Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1)

by Coco Mingolelli

  "Can you manage to dry yourself off while I wipe up the floor?" she joked.

  With some fussing about, Mallory sat on the bed, and frowned towards the bathroom.

  The frown threw Dawn – hadn't Mallory specifically said she didn't want help earlier, and only begrudgingly allowed to her assist in exiting the bathtub without falling arse over tit? Maybe she really wanted her to help, but didn't want to appear weak.

  'Ah-ha,' Dawn thought. She blew a mocking huff.

  It earned her one of Mallory's non-indulgent glares, and her girlfriend's lips drew even further down into a scowl. Mallory knew she'd been found out.

  "You took care of me. Let me take care of you, too," Dawn cooed, running her fingertips up and down the bare flesh of her love's arms. The bathwater dripped along them, making delightful trails for her to follow along.

  "Don't say that," Mallory groaned, but the goosebumps that ran in the wake of Dawn's touches gave away that she was enjoying the touch.

  Shaking her head in disagreement, Dawn leaned forward to take the towel and rub it over the shiny brown strands of hair. "You always take care of me. You've killed to protect me, and nearly died for it. My hero," she grinned playfully.

  "I would do it again, all the same," Mallory insisted from beneath the towel as Dawn ruffled it across the front of her face.

  "I don't want you to," Dawn whispered as she lowered the towel into her lap. Reaching up, she tucked the silky waves that covered Mallory's face and breasts behind an ear, and over a shoulder. "When this is all done – the trial, and whatever we need to do to get Isla– I want us to go away. Far, far away, where no one even knows us."

  When Mallory only nodded, and slid a bit to close the nearly non-existent space between them, Dawn smiled and rambled on. "I want a family. You and me, and Isla too. After college, maybe a ba– "

  Her discourse was cut off by Mallory leaning to hesitantly press their lips together. Dawn fell against the kiss with a sigh of approval before responding with a bit more force, wanting it to be quite clear that she craved Mallory without hesitation.

  Licking across a luscious bottom lip, she waited until her love's mouth fell open in her own happy little sigh to beg entrance. It was granted, and it made her heart sing with gladness that the day's earlier awkwardness and anger had been short lived. She needed Mallory, more than the woman knew, or needed her – and Dawn was filled with the desire to show it.

  Breaking their languid kiss to lift her shirt over her head, Dawn then nudged her way between the curtain of chocolate brown hair and pale skin to nibble at Mallory's neck. She continued to run her hands up and down the woman's arms, unwilling to push further without expressed consent, her lesson well learned.

  Pleased murmurs were punctuated by shivers as she took her time. Eventually, cool hands found their way to her waist to tug her close.

  "I don't know," Mallory wondered aloud, unsure. "We haven't since, and I don't know if I can."

  Freezing at the admission, Dawn took a few gulps of air before sitting back to meet Mallory's eye. It was hard to hide her disappointment, and her hands ached when she removed them from the satiny soft skin they'd so enjoyed only moments ago. "Okay. Um," she bit her lip, and looked away. 'Don't cry. Do not cry, Dawn.'

  One of the hands that had been holding her waist came up to grasp Dawn's chin, turning her to face Mallory once more.

  There was worry in her girlfriend's eyes, and in the twilight outside their bedroom window, the irises' green color faded into endless fathoms against the stark white that edged them. There was also adoration, and undeniable love.

  "What I mean to say is..." Mallory began to explain slowly, as if it hurt her. "I don't know how to ask you to. There's so much to navigate, and I'd never expected you to unless you wanted..." She gasped and shuddered, becoming frustrated with her inability to communicate properly. She'd never been one to mince words before. Why was this so hard? "I want you to... I can't..."

  Stumbling over her explanation was making Mallory angrier by the minute, and she covered her face with both hands to hide her humiliation. Was it so very difficult to tell Dawn how the honesty about wanting to possess her now sent tendrils of guilt to choke at her heart?

