Page 25 of The Secrets of a Sin

“God.” She exhales with tightly closed eyes, avoiding my heated stare like she can’t bear to meet my eyes. Was she imagining someone else? Or was she too ashamed to have fallen under my spell? Either way, I’d let her have her fun for now before she came to her senses.

As her pace quickened and became frantic, I realized she was on the edge of an intense orgasm. Right on the fucking top, about to destructively crash. So, with seconds to spare, I tear my leg away from her body, denying what she needs most.

“But unfortunately for you. I don’t fuck teenage girls. Or let them come on my thigh.”

Her eyes grow big as a scowl replaces her euphoric guise, and she stumbles backwards away from me. “Get out.” She shouts with pure venom, still panting from the cresting orgasm.

Grinning, I stalk towards her door and grip the handle. “Tomorrow at midnight. Don’t be late.” And with that, I leave her room. Once the door shuts completely, I take my index finger and swipe it down the wet spot on my leg, bringing it up to my nose. Inhaling her musky scent, I greedily shove it in my mouth and savor her fluids like a delicious dessert.

Don’t worry, angel. It’s only a matter of time until I come to my senses soon and wreak havoc on your body. But for now, I’ll enjoy making you suffer.

7

CHARLOTTE

“How are you doing, Charlotte?”

Seriously? How many times am I going to be asked that question? It was as if every person at St. Catherine’s was now programmed to ask me that like they actually gave a shit. I’m sure some of them were worried about me, but most of them asked the question as if it was a chore. It was mostly teachers and counselors that I’m sure were obligated to ask how I was, while the students here pretended as if nothing happened.

Like it was just another day at St. Catherine’s.

Phoebe’s death was officially old news to them, but Arsen had made sure to create somewhat of a mess of the whole situation. Since yesterday's fiasco at the memorial, I’ve heard whispers between the girls. Mostly about Arsen and how they desperately wanted to ‘comfort’ him in his time of grief. My first instinct was to laugh at their eagerness, but a small part of me crumbled knowing that Arsen would presumably take pleasure in knowing others wanted to satisfy him. Soon, I’d be discarded for someone easier and less likely to defy him, but another side of me thought he liked the challenge. My skin was thicker than most, but once someone penetrated beyond that, I wasn’t much different than the girls who gossiped about him.

“Charlotte.” My sponsor Heather softly whispers as her hand grazes mine to get my attention. Sitting across from me at our normal meeting spot outside the entrance of the school, I continue to chip away at the engravings that cover the wood picnic table.

“Good. Normal.” I answer in a dull, uninterested tone that she, of course, doesn’t pick up on as her hand continues to rest over the top of mine. On a huff, my eyes gradually lift until our eyes meet and her stare immediately softens.

“We’ve been through this, Charlotte. You can trust me with anything, and I won’t judge you. Just don’t bullshit me because I can see the torment in your eyes. After everything you’ve endured, I expect there to be at least something you want to confess or talk about.” She pleads with her too big and too intense eyes that scour me for an inkling of answers. “Give me something other than ‘good’ because there’s no way in hell you’re good. Even I’m not good, and I've been clean for ten years.”

I hated how she always managed to weasel her way into my heart and make me somewhat like and respect her. Nothing was ever sugar-coated with her. She saw past my bullshit and knew exactly what I was going through because she went through the same damn things.

Or is going through them, I should say.

* * *

“Have you ever been in love?” I question cautiously, keeping my eyes glued to the table. Love was always a heavy topic to discuss for people like us. Relationships were deemed impossible, and even if you found someone accepting of who you are, soon they’d question your ability to remain faithful because you are a sex addict. And all sex addicts want to do is fuck. Regardless of who it was or who they may hurt in the process, we avoided real connections like the plague. I wasn’t convinced if it was a myth or the truth due to the lack of relationships I’ve had. I’ve been repeatedly reminded of the perils of falling in love as if I’d fall into the same category as every other sex addict out there. That’s why they immediately gave me the ‘no boys’ rule, just as well as the ‘avoid connections’ the second I stepped foot on St. Catherine’s soil.

But here I am now, questioning our ability to love and if perhaps there was hope for me after all. Surely, if Heather experienced it, maybe I could too.

“I wanted to believe I was in love.” Her eyes gloss over as she focuses on our conjoined hands. “I was young and reckless, and he was…. ruinous. At the time, I didn’t understand my urges. I thought it was normal for a teenager to experience that amount of want. He thought it was the best thing ever to have a girlfriend who wanted to bang all the time.” She chuckles to herself, but sadness coats her eyes. “Soon, he wasn’t enough for me. I needed more. I let him believe that he was the only one I wanted, and I tried my damn hardest to make that true. But the harder I tried, the more resentful I grew. I destroyed us and ultimately ruined the only chance at real love I ever had.”

I felt her pain and sorrow, and I knew she felt uncomfortable reliving her past. I felt horrible for asking, but I needed to know. I was desperate for some sort of connection. I was fucking lonely.

“I’m sorry.” I respond with a frown. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not impossible, Charlotte. Don’t let anyone tell you love is unattainable for people like us. It requires a lot of work, but nothing is out of reach, okay?” She waits for my reply with tears in her eyes, and I slowly nod.

“Nothing is impossible.” I repeat watching her mouth lift in a small smile.

Our session went on, and we avoided any more emotional topics, but as time passed and the sun began to set, Arsen filtered into my head and stayed there for my remaining time with Heather. As we start to say our goodbyes, she rises from the bench and places her purse over her shoulder.

“Next week, same time?”

Nodding, I leave from the opposite side of the bench. “Yeah.”

“Okay, see you then. Stay out of trouble.” With a mischievous wink, she spins on her heel, and I can’t help but bite down on my lower lip in amusement.

Trouble has already found me, and his name is Arsen.

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