The Devil's Kiss Series Boxed Set

by Gemma James

  Katherine was a safe outlet for my anger. Kayla was dangerous. Going near her right now might make me shatter. Might make me do something I’d regret. Something I couldn’t come back from. I threw two more hundred dollar bills onto the counter before taking Katherine’s hand.

  “Get your ass off that stool.”

  She hopped down with ease, and I yanked her behind me through the crowd. It didn’t take much force to get her to move, which only pissed me off. Fuck, I hungered for a real fight. I wanted fear and pleas and cries. I wanted soft and supple flesh turning beautifully red by my hand.

  At the thought of his child growing inside Kayla’s belly, I needed fucking blood.

  Cold air and rain blasted us as we left the bar. I ushered Katherine to my car and immediately bent her over the hood, jerked her arms behind her, and pushed her skirt up to reveal a black thong. Goose bumps broke out on her skin.

  “You know how I feel about underwear.”

  “I forgot to take them off.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid? You did it on purpose.”

  This woman lived to make me angry. She promised submission but never fully gave it. She liked to play with my head as much I loved to play with Kayla’s.

  I yanked her panties down to her knees, then made her spread her legs as far as the stretchy fabric would allow.

  “Anything I want, right?” But she must have missed my sarcastic tone because her voice lowered, breathless with lust and anticipation.

  “Anything, Mr. Channing.”

  The darkness of the night offered us cover, as did the shitty lighting in the parking lot. The sky continued its lazy drizzle, keeping most people inside. I could beat her out here, and no one would notice.

  I could fuck her.

  She was hoping I would.

  I stepped back, and after a few moments, she yanked her thong up her thighs and turned to face me with an expression somewhere between confusion and mounting anger.

  “What’s the matter?”

  I pointed to the ground. “Get on your fucking knees and beg for my belt.”

  She clenched her teeth. Narrowed her eyes. But her hesitation was short-lived because she couldn’t let go of the hope that I’d give her what she wanted. She lowered before me and stood on her knees. No doubt the pavement dug into her skin, and I had to give her credit for not complaining. She clasped her hands behind her the way she knew I liked and glanced up at me.

  “Beg,” I snapped.

  “Please, Mr. Channing. You can hit me as long as you like. You can hurt me all you want if you’ll just fuck me.”

  If she were Kayla—if she were truly my slave—she would know how to beg properly. She would know exactly what to say and do. She wouldn’t insult me by trying to top from the bottom.

  But she wasn’t Kayla, and she never would be.

  “Anything I want?”

  “Yes, Mr. Channing.” But her lips twitched just enough to clue me in on the triumph she was trying to hide.

  “I want her.” I turned to leave, but not before I noticed the dark fury shadowing Katherine’s face. She shouted her outrage at my back as I headed toward the bar to call a cab.

  I ignored her.

  Only Kayla mattered, even if she had poisoned my mind and wrapped her treacherous hands around my heart. Making Katherine cry from pain wouldn’t satisfy me. It had to be Kayla. I needed to make her pay for what she’d done.

  And then I needed to let her go because keeping her hurt too fucking much.

  The Devil's Wife - Deleted Scene

  Gage put a spin on popcorn and movie night. We spent the evening with Eve, like we normally did, and watched a movie she’d been wanting to see for weeks. But afterward, he insisted on tucking her in early.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, eyeing him with suspicion. We were in our bedroom, and I sat at the end of the bed while he changed into jeans and a T-shirt.

  He never wore such casual clothes, so I ate up the sight of him. Pure lust flared between my legs, and I wished like hell he wasn’t holding orgasm denial over my head for the duration of the week. I crossed my legs and pressed them together, willing the ache into non-existence.

  No orgasms until our anniversary.

  I wasn’t liking this plan very much.

  He sat on the bench next to our closet and began lacing up a pair of sneakers. “I called Amanda. She’ll be here in twenty minutes, so go freshen up. I’m taking you out.”

