The Devil's Kiss Series Boxed Set

by Gemma James

  Mine.

  Yet she never would be, not in any way that mattered. My rage had wrecked any chance I’d had with her. But God, she’d been mine while chained and spread-eagled, while my whip struck her soft skin and elicited the cries I couldn’t help but crave. She’d been mine when I’d buried myself inside her tight, hot place that no other man had touched in three years.

  If I had my way, no other man would touch her again. I’d cut his fucking fingers off and make him choke on them. But some asshole would eventually touch her…do more than touch her. Some jerk would eventually marry her, and I had no one to blame but myself. My temper had always been my downfall, but this was the mother load of hitting bottom.

  She’d never forgive me, and she would never belong to me…she never had.

  “Go home, Kayla.”

  Her sneakered feet came into view, shoulder-width apart, and I refused to look up and meet her eyes. The reality of her witnessing my pathetic display of weakness was hard to swallow. I reeked of alcohol and sweat—worked up from ripping apart anything my hands touched. The St. Andrew’s cross lay in pieces on the other side of the room, and I’d torn the sheets from the bed and had shredded and ripped until my fingers grew numb. I clutched my half-empty bottle of rum with them now.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said this.” She tossed a manila folder on the floor. “You’ll find enough evidence in there to send you to jail for a long time.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What evidence?”

  “Proof of your embezzlement. How ironic that you blackmailed me for doing what you’re guilty of yourself.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t this a tidy little circle we’ve got here? You steal from your clients, I steal from you. He blackmails you, you blackmail me.” Her jaw clenched unforgivingly. “If I didn’t have Eve to think about, I might find some humor in it all.”

  She was speaking in riddles. Either that or I was drunker than I thought.

  “Why are you here, Kayla?”

  “The rules have changed.” She began to pace, and I’d never seen her so worked up. Then again, I’d never allowed her the freedom of aiming her anger at me. Even now, I wanted to whip it out of her, only I was too wasted and couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. “I’m here to call a truce. End our contract, take care of Eve’s medical bills, and I’ll consider us even.”

  “Fine,” I snapped. “You can go now.” I tipped the bottle back and took a swig.

  “That’s all you have to say?” Her voice shook, betraying her rocky composure. “Look at me, Gage.”

  I lifted my head, amused by the switch of our roles; now she stood over me demanding that I look at her. My gaze fastened onto her hands as they rose and unhooked the buttons of her jacket. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she peeled the clothes from her body. She was creamy perfection, marred by the flaws of my being. My whip had left her black and blue and covered in welts, though the worst of her pain lived in her glistening eyes.

  I did this to her. My hand. My whip.

  Mine.

  I took another swig, one so long I almost finished the damn bottle.

  “Is this why you’re hiding in that bottle?” She gestured to the wounds on her body. “Did your conscience finally claw its way out of the grave?”

  I’d never been more proud of her. Despite everything I’d put her through, she was still strong enough to stand on her own—to stand up to me. She really was different. Something inside her called to the darkness in me until it burst free and shone like onyx. She tapped her foot, one…two…three times. My cock twitched at the thought of sweeping her off those stubborn feet, and I didn’t care what method I used. I could seduce her or use pain to make her bend—either would suffice. But the end result would be the same; I’d have her writhing underneath me, fingernails digging into my skin as she begged for completion, and I wouldn’t stop pounding into her until the core of her being touched mine. I grew painfully hard as I imagined taking her, only this time she’d scream my fucking name.

  “Dammit, say something!” she shouted.

  “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?”

  “Are you?”

  I sprung to my feet, so unexpectedly that she jerked back a few steps. “I’ll never be sorry for fucking you in front of him.” The image of her in his arms flashed crimson behind my eyes, and I hurtled the bottle against the wall behind her. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the basement, and she shrank away. I grabbed her before she put enough distance between us, digging my fingers in a little deeper when she whimpered. “I’d do it again and again until he gouged his fucking eyes out.”

