest, and the belt of Adonis.

“Oh, Tinsley.” A wolfish smirk. “A little breath play and some red marks are nothing compared to the brutality I inflicted on women. I can’t fathom the thought of hurting you the way I hurt them. I won’t. Every instinct inside me demands I protect you.” His mouth inched closer, coating my lips with the warm taste of whiskey. “I respect you.”

“No. I didn’t have an ounce of respect for anyone. I never felt possessive of a woman. Never cared about what they needed or who they fucked. I was never monogamous. Never emotionally available. I was a monster. Evil. Dead inside.” Beneath taut muscles, his heart drummed wildly against my hand, a frantic rhythm that felt too alive for a man who believed he wasn’t. “But with you?” He spoke against my throat. Lips like warm velvet. Voice like cold steel. “I am viciously, reprehensibly possessive of you.”

I would happily commit sacrilege for her. I would condemn myself to hell in exchange for this one blessed, blissful moment in her arms.

Tinsley was expected to marry Tucker, and I was ready to commit mass murder over it.

Everything about Tinsley was a tantalizing, kinky, forbidden slow burn. I didn’t even need to touch her, and I felt like I was having the best sex of my life.

“You hold all the power between us. You always have.”

I taught her my lessons in sin.

It was wrong. Immoral. Illegal. But it didn’t feel wrong. Nothing had ever felt so right.

“He will never touch you. Not him or anyone else.” His muscles coiled. “Do I make myself clear?”

I almost had sex. In a confessional. With a priest.

I liked that he scowled when he was hiding a smile. I liked that he could scare my heart into a gallop, but he couldn’t scare me. I liked that he was twice my size and twice my age. He had a lot to teach me and show me while I ran circles around him and kept him young. I was so small, but compared to him, I was teeny tiny. I liked that. I liked that he was huge and aggressive and growly and could pick me up with one arm and maneuver me into any position imaginable. I liked that whenever I looked at him, he was immediately in control. No, I loved that. I was riveted by the energy he possessed. He was the fantasy. The powerhouse man that every woman wanted.

“I’m nervous,” I whispered. “You should be.” Standing behind me, he opened the fly of my jeans and lowered the zipper. “I’m going to tear your pussy in half.”

And there, on the floor of the church before the altar, Father Magnus Falke broke his vow of celibacy and took my virginity.

“Yeah, that’s it. Take it. Fuck it like a dirty girl,” he rasped, his voice seductively dark. “Goddamn, look at you.”

“You’re mine, Tinsley. No one’s going to touch you again. No one but me.” His thrusts deepened, growing harder, punctuating each word with ferocity. “You belong to me. No one else. Mine, Tinsley. Fucking mine. Do you understand?”

No matter what happened, no matter who I was forced to wed, I belonged to Magnus Falke from this day forward.

She was the shooting star in my life, appearing as a streak of light in the night, compelling me to make wishes and never take my eyes off her.

“You’re my first.” I ran my fingers through her hair, content to my marrow. “And my last.”

“Less talking, more sucking.” I shoved her face down and thrust.

Tinsley Constantine didn’t need any man to save her. But I wanted to be the one she depended on. Everything inside me demanded I provide for her, starting with a means of escape from the future her mother was scheming.

“What?” She touched her chin to her shoulder and bit down on her grin. “You’re painfully beautiful.”

“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.”

“Fuck my cock.” I gripped her waist, lost in the fantasy. “You’re so fucking wet for me, grinding that hungry little pussy, trying to get more friction.”