Jamie
I thanked God that I had worn my heavier coat tonight, the one that hung lower, the one that was capable of hiding my massive erection. Our conversation before our dinner had arrived had been far from innocent, and now I would be spending half my day tomorrow in prayer.
“Shit,” she said, under her breath.
I followed her gaze to the two men walking toward us along the sidewalk. “Who’s that?” I asked. Her posture went rigid, and the sight disturbed me. My hand immediately found the small of her back. She leaned into me, and I swore I grew harder at the thought of her wanting me to protect her.
“My ex-boyfriend Kevin and his friend, Mason. Kevin and I broke up a month ago after dating for six months.”
Six months? This guy had kissed her, fucked her, told her she was goddamn beautiful. This man was fucking dead. I had no idea why I suddenly wanted to rip the man’s balls off and roast them over a spit in the enormous fireplace in the pub we had just left because Eva wasn’t mine. No woman was. No woman could be.
Because you’re a priest.
Kevin and his shithead walked over to us. “Not wasting any time are you, Eva? What’s it been? A month since we broke up?” Kevin looked over and attempted to size me up, which was pathetic. Kevin seemed to be in good shape, but I outweighed him by at least twenty-five pounds and had several inches on him.
“Get out of our way,” she said through gritted teeth. His friend complied and looked a little scared, but Kevin held his ground.
“Our way, is it? Are you two a couple?” Kevin asked, his fists clenched at his sides.
“You’re drunk,” she said.
“So, you found someone who will tie your little ass up? Smack you, call you degrading names? You realize that people who crave that are fucked up, probably had been sexually abused as children or have some serious daddy issues . . .”
I fucking snapped. I went from standing at Eva’s side to grabbing Kevin by the neck and pinning him up against the old brick building. I was just about to squeeze the life out of this asshole when Eva said, “Let him go, Jamie.” She touched my arm, and I stared into her pleading eyes. I released the bastard and stepped away while Kevin gasped for air and clutched his neck. Mason was useless and just stood there in shock.
“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Had to give some extra attention to the wife, and swear to her that there would be no strippers . . . oh shit!”
I looked over and immediately recognized the new arrival walking toward us. From the sound of it, he hadn’t witnessed me jacking up Kevin. “Jace, these are your friends I take it?” I asked.
“Uh . . . yeah. Kevin is my best man, and Mason is my groomsman. We’re having a little bachelor party tonight before the big day,” Jace said.
“You know this prick?” Kevin asked, still holding his neck. What a fucking pussy!
“Yes, I know Father Curran. He’s marrying Lucy and me tomorrow at St. Bede’s Church.”
“Father? This guy is a priest?” Kevin asked. I unzipped my jacket enough to show my collar.
“And my stepbrother, you asshole.” Eva pushed past a confused-looking Jace and his two asshole friends and walked away.
I couldn’t remember a time I was so angry. I was fucking livid with Kevin and all the awful things he had said about Eva, but what had torn me to shreds was when Eva had told those bastards, one of them being her ex-fuck, that I was her stepbrother. That was how she had introduced me. That was what she thought of me. I thrust my hands into my coat pockets and caught up with her.
“Are you angry?” she asked.
I couldn’t speak. I just seethed and regretted ever meeting this woman. Her house was just a block away now. As soon as I knew she was safely in her home, I would get the hell away from her and jerk off. Yes, I said it. I hadn’t come in over eight years, and tonight I was going to all over my shower wall. Tomorrow I would confess my sin.
“Jamie, talk to me.”
I stopped in front of her door. “Go inside,” I commanded. She dug her keys out of her purse and opened the door. She was so compliant as if it was ingrained in her to follow me, to do as I said. She was so perfect that it was painful.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her back to the open doorway. With her eyes wide and questioning and her lips quivering slightly, I lost it.
