by Charles, Eva
I glance around the room. It’s fucking hot in here. I yank my shirt over my head and kick off my shoes formulating a plan.
It’s been a long time since I was last inside this room, and although the equipment has been upgraded, it’s essentially the same, except for the smell of the orange oil Gray orders by the case to polish the wood. I unzip my pants to free my cock. It’s heavy, jutting straight out. I grip it firmly and yank roughly a few times as I go to the drawers.
I pull a couple of plugs out of one drawer and some lube out of another. I open several more drawers before something catches my eye. A wand. The kind with a power cord attached. The kind that will rip orgasm after orgasm from her sweaty, shaking body until she’s wrung dry. I take out the wand and grab a wooden paddle from a hook on the wall.
I leave most of my bounty on a shelf under the stainless table, before going back to my beautiful wife, to dangle the wooden paddle in front of her face. “Kiss it,” I command, bringing it to her lips. “It’s going to hurt so good, Elle. You’re going to want to rub your legs together, but I’m not going to let you do that. Only I get to make that sweet little pussy happy today.” She moans and her ass sways. “Don’t hold back. That’s what you want. That’s what you’ll get.”
“Yes,” she whimpers. The word is barely out of her mouth when the paddle connects with her bare ass. “Julian,” she gasps. I slide my fingers into her pussy, my pussy, stroking the wet flesh.
“You like this, don’t you?” She can barely move her head, but she manages some semblance of a nod. “You are a such a filthy little slut.” I bring down the paddle again, and again, while my fingers stroke her slick flesh. Each time the wood connects with her skin, I strum her clit hard, just the way she loves. I want her silently begging for the strike of the paddle, craving the pleasure that comes with the pain.
When she’s at the edge, I toss the paddle aside and free her. My hands are shaking with need. It’s difficult for her to stand upright at first. I steady her, watching carefully. Her eyes are dark and smoldering. Her skin is flushed with arousal. My cock aches.
I guide her roughly to the stainless-steel table and lift her onto it. “You need to lie down.”
“Ahhh!” she cries when her ass touches the steel. “It’s so cold.”
“Shhh. Not a word from you.” I lean closer, so close my lips graze her temple. “Or I’ll give you something to complain about. Lie on your back.” She grimaces from the cold, but presses her lips together.
I move behind her and pull her arms up overhead, strapping her wrists to the table. She swallows hard while she watches me slide the stirrups out from beneath the table. I bind each of her feet into a stirrup, and push them apart until she’s spread wide for me. “Don’t hold back,” I mock. “I don’t intend to hold a damn thing back.” I drop the bottom of the table to allow me to stand between her legs. It’s unexpected, and she quakes. But I don’t sooth her, instead, I lower my head between her legs and lick her sweet cunt a few times. But it’s not enough. She needs more. I know just what she needs.
“Close your eyes,” I command. “Don’t open them until I tell you.” She immediately obeys. I squirt some lube and massage it into her tightest hole, while she shivers from the icy sensation. “Push out, like a good girl.” I work one finger inside her ass, until she relaxes enough to take a second, all the while licking her clit, just enough to keep her at the edge. When she begins squirming into my hand, I replace my fingers with a plug. It stretches her wider. I wiggle it inside her, imagining her tight sphincter squeezing my cock. “Open your eyes,” I murmur, leaning over her body to place a gentle kiss on her mouth. I smooth her hair back. Her eyes are glazed. A light sheen coats her body. She needs it bad. “You want to come darlin’. You ready?”
She nods and a small whimper escapes her lips.
“Beg for it.”
“I need to come. Please. Please let me come.”
I pull the wand from the shelf under the table and lay it on her belly while I plug it in. “It’s attached to a cord,” I tell her, as though she can’t see for herself. “Toys run by electricity—are not at all like toys run by batteries. And this toy is really special.” She’s trying to squeeze her thighs together, but she can’t. Her lids are heavy and they fall shut in defeat.
