Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1)

by Coco Mingolelli

  Dawn watched as the Elisabeth's face went from simply angered to furious in about four seconds. Without another word, the towering woman strode over to Felicity and slapped her across the face so hard, the sound echoed through the trees.

  "M-My Father is a L-Lawyer!" Felicity blubbered as she scrambled away from Miss Sørensen's hand. "I'm going to press charges for assault!"

  "And I am going to go retrieve a nun, Miss McGovern," Elisabeth retorted in a deadly even calm. "I'll recommend an appropriate punishment for your transgressions," she promised.

  At that announcement, the group of girls that had gathered to watch the fight scattered like frightened sparrows. Felicity ran with them, but that was fine - Elisabeth could bide her time with notifying a nun.

  "You are in so much trouble, Dawn." Elisabeth fixed a stern glare on Dawn, and pointed towards her vehicle. "You, parking lot, now. I know you promised her to stay here for a few days, but that's obviously a bad idea. Don't think for a moment that I'm not going to tell Mallory why you've both got matching shiners."

  Chapter 8: Amare (Love)

  Miss Sørensen’s SUV rumbled out of the gravel driveway just as quickly as it had entered, and Dawn looked up towards the cottage door with determination. During the ride here from the school, all she had heard from her Physical Education and Sciences teacher was how bent out of shape Mallory was over the home invasion.

  She’d also been lambasted heavily for fighting with Felicity McGovern the day before their field hockey match – Dawn and Felicity were the team’s best players, and Miss Sørensen wasn’t entirely sure if their teammates could even play the rival team without them.

  Field hockey was the last thing on Dawn’s mind. Ever since her Internet search had revealed so many secrets regarding Mallory, the mess of it had haunted her. Of course, she didn’t share this with Miss Sørensen. Dawn was afraid to know some of the answers herself. However, she refused to be childish about it.

  There simply had to be a logical explanation for the subterfuge, she told herself. It was hard to convince her heart of that.

  At first, Dawn had felt shock. Over the course of the night, shock had turned into insecurity, and then to something akin betrayal.

  She thought long and hard about how to broach the subject with Mallory when she saw her again, but Dawn hadn’t expected it to be so very soon. It had been just over twenty-four hours since the stubborn and proud woman summarily exiled Dawn to her old room at the school. Taking a deep breath to center herself, she turned the front doorknob and slid quietly into the entryway.

  Careful to move with intention without being too noisy, Dawn walked the downstairs of the cottage – Mallory was not in the kitchen, nor was she in the library nook, or the dining room. Padding her way into the living room, Dawn’s eyes pricked with tears at the sight.

  It looked as though Mallory tried to clean up some of the mess Miss Sørensen described, but had given up. It was dark in the fading light of a June sunset, but Dawn didn’t turn on the light. A halfway full trash bag lay on the floor beside the couch. On top of the sofa lay the woman who had stolen her heart; an arm thrown over her eyes in a way that made the twenty-nine year old seem so very young, and somehow pure.

  She had only learned Mallory's birthday last night – October 1st, 1984. The mortal tragedies of the woman’s secret life had occurred only a few days after a huge party for the her fourteenth birthday, and a news firm had thought it appropriate to dig at readers’ human interest and empathy by including that tidbit of information. Dawn had always assumed that Mallory was around twenty-six, not leaning towards thirty.

  A curious search to an Astrology website described people born on that date as ‘Charming, and personally powerful individuals, best when they are in control. They are proud, and not always willing to ask for help.’ It had been very insightful, but altogether unsurprising.

  Mallory's plump lips still bore the hint of lipstick, and were bowed into a frown. Her dark hair cascaded in waves over the throw pillows. She must have fallen asleep with her hair wet, something Dawn knew she didn’t like. She’d learned that from questioning Mallory’s practice of blow-drying her hair straight out of the shower only a few nights ago.