“What’s wrong?” I stepped toward her, forcing her to back up into her house. I followed her into what appeared to be her foyer and slammed the door closed behind me. She jumped at the sound, and I savored her fear. I grabbed her face, pushed her up against the wall, and fucking kissed her. Never had I tasted something so sweet. I couldn’t get enough. I took her hard, forcing my tongue into her mouth. And fuck, if she didn’t return my kiss with one that almost crippled me. Her fingers wove through my hair and squeezed, forcing me closer, to take her deeper. And then I heard her whimper and I almost came in my pants. “What’s wrong is that the only thing you see when you look at me is your stepbrother, the priest. What’s wrong is that asshole has tasted you.” I ground my shaft against her, causing her to tremble in my arms. “I should take you over my knee right now and smack your sweet ass for making me want you.”
“Do it . . . please,” she said through breathless pants.
Goddamn.
“First, I want to see you, baby. All of you.” I ripped her shirt open, sending buttons everywhere, only to come face-to-face with a cross dangling from her necklace. It was as if someone had taken a bucket of ice water and threw it in my face and on my dick. Time stood still as I realized what I had done and what I had been seconds away from doing. I would have fucked Eva, my stepsister. I would have broken my vow, my promise to God. I couldn’t take my eyes off that crucifix now nestled in her cleavage. She looked down, and it must have registered because she immediately covered herself up.
“What have I done?” I asked, stepping away from her.
“Nothing I didn’t want. Nothing I haven’t fantasized about since the first time I heard you speak,” she said. Her voice broke and as much as I wanted to console her, to tell her I was sorry for being so fucking weak, I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but leave and put distance between me and my ultimate temptation.
I opened her front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. With my back to her I said, “If I come back tonight and knock on your door, do not let me in.” I jogged the rest of the way home.
Eva
I didn’t know how long I had stood there in front of my bedroom closet mirror. The sight of my torn blouse made me want to be sick because it was proof. Proof that I was a selfish, twisted bitch. I had just been pressed up against the wall with my stepbrother’s tongue in my mouth. Between breaths I had managed to tell him, no beg him, to spank me. I had told my stepbrother, the priest, that I wanted him, that I wanted him to break his vow.
Disgusted with myself, I peeled off all my clothes except for the cross and stared at my reflection. My parents had given me that cross the day I was confirmed. It had been buried in my nightstand drawer for years until this morning when I had dug it out and worn it to the hospital. My mother and I were far from reconciling, but this small gesture of wearing the cross while my mother had gone under the knife had been my way of being with her without her knowing.
But God had intervened tonight. There was no other explanation. His message to Jamie and me was clear. What we did was wrong. I needed to stay away from him because if I didn’t, I really was going to Hell . . . just like my mother had predicted.
I couldn’t deal with this alone. I knew Cassie was most likely scrubbing oil off some bird’s wing with Dawn, but I needed my best friend. I threw on my robe, grabbed my phone and climbed into bed. I sent her a quick text and asked if she was able to talk. While I waited for a response, I calculated the time difference in my head. Alaska was four hours behind, which meant that Cassie was most likely done for the day or maybe heading off to dinner. Instead of a text back my phone rang, and I smiled when her name flashed on the screen. Thank you, Jesus.
“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?” Cassie asked.
“I hope I’m not pulling you away from something important.”
“Nope. We’re finished for the day. I’m heading out to some hole in the wall restaurant slash bar with some other volunteers in an hour, so I have plenty of time to talk. Is everything okay?”
I had uttered one sentence, yet Cassie knew that something was wrong. I could never hide anything from her. She would give me that look, the one that dared me to go on and try to bullshit her, and I would cave almost instantly. Fortunately, Cassie was also an open book, at least with me, and that was the main reason why we were able to remain so close after all these years despite living in different cities.
“My mother’s new husband called me and asked me to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What the fuck? Are you serious? Marcia got married? Somebody married her . . . willingly?”
“Yes, and to a very nice guy named David.”
“Wait. You met him? You actually went to their house for Thanksgiving?”
I didn’t blame her for sounding so shocked. I still couldn’t believe that I had shown up on their doorstep with wine in hand. “I was curious. That was one reason why I went.”
