Page 41 of Taken By Sin
“I didn’t lie to you. I never would.” His voice is a low timber. “I embellished. The church is open always, but the priests leave at nine.”
I look around the old wooden booth. “Do you actually come here?”
“I used to,” he says quietly, “but it’s not my scene. Enough questions from you; it’s my turn. Why do you pray, Magnolia?”
This should be an easy answer, but it’s not. I was raised this way, not to seek therapy or a friend but to talk to a higher power.
Sin answers for me before I can decide how to word it. “It’s what you’re used to, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “I’m here, and I’m real.”
“I don’t know what’s real anymore.” From being taught these things without ever asking to be, to thinking all of it is true, to discovering a world outside of those castle walls of my orphanage and seeing the good in people that the bible would detest.
Sin stands, walks out into the cathedral, and lets out a long, slow sigh before opening my door. He stands before me and snaps his finger downward; I obey and sit.
“This is real,” he says, leaning down to bury our faces together. “I will not allow you to feel an ounce of guilt for giving into temptation for taking every good thing this wretched world has to offer to you. If we weren’t meant to feel these things,”—his hand grazes along the side of my breast, traveling down to my waist as his dress shoe crooks a ledge of wooden door, closing it shut, cramming us dangerously close into the confessional booth together—“our bodies wouldn’t react the way they do.”
He is so tall that he must bend his entire body to kiss me, to wrap his hands through my hair.
I moan into his mouth, gasping when he grabs my wrist and places my hand on the bulge of his dress pants. “Do you want it?” he whispers into my ear.
Something about the way he stands and grips the button of his pants, waiting for a response, sends me into a frenzy of need. This is so wrong, so delightfully tempting. But we were given free will.
I bite my lip, nodding in approval and gazing in awe as he unzips, unleashing himself in front of my face.
“It’s all perfectly natural.” He smirks, stroking himself. “As long as you want it too, that’s all that matters.”
I’m so shocked that I can’t speak. I’ve never seen one this close before, and I doubt this size is typical. He is enormous.
“I want you,” I say, because it’s the truth.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The moment the approval leaves my lips, Sin shoves himself deep down my throat. “You’re such a good girl, Magnolia,” he purrs, craning his neck back in euphoria as I take in every inch of him.
I gag and he groans, slowly rolling in and out of me.
“The first cock to ever be in any of your holes,” he croons, shoving in deeper before stepping back and staring at me. “That little devil on your shoulder isn't evil, Magnolia. It’s not a demon at all. It’s your thoughts. Your decisions that you were raised to believe were wrong. You can choose how you want to live.”
I take him in my hands, unable to cover him with both. I mimic his actions when he was stroking himself and he looks at me with sinister delight.
“The angel on your shoulder is the one who lies, Magnolia.” He leans down to kiss my neck. “Now…” He grips my shoulders and pushes my back against the cool, worn wood of the pew. “I need to test my pineapple theory.”
Sin dips onto his knees, grasping my calves, pulling my legs on either side of his head. I grip my fingers on anything available. “You’ve never orgasmed, have you?”
His perfect teeth grip the fabric of my tights, ripping a hole between my legs to give him better access.
“No,” I cry out in bliss as his tongue sweeps across my most sensitive area.
“You taste so sweet.”
I braid my hands through his thick hair, rustling the perfect style.
“They brainwashed you, Magnolia. Can’t you see the way I make you feel?”
“Mhmm,” I moan out, “but…” It is so hard to talk. “What if you’re brainwashing me now?” I gasp, not knowing who to trust. My heart leads me only to him, but can I even trust myself?
A deep, throaty laugh escapes him. I feel the rumble of it against me as he lifts his face and replaces his tongue with his finger. “I am allowed to. I am allowed to make you believe whatever I want.” He dips one finger into me, slowly and methodically. Nothing has ever been inside of me before, the sounds of my wetness surprise me, the feeling so strong. “Because I own every single fucking inch of you.”