by Shea Swain
Reece growled and pumped faster. Her taste was almost gone from his fingers so he started to lick them greedily, wanting—needing more. He wished his face was buried between her thighs and that he was licking her sweet twat. He panted. He was close, so close…. God, he was so damn close! His head fell back and he growled as he squirted stream after stream of cum in the air. His hand continued to pump until he was drained completely.
Excerpt from Chained To Devil Son
**Unedited**
Prologue
Summer, mid 1970’s
Eve 9
The sound of the gun shot was deafening as it shattered the calm night. Aside from the piercing ringing in her ears, every sound Eve heard was muffled. She prayed that what she was witnessing was a dream. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. She had been asleep in her father’s car, heading for Montgomery, Alabama but she was wide awake now.
Eve knew she had to be dreaming because the nightmare that had just unfolded in front of her was not happening. She wasn’t sitting in her family’s car watching as the stranger who had shot her father seconds ago stood over her mother. Wide eyed with fear, her young mind tried to process how they had gotten to this point.
They’d been driving. Had been driving for a long time when her mother asked her father to stop at a motel they were approaching. Only her father hadn’t stopped. He continued driving for so long after her mother’s request that even the signs to direct them to food and fuel had grown scarce. With nothing to occupy her mind, Eve had fallen asleep. When she woke, her mother was urging her dad not to pull onto a dirt road that looked deserted but for the beat-up mailbox that sat like a beacon.
They were just going to ask for directions or maybe use the phone; at least that was what her father had said. Eve had listened quietly as her parents debated what to do; whether to knock at the rundown farmhouse door or to chance driving further away from their destination, because they were clearly lost. Her mother had spoken of her unease; having been raised in the Deep South, Pearl Jones often warned them that they needed to be ever cautious.
But Eve’s father, Harland, was a different breed. He was raised among gentler folk who were more apt to spear you with words rather than cut you with a sharp knife, or hang you with a thick rope. He believed in words and their power wholeheartedly. Harland Jones also believed that most people are sane, thinking organisms who when given the facts were reprogrammable. At least that was how her mother described the way her father thought about people, and she often reminded him when she thought Eve was out of ear shot.
Her father had won the debate and Eve had to fight a grin when she thought of the handsome smile he always flashed her mother when he won one of their debates. He had offered Eve a wink as he gracefully slid from their vehicle, and he’d climbed the cracked stairs with that same grace before knocking on the tattered screen door.
Eve could barely see the girl who had opened the door. It seemed as if she was going to allow him to use their phone but then Eve heard someone yelling from inside the house. She tensed when an angry looking man with long stringy dark hair pulled the screen door open wider and shoved the girl out of the way. Suddenly the man began yelling at her father who held up his hands in defense and spoke calmly.
Eve couldn’t make out what was being said so she rolled down her window. The word ‘nigger’ was said a number of times by the man. She had heard that word before but it didn’t have the sting it had on this man’s lips. Her father must have felt so too because instead of arguing with the crazy-eyed man, he just shook his head and turned around. He stepped down the porch stairs and towards the car while the angry man disappeared back into his house.
Eve settled back in her seat but kept her eyes on the dark house. She wanted her father to move faster. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and wanted her family to get away from this house as fast as they could. Her heart sped up as she silently willed him to run if possible. Her father hadn’t seen the angry man stepping back into the doorway with the long gun in his hands.
Eve screamed for him to turn around. She screamed for him to run but there was no time to react before the man took aim. Eve jumped at the sound of the shot and watched as her father’s chest exploded outward; and then her wide eyes followed the motion of him falling. She saw the shock on his face and the sorrow in his gaze as he locked eyes with her briefly before he hit the ground. Eve panicked, immediately seeking out her mother.
Pearl had gotten out of the car at some point. The walkway wasn’t paved and her mother was wearing heels so she hadn’t been able to maneuver over the pebbles and had fallen to her knees. Pearl crawled the rest of the way to her husband, frantically trying to stop the bleeding from his chest wound. Eve watched through teary eyes as the girl from the house came to the doorway again. She was screaming at a boy who ran past her then paused to stare at the spectacle, as the man towered over her mother with the gun still in his hands.
“Mommy!” Eve shouted. Helpless, Eve watched the man raise the gun and slam it down on her mother’s head.
Junior, age 12
Junior tried to ignore being shaken awake but it was useless because Sadie was determined. He groaned then rolled over and opened his eyes to see his sister Sadie. Though she was five years older at seventeen, she relied on him for a good deal of support. Clearly his sister needed him right now. She was crying, she looked freaked, and she was still shaking him as if he was still asleep.
“Wake up Junior. Dad…doing bad, bad,” she said as she shook him.
With a curse, Junior moved Sadie aside, slid out of bed, and pulled on his worn jeans then his socks. Sadie said a bunch of words but wasn’t making sense, her crying jumbled everything. God, his life was shit. Not because of Sadie. She was special. The doctors said retarded but to him she was just plain special and he loved her just the way she was. No, Sadie wasn’t his problem.
As Junior made his way past Sadie and out of his room he heard the tell-tale signs that his father was drunk again. The sound of the shotgun blast was a constant here at “home not so sweet” home. The neighbor’s dog was probably on their property again and his sauced father was trying to shoot the damned thing. Again. Seeing no reason to rush but wide awake now, Junior ignored Sadie’s frantic pulls and pushes as he made his way through the house.
