Sinful 1 (A New Adult Romance (Tempted)) Read online

  SINFUL

  Part 1

  Tempted

  By

  Bella Vaughan

  Copyright © 2013 Bella Vaughan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  1

  The pretty nineteen year-old serving at the checkout of the Medburg hardware store was oblivious to the admiring glances of the tradesmen and home handymen that filtered past her cash register throughout her shift. Her uniform, a pair of plain brown slacks and a polo top, did nothing to detract from her beauty. Even wearing no makeup and with her golden blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, Bethany King was clearly an extraordinary beauty. Her skin was flawless and hidden under her frumpy uniform was a dancer’s body, lithe and slim.

  Unaware of their glances she may have been, but she was friendly and courteous. Everyone that she graced with her beautiful smile felt like they had her full and undivided attention. That may not have been necessarily so. Bethany was nearing the end of a gap year between high school and college and found it difficult to maintain her interest in her part-time job when this exciting new stage of her life now loomed so large. She found herself increasingly restless and each day, the small town of Medburg seemed to get even smaller. Not to mention her own home.

  She found herself clashing more and more with her mother and was only just able to tolerate being treated like a child every time she expressed an opinion or had the hide to disagree with her mother. Today had been no different.

  Over breakfast Bethany had mentioned that she might be going out to a dance with her friend Rebecca, only for her mother to insult Rebecca, ‘she dresses like a prostitute!’, and by default Bethany and her perceived poor choice of friends. Now, as she scanned hammers, bags of nails and door knobs through her checkout, Bethany replayed the scene in her mind and thought of all the witty retorts that she hadn’t been able to think of when her mother caught her by surprise with her petty meanness yet again.

  Ten minutes before the end of her shift, it seemed that the customers had dried up entirely and Bethany leaned against her counter making small talk with Jenny Granger, the mom of three on the only other checkout, across the aisle from her. It was polite chit chat only, the two had nothing in common and Bethany was glad that the store had been busy for most of the day.

  Just as Jenny began to tell her yet another story of what her naughty three year-old had been up to the night before, there was a knock behind them on the plate glass window at the front of the store. They both turned at the interruption and Bethany’s smile dazzled as she looked at her friend, Rebecca Renton, making silly faces behind the glass. Bethany held up her hand to indicate that she had five minutes to go and Rebecca, a brunette with a gorgeous figure, nodded and walked a few paces to sit on the bench in front of the store. She studiously ignored the look of distaste or possibly envy that passed over Jenny’s face.

  Bethany walked out of the store and over to Rebecca. Her friend was wearing tight blue jeans and a red top that showed off her ample bust. Her lustrous brown hair was down, framing her face. Where Bethany was classically beautiful, Rebecca was a smoldering, sultry beauty who looked more mature than her nineteen years. They hugged before Rebecca pushed her away playfully and looked her up and down.

  “You know, I could never understand why you don’t have a boyfriend when you dress in such sexy gear.”

  Bethany rolled her eyes.

  “Whatever Renton, and what’s your excuse?”

  “Excuse? Please Bethany, how could I, in all conscience, deprive the male population of Medburg of this,” she gestured dramatically at her curvy backside, “by limiting myself to a boyfriend. Oh, unless it’s Pastor Yummy! Him I would gladly chain myself too and never look at another man.”

  They both laughed. Rebecca had lusted after the new pastor ever since he had given his first service a month ago, and even Bethany had to admit that Sundays at church had become quite a bit less boring since Pastor Michael Blaine had taken the position, but Rebecca’s obsession was a little over the top.

  “Anyway I was close by doing some shopping so I thought I would walk you home;” said Rebecca, “want some company?”

  “Sure,” said Bethany and they walked out of the store parking lot and onto Main Street.

  “So what goodies did you buy?” Bethany asked.

  “Well as a matter of fact dear, I bought something for you. I know you have your man issues, never been kissed and all that…ouch!”

  They both laughed at Bethany’s light hearted punch to her shoulder.

  “A man what’s that?” she asked Rebecca cheekily.

  “Exactly my point!” She stopped and brought the bag up and rested it on one thigh while she rustled around inside it. “Wait, I don’t know if you can handle this…”

  “Oh my God you bitch, it better not be a dildo or anything disgusting!”

  Rebecca looked at her, a mock look of worry on her face.

  “Oh…well it’s not a dildo, but it might be disgusting!” With a flourish she pulled out a plastic wrapped, rectangular object and held it out to Bethany, who could see instantly it was a book. Curious she took it and looked at the cover through the clear plastic. The title was Sensual Agony, a collection of erotica by Christina Palmer and the cover while subtle, left no doubt as to what was inside. Bethany groaned.

  “You know I’m not going to read this, this stuff is disgusting.”

  “Bethany King! You sound like your mother. I have it on very good authority that it’s well written and sexy…and yes, probably disgusting, but sometimes disgusting can be just what a girl needs, you know what I mean?” she nudged Bethany in the side.

  Bethany laughed again.

  “No I have no idea what you mean, here.” She tried to hand back the book but Rebecca closed the bag and dodged Bethany.