  “Let go, you’re hurting me!”

  “Then stop me.” I mashed my lips to hers and forced my tongue inside. She struggled for a few moments before her body went limp in my arms, before she surrendered her mouth. I became dizzy off her display of helplessness. With a groan, I tangled my hands in her hair and tilted her head back. She didn’t know I was the helpless one; helpless against the lure of her and split down the middle between what I wanted to do and what I needed to do. If kissing her was sinful, then I was going straight to hell. And something so seemingly innocent was sinful—that forbidden touch of her mouth to mine was far more intimate than fucking.

  I pushed her away and staggered back. “Go home, before I fuck you again, and no amount of crying or begging will stop me.”

  “Why are you holding back now?” Her voice splintered, and that vulnerable sound tore me in two. “What’s so different?”

  I collapsed to the floor. I could say everything. I could say nothing. In the end my silence said everything; somewhere, beyond my most base desires, I was guilty as hell and she knew it. But that was all she could know—the rest was too messed up to put into words, and some things were better kept in the dark. I buried my head in my hands.

  “If there’s a speck of humanity in you, Gage”—I raised my head in time to watch her remove the collar—“you’ll do the right thing.”

  The thin strip of leather drifted to the floor, and I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

  The Devil's Claim - Bonus Scene in Gage's POV

  She wasn’t pregnant.

  She couldn’t fucking be pregnant. But as I sat motionless in the parking lot of the drug store where I’d just purchased a pregnancy test, I couldn’t stop torturing myself with memories of watching Ian put his hands on her.

  Groping what was mine. Kissing what was mine.

  Planning to fuck the only women on this planet that made me want to keep breathing. Somehow, those memories of watching them in Texas collided with the past. Instead of fiery red hair and voluptuous curves, I saw him with Liz.

  Liz with her lithe body and manipulative smile. She’d worn it the night I’d caught her fucking my brother.

  I cringed at that term, and it took everything I had to keep from crushing the bag that contained the pregnancy test between my hands. They shook as surely as the skeletons from my past rattled inside my mind. My pulse thundered in my damn ears.

  But fear…that fucker roared the loudest.

  How ironic that out of everything, this test held the power to destroy me. The what-ifs chewed away at the future I’d fought so hard for—a future where Kayla was not only my slave but my wife.

  A future where we’d raise Eve together.

  I loved that girl more than I could explain. I only hoped that Kayla could handle the harsh truth I had yet to unload on her. For us, Eve was it. And I was okay with that because the two of them…they were my world.

  But would the fact that I wasn’t whole, wasn’t man enough to put my baby in her womb change how she looked at me? I’d already taken so much from her, and I was selfish enough to take away the possibility of having more kids too. In fact, there was nothing I wouldn’t take from Kayla.

  Her freedom.

  Her will.

  Her body, mind, and soul.

  Her pain.

  My dick stirred at the thought
of making her cry. No, after this fucked up day, I’d need to make her scream. Of course, I’d have to go about it carefully. Slowly. By the time I reddened her skin with my belt, her cunt would be so wet that she’d beg for those lashes.

  She’d scream for more just to relieve the ache between her thighs.

  Groaning, I adjusted my cock and imagined her lips wrapped around it. Soon. She’d take this stupid test, and we’d move past this hiccup. Nothing would keep me from owning her in every sense of the word. Not my inability to have children. Not her resistance, futile as it was.

  And most definitely not my fucking brother.

  I barely remembered driving home, but regardless of the pep talk I’d given myself in the parking lot, my doubts and fears slammed into me again, stronger than ever. Before I gave in to that pit of self-destruction, I grabbed the paper bag and went inside, shaking the rain from my hair as I did so.

  I found her pacing the length of the foyer. The instant she saw me she came to a halt, chewing on her bottom lip. Confusion and uncertainty clouded her eyes, and I wanted to beat those emotions from her until she was too weak to fight. I’d have her draped over the bed, her skin flushed with desire and pain. And her eyes…God, those eyes would darken to that deep shade I craved because when the light left them, I owned her.