  It occurred to Dawn then that while she didn’t know much of the small, private parts of the woman’s life – the parts that lovers would typically know far before hopping in bed with one another – she knew many silly little details that may seem inconsequential to others. Mallory took her tea black with two sugars, no lemon. She preferred it steeped ultra-hot, the aromatic Lady Grey tea wafting around the Latin classroom each morning assaulting Dawn's sensitive nose.

  Her love didn’t like scones, though she baked dozens of them for her colleagues and the Sisters. While Mallory preferred to wear soft, cushy fabrics in light colors such as oatmeal and mint underneath her stuffy black suits, her lingerie drawer was full with black lace, silk, and the softest brushed cotton. Even the stay-up stockings and wool socks were black.

  Mallory didn’t like to eat meat – after having so many tutoring sessions during dinner time at the school, Dawn had noticed the lack of it in the woman’s Tupperware. She did like eggs though, especially soft boiled over a salad.

  The thought of food made her stomach growl in hunger, and brought Dawn back to the present. Mallory still hadn’t noticed her standing there, and had twisted on the couch. The crocheted cable stitch throw tangled around her form, and her hair had fallen away from the gigantic bruise that blazoned across her cheekbone.

  A breath caught in Dawn’s throat, and she sniffed back the need to cry. All of a sudden, the drama swirling around them didn’t matter so much. She wanted to take Mallory upstairs and cuddle under the fluffy down duvet, as they did before. She wanted to buss that strongly boned nose with hers, and nudge Mallory into a kiss. She wanted to wrap her arms around her naked, trembling body and soothe every ache and hurt away. She wanted.

  Shuffling over to Mallory’s side, she hummed a random tune to the slumbering woman. When she did not wake, Dawn tried to speak quietly.

  “Hey? Mal…” Dawn’s tongue stuck on the name like it was an untruth, and she didn’t finish it. “I’m back.”

  Long, dark lashes fluttered open to reveal bloodshot eyes that widened on reflex. Mallory began to breathe rapidly, while clutching at her chest, and then shook her head to clear it.

  “Dawn,” she rasped, clearing her throat a few times in an attempt to return to calm. “What… What time is it?”

  “It’s just after 8:30 in the evening,” Dawn said soothingly as she pointed to the clock atop the fireplace mantle. Not wanting to push too far, or too fast, her mind raced to remember what she’d come here to say, and how she’d planned it. But, first thing was first. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Inhaling deeply through her nose and stretching, Mallory then propped herself up to sit. “No, but I’m not very…”

  Dawn held up her palm and interrupted. “I’ll make you some eggs. I promise, I’m not completely hopeless in the kitchen.”

  Mallory waved in the direction of the kitchen, slightly agitated at being interrupted. “You don’t have to…”

  “Shhhhhh. Eat first, talk later,” Dawn insisted with a pained smile, and rose to walk away. Mallory probably had no idea what the topic of conversation was going to be, and Dawn felt a little bit like a butcher luring a lamb to slaughter.

  Walking the hallway to enter the next room over, Dawn then made quick work of collecting what she needed – butter from the crock on the counter, a pan from beneath the island, and eggs from the refrigerator. Setting the pan on the hob, she turned the gas on and deposited a pad of butter to melt before turning back for the eggs that she’d placed on the island’s butcher block.

  Mallory had snuck in and seated herself on a breakfast stool, her face a touch wary, and wholly despondent. The woman’s green eyes widened in surprise as Dawn met the sad gaze with one of her own.

  She reached a hand across the wood
counter top to lace her fingers through the gracefully thin ones tapping at it. “I promise,” Dawn spoke clearly, wanting to be understood. “I promise I will not disappear, or run out of here screaming. I keep my promises too.”

  As she turned back towards the hob and cracked four eggs into the pan, a voice so light it could have been a breeze asked, “Why?”

  Dawn shrugged as if the answer was obvious, but didn’t turn around. "Because I love you, no matter what. I think I'm falling in love with you, and it's crazy... but I don't care."