  “Nuh uh, that was a gift Bethany, and if you try to give it back or throw it away I will never speak to you again. Seriously, just read the first couple of stories and if you don’t like it, throw it in the bin.”

  Feigning exasperation, Bethany shrugged and slipped the book into her handbag. They made small talk for the rest of the way home and Bethany avoided telling Rebecca what her mother had said about her.

  “I might skip the dance,” she told her friend, “my mom has been a real pain about it.”

  Rebecca looked at her friend for a second, sympathy evident on her face.

  “Okay Hon, I might too. Well I guess I’ll see you at church on Sunday. Remember, Yummy is mine!” They hugged quickly and Bethany went up the steps and unlocked the front door.

  Their evening meal had begun with her mother saying grace. Bethany had stolen a look at her parents as they sat with their eyes closed. Her mother sat painfully straight backed in her chair as she intoned the overly long prayer. Her hair, nearly all grey now, was pulled back severely and secured in a tight bun. Her tired face was devoid of makeup and her mouth was pulled down in what seemed a permanent scowl. Bethany’s heart went out to her, at forty-four, her mother looked at least twenty years older.

  Her father sat beside her in his business shirt. He too looked older than his years, but that was mainly due to his receding hair and permanent look of introspection. Dinner was solemn and quiet an
d absolutely joyless and she was even more relieved than usual when her mother excused her from the table.

  Just before 9pm Bethany had finished showering and had dressed for bed. She hung her towel by the window and decided that there was no way that she was going to watch an hour of Christian television with her mom before her ten o’clock bedtime, she had other plans.

  It annoyed her that at nineteen years of age she still had a ‘bedtime’ like a little kid, but she was a good girl to the core and although she had argued her case many times, ultimately it was her mother’s house and her rules. Bethany’s dad was no help in such arguments; he never went against his wife, so Bethany played by their rules...most of the time.

  She sat at her dresser and brushed her soft curls distractedly as she wrestled with her conscience about whether she would read the book that Rebecca had given her. It was ridiculous that she was even having an internal crisis of ethics about reading it; it was just a book after all. She was nineteen, nearly twenty, for God’s sake; she could read anything she pleased. But the years of her mother’s piety and strict rules about what she could and couldn’t read were hard to get past. She just couldn’t wait to go off to college and get away from the guilt and expectation that seemed to weigh her down with every passing day.

  She had smuggled the book into her room that afternoon, opening it to a random page and was shocked and intrigued at what she read in a few brief moments. She hadn’t dared to read more than a few lines before hiding it under her mattress, nervous that her mother would come in and catch her with it.

  After she finished brushing her hair, Bethany went downstairs to say goodnight to her parents. As they did every night, her mother and father sat in their armchairs with the television switched to a raspy voiced evangelist. Her mother watched the preacher intently and barely looked up when Bethany came into the room, while her father read his paper with the rapt attention of an idiot savant. Bethany wondered, not for the first time, how two people could live like this, the same routine night after night with barely a change for years on end.

  She vaguely remembered her parents being more fun when she was a little girl, but it seemed as they got older, the fun had drained away and, for her mother in particular, been replaced by a grey sense of devoutness. Bethany thought she knew when things had begun to change; it was one night when she was no older than seven. They had had an unusual screaming match. Unusual, because they never fought. It had left both of them crying and her father begging forgiveness and that it would never happen again. Bethany didn’t know exactly what he had done, but the very next day her mother had withdrawn into herself and the daily prayers had begun. All the same, she loved them.

  She walked lightly to them and kissed each on the cheek before whispering goodnight. As she exited the living room her mother, who had seemingly been entranced by the television, said sternly, “Lights off at 10pm young lady.”

  “Yes Mom.”

  Bethany had to restrain herself from running back up the stairs to start on the book… she had one hour.

  After two stories Bethany felt hot and flushed and very aroused. She had started to touch herself through her flannelette pajamas as the third story began to heat up. While she had masturbated before, it was always to her own imagination. She had only seen porn once, on Rebecca’s computer of course and hadn’t thought much of it at all; in fact she had been embarrassed and had asked her friend to turn it off. But reading the illicit words in front of her while she played beneath the covers added an element of spice and danger that made her previous erotic play seem insignificant.

  She finished the third story, a hot tale about a doctor and his patient and knew she couldn’t read any more, she had an urgent fire in her loins that would only be quenched by one thing. She rolled over and switched off her lamp, unaware in her sexual excitement that the book had fallen to the floor. She lay back in the dark, still under the covers and slipped her hand under the elastic waistband of her pajamas and panties. She opened her thighs and gasped as her fingers found her moist and sensitive folds.

  Bethany breathed hard as she replayed the Palmer story in her mind. Now it was her that was having her breasts examined as the handsome doctor began to run his hands over her body, stroking her…kissing her…that was when her bedroom door was flung open and harsh light from the bare bulb in the ceiling lit up the room like a false dawn.

  Bethany, her heart trying to escape her body through her chest, froze under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut, feigning sleep. Slowly she inched her hand out of her pants, hoping the telltale movement would not be noticed, praying that her mother would turn off the light and leave. Bethany knew it was her, her father never entered her room and her mother had no respect for privacy. It was her.