  She loved Dawn, and she had hurt her. Forgiveness had come so easily, and Mallory felt wholly unworthy of it. Even if she had set out to protect Dawn, she was convinced to have surely blackened her name and soul with her actions.

  "You want me to want you, and you're afraid that I don't anymore?" Dawn whispered. She crossed her arms, and then uncrossed them to jut her chest forward in boldness.

  Her cheeks did not flare with the usual warmth of a blush, which only hinted at the strength she felt at their skeletons laid bare. There were no more secrets. She needed to show her determination right now. "Because of your leg? What kind of person do you think I am?"

  "Not because of my damn leg! Although that's... Ugh!" Mallory sputtered as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I hurt you, your reputation, and I kept things from you. My intentions weren't always honorable.”

  Dawn tugged at the hands that hid the beautiful face, and wrapped them behind her shoulders. Entering Mallory's space, she rested her forehead against the woman's own, and relished in the soft pants of air that came from her mouth. "You kept it from me, yes. You still love me, and I forgive you. Let me show you."

  Nuzzling their noses together, she began the process of kissing and caressing her love once more. As the minutes went by, her hands soothed over the planes of Mallory's shoulders, upper arms, ticklish ribs, and waist. Dawn purposely circumvented the more intimate areas just in case, but found small victories in each muscle that melted into relaxation beneath her touch.

  "Lie down with me, please?" she pleaded between tender kisses to the Mallory's closed, but trembling eyelids.

  As they did, the sore subject of Mallory's leg made itself known. She couldn't rest on her regular side of the bed without putting pressure on the wound, and spun herself to face away from Dawn.

  "I can't see you," she grumbled, wiggling along the sheets in displeasure. "I can't touch you like this."

  "All the better, don't you think?" Dawn smiled against the defined edge of a shoulder blade before running her fingernails along it. "You want me to want you, and I do. Just enjoy it..."

  Stiffening slightly beneath her wandering hands, Mallory barked out a humorless laugh. "This isn't penance. Your love is hardly punishment, dearest one."

  Dawn shook her head, and reached around the leg nearest her. "Can you lean back some more?" she asked, all the while guiding the leg back to hook ankles with hers.

  It left Mallory somewhat twisted, but the warmth of her amare's body behind her own was comforting. She looked sideways at the ceiling, and blinked. "It doesn't hurt, no."

  The view this position afforded stunned Dawn into silence. She looked from the graceful expanse of neck, down to where it met a fine collarbone. Just over that was the gentle rise and fall of breasts that were capped in eagerly pebbled nipples.

  When Mallory wriggled to snuggle her bum closer, Dawn latched back onto the exposed neck to nibble some more. It caused the Mallory's chest to heave during a low whimper, and Dawn's gaze zeroed in on the delectable breasts before traveling down the long slope of her lover's side, to where it met the swell of her hips.

  She tucked an arm beneath them, and reached around to cup the breast closest to the bed. Rubbing her thumb lovingly over the peaked nipple made Mallory arch into her touch with a gasp, and a rush of adrenaline swept through Dawn's veins.

  Knowing that you had power over someone – that they implicitly trusted you with it – was one thing. The inclination to be grabby, or to rush in her hunger to see the woman fall apart in her arms was quite another. Closing her eyes, she blew out a long breath and placed little kisses along Mallory's spine. This was her mercy, to do with what she wanted.

  She pressed her palm flat against the soft roundness of Mallory's lower abdomen while rubbing her ow
n aroused body alongside her. It set off another round of stilted moans and blissful mumbling. As Dawn's tender, affectionate ministrations wore on, Mallory leaned more and more into her embrace.

  It was a glorious show of faith, and Dawn ran her fingers up the taut stomach to stroke the other breast that she'd yet to love upon. Plaintive curses echoed the air of their bedroom, interrupted here and there by pants and groans.

  "Please, amare. Please.”