  There was no response, and it was just as well. The eggs needed to be flipped, and what needed to be said required Dawn's full attention. It could wait until they ate. Focusing on the food, she slid the eggs around the pan to ensure they didn’t stick, and separated them into two servings with a spatula before plating them.

  Sitting on the stool next to Mallory, Dawn pushed a plate towards her. “Eat. Please?”

  Nodding wordlessly, Mallory scraped her fork at the food, but did not eat. After a few moments of awkward silence, she threw the piece of cutlery down. It clattered off the counter and to the floor. “Talk to me,” she ground out, turning an anxious stare towards Dawn.

  After taking a few rapid breaths, Mallory's eyes closed, and a shiver ran down her body. “I’m… I’m so sorry. Please. Please, talk to me. You must know that I didn’t send you away because my feelings have changed. I didn’t want you to see…”

  Dawn raised her index finger to press against Mallory’s lips. When the lips opened to gasp against her finger in astonishment, she moved her hand to cup at Mallory’s injured cheek tenderly. “I know. I know that you didn’t want me to see you that way. I know why you’re that way, Lilith,” she whispered, her tongue delicately pronouncing the new name on her lips.

  Mallory bristled, and slid off her stool to back away from Dawn’s caress like she’d been burned. “Don’t,” she commanded, her eyes flashing like lightning during a storm. Her back pressed to the wall, unable to go any further without barging through Dawn’s path.

  “I searched your name, and the things I did know about you. It wasn’t hard for the Internet to whittle it down to some old news articles,” Dawn reasoned, ignoring the request to stay the conversation. She refused to be defeated by her love’s shying away, and slid off her own stool to walk the short distance to the frightened woman.

  Ducking her head in a show of submission, Dawn peeked up through her eyelashes and opened her arms. At no show of physical resistance, she folded herself into Mallory’s space and held her close. She felt the body beneath her embrace stiffen, and waited.

  Slowly, the muscle and sinew began to relax to the point of quivering. At that point, Dawn snuggled her head to lie on the lushly soft breasts that peeked above an undershirt as she spoke.

  “When I first found out, I wondered if what we had was a lie, just like your name. I saw pictures of you from the articles, and then I remembered smelling hair dye in the house even though I couldn’t find any.” Chuckling, she shook her head. “You think you’re so sneaky, but you forget that I am eighteen. I am sneaky, too.”

  Pulling away from the one sided hug, Dawn’s hands slid down Mallory’s arms and entwined their fingers. “For all of an hour, I thought maybe I was part of your ruse, you know? But then I really thought… there’s no way. You can’t just fake love like that. You couldn’t have pretended to care for me all those months, with your long stares and hovering hands. You wanted to protect me from the evil in this world, because nobody was there to protect you.”

  Tears swam in Dawn’s eyes as she finally looked up towards Mallory, who was crying as well, albeit silently.

  “I did, and all I’ve done is make the world more dangerous for you. Perhaps it would be best if we didn’t carry on.” Mallory murmured, her expression tortured.

  Dropping her hold on Mallory's hands to clench her fists, Dawn began to get angry. “You don’t get to do that! I don’t give a shit what your name is or where you’re from,” she decreed, her chest heaving with breathy sobs. “You’re my safety, and now you’re my home. I love you, damn it! Just fucking say it… I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. Say it!”

  Their first night together flashed in Mallory’s mind. “Say it with me…” she’d instructed the Dawn, after she’d claimed her dewy soft lips, ripe for the taking. Now, Dawn asked the same of her, but in entirely different way. This wasn't about fucking. This was about love.

  Mallory’s chest burned with the need to exclaim her adoration for the fiery little woman. Dawn knew how to push her buttons, how to turn her inside out with just a touch or a word. They’d danced around each other for months, with she the satellite orbiting the supernova star in absolute devotion. In the end, Mallory knew how that ended: the star died in bursts of hydrogen fire, and swallowed the planets whole. It was an apt description for how she felt at this moment.

