Page 9 of Damnation
“Thomas,” she moans. “I never dreamt this moment would come.”
“Nor I, my love,” I say through clenched teeth, making a point to hold her face gently as I thrust in and out of her.
“My love?” she whispers.
“What else could this draw be? You were created for me, Sarah Good. Whether to bless me or torment me, perhaps both. ‘Tis not the point nor the matter. You. Are. My. Own.”
With each thrust, she moves against me more, and I feel the creeping in of my own release. Her legs wrap around my back, locking me into place, and I groan as I feel myself begin to pulse.I know I should discover how far into her cycle she is. I should at the very least pull out of her before finishing. Something in that notion feels incredibly wrong, though, and instead, I push inside her deeper, allowing my release to wash over me.
I moan into her shoulder, continuing my thrusts as her own release finds her. Our shouts of pleasure are drowned out by the running creek beside us, only the midnight sky a witness to what we have just done.
When the euphoria from our pleasure fades and our breathing settles, I look down at her, expecting to find regret. To my surprise, I find a smile. Dare I say the most beautiful smile to ever be gifted.
I do not speak, particularly because there is nothing to say. We both know this was wrong. We are both married, with children, no less. Both people of God who have just come together as man and wife outside of marriage. We have not only committed a sin, we have become sin. Especially due to the fact that this will not be the last time. I will not allow it.
Chapter Four
Sarah
As I finish tying my bonnet around my head, my fingers trail down my neck, resting on the sensitive skin that Thomas touched. It has been six nights since we… I can’t even bear to think it in my own head. I’m completely unsure of what came over me, of what came over us both. More so, I have been praying and begging God to help me each day since, because where I should feel guilt and disgust, I feel…joy, excitement, desire. Not only am I not ashamed, I want it again, him again. I want…more.
Pushing those sinful thoughts away, I intend to clear my head before my family and I head to this morning’s service at the church. William did not take to drink last night, I assume due to the fact he has run out of our money. Dorothy and I would be long starved if it wasn’t for what Thomas had given us last week. I’ll accept William’s purchases as a blessing, though, because when the bottle is dry and long gone, he is my William once more. Not a loving man, nor a kind one, but he is not a harmful one either, and for that, I am grateful.
“Make haste, Sarah. We shall need to leave immediately,” he says as he steps into the room.
I nod in obedience as I look down at our daughter. Dorothy is dressed as neatly as I was able, her hair perfectly tucked beneath her bonnet as she smiles up at me.
“We are ready,” I say, holding my hand out for Dorothy’s as she slips it into my own.
William nods, straightening his black hair and coat before leading us through the door. The sun is bright this morning, giving promises to a new day. If I am correct, ‘tis also a new moon tonight. The moon has such wonderful properties to be harnessed on a day such as this. My tonics and aides are often amplified beneath a full moon’s collection. Once William has gone to sleep, I’ll slip out of the house to do my gatherings and bring Sarah Osborne my items in the morning. Depending on her mood, I may even earn enough to buy Dorothy a new dress or shoes.
The walk to the town’s church is not long at all, and soon enough, we are stepping inside the wooden building, taking a seat in a pew towards the back. The front of the church is reserved for those who deem themselves the holiest and purest of the town. Surely, a beggar woman and her drunkard of a husband would never earn such a title.
Reverend Parris is at the front, encouraging his daughter Betty and niece Abigail to take a seat. Several prying eyes meet my own, displeasure at our attendance abundantly clear on their faces. I pay them no mind, though, as I focus my eyes forward and listen with intention.
“Brothers, sisters, what a blessed day to live in God’s glory,” the reverend booms. “Let us take prayer in the blessing of us coming together.”
We all close our eyes, bowing our heads as he leads us in prayer.
“God, we thank thee for thy gifts you have displayed upon us this week. Crops and cattle are in abundance from yourblessings. Ailments are being healed, and lives are being created, all to you. We ask that you guide us through your will this next week, as we open our hearts and minds to follow you more diligently, feverishly, and wholly. Amen.”
“Amen,” the congregation agrees as we all look up once more.
When I do, my eyes blink open to land on one face in particular.
Thomas.
He’s turned into his seat, his eyes on me. ‘Tis not for long, and his expression lacks much depth. His eyes, though. They sear into my skin, as if they could see into my very soul. The softest smile touches his mouth in a secretive way that sends a fluttering feeling rushing through me.
In the next moment, he is turning around, his wife Ann looking around the room as if to find what holds her husband’s interest so. It takes everything in me not to meet her eyes, as I feign interest in Reverend Parris’s sermon.
The reverend goes on for a long while about being pure for God. Following his will and order and the consequences that fall if you shall not. I must say, the timing of the sermon feels quite coincidental. Then again, that could be the rising guilt inside me speaking.
Once the sermon is over, everyone begins filing out of the church, making their way on for the day. Near the doors, things get quite crowded, and soon, bodies are jostled and bumping into one another. I try to navigate through, keeping Dorothy close, when a hand grabs mine. I look around and meet Thomas’s eyes as he pushes what feels like a piece of parchment into my hand.
I frown in confusion before he forces my hand to close around the parchment, his touch sending goosebumps to race against my skin before he’s slipping back into the crowd. My heart beat is racing as I discreetly attempt to tuck the parchmentinto the waist of my skirt. My eyes are begging to afford me the knowledge of what he has written, but my mind knows better than to risk it here. William is three paces ahead of us, but all it would take is one look back.
Impatiently, I wait until we are home, excusing myself to the outhouse before shutting the door behind me. Once I do, I hastily pull the parchment out, relieved that it is still there, his script beautifully marking the small page.