  The entreaty kindled the flames already licking their way along Dawn's veins, her skin flush with the simmering emotions that accompanied being the one in command. She slid her hand down to rest atop the downy haired sex that had been avoided to draw out their first moments of intimacy since being parted. Her fingers twitched with impatience, sinking more deeply into the soft tufts that were normally shaved down to bare skin. Before she could help it, she requested more. The fire demanded more. "Please what?"

  With a frustrated whine, Mallory bucked her hips to push the damp curls against Dawn's hand. It seemed involuntary, for as soon as she had done it, the woman gasped as her leg stretched from it's vice between Dawn's legs. "Love me. Do something!"

  Burying her face into the sweetly scented waves of Mallory's hair to compose herself, Dawn then released the leg to drape it widely over her hip. Her hand came back and through parted legs, finding the folds of Mallory's vulva again before parting them. Fingers dipped between to rub at the silken flesh, guided by the swaying of their hips to find what felt good, what made Mallory throw her head back with stuttered moans so loud they made the tips of Dawn's ears burn.

  Their rocking together eventually maneuvered her first two fingers into her lover. It was all Dawn could do to bite back a moan herself, but she didn't succeed very much at that. The noises fueled Mallory on, and the steady rhythm of their lovemaking abruptly became more rapid, as did the frequency and volume of their crying out.

  "I can't see you," Mallory suddenly wailed. "I need to see you!"

  Any other lover might have been confused or annoyed at the request, but Dawn knew that even the strangest things verbalized by Mallory had a very good reason. She didn't stop, or even slow her pace. She merely laid her cheek beside her lover's, so close their eyelashes might have touched while blinking.

  As Mallory closed her eyes and smiled between two gasps, Dawn knew that she had understood what was needed. She moved to kiss wherever her lips could reach – the corner of a mouth, a salty, tear-streaked cheekbone, and even the edge of an elegant jawline. What had begun as a fairly steady back and forth below was quickly descending into interspersed rolling and jerking against her palm.

  Sensing that her beloved was on the edge, Dawn pressed her thumb down and matched the pressure inside by making a come hither motion with her fingers. A gush of wetness spilled forth, hotter than even the scorching heat of the skin that surrounded her digits.

  In her arms, Mallory writhed and called down the heavens. With a final arch of her back, she appeared to come apart at the very seams – astonishment forcing her eyes wide, and her lips into an 'oh!'

  "Yes, oh yes," Dawn murmured into the shell of her ear, just as amazed by the haze of bliss that enveloped their shaking bodies like a warm blanket.

  _____________________________________

  If there was anything that the English justice system prided itself on, it was the accommodations and dignity afforded all prisoners on remand while awaiting and during trial. It was a rare day that those accused of crimes but not yet convicted were not able to roam the complex as they pleased. They could attend classes for cooking, typing, and woodworking, read newspapers, books, and magazines, watch television, or even exercise in shifts in the secure yard. Even allowed their own clothing and shoes while on trial, the law specifically forbid the jailers from treating them as guilty prior to conviction.

  For all that, Steven Rose was quite the critic of the system. Tonight he wanted to be alone, and the guards seemed to sense it. They gave him a wide berth.

  Truthfully, Steven much preferred being alone all of the time. He despised being forced to reside among what he considered low life scum in HM Holme House's Remand Centre. The evening shift for the exercise yard had begun at 7:00PM, and there was nothing he wanted more than to pace along while plotting his next moves.

  Court had been a disaster today. He was growing increasingly irritated with not being able to defend himself until called to the stand, no matter what the quacks on the stand spewed forth. His newest barrister was a limp noodle compared to Carey, and for a fleeting moment, Steven bemoaned having issued the order for his permanent removal from employment. He didn't regret killing the man, no – he simply rued the difficulties brought upon himself for having done so.