“Open your eyes,” I say, turning on the wand. First I touch the round knob at the end to her lips and tongue, and then to each of her nipples, before the whir gets louder. I glide it up and down her inner thighs, each sweep getting closer to her pussy. Her head is beginning to thrash from side to side. My cock is throbbing.
Without warning, I hold the wand against her clit for several seconds. The orgasm almost comes, but I pull it away and slap my fingers against her pussy several times. Her eyes are wide. She’s stunned. Her legs are shaking. “Just keeping the blood moving. The wand will numb you too quickly. We don’t want that, do we?”
“No,” she mumbles, mostly to herself. “No, we don’t want that.”
I bring the tip back between her legs, rolling it slowly over her hard clit. She arches her back. “Julian!” she cries. I hold the wand firmly while she screams and thrashes. While she fights the restraints and begs for mercy. The orgasm tears through her trembling body, but I don’t stop. Instead, I slap her swollen cunt and bring the wand back to her clit, again and again, until she’s babbling nonsense. Until she’s dropped into subspace. Until I’m satisfied she can take no more.
I yank off my pants, kick them aside, and stand between her legs. My cock is thick and angry, the dark head dripping cum. I’m so aroused I can barely think straight. “Safeword,” I pant. “Use your safeword if you need to.” I slam into her, spreading the enflamed flesh as I burrow deeply. The fit is tight, and when I’m fully seated, I take a breath and twist the plug in her ass. She moans loudly. Her inner walls grip and pulse around my cock. She’s climbing again, but I’ve been to the edge a few times, and I don’t think I can hold back until she gets there.
I reach behind me and unbind her ankles, one at a time, rubbing each before I hook it around my hips. My balls are high and tight. I can’t see anything. I have one focus.
“Julian, Julian.” I hear her repeat, again and again, with every breath.
My fingers dig into her thighs, holding her captive, while I fuck her hard and deep. Can’t. hold. back. I grab the wand and bring it between us, letting the powerful vibrations lick her clit, right above where I fill her. She screams loud and long, arching off the table. Her heels digging into my ass. My orgasm comes barreling out. The roar of release bouncing off the stone.
Minutes later, I’m still sucking in air. Jesus Christ.
She groans deeply when I withdraw my cock. My legs are jelly.
I unbind her wrists and rub them vigorously, before placing soft kisses on her face. Her lashes tickle my cheeks. “I’m not done yet. But I’m going to give you a little rest before we move onto another piece of furniture.”
She moans. No more. “I can’t.”
“You can and you will, darlin’. You just need a few minutes to rest.” And so do I. Her eyes flutter closed. And I know, right then, I know when I leave here today, the only memories I’ll have of this place will be of her. Her beautiful face. Her soft skin. Her sweet, musky scent. The screams of pleasure as her tight wet pussy pulses around my cock. It’ll all be her.
I brush a curl off her face. “Why did you choose this room, Elle?”
Her lips move, but it takes a few seconds before the sound comes. It’s as though she’s having trouble forming the words. “Light shines brightest in the dark.”
The words slice through my chest, grab my heart and squeeze, as I climb onto the table and pull her against me. My eyes are wet when I bury my face in her hair. “I love you, Elle. Always have. Always will.”
Epilogue Part II: Julian
I still read to Zack every night. But first, I have a standing date with a sweet little angel who loves to fall asleep in her daddy’s lap, enjoying a bottl
e while he reads her a story and passes along sage advice.
When we learned we were having a daughter, we went through dozens of names to come up with just the right one. Gabrielle wanted to name her Julia after my mother, or Sera, or Georgina. All perfectly nice names. But I didn’t want our little girl to be burdened with the past. I wanted her to have her own name. Something that hadn’t been tainted with sorrow to weigh down her soul.
We both loved the name Grace. It’s beautiful and simple. It means “blessing from God.” I wasn’t sure about that part until I held her for the first time. Any man who cradles his baby in his arms can come to believe in a merciful God. Even a sinner like me can be delivered.