  Pushing from the wall, her hands came up to dig into the blessedly soft curls of her amare, a Latin word for... well, someone's dearest love, their everything. Dawn’s blue eyes blazed like the edge of a white-hot flame, and a wanton noise escaped her throat as she was tugged forward. Under Mallory’s fingers, she nodded once in consent and closed her eyes.

  Mallory leaned forward and kissed at the corners of the waiting mouth, up a cheek and over to a delicate ear. “My name is Mallory Moore, and it is I who loves you, Dawn Rose,” she confessed, her voice deep with emotion.

  Shaking her head, Dawn opened her eyes to glare stubbornly. It hadn't been exactly what she wanted to hear.

  Before she could utter a protest, Mallory pressed her lips firmly to Dawn’s, flicking her tongue around the edge of the kiss to request compliance.

  Dawn moaned despite herself. They had kissed many times in the past week and some days, and must have imagined kissing her for so much longer than that. Nothing had prepared her for the feeling of being totally consumed by a kiss. Dawn drowned in it gladly; pushing every ounce of love she had into the ebb and flow between them.

  Pulling back for air, Mallory cradled Dawn's cheeks in her palms. “That girl you think I am is long dead, and I merely existed. But now, I am finally alive with you,” she panted, hoping beyond all reason that Dawn would understand.

  Dawn was overcome with the sudden need to expose every part of Mallory, and not just her past. She began to yank at the hem of Mallory's undershirt, and her nails grazed the ticklish skin over sharp hipbones, eliciting a shiver of delight.

  Mallory reached down to grasp her shirt’s hem, and pulled it up and off in one fluid motion before her lips found Dawn's once more. She felt her breasts being kneaded by petite hands, and groaned when nimble fingers pinched at her sensitive nipples. While wrapping one of her arms around Dawn’s waist, she spun to drag her forearm along the kitchen island. Plates, mail, and lesson plans crashed to the floor, and she grasped the girl’s slender hips to lift her onto the counter top.

  From her perch, Dawn wriggled to free herself from her own shirt. Everything was moving so fast that her overloaded senses could barely keep up, Mallory imagined - a flicker of green eyes followed by swollen lips, before she was pushed down and onto her back.

  Mallory watched as her own hands jerked bra cups down and underneath glorious breasts, before pulling teasingly at the nipples until they stiffened to attention. As she laid her head back against the hard wood of the kitchen’s tableau, Dawn's plaid wool skirt slid up her thighs.

  Moaning in anticipation, Dawn was still surprised at the force with which her cotton bikini underwear was tugged down her legs. The motion sent a jolt of warmth upwards to pulse deeply inside her, the shudder of her lower belly evident to Mallory as the cottage’s cool air hit the overheated flesh.

  Fully expecting the touch of fingers, she squealed when a hot and velvety tongue lapped at her, delving between folds expertly before pressing at her clit. Dawn’s hands shot out to pull at Mallory's hair for dear life as she writhed in pleasure.

  “Oh… Oh, yes!�
�� she yelled as teeth grazed where the tongue had previously been, followed rapidly by the tongue again. Her hips bucked, and one of Mallory's hands wandered up to push down at her stomach to keep her still.

  Nearly breathless from her shouting, Dawn whispered hoarsely. “What… What are you doing?”

  Licking and nibbling her way to a silken inner thigh, Mallory answered simply. “I’m worshiping you.”

  She kept on venerating the temple of Dawn’s body until she had dragged her name from the girl’s screaming mouth three times.

  Her real name.

  "Mallory!"

  _____________________________________

  A long, sleek coach with dark tinted windows pulled up on the far side of the vast athletic field. A few moments later, the automatic door hissed open and folded back. The Sanderson College hockey team Captain Caitlin Montgomery descended down the steps of the vehicle, carrying her field hockey stick and helmet.