  Chuffing along the fenced area towards the shed in the back where the ashtray was bolted to, Steven lit a cigarette. You couldn't smoke or keep lighters inside the facilities, but the guards and "guests" of the Crown often exchanged conversation over a cig or a chew outside once they'd picked up their 'smoker kits,' from the vestibule between the main area and the yard.

  Once at the shed, he turned to view his surroundings. Out the doors the rest of the men who had signed up for 7:00PM exercise poured. Two of them struck up an animated exchange with the two guards on staff, and from what he could hear, it was complaints about work detail. One wasn't required to work while on remand, but could if money was needed for mail, or commissary.

  Steven snorted at that. He'd continued to work for his firm from inside, as was approved by the Crown. Nothing would change on that account, so long as he was alive.

  "'Ey! Got a light, mate? We's out of matches," a short, unassuming bloke with black hair asked before sidling up to him.

  Four other slim men stood waiting behind him, their cigarettes out and ready. The closest to the leader was by far the tallest, and he smiled grimly.

  "I suppose," Steven conceded, and handed his lighter down the line. Little favors granted like these might make the men think better of him, and less apt to attack – or so he'd been told by the barrister.

  "I'm Charlie," the fellow introduced himself. "From Leeds, yeah? Down the line – that's Baum, Terry, Chance, and Fred. Don't think I've seen you on the 7 Yard b'fore."

  Squinting his eyes in appraisal, Steven nodded and folded his arms behind his back to appear larger. "Yes, well. My name is Steven."

  Sideways glances passed between the group of men as they smoked. "You would'n be Steven Rose, would'ja?" Baum inquired, looking off into the distance towards the exit back into the main remand centre.

  Unable to see a problem with being known for who he was, Steven gave a non-committal shrug. "What of it?"

  Charlie spoke up now, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Don't you got a daughter or two? One that's eighteen and a wee one?"

  Puffing up in pride at the fact that his reputation preceded him somewhat, Steven took a drag of his cig and ashed it onto the grass. "Yes. Dawn is eighteen, and Isla is eight."

  Nodding stiffly, Charlie rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. "I got a daughter too. Wanna know 'bout my kid?"

  Before Steven could utter another word, the small group of men converged around him. It looked like they were only standing closer to the ashtray, but they effectively blocked his view of the guards.

  Baum had swept behind to wrap a shoelace across his neck, and yanked it tight as Charlie leaned in so close that his reeking tobacco breath brought tears to Steven's eyes.

  These men knew exactly who he was, even before the introductions and niceties had been exchanged.

  "My daughter's name is Jo. I call 'er Jo, but her ma' named her Josephine. She's the light of my life, Steven," Charlie conversed, relaxed and at ease.

  When Steven's hands came up to reach for the shoelace, Charlie tilted his head towards Baum once more. The lace tightened, forcing a gurgle of spit from his mouth.

  "Don' move, you idjit," Baum growled, and wrapped the length of cotton around his palms for good measure. "
Terry, Chance – grab 'is hands. Fred, yer on lookout."

  The group did as they were ordered, and wave of icy fear ran down Steven's spine. The guards were still distracted at the door, most likely on purpose, so that this entire conversation could happen.

  Charlie brought a hand from his pocket, and made a shot of marveling sarcastically at a sharpened shiv made of melted plastic. "Yanno, my Jo is fourteen. So when Baum and me was watchin' telly earlier and the talkin' heads was goin' on and on 'bout how you diddled some fourteen year old kid and near strangled her to death on top of a puddle of her ma's blood," he chuckled low and whistled, "I said 'Baum, that nonce best hope he don' come on my yard.' Didn't I, Baum?"

  Baum laughed gruffly, and clenched the shoelace around Steven's throat a little more tightly. "Right you did, Charlie."

  "Now, I been down before – robbin' is my thing, but I ain't put it past myself to do the Queen a favor in ending you," Charlie leered towards Steven's purpling face. “You be lower than shit on the bottom of muh shoe.”