  When her eyes went dark with pure want, I became the master of her universe.

  But this fucking pregnancy test stood between me and the moment of her surrender. I couldn’t look at her any longer—not with the chaos pounding inside my head. I shoved the bag into her hands and told myself to calm the fuck down.

  “You don’t want kids, do you?” she said, her voice so strained it was barely a whisper.

  “Go take the test,” I said, trying not to clench my teeth. “We’ll talk about kids another time.” Preferably after we were married and she couldn’t change her mind.

  “Why?”

  “Just drop it.”

  Coward.

  We would talk about it when I was ready, and I was far from ready to face the disappointment that would surely lance her when she found out the truth. If I’d been uncertain before, I wasn’t now. She wanted more kids. But what I found truly amazing was that she wanted them with me.

  I’d won. I had her right where I wanted her, helpless to fight me any longer. Not only did she thirst for my touch—the good and the bad—but she wanted to have my fucking children.

  Everything I didn’t say seemed to bounce off the walls. She fisted the paper bag, the silence between us screeching a warning as she headed toward the bedroom. Dread landed somewhere in my gut. I stalked her from behind, and Eve appeared from the kitchen, trailing along after me.

  The innocent following the predator following its prey.

  Except…I couldn’t make my feet enter after Kayla. There were only two outcomes that would result from that test.

  She wasn’t pregnant, and I’d force her to drop the subject of children until after she was mine, whether she liked it or not.

  Or she was pregnant…

  I couldn’t even let my mind go there.

  “Come on, Eve. Let’s give your mom some space.” I took Eve’s tiny hand in mine and led her back the way we’d come.

  “Is Mommy sick?”

  What an observant little girl. She saw too much, sensed too much. I’d have to do everything in my power to protect her. I couldn’t protect Kayla from the darkness in my soul because my demons craved her pain and submission too much.

  But I’d shield Eve the best I could.

  She would never know of the absolute depravity I’d thrust upon her mother. She’d never be wiser to the fact that her step-father was a monster. She’d never know that I’d rather keep Kayla caged for the rest of her life than set her free.

  Power was an addictive thing. For the first time in years, I felt alive, and that was all due to the way Kayla submitted even as she fought like hell to break free.

  “I sure hope not, princess.” I gestured to the living room. “But maybe I should go check on her. Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “Yes!” She pulled out one of her favorite cartoon flicks, and as the opening credits flashed across the screen, she grinned at me.

  Her smile warmed my heart, and I carried that warmth with me as I returned to the bedroom and waited for that damn bathroom door to open.

  And hoped the woman I loved wouldn’t drop a bomb on me.

  *****

  Two fucking lines. Pregnant.

  Fucking whore.

  My world was a red blur, and with each shot of whiskey I threw back, I grew a little more numb. Even so, I revolted at thinking of her as a whore.

  Even if she was.

  I remembered screaming at her. Putting my hands on her. I’d been so angry that the force of my rage had caused me to bolt before I could do something I’d regret.

  Countless shots later and I still couldn’t shake the betrayal or the vivid memories of her with Ian. With their frantic hands all over each other, and his mouth on those slutty, ravenous lips of hers. And after the door had closed behind them…

  I’d bet my billions he’d torn the clothes from her body before taking her against the wall, because he’d been that desperate to get inside her. I understood that carnal hunger better than anyone. Desperation was making me go mad now, but instead of wanting to fuck her, I only wanted to hurt her.

  Badly.

  The need was so fierce, winding around my neck like a poisonous snake that I barely tasted the alcohol I poured down my throat. The bartender placed another shot in front of me, a frown marring her appealing face. Dark brows arched over light blue eyes.

  “This makes ten.”

  I knew what she was thinking. If I were any other asshole in this shithole, she’d cut me off about now. Thankfully, the hundred dollar bills I’d laid on the counter when I first arrived were enough to keep her mouth shut. She wandered off to help another guy, and I sensed someone slide onto the barstool beside me.

