Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by M. Robinson

  She was right down the hall. If anyone threatened her, Galen would text me, and I would be there within seconds.

  “I’ll see you on the other side, student-fucker.” Lucian handed me a half-empty bottle of whiskey, wearing an evil grin.

  The twisted prick wanted me to paint the walls of his den with blood.

  He might get his wish.

  In the week that had passed since learning about Amanda Herschel, I wasn’t feeling at all forgiving.

  Impossible to forgive someone who intended to murder the love of my life.

  After discovering who the threat was, I’d put all my time and resources into tracking her down. To no avail. She was still missing, and I was ninety-nine percent certain she wouldn’t show tonight.

  That one percent chance, though? That brought me here, committed to this plan.

  I longed to kill her with my bare hands.

  As Lucian slipped into the hall, I drank from the whiskey bottle. Not to drown myself in booze, but to saturate my breath with it. Setting the bottle beside my foot, I unbuttoned my tuxedo jacket and settled in to play the part of a lonely, brooding man with no fucks to give.

  Then I waited.

  The orchestra played. Muffled laughter filled the air. The sound of footsteps. Inebriated voices. Goddamn holiday cheer. It was the time of year for family gatherings, for putting aside differences and making amends.

  I used to celebrate Christmas Eve with prayer.

  Now I was prepared to desecrate this holy night with vengeance.

  I tried to imagine this going another way. I shut my eyes and pictured myself handing Amanda off to the authorities. Letting them determine her punishment. A prison sentence? That wasn’t enough.

  I needed justice. My hands twitched. I needed blood. My pulse sped up. I needed her anguish. My throat burned. I needed…

  Christ, I needed to chill the fuck out.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my rosary. My fingers moved on their own, sliding over the beads as the prayers streamed through my mind.

  The words grounded me, shining warm light on my soul and chasing back the shadows.

  And so I prayed as the minutes ticked toward an hour. I prayed until the sound of footsteps entered the room.

  The door shut, followed by a soft gait. Hesitant strides. I didn’t have to look up to know my visitor was female. The sharp scent of her perfume reached my nose before her glittery heels breached my periphery.

  “You’re more handsome than I remember.” She paused just out of reach.

  Anger simmered beneath my skin.

  I remembered very little about her. I couldn’t recall her smell, her taste, the texture of her hair, or the color of her eyes. She was utterly forgettable.

  “What are you doing here?” I lifted my gaze and scowled at Amanda Herschel.

  As far as she knew, I hadn’t given her a passing thought in fifteen years. Our affair had been brief and ended nastily. I’d used her, made a lot of money off her mistakes, and moved on.

  She had no idea I was privy to her plans to kill my wife.

  “I was invited.” She fidgeted with the bodice of her black sequin gown and lowered her arms. “I heard you became a priest.”

  “Yes.” With a sigh, I pocketed the rosary and leaned back in the chair. “That didn’t last.”

  “I thought maybe it would’ve made you kinder.” She chuckled nervously. “But it wasn’t your kindness that drew me to you. I know it’s been fifteen years, and things ended badly between us.” She lowered to her knees at my feet, making my insides boil. “I forgive you, Magnus. I miss you. So much.”

  Violence coursed through me as I imagined Tinsley’s lifeless body, her limbs cold and unmoving in my arms. I would never survive her death. I would never forgive.

  “I’ve always loved you.” Amanda stared up at me, her plain face aged with wrinkles and desolation. “I’ve tried to find another man with your…aggressive passion. There’s no one like you. I—I can’t get over you, Magnus. No matter how hard I try.”

  She rested a hand on my rigid leg.

  I shoved it away with a snarl. “I’m married.”

  She recoiled. Breathed in deeply. Then she set her shoulders, determined. “Marriages end.”

  “Not mine.” My voice turned to ice. “Not even with poisoned wine.”

  “What?” Her face went stark white.

  “Do you deny it?” I unfolded from the chair, forcing her to fall back on her ass.

