1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise

by Devil's Pact (lit)

  “Oh, yes.” He groaned roughly into the base of her neck, kissing and licking the skin. His cock throbbed against her sensitive tissue. She gasped when his fingers fondled the silken curls over her mound. “Oh, God, how I’ve missed you,” he struggled to speak, his fingers lowering to the slick crack. Her thick, creamy essence coated his fingers, which teased the outer folds of her pussy.

  She whimpered, fighting the urge to push against his hand. She lost. Her aching pussy, drenched with anticipation, wanted him there. Her hips shifted upward, sliding his fingers along the swollen folds, closer to the waiting entrance.

  Something that sounded like rough words or a primitive groan escaped his throat. He buried his head against her neck and suckled on the responsive tendons. Excitement flared inside her. He recalled that always made her nipples pucker. Her breasts ached for his mouth. She grew dazed when he parted the female folds, and a thumb circled her engorged clit. Megan arched, moaning and thrusting against his hand. Her juices coated his fingers even more, and her cunt throbbed at his intimate touch. She felt him trace the outline of her channel, probing, preparing for entry.

  His breath was hot against the sensitized skin on her neck. Wildly wicked sensations ripped through her body, pulsating from her wet channel to her swollen breasts and hard nipples that ached for his touch. Megan gasped at the wondrous melting sensation of his finger nudging her entrance. He teased and tempted her beyond reason, a trace inside sanity.

  That was all she needed.

  One last flicker of sensibility reminded her she loved Caleb too much to put him in danger. Despite how it would hurt and disappoint him, not to mention confuse him. She had to put a stop to what was happening. The madness.

  “No,” she shouted with a strangled breath, easily pushing him away in stunned bewilderment. She hopped off the counter quickly and hurried across the room on wobbly legs. She stood on the other side of the table, trembling, desperate to put as much distance between them as the room afforded. “No, Caleb, we can’t.”

  “Megan,” he pleaded, sounding both shocked and confused, the fiery arousal still burning bright in his eyes. “Why the hell not? It’s not like it’s the first time I ever touched you.”

  The hurt clouded her gaze. This was Caleb—sweet, gentle Caleb asking her to do the unthinkable.

  “I’m married. Don’t you understand?” she cried out.

  “In name only.” The exasperation showed clearly on his face, frustration heating his voice.

  “As long as Reed’s alive, I won’t be unfaithful.”

  “Meg, please, I’m begging you. The man’s been holding on for months. Look at me.” He gestured at the huge bulge tenting his finely tailored trousers. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

  This was quite different from the last time she saw Caleb naked. Her eyes gaped downward at the impressive sight. The memory of Devin’s enormous cock pointing straight at her in the darkness, tempting her, calling to her and promising her unimaginable pleasure, flooded her mind. The tip of her pink tongue licked her lips; every nerve ending in her body trembled with awareness, raged with unmet need.

  “I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes.” He started to move across the room.

  “Stop, Caleb, please.” She held out a staying hand, her breathing erratic to the point that she sounded they way she felt—weak. “It doesn’t matter what I want. As long as my husband lives, I’ll not bed another man.”

  Dear God, she surmised what she and Devin did out in the woods wasn’t technically considered adultery if he failed to enter her completely. The thought made her pulse race and her wanton vagina moisten and throb in response. Oh, sweet mercy, she was going to burn in hell for her sinful ways.

  “Lest you forget the pleasure we can give one another without fornication.”

  “Caleb!” The memories came flooding back. She burned with mortification.

  “Very well, Megan, I’ll wait for you as long as I have to. Thinking of you, dreaming of you, being near you will have to do for now.”

  She felt tears pushing behind her eyes. He looked crestfallen. A gentleman, though, he kept his distance.

  For that, she was grateful.

  “I think its best if you leave now,” she gently suggested, not knowing how much more of a strain on her emotions she could handle.

  With a glance over his shoulder, he retrieved his hat. The look upon his crestfallen face reminded her of a scolded puppy retreating with his tail between his legs. Poor, Caleb. It was for his own good that she turned him away. His very life depended on it. He returned the Stetson to the coveted position atop his finely molded head with its crop of blond waves, and turned to face her.

