One Last Sin

He pushes me on to my back and tries to kiss me. “You know I don’t do that in the morning until teeth are brushed.”

  “I’ve brushed.”

  He makes several attempts to kiss my mouth but I dodge him each time. “But I haven’t.”

  “Don’t care.” He growls against my neck and my skin breaks into goosebumps. “You really irritate me sometimes.”

  “You really irritate me a lot of times,” I say.

  “I believe I shall make you pay for that.” I can tell by his naughty grin that I’m in trouble.

  He pokes me in my ribs with his finger. I hate being tickled. Despise it. And he knows it.

  I just woke up so I haven’t been to the bathroom yet. “Don’t, Breck.”

  “Or what?”

  I press my legs together. “I’m going to pee the bed if you don’t stop.”

  His finger instantly abandons my side. “You just foiled my evil plan.”

  “Sorry. Tell your kiddos to get off my bladder.”

  He slides downward and taps my tummy before pressing his mouth against it. “Hey, you two in there. You heard your mum. Stop jumping on that big balloon.”

  He places his ear against my stomach. “They say no, so you better go to the toilet.”

  Don’t have to tell me twice. “Be right back.”

  I return and climb back into bed. “We’re down to fifteen minutes now.”

  “Because you were slow,” Sin says.

  “That’s going to get progressively worse.” He should probably prepare himself for that now.

  “Fifteen minutes isn’t as long as I’d like but still plenty of time to do what I have in mind.”

  He crawls over me and kneels between my legs, pushing my gown up. “Let’s take this off first.”

  I lift my bottom and then sit up so he can peel me out of my sleepwear. He rubs his hands over my tummy. “I didn’t know pregnancy could be so sensual. Knowing you have my babies inside you is sexy.”

  He lowers his mouth to my abdomen and kisses the skin above the waist of my panties. His mouth is hot enough to melt them right off me. “You're my passion. You consume me.”

  He moves down and kisses me through the fabric of my undies. His teasing makes a million and one tingles rush straight to my groin. I’m dying to feel his tongue on me. I have no shame about it so I take the initiative. I lift my hips and push my own panties down. “I really want you to make me come. Hard.”

  He laughs. “Using what?”

  “Your tongue. Now.”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  He nudges my legs further apart and lowers his face. He licks me a single time and then nothing else.

  I lift my head and look down. “Why are you stopping?”

  “I want you to watch me eat you.”

  Oh. My. That’s a terribly nasty thing to say. And I love it. I’m even more turned on.

  I wedge several pillows under my back and prop on my elbows to watch the performance happening below my tummy––his head bobbing between my legs. I can’t––and don’t want to––stop the instinctive rocking motion of my pelvis. Together, my hips and his tongue are working against each other. And it’s a glorious thing. “You know how to make me feel so good.”

  I’m not sure what’s happening here. I think this could be classified as me fucking his mouth. But I don’t care. It’s too damn good to stop. “Oh. Here it comes.”

  I grip the sheets beneath me and fall back against my pillow. “Suck my clit, Breck. Hard.”

  He does and the stimulation makes me come apart, shattering into a million shards. “Ohh … ohh … ohh.”

  My toes are curled tight. My heart beats a million times a minute. My face pulsates, as well as my hands. Warm euphoria spreads down my arms and legs.

  “Damn. That was mind-blowing.”

  “Perfect. Now turn over. We’re running out of time and I really want to take you from behind.”

  My body has turned to mush but I manage to get face down. He puts a knee between my thighs and pushes them apart. His finger glides down my cleft. “You make me want to fuck you so hard. I can barely stand it.”

  He is in a nasty-talk mood this morning. And it is turning me on all over again. “I wish so much that you could.”

  I put my head down so my bottom is where he wants it. He presses his tip against my entrance. I push backwards, forcing him to enter me a little. He pulls away and slaps my cheek. “I’m in control. Always.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” He glides his cock up and down my slit, teasing me. I want to push back against him again so badly. “You’re killing me.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “You inside of me right now.” He continues teasing me so I say the magic word. “Please.”

  “Since you said please.” He enters me in one fluid movement and goes motionless. “Oh! Bonny, that feels so good. Being inside you is pure heaven. Every time.”

  He rocks against me, thrusting in and out. I can’t help but move in counteraction. It’s carnal instinct.

  He pops me on my ass again. “Stop. I’m in charge.”

  The spat doesn’t hurt. It’s intended to gain my attention––and obedience––but it only manages to make me want to move faster. So that’s what I do.

  “Bonny!”

  I’m not doing anything that’s going to cause harm. “You can keep spatting me if you like but I’m not stopping. You’ll have to tie me down if you want me to be still.”

  He holds my hips firmly. “That can be arranged.”

  I hear his “prelude to an orgasm” sound. He’s going to come any minute.

  He pushes inside me one last time. “Ahh … oh.”

  His body is hovering over mine, his mouth pressed against my ear. “I fucking love you.”

  He finishes and pulls out. His hand rubs my ass before bringing it down hard.

  “Ow! That one hurt.”