  “Magnus, please.” She scrambled across the floor.

  I stayed with her, catching her by the hair and ruthlessly wrenching her back.

  “Tell me!” Seized by rage, I slammed her face into the corner of the side table and dragged her back by her hair. “Do you deny poisoning Tinsley’s wine?”

  “No!” She wailed, clawing at my fist. “Let me go!”

  “You tried to kill my wife.” I grabbed the whiskey bottle and smacked it against the table, shattering the bottom. “She’s my life. My everything.” I raised the jagged weapon of glass in my fist and pressed it against her throat. “And you tried to take her from me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sobbed, blinking through the blood that gushed from her forehead. “Please. Not like this.”

  “You sealed your fate when you went after my world.” My fingers tightened in her hair, my breaths surging in spurts.

  I saw only death. Every shade of red. Rivers of it smothered my awareness and soaked my chest.

  Amid the fugue of carnage and madness, I registered the buzzing vibration in my pocket. My phone.

  My breath caught, and my mind cleared, my thoughts spinning toward Tinsley.

  The door opened, and with it came the sound of angelic Christmas music.

  I blinked, turning my gaze toward the entrance as Tinsley strode in.

  Bodyguards spilled in around her, their expressions creased with worry. I spotted Galen, his lips pinching as he quickly scanned the room. I could only imagine the hell she put them through to come here against my orders.

  “Tinsley.” My jaw locked. “I’m busy.”

  “I see that.”

  The full-volume skirt of her red ball gown swept around her feet, flowing out in layers of chiffon, organza, and glitter tulle. With her elaborate updo and glittery diamonds, she looked every bit the royal princess.

  She didn’t belong here. Not in this room of violence and death.

  But as she floated closer, she didn’t flinch at the broken bottle I held to Amanda’s throat. She didn’t gasp at the blood on my hands. She didn’t slow her approach at the sight of my heartless eyes.

  She’d grown up in this world, raised among criminals in designer clothing. She knew the score.

  She knew what I’d come here to do.

  The heavy tempo of my pulse flooded my veins as she crouched before the woman who tried to kill her.

  “Amanda Herschel.” Her eyes glistened, and her pouty red lips parted with compassion. “I forgive you.”

  Tremors erupted in Amanda’s shoulders and spread through her body, brutally shaking her as she burst into tears.

  Tinsley rose, pushed back her regal shoulders, and met me stare for stare.

  This isn’t you. You’re not a murderer.

  She broadcasted the words without speaking them. There was no censure in her gaze. No abhorrence.

  Only love.

  “When you’re finished here…” She raised her chin. “Meet me under the mistletoe.”

  With that, she left, taking the guards with her.

  The others emerged from their hiding spots in the room, awaiting my orders.

  I held Amanda’s hair in a punishing grip with the broken bottle still angled against her throat. Her sobbing was inconsolable as she hugged her chest and trembled.

  Tinsley had done that. Not my fury or the threat of dying. With three words, Tinsley had reduced this psychotic woman into a pitiful pile of brokenness.

  Forgiveness was more powerful than revenge.


  I would never ask this woman to forgive my cruelty. Nor would I ever forgive her for attempting to murder my wife.

  But I could spare her life.

  My fingers sprung open, releasing her hair, and I tossed away the glass bottle.

  She rolled into the fetal position, wailing uncontrollably.

  “Get her out of here.” I turned to the man closest to me. “Take her to the police station. Tell them I’ll come in for questioning. But I’m not available tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As they hauled her away, I slipped into the bathroom and pulled myself together.

  It was done.

  The threat had been neutralized, and I’d managed it without murder.

  Because my wife had shown compassion.

  Fifteen minutes later, I stepped into the ballroom and searched the crowds for a red dress. When I didn’t see her, I directed my gaze to the ceiling and spotted the mistletoe dangling from the rafters at the far end.

  Anticipation sang through my blood as I made my way there, skirting around the dance floor and ignoring anyone who tried to speak to me. My focus was laser-sharp, homing in, and there she was.

  She stood beneath the mistletoe with her back to me. The bodice of her red gown hugged her narrow frame with a sexy lacing closure along her spine. The skirt flared out so wide her brothers had to stand several feet away. Winston, Perry, Keaton—all three were there, smiling and laughing with her.

  Lucian and Elaine joined them, and the group shifted off to the side, engaging in peaceful conversation.

  A promising sign that no one would die tonight.

  Lucian looked up, finding my gaze. Then his dark eyes swept over me, probably probing my tuxedo for blood, the sick fuck.

  I gave him a chin lift and returned my attention to Tinsley.

  Her neck stiffened then slowly rotated, bringing her eyes around to lock on mine. She touched her chin to her shoulder and smiled.

  My blood heated, and my feet started moving, erasing the distance.

  She turned fully and ran her hands down the skirt of her gown. Rhinestones were sewn into the off-shoulder neckline, brightly shining like tiny stars. Like her eyes.

  Desire buzzed the air between us. She didn’t know I had plans for her tonight. Unholy plans. I had half a mind to throw her over my shoulder and get started on those now.

  But first, she needed a dance.

  And a kiss beneath the mistletoe.

  I stepped into her space, and she tilted her head back to maintain eye contact.

  She studied me, delving deep into my gaze. “You did the right thing.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re not a Morelli. You’re not a Constantine.” She looped her arms around my shoulders. “You’re mine.”

  With those two words, I felt my worth.

  And I told her as much with a kiss. A filthy-hot, full-on tongue fucking of mouths. With my hands cupping her neck, controlling the angle and depth, I kissed her until she melted and gasped for air.

  Fucking hell, I loved her lips. They were sweet and soft, and every taste stole my sanity. So I kissed her again. And again. Then I pulled her onto the dance floor and kissed her some more.

  For the rest of the night, we swayed to the festive music, lost in each other, bodies entwined, breathing and holding. But as the hour approached midnight, I was ready to take her away and keep her all to myself.

  “Time to go.” I leaned down and slid my nose along hers. “We have somewhere to be.”

  “Midnight Mass?”

  Something like that.

  Chapter Six

  Magnus

  “No one is here.” Tinsley stepped through the foyer of the old cathedral and shrugged off her coat. “I thought we were attending Mass?”

  “No Mass tonight.” My heartbeat quickened as I reached for the lacing on her gown and started untying it. “Just you and me.”

  “And creepy naked Jesus.” She eyed the crucifix over the altar and tossed me a smirk over her shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me in this church on the night of your savior’s birth?”

  “If it pleases me.” Every muscle clenched from the waist down, shooting blood into my cock.

  Oh yeah, it fucking pleased me.

  Everything had been arranged the way I’d specified. Security waited outside. Candles flickered along the walls. The thermostat had been raised. And O Holy Night played on a loop through the speakers.

  When she noticed the song, she shook her head, laughing. “God, you’re filthy.”

  “You have no idea.” I opened the back of her gown and pushed the flowing fabric to the floor, leaving her in heels and panties.

  Instant need tangled through me, tightening my balls and shortening my breaths.

  “Remove it all.” My voice cracked, thick with arousal.

  She obeyed, smiling seductively through her striptease.

  “Walk to the altar.” I removed my jacket and tie, shaking like a starved beast.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” Placing one foot before the either, she sauntered down the aisle in all her glowing, flawless, naked glory. By the time she reached her destination, she was damn near skipping. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

  Christ, I’d well and truly corrupted her. She was having way too much fun with this, and I couldn’t help but smile with her. As I soaked in her happiness and drugging beauty, I felt like a man possessed.

  A lovesick man with a raging hard-on.

  Every sexual encounter I’d experienced before her had long left my mind. Every memory forgotten, replaced with Tinsley’s beautiful figure illuminated by the candlelight as she stood before the altar.

  I’d intended to take my time with her, but after everything that had happened tonight, I had too much pent-up energy to expel. I needed to fuck her hard and fast.

  “What’s the holdup, old man?” She leaned back on the altar, bracing her elbows on the surface. “Need a pill to get things moving down there?”

  I changed my mind. I needed to punish her disrespectful mouth.

  Wickedness powered my strides as I made my way toward her. Shoving myself down her throat was my only thought as I reached the altar and trapped her against it.

  “Drop to your knees and wrap those bratty lips around my cock.” I stepped back. “Do it now.”

  She shivered. Then she lowered to the floor and pulled me out.

  It took one swipe of her hot little tongue to short-circuit my brain.

  “Fuuuck.” I dropped my head back and groaned. “Suck me, Tinsley. Suck it hard.”

  I closed my eyes and let her play. She licked and nibbled and squeezed my balls. Then she took me to the back of her throat.

  Jesus, fuck, it was too much pleasure. Before I knew it, I was driving my hips, thrusting deep and making her whimper. The sounds of her cries only spurred me harder, and I felt my release gathering at the base of my spine.

  Too soon.

  “Get on the altar.” I released her mouth.

  As I stripped off my clothes, she climbed into position, lying on her back with her legs open, offering her pussy like a sacrifice. And I’d come to feast.

  What we were doing was beyond debauched. Worthy of a one-way trip to hell. If I had an iota of decency left, I would’ve never taken her virginity in a church. But that ship had sailed, and I was long past redemption.

  I stood before my wife as a sinner, and she welcomed me with open arms.

  Literally, she opened her arms and said, “Fuck me, Father Magnus.”

  “With pleasure.” I prowled up her body and joined her on the altar. “You have no idea how sexy you are.”

  With a moan, she lifted her hips, trying to grind against me. Impatient as always.

  “I know what you need.” I feathered my fingers along her jaw, breathing as hard as she was. “You want a wild, sloppy-wet fuck until your screams shake the walls of the church and you can’t feel your legs.”

  “God, yes.�
�� She writhed like a fury beneath me. “Make me burn.”

  “Someone might walk in.” I braced over her and dipped a hand between her thighs, stroking into her soaked pussy. “They might see us.”

  “Let them.” She lifted her head, her eyes flame bright.

  I grinned and crushed our lips together, swallowing her laughter. The sounds of wet kissing filled the church, humming right along with O Holy Night.

  My hands traveled her body, making her sigh and thrust her tits into my palms. I teased her endlessly, but she was used to it. I worked us both into a panting, sweat-slicked lather, and when I was certain my insides would burst into flames, I lined up my cock.

  I made a few teasing swipes just to hear her whimper. Then I buried myself in her tight, wet heat.

  “Sweet heaven.” As often as we fucked, it still frightened me the way I lost myself in her. I wanted to drown in her over and over and never resurface. “It feels so goddamn good.”

  She felt too good to be real. I was holding her, kissing her, taking pleasure in her. It was all I’d wanted since I first laid eyes on her. When she was forbidden. She still felt forbidden, spread beneath me on the altar, impaled by my cock.

  “I love you.” I plunged deep, submerging myself in her light.

  “I love you back.” She kissed me hard, pulling me from the dark.

  She was my greatest gift on the holiest night.

  And I was her lessons in sin.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading O Holy Night! Find out how this forbidden love story began in the taboo romance LESSONS IN SIN by Pam Godwin.

  “Taboo romance at its best! LESSONS IN SIN is another dark masterpiece by Pam Godwin!”

  – JB Salsbury, New York Times bestselling author

  As Father Magnus Falke, I suppress my cravings. As the headteacher of a Catholic boarding school, I’m never tempted by a student. Until her…

  I became a priest to control my impulses.

  Then I meet Tinsley Constantine.

  One-click LESSONS IN SIN now >

  “Pam once again blends sensuality with sin and delivers a scorching hot romance. I feel like I sinned with every page! 5 delicious, devious stars!”

  – Pepper Winters, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author