  Amanda was the teenage sister of one of Eve’s classmates. We used her on occasion as a sitter.

  “But it’s a school night,” I said.

  “We won’t be later than midnight. She’s fine with it.”

  “What about her parents?”

  He raised a brow. “Kayla, relax. She’s going to be up late studying tonight anyway.”

  Deciding not to push the issue, I followed his lead and began readying for our night out. I couldn’t begin to guess at what he was up to, and the fact that he was tight-lipped long after the sitter arrived, and we headed out the door, didn’t give me a clue.

  He parked the car, rounded the hood, and opened my door. A freezing mist settled over us as we walked down the calm streets of downtown Portland.

  “Where are we going?”

  Instead of answering, he squeezed my hand and slowed his pace in front of a movie theater that was small and on the verge of vintage. This was most definitely not Gage’s usual choice for a date.

  “We’re seeing a movie here?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I gazed at the posters. Independent mostly, but not a bad selection of horror, drama, and even a bit of romance. As Gage took my hand and pulled me to the box office, I gave him a sideways glance. We’d never gone to the movies. It wasn’t that we were above watching flicks or TV shows because we did so at home often, but when Gage took me out, it was generally on extravagant dates that cost more than what I used to make in a month when I worked as his personal assistant.

  “Which one are we seeing?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  I was stewing over his answer, and trying to decipher it, when he slid his credit card underneath the glass that separated us from the teller. “Two tickets for the next available R-rated movie, please.”

  The young woman behind the glass, her lips smacking together as she chewed gum, studied him. Her dark brows furrowed. “Any movie?”

  He nodded. “As long as it’s rated R.”

  She had a you’re-crazy-and-I’m-mystified look on her face, but she slid the tickets toward Gage’s waiting hand. “Enjoy the show.”

  Five minutes later, we were seated in the very back of the theater between a small group of guys, and a couple that had already settled into cuddle mode.

  Gage lifted the armrest separating us, and as the trailers for upcoming movies began, he placed his hand on my thigh.

  I licked my lips, my breath hitching as nervous excitement zinged through me. As he inched his fingers under my skirt, up the smooth expanse of thigh, I tried not to think about the people on either side of us, just a few seats away. I told myself they were too busy watching the big screen or whispering amongst themselves.

  Gage leaned down and brought his lips to my ear. “Spread your legs,” he whispered.

  My whole body trembled. Now I understood his request for an R-rated movie. Most theaters didn’t allow young children in after 6 p.m.

  I looked left then right without moving my head. “Gage, I don’t think—”

  His fingers dug into my inner thigh, and I involuntarily parted my legs. “What you think is not important right now.” He nipped my earlobe and tugged before letting go. “Give your Master access to your beautiful cunt.”

  Blinking, shaking, I stared unseeing at the gorgeous raven-haired actress on the screen as I opened for his questing fingers. He dipped between my slit and buried three fingers inside me. My head fell back against the seat, my mouth parting in sweet agony because I knew he wasn’t going to go beyond
teasing.

  Not until the night of our anniversary. This was to become an annual week of torture. I wasn’t against the idea because abstaining sure did heighten everything.

  Every touch. Every sigh. Each breath on my skin.

  He slowly withdrew his fingers then burrowed deep again.

  “Oh God. Gage…” His name was little more than a breathy whisper, an unequivocal plea for more.

  “Wrong,” he said, flicking my clit with his thumb. “Who am I, Kayla?”

  “Master, please.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Take me home. I need you inside of me.”

  He buried his nose in the crook of my shoulder and breathed me in. “I need inside of you too, baby.” He hooked his fingers, making me bite my lip to keep quiet. “Inside this tight, hot place that I own. My cock is about to explode just from touching you.”

  “Then take me home. Please.”

  “Just think how earth shattering it’ll be when I do fuck you.”