  No harsh words for a pregnant few seconds, and then Bethany heard a floorboard creak by the door and waited for the light to be switched off. Bethany breathed a sigh of relief but it caught in her throat when instead of the sound of a light switch, she heard the ominous pat, pat, pat of her mother’s slippers approaching the bed.

  Fuck.

  Bethany heard the sound of something being snatched off the carpet and her heart dropped into her stomach like an elevator car freed of its cables. The bedcovers disappeared as though by magic, reefed away by her mother, the crazed magician. Bethany opened her eyes, very relieved that she had removed her hand and met her mother’s furious gaze as evenly as she could. The older woman’s face was etched in fury.

  “What is this filth doing in my house!” she spat, waving the book in Bethany’s face.

  “Sorry, I only read a page I promise…I didn’t like it Mother, that’s why it was on the floor,” Bethany said quickly, frightened by the look on her mother’s face, wishing the mattress would swallow her.

  “You were masturbating weren’t you?” her mother then asked in a quiet and deadly voice.

  Bethany shook her head, and was rewarded by a stinging slap across the cheek. Bethany looked up at her mother in shock.

  “Don’t lie to me! I’m not stupid Bethany. You were touching yourself like a common slut, admit it!” she screamed down at Bethany.

  Bethany broke. She began to cry and whispered sorry over and over again as she held her cheek. Her mother, seemingly satisfied that she had broken her daughter, proceeded to rip the book into pieces with a righteous strength before flinging it at the cringing Bethany.

  “I will discuss your punishment in the morning young lady,” she said menacingly before leaving the room and slamming the door.

  Bethany, her head spinning, arose from the bed and picked up the pieces of the ruined book and threw them into the wastebasket before switching off the light and crawling under her bedcovers.

  2

  Bethany wanted to shrink into the uncomfortable wooden chair she sat upon. She was mortified and felt almost physically sick with shame as she sat next to her mother in the hall outside the Pastor’s office. The pastor. Oh my God. Her mother’s ominous and disapproving silence hung over her like a cloud and the dank, brown hallway which served as a waiting room only added to her unease.

  Thoughts of the events of the last twenty-four hours filled her head. When she had been caught by her mother the night before, no-one had been more mortified than Bethany, but her mother had acted as though she had caught her having sex with the football team. Embarrassment had turned to absolute shame when her mother had told her father in front of her over the breakfast table. She had figuratively clubbed him over the head with it, as if it were somehow his fault that his daughter had turned out to be such a slut. He had reddened in embarrassment and mumbled something under his breath before escaping by leaving for work early, his morning paper scrunched under his arm.

  Her mother seemed to thrive on drama and if telling her dad hadn’t been bad enough, her mother had also informed Bethany that she had phoned Pastor Blaine the night before and that they had an appointment to see him in the afternoon.

  “A counseling session so that we
can nip this thing in the bud!” her mother had spat at her when Bethany had protested strenuously. Their voices had escalated as they argued before finally, her mother’s unbreakable will wore Bethany down and she had run to her room with tears streaming down her face. Psycho! If she was so damn ashamed, why the hell was she telling everybody about it?

  Especially the pastor! Pastor Yummy as Rebecca called him. Bethany didn’t know how she would overcome the absolute embarrassment and shame of that, she was going to be counseled about the sins of masturbating by a guy that was only ten or so years older than her. Fuck. Oh well, fuck them. Fuck her mother, her father, the pastor and the whole damn town for all that. Most girls her age had lost their virginity by now, she knew Rebecca had, and in fact, she knew of one girl at her old High School that was rumored to have had a gangbang! Her mother’s overreaction and treatment of her stung badly.

  She stared at the nameplate on the pastor’s door, her arms crossed petulantly over her chest. ‘Pastor Blaine’ the shiny new brass stated boldly from the aged timber of the door. If there was one redeeming thing about this whole episode it was the fact that the pastor seemed nice. He was friendly and had a great voice. She had liked him from the Sunday he took his first service. Not just because he was handsome with a chiseled jaw and under the dark grey suit he wore, fit and well built, but because he was young and enthusiastic.

  She and Rebecca weren’t the only ones who had taken to the good pastor; they had both sniggered over the housewives of the town (including her own mother) who had fallen over themselves to get into his good graces. She had no doubts that her mother’s interest was more about getting in the pastor’s good graces than any attraction. She was a member of the church board and had her eyes on the chairmanship this year after yet again being overlooked for her rival Janice Staples the previous summer.

  Bored of waiting Bethany sighed deeply and slumped in the chair. She was wearing an outfit that her mother had selected, a knee length tartan skirt with a crisp white blouse, and white socks with black shoes. She had fought the choice, arguing that it made her look like an idiot kid, but her mother, with righteous fury on her side, had won out again. Bethany hated to admit it, but when she had checked herself in the mirror before leaving, the outfit actually looked nice, though perhaps not for the reasons her mother had hoped. It showed off the womanly curves of her body nicely and seemed to achieve both innocence and sexiness at the same time. Bethany’s soft blonde hair was pulled back and kept in place by a black headband, displaying her pretty features and healthily tanned complexion.