“Miss Gracie, before I put you in your crib for the night we need to have the talk, again. I saw you today all over that little boy Chi—who calls their son Chi? I’ll tell you who, hipsters. People who live in places like Austin and Boston, San Francisco and the like. Those are not our people.
“You can’t be crawling all over boys. Boys don’t need that kind of encouragement. And they are not your friends. Don’t ever buy that crap. They are simple creatures, like dogs, and all you need to remember about them is one thing: If they have a dick, they are a dick. That’s it.” I brush a dark curl off her forehead, and take the bottle without waking her. “Don’t tell your mama I said that. We have different ideas about raising daughters. And hers are just plain wrong.”
Grace looks more and more like Gabrielle every day. And when she sticks out that bottom lip and shrieks, “No!,” I can’t tell them apart. I am so screwed.
“Let’s get you into bed.” I lay Grace on her back and press my lips gently to her head. “I love you, little one. I only want the best for you. I want you to be healthy and happy and well-loved—and safe—the rest is chicken shit.”
I cover my daughter with a light blanket her grandmother crocheted for her and turn on the mobile near the crib. Then take one last peek before I leave. You’re beautiful with those long dark lashes, just like your mama’s. Damn. It might be time to start investing in Mexican jails. I hear they’re the future.
Every day I wake up and try to be a better man. I do it for Grace, and for her mama. But if anyone ever tries to harm even a single hair on either of their heads, all bets are off.
No one will hurt you, angel. Not on my watch.
Afterword
If you enjoyed Delivered, I would be so grateful if you would consider leaving a short review on Amazon or goodreads so that others can find it too. Thank you!
What’s next from Charleston?
She’s a sultry red-head from Boston. A reporter who arrives in town to do a feature story on Zack Wilder. While she’s snooping around, she discovers that Charleston has a sordid history with secret societies and gentlemen’s clubs. Her investigation leads her to the doorstep of Wildflower, where she butts heads with the hot-as-sin Smith Sinclair.
Coming Summer of 2019
To stay on top of all the Charleston news, subscribe to my monthly newsletter: www.thedevilsduet.com
Need a little group therapy now that you’ve read Delivered? More JD? I have just the place for you! Join me in JD’s Closet on Facebook for exclusive teasers, juicy tidbits, and special treats. https://www.facebook.com/groups/748697885495302/
A Final Note from Eva
Depraved and Delivered, like all my books, were written purely for your entertainment. Although, I always like to share a tidbit or two that I learned while researching. We all know now that the Statue of John C. Calhoun sits in Marion Square, The Citadel, with its flag tower is located in Charleston, and 167 Raw serves kick-ass seafood. On a more serious note, we are also reminded that some children are particularly vulnerable to predators.
Before I started writing books, I worked with survivors of domestic violence and child abuse and neglect, both as a social worker and as an attorney. I learned many things over my career, two of which I’ll share with you here. First, one caring adult can make all the difference in the life of a child. It’s true, I witnessed it countless times. And second, victims of domestic violence and childhood abuse, can rewrite their own life stories. I won’t pretend it’s easy, but it absolutely can be done. Everybody deserves a happy ending. Especially you.
If you don’t know where to begin:
The National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-422-4453
Acknowledgments
Writing a book is always a huge endeavor with lots of ups and downs, but writing The Devil’s Duet was particularly daunting. It was loads of fun, but it was also hard at times, and there was a lot of internal strife. I often worried that I’d bitten off more than I could chew. Fortunately, I had a ton of love and support along the way, much more than I deserve.
I am blessed, and I don’t say that lightly, to have so many wonderful people in my corner. I will be forever grateful for your kindness, generosity, and support. Thank you to everyone who helped breathe life into J.D. and Gabrielle’s story!
A huge thank you and a big hug to Veronica Adams of L. Woods PR., The Devil’s Duet wouldn’t exist without your initial nudge and ongoing encouragement. You have helped me grow in ways that still amaze me. And that voodoo magic with the ghost links? I bow to you, woman!