  That was the problem. I thought about it too much, missed it too much. It had taken every last bit of my self-control these past few days not to masturbate while he was at work.

  But it wouldn’t be enough. I needed him. I’d always need him.

  The lights dimmed, the movie started, and Gage slipped his fingers from my pussy. He licked the taste of me from his skin, then his hands lowered to the button on his jeans.

  “What are you doing?”

  He spread his legs and pulled down the zipper. “What do you think I’m doing? You’re going to get on your knees and suck me to the edge.”

  “No,” I said in a fierce whisper, my gaze darting to the people around us. They hadn’t noticed Gage’s tease underneath my skirt, but what he wanted me to do would be more than noticeable—way beyond riding his cock in a booth obscured by a curtain.

  I sprang up from my seat, cheeks flushing as sweat bathed my temples, and made my way past the couple on our left. I was almost to the door of the theater when Gage caught up to me. He gripped my shoulder and pushed me against the wall with enough force to tell me I’d crossed a line.

  “You don’t get to tell me no.” He held my chin in his hand, forcing my gaze. “Beg to suck your Master’s cock.”

  “I don’t want to do this here. Please, Master.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  The question caught me off guard. After a year of marriage, I guess I’d have to say I did. I tried to nod, but his stern grip wouldn’t allow it.

  “Yes, Master. I trust you.”

  “Then beg me, Kayla. Beg me to take you back to our seats so we can finish what we started.”

  I wanted to tell him no fucking way. Wanted to dislodge his hold on me and run from the theater.

  But there would be no running. No defiant show of independence. The hard glint in his eyes told me he knew exactly where he had me—ensnared in his will, his way.

  “Please, Master.”

  “Please, what? You need to be specific, Kayla. What exactly are you begging for?”

  Insufferable, pig-headed man!

  “Please take me back to our seats.”

  “And why should I do that?”

  I would have glanced at the front of his pants if his hand would have allowed it. Instead, I licked my lips out of pure nervousness. “Please take me back so I can suck your cock, Master.”

  Slowly, he let go of my chin, and I gulped as he led me back to our spot at the top. As we climbed the stairs, I worried that everyone was gawking at us, that they already knew what we were up to, but the other movie-goers paid us no attention when we reclaimed our seats.

  Gage wasted no time. He unbuttoned his pants again and spread his legs wide as he exposed his hard-on. “To the edge, Kayla.”

  I cast a panicked look in the vicinity of where we sat. There was no way we’d go unnoticed.

  No fucking way.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I’m your Master. All you need to worry about is satisfying me.” He gave a pointed nod toward the floor.

  I couldn’t stop trembling as I dropped to my knees. I leaned forward, and my hair offered a curtain of privacy as I slid my lips onto his cock. I swirled my tongue around the head three times before I grabbed the base with a hand and drew him deep.

  My pulse assaulted my ears, and my mind screamed at me to focus only on him. Not the thumping bass of the song playing from the speakers. Not the rat-tat-tat of gunfire that followed the music. Tires screeched, voices shouted, and despite the movie’s action sequence that would no doubt have most audiences riveted, I feared we were putting on the real show.

  Don’t think of them.

  Only of my Master’s wet cock slipping in and out of my mouth. Only of the low groans that emanated from his throat every time I sucked the tip between my tonsils and gagged. Only of the rigid set of his thigh as I held on for traction.

  But the outraged whispering distracted me, made me tense, and I sucked harder than I meant to.

  “Kayla,” he groaned, yanking me off his cock with a swift pull of my hair. Our breaths came fast and noisy, yet over the thundering beat of adrenaline soaring through my veins, I detected movement.

  Angry words.

  What nerve.

  Get a fucking room already.

  Damn, girl. Want a taste of my dick too?

  Laughter.