“And the other?” Cassie asked.
“David told me over the phone that she has cancer.”
“Oh.” I heard Cassie sigh into the phone. “So what happened, Eva?”
I described how my mother had looked, how meek and fragile she had appeared when she spoke. “I barely recognized the woman who had welcomed me into her home the other night. I was waiting for daggers to shoot from her eyes as she barked out her orders.”
“Jesus, Eva. I wish I were there. I can only imagine what you’re going through.”
Cassie didn’t have to imagine too hard. She knew what had gone on under my parents’ roof. There had been a time when I thought every parent made their child kneel for hours on the hardwood floor and pray the rosary or recite passages from the Bible. Even up until I turned twelve, I hadn’t a clue that other kids my age weren’t being forced to cleanse their bodies with holy water every night before they went to bed. It certainly hadn’t occurred to me to question my mother on those many occasions when she slapped me across the face and called me a slew of names that made me feel dirty and disgusting.
Because that had been my normal. I wasn’t allowed to watch television out of fear that it would corrupt my mind more than it already was. As a kid, I didn’t have any friends to ask if they too were hit because their souls were tainted. My mother had made certain of that by homeschooling me until I reached eighth grade. By then our parish priest had retired, and a new priest had been assigned. My mother quickly had fallen under this new priest’s spell, so much so that she was okay with me continuing my education at the parish Catholic school he oversaw.
But she had foolishly overestimated his power. Her priest couldn’t control the conversations that went on at the lunch tables at school or the questions that were asked out on the recess yard. Her priest couldn’t control me. The moment I had realized that, I started questioning the kids at school. Some of them had looked at me like I was a freak, especially when I had told them about the holy water baths and the prayer sessions that went on for hours, but others had just felt sorry for me.
Despite receiving mixed reactions, I did discover what my mother truly was, and I was grateful that my classmates had opened my eyes. But it wasn’t without a price. I had always been an inquisitive child, asking questions that seemed to oppose the church’s teachings, but in reality were harmless and normal for anyone my age. But after I had learned what normal really was, I started to rebel. I no longer cowered or took my mother’s word as the truth. And if she had tried to hit me, I would just give it back to her. Eventually, the physical abuse stopped because she could see that it was useless, and chose to punish me by sending me to my room. I didn’t really mind that because I didn’t want to be around her anyway. I had spent that time studying and reading books that I had snuck from the library, books that made me look at things differently, books that made me feel things I had never felt before.
“Seeing my mother was tough and is definitely fucking with my head a little, but something else happened, Cass.”
“Holy shit! What?” I told her about Jamie. By the time I was done, Cassie knew everything, from what had happened in that confessional to the kiss that had left my lips swollen and needing so much more. “Honey, what are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can do. Stay away from him.”
“I can’t believe this. I mean not one, but two taboos are at play here.” I pictured Cassie twisting a thick lock of her red hair around her finger as she digested what I had just told her. I learned over the years that it was her tell when she was trying to process something important. “Listen, do you need me to come home?”
I knew that a simple yes would have her on the next flight, but I couldn’t do that. These missions she went on three to four times a year were important to her, and that meant they were important to me. “No. You are staying put and helping those seals and birds, and whatever else kind of wildlife is out there. I just needed to hear your voice and vent.” Cassie sighed, and I knew she was still thinking about defying me and coming home anyway. “I’ll be fine as long as I know you’ll swing into town to see me before heading back up to Boston.”
“That’s a deal. We should be wrapping things up in a week or so, and then I’m all yours,” Cassie said, her tone playful. “Which means, sweetie, we’re going out.”
“And drinking until I can’t feel my face?” I asked.
“Until you’re asking, ‘Jamie who?’”
No amount of alcohol was going to be able to erase Jamie from my mind, but I didn’t want to tell Cassie that and end our conversation on a sour note. Luckily, she wasn’t in the room giving me that look, the one that would have made me confess instead of lying to her when I said, “Forgetting Jamie is exactly what I need.”