A very big thank you to Dawn Alexander of Evident Ink, who provided content editing. Although content editing doesn’t begin to describe everything you did to whip me into shape. Your input, and those pesky thought bubbles I see in my sleep, brought the characters to life. But more, I thank you for all your time and good humor as you guided me through the process.
To Nancy Smay of Evident Ink, who edited both manuscripts. First, your attention to detail, big and small, made the duet shine. Second, I hope you know you’re stuck with me forever. I’ll camp on your doorstep if necessary.
Thank you to Lisa LaPaglia of Evident Ink for your careful proofreading, and insight. Wet eyes, is that enough crying? Every author needs someone like you in her life.
A heartfelt thank you to Virginia Carey who I trust to be the very last set of eyes on my books before release. Your eagle eye during the final proofread always catches the little things, and the big ones, that no one else does. When you say a manuscript is ready for publication, it is. More, I cherish your support and friendship.
A colossal thank you to Letitia Hasser of RBA Designs, who perfectly captured JD and Gabrielle on her gorgeous covers. I recently heard someone refer to you as a Cover Goddess. I completely agree. And thank you to Wander Aguiar who shot the amazing photographs, and to the very sweet Zack Salaun and the lovely Adrea, for being the perfect JD and Gabrielle.
A big thank you hug to Michelle Rodriquez, secret keeper extraordinaire, who read the first draft of Depraved and gave J.D. the thumbs up for being just the right amount of a**hole! Your experience in these matters is unparalleled. Thank you for all your support and friendship, Wonder Woman.
Thank you to L. Woods PR, Enticing Journey, Give Me Books, and RRR Promotion. You are highly organized, wonderful to work with, and just plain amazing.
I don’t even know how to begin to thank the bloggers who have gave Depraved so much love. Gahhh!!! I appreciate your generosity, and your willingness to take a chance on an author who was dipping her toes into the dark for the first time. Eva who? I’m keenly aware that despite your professionalism, you are not paid for your time. I will always be grateful for everything you did to help launch The Devil’s Duet.
To the readers, my New American Royals’ readers who followed me into the shadows, and to all the new readers who found me through Depraved, a big, big heartfelt thank-you for reading my dirty little story, telling friends about it, leaving a review, or contacting me with kind words. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I’m truly humbled by your generous spirit and support. I don’t deserve it, but I’m gobbling it all up anyway. My heart is full.
To the AMAZING women who hang-out with me in JD’s Closet. I can’t
begin to express how much I appreciate your endless support. You were there when I was still holding my breath about Depraved, offering encouragement and propping me up. The best part about publishing a book is the wonderful people you meet along the way. I send you all the love. I hope this is just the beginning for us!
To the Drunk Divas, Danielle, Haylee, Jill, Mia, Michelle, Sienna, and Sonnie, a girl couldn’t ask for more fiercely loyal friends, or a better girl gang. I can’t believe I’ve lived this long without you crazies in my life! Find your tribe. Love them hard.
Andy, there really are no words to thank you for supporting everything I do, always—even when it means everyone you work with will now know I have a kinky imagination and a potty mouth. You are the love of my life. There’s no one I’d rather spend forever with—not even JD or Smith.
About the Author
After being a confirmed city-girl for more than thirty-five years, Eva moved to beautiful Western Massachusetts in 2014. There, she found herself living in the woods with no job, no friends (unless you count the turkey, deer, and coyote roaming the backyard), and no children underfoot, wondering what on earth she’d been thinking. But as it turned out, it was the perfect setting to take all those yarns spinning in her head and weave them into romantic tales.
When she’s not writing, trying to squeeze information out of her tight-lipped sons, or playing with the two cutest dogs you’ve ever seen, Eva’s creating chapters in her own love story.
Eva loves to hear from her readers!
evacharles.com
[email protected]