It was only when Junior heard the screams of a woman that he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Help them,” Sadie cried as she pulled at his arm.
A second later, Junior was shoving Sadie behind him and running through the front door with no idea what awaited him. As he pushed through the open doorway he stopped to take in the scene before him.
“What have you done?” Junior yelled.
Cefus Shaw swung around with the gun aimed at his son. Junior held up his hands and took a step back.
“Pop?” Junior said softly. His father’s eyes were absent of any recognition or humanity. Junior had seen this side of his father before. He had endured many beatings that followed his father’s drinking. He had looked pleadingly into those hard, unsympathetic eyes enough in his short life to know that there would be no compassion. Would this be the night the old man ended it all for him? As it did often, Junior’s mind quickly conjured up thoughts about his sweet innocent sister.
Sadie was seventeen years old and she was the only person in this world that Junior cared about. If he took anything his father ever said to heart it was, ‘Blood boy’; the old coot would say ‘it’s all you got in this world.’
“Pop,” Junior said again.
As if jarred awake, Cefus lowered the shotgun a few inches, now aiming at Junior’s chest instead of his head. Recognition flashed in Cefus’ stormy glazed-over eyes before he blinked. “What the hell you doing sneaking up on me boy?” Cefus hissed before turning back around. With his father’s focus away from him, Junior took a calming breath then looked around.
A woman was lying beside a man who had a huge bloody hole in his chest. Junior immediately
felt pain and empathy slam into him for the strangers. Cefus done did it now, he thought as he took a measured step closer. Junior was turning his gaze on Cefus when he saw her out the corner of his eye.
In a station wagon that had one of those wheeled storage moving containers attached to it was a girl. Her face was streaked with tears. Her eyes were pinned on the man and woman lying beside each other. Her mouth was wide as her screams filled the night. He had not heard her until now.
How did I not I hear her?
Junior moved; later he would wonder what propelled him to do it but there was no time to dissect his actions now. He didn’t think as he ran down the broken walk as fast as he could, blocking Cefus’ view and the barrel of the shotgun that he aimed at the car window where the girl sat.
“Get the fuck out of the way boy, fore I fill you with lead.” The words were slow but not slurred. That bastard wasn’t as drunk as Junior originally thought. His father was a hell of a shot which explained why he actually was able to hit that man dead center in the first place.
“You need to think right now Pop,” Junior said. He shook his head when he noticed Sadie coming out of the front door. Sadie understood and quickly retreated back inside. “If you shoot that shotgun one more time the Wilsons will have Sheriff Gifford out here again. How you gone explain this?” Junior motioned to the dead man. He’d only heard one shot so he assumed the woman may still be alive. “These aren’t dogs Pop.”
“The hell they ain’t,” Cefus said, motioning with the barrel for Junior to move out of the way. “Niggers and dogs are one and the same. Now move your ass boy.”
“Sheriff Gifford won’t be able to sweep this under his hat if you harm the girl. She’s not a man Pop. They won’t see her as a threat like they might the adults.” Junior realized the girl had gone silent but he couldn’t check on her just yet. He was trying to reason with a man of many faces and both their lives were on the line. The drunk, the punisher, the racist, on rare occasions the apologetic father, and now the murderer, was staring at Junior as if he were a stranger.
Junior heard the gun cock. Will he really shoot me? The thought to appeal to the father in Cefus, the father he had never been, popped in Junior’s head. “I’m your son, your blood.” Cefus actually grinned and that grin said none of that mattered. “You said that’s all we got is each other.”
That got Cefus to slowly lower the shotgun with a sigh. He stood there with his eyes on the girl in the car then looked down at the woman lying at his feet. Cefus seemed to be thinking then his eyes lit up. Junior’s stomach churned because that look was one of his father’s scariest; and by the way Cefus was peering down at the woman’s thighs, exposed by the rising hem of the dress she wore…
Junior could almost see the cogs in Cefus’ depraved head turning. It was then that Junior realized that he should have let Cefus kill the woman and the terrified girl. That would have been more humane because now he and Sadie weren’t the only prisoners of Cefus Shaw.
Skilled
by S. Reynolds
He’s Armed…But She’s Dangerous Chloe Justice grew up on American soil and in Old World China. When she witnesses her best friend’s murder, her life takes a drastic turn. Chloe dedicates her life to tracking her friend’s killer, and honing her own skills. Detective Damon Delandre’ is having zero luck closing the homicide cases crossing his desk. When he unexpectedly stumbles upon the first and only piece of evidence in one of his cases, his ethics and heart are at odds. Due to language and sexual content, this book is intended for ages 18+.
SKILLED: BOOK 1
Shea is “the girl next door” that you would love to be friends with. She enjoys meeting people and chatting. The East Coast native is a romantic to her core so it’s no great surprise that Shea reads and watches anything with a love story. Shea released her first work, a novella, Lascivious in September of 2014 with impressive reviews.
Her favorite authors include Anne Rice, Stephen King, Sherrilyn Kenyon, J.R Ward, Heather Killough-Walden, Kressley Cole, and so many more. She loves to debate and is a fan of brainteasers, crossword puzzles, and is addicted to The Sims games. Shea also loves music and has mentioned that she writes better when she has internet radio playing as white noise in the background.
This new and exciting Indie author loves to travel, read, knows tons of useless facts, and is a self proclaimed movie geek. She writes Adult Romance with the sub-genres of New Adult, Erotic, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, and Contemporary. Come…Taste A Sample.
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