  “You okay?” The question came from my right, as did the small hand that settled on my thigh. I turned and found Katherine’s come-hither eyes studying me.

  I wasn’t sure how I’d ended up at the bar we’d frequented in the weeks after Liz died. Years had passed since I’d set foot in this place.

  “How’d you know I was here?” The floor seemed to sway underneath me, and my voice sounded far off.

  “You called me. Don’t you remember?”

  Another shot appeared in front of me, and I lifted it with one brow raised. I remembered calling someone. I thought it was Kayla.

  But she didn’t have access to her cell because I didn’t allow her that privilege. A thrilling sensation traveled down my spine before hardening my cock. She only had what I gave her. What I allowed. I could go home and lock her in my basement until she begged for forgiveness.

  I saw her in my mind’s eye, naked, her belly growing bigger every day with his child. I narrowed my eyes and failed to see Katherine or the bartender or anyone else. Seeing nothing. Hearing nothing.

  There was only the rage boiling inside me, and the rooted idea of making Kayla pay. I closed my eyes and pictured her again, and this time the swell of her belly didn’t bother me so much because I had her chained to the floor with her nipples clamped.

  She hated the clamps, which made me love them even more.

  I imagined her begging me to let her go…no…she wasn’t begging. Her mouth—her gorgeous, lying mouth—was stretched around the biggest ball gag I owned. All the things she hated, forced upon her daily. I would break her down until she could see nothing but me.

  “Baby, let me take care of this for you.” The hot lips at my ear uttering sultry, sinful things didn’t belong to Kayla. And neither did the hand groping my cock through my slacks. “Mmm, I knew you still wanted me,” she said with an annoying purr.

  I let loose a scornful, drunken laugh. Kayla was the only reason my cock was rock hard and ready to fuck. Kayla and the thought o
f all the things I could do to her.

  And she’d let me.

  I had yet to break her, but I’d busted through her defenses the instant she’d opened that door in Texas and let the devil inside her home.

  Stupid, brave woman.

  God, how I loved her.

  I groaned. While my mind had been back in Texas with the woman of my obsession, Katherine had lowered my zipper and worked her hand inside my pants. Her warm fingers curled around my shaft, thumb grazing the tip. I grabbed her wrist and pushed her away.

  “There’s only one woman I want anywhere near my cock, and you’re not her.” Through bleary, drunken vision I saw her pout.

  But she wasn’t really upset. I knew Katherine well. She figured she could lure me into her bed tonight because I was obviously on the brink of a breakdown. She wasn’t far off, but she underestimated me.

  For all my faults and downright dirty traits, I was loyal. I always had been. I always would be. But people weren’t loyal to me. Fuck no. Those closest to me fucked me over without a second thought.

  Because I was nothing but an unlovable and sadistic monster dressed in an expensive suit. But it was impossible to hide the ugliness of a soul as twisted and damaged as mine. No amount of Armani could disguise such darkness.

  Maybe that’s why I let Kayla see the real me. I didn’t want to pretend with her. I wanted to unveil all the ugliness inside me and see if she’d stay. See how far I could go with her.

  But she’d betrayed me with him…and I didn’t know if I could go through that again.

  I signaled to the bartender for another shot, and Katherine made a pitying sound.

  “What did that bitch do to you?”

  I angled my head and glared at Katherine. “Now is not the time to start in on me,” I warned.

  She ran her thumb across my bottom lip. “I can make you feel better. You know I’ll let you do anything.”

  Leaning away from her touch, I picked up another shot, and as I tossed back the bitter alcohol, I considered her offer. Not the obvious play for sex, but the chance to exorcise my demons. I ached to take my belt to Kayla’s ass, grew even harder and more restless the longer I thought about it. But I couldn’t face her yet—not until I knew I could lay a finger on her and still retain control.