by Pam Godwin
“Tell me.” He licked my tongue as his hand glided along my drenched heat.
“I’ve had my fingers in my pussy for six months while fantasizing about my favorite priest.”
A long, deep groan resounded in his chest. “Killing me.”
“What’s my penance?”
“A lifetime with me.”
“Fine. I’ll stay with you for an eternity and not a day more.”
He angled his head, devouring my lips while sinking his fingers between my legs. Pleasure ignited. Passion blazed. The hard length of him strained behind his trousers, pressing against my core, desperate to get out.
When the elevator arrived at the top floor, he carried me out without separating our lips. I caught glimpses of a penthouse—dark woods, crystal sconces, velvet fabrics. I didn’t give a fuck about the luxurious space, only about the man who occupied it.
He had to put me down to strip our clothes. We did it in record time, stumbling toward the master suite, bumping into walls, never losing eye contact or breaking our kiss.
Then we stood beside the bed, both naked and panting. And in my veins, I felt only love. Scorching, savage, immeasurable love.
Our six-month separation hadn’t just made our hearts grow fonder. It had stress-tested our connection and forged our bond in hardship. I felt the flames of that fusion as we stepped forward together, our bodies sliding, arms clinging, lips joining, and heartbeats falling in sync.
He spread me out on the bed and took his time reacquainting his mouth with every inch of me. He was gentle at first. Patient. Loving. Then his true nature took over.
His kisses turned to bites, his caresses to stinging slaps and bruises. By the time he bent me over his lap and rained open-palmed strikes upon my ass, he was groaning, rabid, and harder than steel.
I thrashed and moaned, fighting to escape the ungodly burn. And I loved it. I’d missed it. Nothing matched this man’s voracious intensity, passion, and stamina.
For the next hour, he edged us toward release over and over and over again. When he finally tossed me onto the bed and pressed himself against my pussy, I was shivering, gasping, clawing at the claw marks I’d painted across his chest.
“Magnus.” I bucked, clutching his rock-hard buttocks, trying to work him into my body. “You hateful son of a bitch. Fuck me. Please, give me your cock.”
He thrust, and we groaned as one. Then he moved, plunging, claiming, owning. He fucked me like a beast, primal and unhinged. Then he made love to me like a defender, attentive and tender.
He gave me the teacher and the priest, the sinner and the sadist, the greatest of lovers and the staunch protector.
Our bond was eternal, and that was the grand prize, the best gift this universe had to offer.
He was my freedom.
My journey.
My destination.
My one great passion.
My choice.
My love.
My lessons in sin.
EPILOGUE
MAGNUS
Two years later…
She was late.
Again.
I paced the kitchen in the cabin, watching the windows and growing more impatient by the second. I made Tinsley breakfast every Sunday morning after church. Today’s feast included eggs, grilled ham, and buttermilk pancakes bursting with Maine blueberries.
She attended Mass with me as neither a believer nor a nonbeliever. She went as my supporter, my companion, because we did everything together.
Most things. When we returned from church, she went on a hike while I made breakfast.
I glanced at my watch and gritted my teeth.
The food was ready, but it would have to wait while I dealt with this.
Slipping on my hiking boots, I set out into the woods.
It was summertime in the mountains, and the loamy air strummed with a chorus of birds and winged insects. I followed the pebbled path through the trees, listening for my infuriating wife.
The property looked different than the first time she’d come here. Small buildings and aviaries scattered the hillside. From the day we moved here two years ago, she’d been rescuing wild animals. Bats, raccoons, falcons, foxes, deer, opossums—she took in every size and species, predator and prey.
I started building sanctuaries for her. She hired and contracted veterinarians and wildlife experts to tend to the sick and injured animals, and soon, everyone in the White Mountains knew to bring all the unwell critters here.
She had plenty of help. Her friend, Daisy, visited often. As well as all her siblings, and of course, Crisanto, who still ran St. John de Brebeuf an hour away.
When Tinsley and I married last year, our combined assets made us disgustingly wealthy. We could live anywhere and do anything. But we loved it here. We were blissfully happy.
Beyond the bat house, the mountain trail jogged on ahead toward the expanding vista of greens and golds amid the white light of late morning.
I sensed her before I saw her—the hum in the air, the scent of lemon drops, and the rasp of softly moving limbs.