  “I love you, Megan Adams.” He pronounced each word slowly, deliberately.

  Use of her maiden name was a vivid, intimate revival of when they explored an innocent, young love within each other’s arms.

  Her heart sank.

  “You’ll always be the only woman for me.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he walked out the door.

  She wanted to die.

  Chapter 5

  Deuce ambled along aimlessly while his master found he exhibited some semblance of a conscience after all. In the middle of the vast countryside, the air was clean, crisp and timeless and called to mind all-too-familiar memories better left buried.

  What had he accomplished by returning? This place, this land, was never his home. He didn’t belong here. Reed couldn’t even speak, though his fading gray eyes were filled with sincerity, almost a pleading.

  He gritted his teeth, realizing there was no chance of redemption, of understanding why he was brought into this world, to be given away the same day.

  The anger and resentment was so profound, it squeezed his chest and swelled the nerves along his temples and neck.

  Devin recalled the ten years he’d lived with his two spinster aunts. They tried their best to turn him into a respectable lad of good breeding. They’d hired the best nannies which he’d always managed to frighten away with his unsavory antics. Refused to wear the starched clothes they bought him in place of his worn jeans and tattered shirts. They sent him to the fanciest schools, each of which threw him out as easily as the mop water.

  “Where did we go wrong?” he’d heard them ask when they thought he wasn’t listening. Such was the reason he found himself on a locomotive headed west after he nearly killed a boy two years his senior for pushing a girl to the ground at the park. He didn’t know the girl or the boy. Something inside him clicked when he saw her hit the dirt and then cry. He charged the boy, kept pounding the other lad’s head into the ground until two men came running and pulled him off the body, beaten into a bloody heap.

  Devin’s gaze drifted over the rolling grass gently swaying in the soft breeze as he thought of what transpired afterward.

  * * * *

  Nineteen years ago, on a clear day much like today, Devin watched the world of vivid greens and browns whiz by the window, the chugging of the iron wheels lulling him to sleep as the train headed to nowhere.

  There was no trouble remembering the masked gunmen shouting their way down the narrow passageway between the rows of seats, rousing him sharply from his slumber. At first, he thought it exciting, the Wild West he heard so much about come to life before his youthful eyes. Guns drawn, the train robbers separated. Each took a coach. With a handkerchief concealing his nose and mouth, the remaining gunman ordered the occupants to give up their belongings or die.

  It was the most thrilling experience of his young life. True to form, when everyone was told to put their faces down, he ignored the command and watched in amazement as the desperado collected wallets, watches, and jewelry. One young lady didn’t want to hand over her newly acquired wedding ring so easily. Disregarding her husband’s pleas, she’d foolishly sat on her hand in a futile attempt to conceal the diamond on her finger. The tall, slender masked man grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her down the aisle.

&nb
sp; Devin took one look at her husband, ash white and near fainting, then the poor lady crying hysterically, and something inside him clicked once more.

  Without thought or concern for life or limb, Devin lunged over his seat. He knocked into the gunmen, causing him to release his grip on both woman and gun. The poor woman ran for cover, leaving Devin punching and kicking the outlaw. As loud as his ten-year-old lungs would allow he warned the outlaw to leave the woman alone.

  Each time the train robber tried to stand, Devin knocked him down. The outlaw scrambled for the gun that had fallen beneath a seat. With no holds barred, he kicked Devin hard into the aisle. Standing, he slipped the hammer on his Colt and took aim. Devin rose, ready to pounce again.

  “Stretch,” a booming voice rang out, filling the compartment with a tense silence. Riveted, all eyes turned toward the opposite the end of the cabin. A large hand reached down and lifted Devin by the collar.

  Devin turned mid-air and looked up at his future.

  John Laredo was an older, formidable force. Not one to reckon with. A scar graced his left cheek from ear to mouth. He had black eyes that warned a man to stay away, scraggly gray hair, and weathered skin that spoke of years of a life of crime and living to tell about it. There was no fear in the mountain man. He went without a mask and walked like he owned the place.