  “I meant for it to. Have I gained your attention?”

  “You always have my attention.”

  “Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean you always heed what I say.”

  That’s the truth. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I know you think I worry too much and maybe I do, but it’s because I want to keep you and our bairns safe. I don’t do it as hard as I’d like because I’m afraid of the consequences. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to them because I gave in to selfishness for a moment of pleasure.”

  “I don’t want anything bad to happen, either, but please trust that I know my body and what it can tolerate.”

  “We’re keeping it tame until they’re born.”

  “Fine, but after that, I’m getting everything I want. The day they turn six weeks old, I want you to fuck me like a beast.”

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  Sin and I file on to the bus with the other tourists and choose seats at the back. It’s where we belong. That’s where the bad kids sit.

  The bus is warm but the window is still cold. The glass is fogged so I write in the condensation: Bleu loves Sin.

  I draw a fat heart around our names.

  “That’s a work of art,” Sin says.

  I take out my camera and snap several close-ups, making the words the focal point. “That one is definitely going in a frame.”

  Sin smiles and leans over to kiss me. “Sin loves Bleu too.”

  I peek over the tops of the seats to see if anyone is paying us any attention. Nope. They’re all too busy looking at their brochures.

  “You don’t even come close to looking like you belong on this bus surrounded by normal folk.”

  Sin laughs. “I’m not so sure you do, either, but what makes me look so different from what you refer to as normal folk?”

  “First of all, you’re in a ridiculously expensive tailored suit. That’s a weird thing to wear for a day of sightseeing. Secondly, you have a gun on you. You’d better hope we don’t go through a metal detector at any of our stops.”
br />   I’m wearing leggings and boots with a long tunic, not a suit that probably cost what most of these people earn in two weeks. “You say I don’t look like I fit in, either, but I think I look pretty normal.”

  “Your face is flushed and glowing. You look freshly fucked.”

  “Pregnant women glow. It’s common knowledge.”

  “There are two different kinds of glow, and you have the orgasmic sort.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Men can take one look at a woman and know if she’s recently had great sex.”

  No way. “Shut up. You’re screwing with me.”

  “Aye, I am. But I wasn’t kidding about the way you radiate.” Sin leans over and kisses the side of my face. “Pregnancy looks good on you.”

  “Thank you. That’s a very sweet thing to say.”

  “Just the truth.”

  Eight o’clock arrives and we pull away from our departure point. “The bus is less than half full. I thought there’d be more people.”

  “Scotland doesn’t get as many tourists in the winter. I’m sure this bus is crowded in the summer months.”

  “I’m glad we’re not packed in like sardines. We can stretch out and get comfortable.”

  It’s an hour drive to Stirling Castle. You can lean against me and nap if you’d like.”

  “I’m good.”

  Well … I thought I was. I wake nearly an hour later to Sin nudging me. “Bonny. We’re here.”

  We unload from the bus and I walk to the edge of the property. I take out my camera and focus on the snowcapped Highlands in the distance. What a beautiful view. It’s no wonder they built Stirling Castle in this location with uplands like these as the backdrop. “Absolutely gorgeous. I’m really excited about the photos I’m going to get today.”

  We hang toward the back and let our group go ahead since we want to explore on our own. “How old is this place?”

  “The oldest sections were built in the early twelfth century. A lot of kings and queens were crowned here, including Mary, Queen of Scots.”

  The inside isn’t at all what I’d imagined. It’s like a small collection of buildings to form a small kingdom. It’s amazing that this place was built so long ago and still safely stands for us to tour today. “I should probably consider taking a course in Scottish history for the sake of our children.”

  “You’d better do it soon because I highly doubt you’ll have much time for such after August gets here.”

  I look over the pamphlet I was given with our admission as we approach the entrance to the castle called The Forework. I feel the need to stop and take in the magnitude of what I’m seeing. “This is what Americans think of when they envision Scottish castles. Or at least it’s what I always imagined.”

  This place was constructed for kings and queens. Countless royals have been delivered through this processional entrance by horse-drawn carriages. They’ve walked these same paths we’re on right now. Perhaps even stepped upon the same cobblestones beneath my feet.

  We stand at the highest location of the castle and Sin points in the distance. “That’s the Wallace Monument for Sir William Wallace. Not Braveheart.”

  I laugh. “I understand William Wallace was a real man who died for a real cause.”

  It’s pretty far so I change my lens out for the one made for long distances. “Will you bring me back one day so we can visit the monument?”

  “Sure.”

  We don’t get to explore near as long as I’d like. We’re due back at the bus so we can move on to our next stop. “We’re coming back on our own. I don’t feel like I saw half of this place.”

  We’re walking hand and hand as a light drizzle begins. My foot slips on a cobblestone. Thank God Sin catches me before I go down. “Careful, Bonny. This pregnancy has shifted your center of balance.”

  “I’m sure that’s going to get even worse as I grow.”

  I stop and grind my sole against the stone. “Not all my fault. The heels of these boots are slick. Bad choice of footwear for today.”

  Sin loops his arm through mine and uses his other to grip my bicep. “I can walk without assistance.”