Veering off the path, I spotted her crawling through the leaf litter. She still wore her church dress, a strappy little blue thing that matched the pale shade of her eyes. Her hair was every hue from white to gold, all tangled and married into long flowing locks down her back.
She rose, turning toward me. Behind her, the mountains stood sentry to the biggest, bluest eyes. And that smile. That sexy little body. Stunning from head to toe. She took my breath away. Every. Damn. Time.
“Hey, handsome. I saw a chipmunk.” Her gaze returned to the shrubs where she’d been crawling, reluctant to let it go.
“You’re late.” I pointed at my watch as if it were the most important thing in the world.
“What’s that?” She leaned toward me, cupping a hand behind her ear. “Oh? I look absolutely ravishing today?” Her fists went to her hips as she smiled innocently. “Why, thank you, dear husband. You always say the sweetest things.”
I bit my lip as blood surged to my cock. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of your pussy.”
“Why don’t you? We’re all waiting.” She gestured to the surrounding habitats, indicating her menagerie of animals.
That grin, though. It was infectious, mischievous, crinkling the sides of her nose in an enchanting way. The flutter in my chest became a full-on palpitation.
Goddamn, I loved this woman. She was the perfect kind of quirky. Bold as hell. Full of life.
But a promise was a promise. I’d told her if she was late for breakfast, she would be punished.
“Remove your dress and everything underneath.” I lowered my hands to my belt and released the buckle.
Not even a hint of hesitancy or fear in her eyes. The little minx ripped off the dress with a smirk and a sigh.
No panties.
I breathed deeply, reining in the intensity of my need for her, and gave her my sternest glare. “Did you go to Mass without underwear?”
“Yes.” She blinked. “I was reminiscing about old times.”
“You want me to fuck you in the church?” I pulled the belt free.
“I want you to fuck me everywhere, Father Magnus.” She put the tip of her finger in her mouth, looking all innocent while sliding her other hand between her naked thighs.
Christ, what a vision. Her ethereal white skin raised other hues to greater brightness. All around her, greens were greener. Blues were bluer. But nothing could touch her beauty.
Nothing would ever bring me this much joy. She was home, hearth, and happiness. Life without her would leave my soul without breath.
“Turn around and hold on to something.” I tightened my grip on the belt, embracing the cruelty inside me.
I was no longer the monster I’d been in my twenties. But I was no saint, either.
As my gorgeous wife stood naked amid the alpine trees with a death grip on a branch, I reared back the belt and unleashed my nature.
With each strike,
I savored her screams, her heaving groans, and her glowing red ass. I flogged her until neither of us could breathe. Then I fucked her in the dirt with my hand around her throat, eyes locked.
We were indecent, immoral, and madly in love.
Sinners together.
Soul mates forever.
* * *
Thank you for reading! We hope you love Pam Godwin’s scorching hot story. Tinsley’s brother, Keaton Constantine is in a different prep school. Rich, powerful, and dangerous. He rules with his exclusive friends in the Hellfire Club…
The new girl doesn’t belong here.
So why can’t I stop thinking about her?
The daughter of the headmaster wants to ruin my school year before it’s even begun. Iris Briggs gets under my skin. I’m Keaton Constantine. My duty is to my family. At least, it was until I started unbraiding the good girl and realizing there’s more to life than duty.
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Money can buy anything. And anyone. As the head of the Constantine family, I’m used to people bowing to my will. Cruel, rigid, unyielding—I’m all those things. When I discover the one woman who doesn’t wither under my gaze, but instead smiles right back at me, I’m intrigued.
Ash Elliott needs cash, and I make her trade in crudeness and degradation for it. I crave her tears, her moans. I pay for each one. And every time, she comes back for more. When she challenges me with an offer of her own, I have to decide if I’m willing to give her far more than cold hard cash.
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About Midnight Dynasty
The warring Morelli and Constantine families have enough bad blood to fill an ocean, and their brand new stories will be told by your favorite dangerous romance authors.
Meet Winston Constantine, the head of the Constantine family. He’s used to people bowing to his will. Money can buy anything. And anyone. Including Ash Elliot, his new maid.
But love can have deadly consequences when it comes from a Constantine. At the stroke of midnight, that choice may be lost for both of them.
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About the Author
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.
Website: pamgodwin.com
Instagram: www.instagram.com/pamgodwinbooks
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
LESSONS IN SIN © 2021 by Pam Godwin
Google Play Edition
Cover design: Book Beautiful
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster