Last, to my readers! I know it’s been a long time since I have given you anything and yet you have stuck it out with me. You are the reason I haven't given up and try every day to keep going, so thank you!
About The Author
M.R. Leahy was born in Amarillo, TX, where she was briefly raised before moving to a small Island in the middle of the Puget Sound called Whidbey Island. Growing up she lived with her mom and little sister and a few cousins scattered close by.
As soon as she could, M.R. Leahy left the small island to get a feel for what the world had in store. After jumping around a few places, she landed in beautiful Wilmington, NC where she not only met the love of her life but became pregnant with her first child. Not long after finding out about the life they created did they get married and move to San Diego, CA so they could be closer to family and start the beginning to their forever.
M.R. Leahy now has two beautiful boys and is living life to the fullest not taking anything for granted. She now spends her time being a stay at home mom, when she’s not making lunches and kissing booboos, you can find her nose deep in a book getting lost in the many different world’s authors provide, and writing and creating different stories of her own. M.R. Leahy writes dark romances but also has her hands in contemporary and comedy Romances. The possibilities are endless.
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The Fourth Commandment
Thou shall remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.
Sinner & Saint
HB Jasick & Faith Ryan
Dedication
To all the Sinners of the world; may you one day find your own Saint.
– Faith Ryan
The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future. - Oscar Wilde
Chapter One
Camie
We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. -Oscar Wilde
The early morning sun blinds me as I step out of the Uber. My head feels like it’s swimming and my body aches in places that let me know I had a good time last night with Brad, or Mike, or maybe it was Jake? Fuck, what was his name? Doesn’t matter. It was another successful night of partying with my girls.
My dress rides up as I take the steps up to my apartment, my ass hanging out and flashing the Sunday morning faithful as they make their way to ask forgiveness for their sins. I snort at the thought of asking to be forgiven. My sins are too numerous to count, and besides, I don’t regret a one of them. Not the ones I committed last night with one of the frat boys, not the many that came before, and not the ones I’m sure to commit in the near future.
I reach the third floor landing and lean against the wall, letting it hold me upright for a minute, then using it to keep me vertical as I attempt to walk down the hall. I hold my heels in one hand and my purse in the other and I’m surprised I didn’t lose either on my way home.
After what feels like an eternity, I reach my door and fumble my key from my purse. It takes me a few tries, but I eventually get the door unlocked and stumble inside. I drop my heels in the entryway and toss my keys on to the small table set there.
Fuck, I need a shower and some sleep.
I get as far as the archway leading into the hall when there is a loud banging at my door. Actually it’s possible it is just my head banging and my hearing amplified from all the alcohol and other shit still buzzing through my system. The banging comes again and, realizing it’s not in my head, I stomp back and fling open the door without checking the peephole.
Huge. Fucking. Mistake.
I groan at the sight of my ex. Jeff is a conceited prick. We split after I couldn’t take one more story about how great he is and how he’ll continue to be great. He’s hot and he got me into some amazing parties, but he has nothing else going for him. The sex wasn’t even that great.
“What do you want, Jeff?”
“I thought I’d take you to breakfast. You’re already dressed, so let’s go.”
Yep, that’s Jeff. Demanding and dismissive of anyone’s thoughts or opinions other than his own. Forget the fact we aren’t even together anymore and he has no right to just show up on my doorstep.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Give me one reason why you can’t.”
Shit. He’s not going to go away until I can convince him I’m busy. I briefly remember my thoughts of the Sunday faithful and blurt out, “I’m going to church.”
“In that dress?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my dress.”
There’s plenty wrong with my dress; it’s too short and my boobs are spilling out the top, but it’s got sleeves. That counts for something, right?
“Whatever. I don’t believe you.”
Of course he doesn’t. But I don’t want to go anywhere with him.
“You can walk me if you’d like. I was just leaving. I promised to meet my grandmother. It’s our Sunday ritual.”
I’ve never been so glad that our relationship was nothing more than sex as I am now. The lack of any real emotional connection means we never talked or saw each other outside of parties and definitely not on a Sunday. This works in my favor since my grandmother lives in another state.
I slip on my heels and grab my keys and purse. Pushing Jeff out of the way, I close and lock the door. I follow him out of the building and then turn right. I have no idea how far any of the churches are from my place, but I get lucky about a block down the street.
I stop beside a sign for Brookdale First Christian Church and point up to the wide wooden doors.
“Well, this is me. Bye, Jeff.”
I don’t wait for him to respond and run up the steps and into the foyer. A sermon is in session and I know Jeff will wait outside to make sure I’m not tricking him, so I slide into a back pew and get comfortable.
There’s a man standing at the front, behind an altar area. He’s younger than I expect, cuter too. The way the sun bounces the colors of the stained glass windows into rainbows across the congregation distracts me from looking too closely, not that I’m into the holier than thou type anyway.
I listen to the minister, or whatever he’s called, drone on about respecting the Sabbath and forgiveness of sins. His voice has an intense masculine quality to it, his words booming across his parishioners. At twenty minutes in, I can’t take it anymore and slip out for a cigarette.
I lean my back against the brick building and light up. That first inhale burns my throat and lungs after a night of excess. I look around as I puff and exhale a cloud of smoke. I don’t see Jeff anywhere and decide it’s safe to head back home.
I don’t bother with the shower I so desperately wanted earlier, exhaustion ruling my movements instead, and I flop onto my bed once I’m back inside my apartment.
My cell beeps with a text and I half expect it to be Jeff and almost don’t look. When I do I see it’s Macy and not my douchecanoe of a mistake and breathe out a sigh.
Macy: Wanna hit the Underground tonight?
The Underground is a place where sex, drugs, and alcohol are freely and publicly enjoyed. The Underground is a place where I feel alive, drowning in my bad habits and immorally wicked behavior.
Me: You know I’m down. What about Mark?
Macy: Let me worry about him.
I laugh at the way she brushes off her clinger of a boyfriend and smile thinking of all the possibilities for tonight.
I set an alarm to wake me later and let sleep take me under, thoughts of music and grinding bodies, white powder, and amber-colored drinks lulling me to sleep.
Chapter Two
Camie
Hear no evil, speak no evil, and you
won’t be invited to cocktail parties. -Oscar Wilde
“Here, bitch, take this.”
I pop the pill Macy hands me into my mouth and swallow it down with a swig of vodka. Setting my glass on the counter, I do a little twirl that ends with me stumbling into the wall.
I chose to wear a black sequined top that is more a bra than a shirt and tight leather skirt that barely covers my ass, and of course I’m commando. No panty lines for me, thank you. My dark hair cascades in soft curls ending at the dip in my spine where my back meets my ass. I’ve got an intense smoky eye going, paired with a harlot red lipstick. I’m looking pretty damn fuckable if I say so myself.
“Shit, Camie! You look like a high-class hooker. You’re for sure getting laid tonight.”
I smile at Macy’s words and slip on heels in the same shade of red as my lips.
“I know, whore. Now let’s go.”
The Underground isn’t far from my apartment and we decide to walk instead of calling for an Uber. Macy stops outside my building to snap pics of us and we make kissy faces for her camera. While she posts them all over her social media, a shiver runs through me. I feel like someone is watching, but when I look no one is there. It’s just Macy and me, so I shrug it off.
The line for The Underground spans the entire block where the building sits, but Macy passes right by, heading to the door and the meathead bouncer letting people in. A few women shout at us, calling us bitches and sluts like we should be insulted.
Macy somehow gets us in the door ahead of the crowd, which causes chaos for the bouncer to deal with and we waste no time in downing a few shots of Jager. The pill Macy gave me, my pre-game vodka, and the Jager have my body loose and warm. I sway to the beat of whatever song is playing and drag Macy out to the dance floor. We grind together, putting on a show for the men around us and letting our hands roam over each other’s curves.
It doesn’t take long before I feel an erection pushing against my ass and Macy is pulled away from me. Macy wiggles her brows at me, then takes off into the crowd with a blond frat boy. The man behind me wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me tighter to his groin, dry humping me like his life depends on it. I close my eyes and circle my hips into him, lifting my arms above my head and around his neck.
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
He breathes the words into my ear and the smell of cheap beer wafts up my nose and I almost gag. Letting my arms fall, I open my eyes and lock stares with a guy leaning on the wall across the bar, his eyes on me. He gives me the same creepy shivery feeling from earlier, but curiosity has me wondering what is behind the dark intensity pulsing off him. How would it feel to have that dark stare focus on me while he fucks me deep and hard?
I give his body a slow perusal and realize he looks kinda familiar, but before I can place where I know him, beer breath turns me to face him.
“You wanna get out of here?”
His tone is hopeful and if I were anyone else, I’d let him down easy, but I’m me and I’m a bitch.
“Uh, no. I just remembered I need to send an email.”
“Whatever, bitch. You’re a fucking tease.”
I smile and wave as he stalks away to find another target for his suave moves. Turning back toward the bar, I search for my dark mystery man, but he’s gone. Just my luck. He looked like he’d be a real good time in bed.
“Hey, Camie!”
I’m engulfed in a hug from behind and Justin spins me around the dance floor before setting me down and not missing a beat he begins to roll his body into mine.
Justin is my favorite ex. He doesn’t try to tell me what to do like Jeff, and he’s open to us just fucking, no emotional attachment or manipulation. We fuck and we say goodbye.
“Hi, J. You wanna go somewhere?”
He doesn’t answer, just grabs my hand and pulls me behind him toward the men’s room. I see the man from before at the exit ahead of us. He gives me a look of disgust laced with determination. Stunned at the force behind the look, I trip and fall into Justin’s back. When I glance back at the exit, he’s gone again.
“Whoa there, you good?”
“Yeah, I just—” Saw some handsome stranger who invokes fear and lust in me, and I want to track him down. “Never mind, are we doing this or not?”