  “I’m just protecting you and the babies.”

  I slow because we’re walking downhill and I’m not confident in the grip my soles have against the ground. “Have you stopped to think about the way our lives are going to change, beyond the dream of having two cute little chubby-cheeked babies? They’re going to require a ton of care. It’s going to dominate all our time. Or at least mine.”

  “You aren’t going to do this alone. We’ll get through it together. Promise.”

  “We’ll know each other a year and a half when we become parents to two children. That’s scary as hell.”

  My boot slips a second time and Sin saves me from tumbling down the cobblestone incline. “I’ll never let you fall.”

  I straighten and look at him. “Let me rephrase what I just said. Becoming parents is scary as hell but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be terrified with.”

  Our next stop on the tour is a charming village. I’ve seen them from the road but I’ve not stopped to visit. “It’s lunchtime. Want to get a bite now or shop?”

  As if he has to ask. “Food.”

  The dining hall is housed in the general market where you shop for clothes and souvenirs. Goats are fenced in around the exterior of the building.

  “You don’t see that back home.” Not even in the rural south where I’m from.

  “No billies living outside of your shopping center?”

  “Definitely not.”

  I grow to love this way of life more every day. I could see myself being happy in a village.

  We walk down to the restaurant, which is really just counter service with a few tables and chairs within the general store. We choose to sit next to a window so we can look out over the tree-covered uplands and watch the kids come to the fence to play with the goats.

  A pair of young boys is poking their fingers through the wire to pet the animals. They’re wearing matching Peruvian-style monkey hats with the tassels hanging on each side. Adorable. A woman, their mother, I presume, photographs them.

  That could be me soon. Snapping pictures of two little boys. Except I always imagine us with a little girl. Maybe one with red hair like Isobel.

  Day two of distractions is a success. I had a wonderful time with Sin. I visited my first castle. Explored a loch and walked on its beach while holding my husband’s hand. Ate fish and chips for lunch in a charming Scottish village and shopped in the market. Sin enjoyed the distillery and tasting. Perhaps a little too much. The bus is pulling away and he already appears to be asleep.

  We spent the day hanging with normal folk. It was nice while it lasted. Now we return to Fellowship life.

  And wait to learn if I’m the daughter of a monster.

  * * *

  Shit. It’s already morning. I slept ten hours and I’m still exhausted. Yesterday’s tour involved a lot of walking so it robbed me of the small amount of energy the anemia leaves me.

  My mouth waters when I smell food. Maybe waffles. Possibly pancakes. Definitely bacon. Except what the Scots refer to as bacon is what I’d call ham. Whatever the name, it’s delish.

  I roll on to my side and I feel something. A bubble? A flutter?

  The realization of what it is hits me and I squeal. “Sin! Come here. Quick.”

  He rushes into the room with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just felt the babies move!”

  “You scared the fuck out of me.”

  I did shout pretty loudly. “Sorry. I got really excited. It was only a tiny little flutter but I know that’s what it was. It was exactly as the book describes it.”

  I knew it was fine that I had not yet felt them at nineteen weeks but the anticipation has been killing me.

  Sin comes to me and puts his hand on my tummy. “Not feeling it now?”

  “No. It lasted two or three s
econds and was gone.”

  “I’m pretty sure they’ll have to be much bigger for me to be able to feel their movement,” he says.

  I would think so as well. “Sorry to call you in here for nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing. You felt our babies move for the first time. That’s very exciting.”

  “I smell pancakes or waffles and bacon.”

  “Waffles. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed but would you prefer to come to the table?”

  No way. I want to be catered to. “Let’s have breakfast in bed together.”

  “As you wish.”

  I get up and perform my morning routine before springing back into bed to await my food.

  Sin comes into our bedroom carrying a tray. There’s even a vase with a fresh rose. “Where did you get that?”

  “The market.”

  “You’ve already been out this morning?”

  “I had to pick up the things I needed for breakfast.” He places the tray over my lap. “You look fresh. Does that mean you brushed your teeth and won’t dodge me if I try to steal a kiss?”

  “Yes.”

  He leans down and kisses me. “Mmm … minty good.”

  He goes around and climbs in on his side of the bed.

  I’m excited to hear what today’s distraction will be. “What are we doing after breakfast?”

  “I made an appointment with my mother’s decorator. We’re meeting her and Mum at our new house in two hours.”

  “I can’t believe she was available on such short notice.”

  Sin laughs. “It helps when your mum is her most important client. She’s willing to bend her schedule to accommodate when Isobel Breckenridge calls.”

  Isobel made the arrangements. That’s so sweet.

  “Is it all right if Ellison comes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Was she up when you brought breakfast?”

  “No. That lass can sleep like the dead. I bet she didn’t budge when you squealed earlier.”

  “She worked nights for years. Her internal clock is still out of kilter.” I put my fork down. I’ve eaten as much as I can. “This was very good but I’m stuffed.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Sin takes my tray from my lap.

  I couldn’t ask for a better husband. “I’m still awed by how good you are to me.”