  Close to tears, I pushed to my feet. Gage shoved his erection back into his pants, zipped up, and then he was pulling me toward the end of the aisle, past the couple whose incredulous expression caused the first mortified tear to slip free. My face was bathed in them by the time we rushed from the theater. Unmindful of the rain pounding the ground, Gage hurried me down the sidewalk toward where we’d parked.

  I’d never been so grateful for rain, as the drops hid my tears. Hid my shame.

  We rounded a corner and Gage pulled me onto the stoop of a closed boutique, its windows dark and vacant. He shoved me against the cold cement wall, then his fingers were lost in my hair, and the sounds of our breaths lost to the traffic on the street. He leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes for a few seconds, lips a mere inch from mine.

  Even in downtown Portland, with people coming and going from the nearby bars, hurrying to their cars as the city glittered all around us, I’d never felt so sheltered. On this stoop, with our hearts beating madly, we had found our own piece of the world, if only for a few moments.

  “Tell me that wasn’t a huge turn-on, Kayla.”

  I couldn’t, because despite the mortification of going down on him in public, there had been something obscenely hot about it.

  Undeniably arousing.

  “Kiss me,” I breathed against his mouth. It was the only answer I could give.

  He held my face between two strong, shaking hands and plunged his tongue past my lips, battling for domination. And he won like he always did. His kiss was long and hard and insistent, melting me from the inside out, making my legs quake and buckle. I gripped the front of his jacket to keep from sinking to his feet.

  Sinking to where I belonged.

  I tore away with a gasp. “Gage—”

  “Master,” he corrected before reeling me into his inherent madness with another slow slide of his tongue.

  Seconds passed, or maybe it was minutes, but the taste of him devastated me more forcefully than the most unexpected of storms.

  He ground his erection into my stomach, again and again, and I wasn’t sure he realized he was almost fucking me with our clothes on.

  “Master, take me home. Please.”

  Please give me what I need.

  He pulled away and stole a few seconds to catch his breath and adjust himself. Then he grinned at me.

  The oh-shit-this-isn’t-good kind of grin.

  “How about I take you home and take my belt to your ass for tempting me so much?”

  Shooting him a challenging look, I untangled myself from his arms and darted into the rain, making him give
chase. “You’ll have to catch me first!”

  We both laughed like lunatics, feet splashing through the puddles.

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

  She was singing. Jesus, I’d never heard such an exquisite sound, even if she was slightly off-key. Grace didn’t seem to mind, and I couldn’t blame her. She snuggled into Kayla’s arms, warm and safe and loved as she nursed.

  I loved watching Kayla feed our daughter. I would never have thought it possible to think of her breasts in a non-sexual way, but everything had shifted since Grace was born. For the most part, I welcomed the changes.

  The sleepless nights, diaper changes, and pacing for hours while holding her because the movement calmed her during fussy times. I lived for every moment, especially ones like these when I loitered in the shadows and watched Kayla with our daughter.

  We’d bonded in new ways since the birth of Grace. For six weeks we’d abstained from sex while she healed after childbirth. Instead of rules, rituals, and punishments, we’d navigated the bumpy road of taking care of a newborn. But then the doctor had given Kayla the go-ahead for sexual intercourse, and I’d jumped on her the first chance I got. I fucked her nightly, regardless of how tired she was.

  Fuck, regardless of how exhausted I was too.

  Nothing would keep me from getting inside my wife’s body. But it wasn’t enough anymore. After three months, it was time to give our relationship some much-needed attention. Kayla didn’t know it yet, but we had a date tonight in the circle. Holy fuck, I couldn’t wait to get her on her knees and at my mercy again. It had been too long.

  I craved her submission like a junkie craved his next fix. I needed her bent over, begging and crying and pleading for me to fuck her as I lit her ass on fire with my belt. I only needed a night. I wasn’t heartless. She wasn’t ready for full-on slave duties yet. But Jesus, I needed a night.

  Tonight was that night. Tonight I’d lay her out and make her body turn boneless. I’d coax her tears, moans, and screeches by playing with her tight asshole.