I follow Justin into the men’s room, ignoring the drunks gawking at me and the obvious reason I’m there. Justin finds an empty stall and shoves me face first against the flimsy divider separating it from the others. There’s no foreplay or pleasantries. Justin yanks my skirt over my ass and quickly sheathes himself in a rubber and roughly pushes inside me.
Justin’s cock curves just right so he hits the magical spot deep inside me with every stroke. I don’t need any other stimulation when we fuck. I could come simply from his dick inside me, but Justin is a giving lover and he knows me well. He slips a hand inside my top, pinching and twisting my nipple. The other he wraps around my neck, squeezing just enough that my vision starts to darken, then releasing me to take deep breaths before he does it again.
Justin steals my air and pounds into me, rattling the stall around us to the whoops of the men cheering him on while they take a piss at the urinals. It doesn’t take long and we both reach our orgasms with long groans and a loud “fuck” from Justin.
Justin doesn’t bother to help me straighten my clothes, nor does he try to give placating words. We both know what this was and it’s exactly what I needed. It doesn’t matter that when I came, I pictured dark angry eyes staring into mine.
Having got what I came for, I check the time to see it’s after midnight. I text Macy that I’m heading home and leave the club. I get that same creepy feeling crawling over me, but there’s no one there. I walk a little faster. Once I’m inside my building I rush up the steps and into my apartment, slamming the door behind me, and go straight for a shower.
I wash off the layer of grim the men’s room left on my skin and dry off. I wrap a towel around my body, brush my teeth and hair, then head to bed, ready to pass out.
I’m only a few feet into my bedroom when a hand covers my nose and mouth until darkness descends.
Chapter Three
Noah
“Whoever turns a sinner from the error of their way will save them.” James 5:20 NIV
Her body goes slack in my arms, so I remove my hand from her face. She becomes dead weight in my grip, but I manage to lift her up enough so I can carry her over to the unmade bed in the corner. I lay her across the wrinkled sheets, then crawl over her. I lay my head across her chest to listen for a heartbeat as I run my thumb across her upper lip to check that she’s still breathing.
Thank the Lord.
I confirm I didn’t suffocate her, that she’s just passed out. I climb off her and begin to pace the small, cluttered room. My heart is racing. My panic rises as I evaluate the situation I’ve placed myself in. I’ve never stalked anyone before.
I take in my surroundings to find laundry and trash strung across the entire space. Her bedside table is littered with white powder next to a plastic bag full of marijuana. This girl is worse off than I’d originally thought. I can’t just leave her here to kill herself sooner than, probably, later.
My mind’s made up.
I need to save this girl.
I step over a large pile of clothes, on my way back over to her bed. She starts to snore softly. It relieves some of the tension I had building up inside my chest. I pull her by her ankles to the edge of the bed and lift her up into my arms. She puffs out a quick, harsh snort, before nuzzling her face into my shoulder. She weighs close to nothing. She smells like apples and sugar, and her skin feels like silk. She feels fragile. I hold her close, walking down the small hallway that leads into the equally, if not messier, living room.
How can someone live like this?
Opening the front door, I take us away from this place and down the street to the church. I quickly unlock the side door and carry my lost, little lamb inside. Once inside, I’m s
uddenly stumped. What should I do next? A plan quickly comes to me, and I set forward. I walk to the other side of the building, climb down the basement stairs, and head across the multipurpose room to a room hidden away behind a false wall. A room I only recently discovered when I was looking over the blueprints, hoping to expand.
I’d spent the prior weekend cleaning the room out, removing the paneling that covered the door, and setting it up to serve as an additional classroom for Sunday school. I set her down on the futon in the corner before removing my jacket and laying it across her slight frame. There’s nothing more I can do for the time being, so I leave. I lock the door behind me, then slide the paneling back across the door to conceal the room further. My intentions may be pure, but what I’ve done is still considered wrong in the eyes of the law. I’ll need to handle this situation very carefully. The last thing I need is to risk getting caught.
I’ve never taken a person before, but something about her compelled me to her. From the first time I laid eyes on her I knew she was lost. I knew she was mine to save.
She walked into the church in a wrinkled dress that was far too short for any situation, her makeup was smudged across her face, and her hair was sticking out every which way from the ponytail she must have haphazardly thrown together on her way here. She was a beautiful mess.
I hid my amusement as she climbed into the first empty pew she found at the back of the church, trying to sneak in undetected. But she wasn’t somebody meant to be invisible. People noticed, and their reactions were exactly what I expected them to be. The elderly women glared at my lost, little lamb in disapproval, as mothers tried to rein in and refocus the attention of their husbands and sons. It was clear they felt she didn’t belong there, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. She was exactly where she needed to be.
I watched her slink down in her seat as I made my way to the front to deliver my sermon with a little extra pep in my step. I was excited about the chance to hand deliver the word of God onto someone new.
Thou Shall Not: A Dark Ten Commandments Anthology Page 9