  Ol’ John found what he always wanted that day—the son he never had. A boy with enough guts and fury to rival his own, to carry on death and destruction with a vengeance. “From the looks of it,” Ol’ John boasted, “the kid still has lots of growing up to do.” Oversized and strong, Devin’s body hadn’t caught up to the rest of him. The leader of the infamous Laredo Gang couldn’t have been happier with his spoils.

  Tied up and thrown over an extra horse, he left that day with the gang that soon became his family, and he’d never lived a civilized life again.

  * * * *

  Devin swung his leg over Deuce and eased out of the saddle. He allowed the horse to ramble at will underneath the shade of a large oak tree, nibbling the lush carpet of grass. Devin stretched out nearby, propping his head on his hat in the knee-deep grass. He gazed up at the puffy white clouds drifting in the pale blue sky, the memory of the sole time he spoke to Reed stirred an unknown emotion—regret.

  On a whim, Devin rode through Tejas close to eight years ago. He’d had no intent to stop until he noticed the boy about the age of five or six running in the yard. Something he didn’t care to identify tugged at him as he recalled seeing his father in person for the first time, recognizing him from the pictures his aunties kept around the house. Reed was a tall, well-built man who looked like he could hold his own. A faint smile tilted Devin’s lips at the fond recollection.

  He’d never forget the look on his father’s face when he introduced himself, nor the look when he rode out less than an hour later. Twenty-one at the time, he wasn’t about to start taking advice from a man he didn’t even know, who’d discarded him like an old boot, then tried to tell him to change his lawless ways. Find a good woman and settle down, Reed had the nerve to tell him. There wasn’t a man alive who’d dare tell Devin Spawn how to handle his business without risking his life, and Reed wanted to interfere, convert his ways.

  Galled by the memory, Devin muttered an obscenity. For some odd reason, he remembered the little curly-haired girl ranting something about a soap word. That, in turn, brought to mind the letter Megan had given him. From inside his pocket, he pulled out the letter. An aged, imprinted ‘S’ held the pages sealed. Breaking the wax stamp, he glanced at the hard lines and sharp angles of the script and guessed Reed handwrote it. He sat up and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, then began to read the two-page letter.

  By the time he finished, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl, every muscle tensed, and his gut wrenched.

  Devin bolted for Deuce and galloped like the wind toward the ranch.

  * * * *

  Megan’s stomach tightened as the front door pushed open with such a loud bang, it sliced fiercely through the silence. Next she heard what she could only assume were Devin’s heavy, purposeful footsteps headed her way. The man had terrible timing. Reed’s bathwater was sure to get cold, all because his son was heartless, bitter, and apparently riled up about something. Why did he even bother to return at all?

  Her fingers gripped the warm, wet washcloth in her hand. Riveted on the doorway, she held her breath, waiting for his inevitable appearance.

  Fury emanated from him in thick waves. He stepped aside from the doorway, his presence daunting, intimidating and dangerous. Suddenly, she realized before her was the real Devil’s Spawn. The overwhelming sense of power and aggression he evoked left no trace of the silver-eyed, sensuous man with lush lips by the river. Every rumor regarding the legendary force came to life in horrific detail. Eyes wild, dark, and blazing with rage turned her blood cold as she tried to remain calm and show no fear in the face of evil.

  He ordered her to leave. From the anger shading his voice, she did not intend to object. Not knowing if his anger was directed at her, Reed, or some other outside source, she wasn’t about to leave her husband lying naked—exposed and completely vulnerable. With her back to him, she took her time covering Reed’s frail body with a sheet, then a thick blanket, and finally prop his pillow.

  With forced calm, she walked out of the room without so much as a glance his way.

  Once she crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut. The gust of wind lifted her skirt and cooled her ankles.

  She hadn’t known him very long, but she knew anger when she saw it. Devin was beyond angry. Best if she left him alone. She never imagined a person could possess so much fury, and the intensity was frightening. It left her wondering what trials and tribulations a young boy alone in the world had to endure to end up a demon other men feared.

  Outside on the porch, Megan inhaled the fresh spring air deeply into her lungs. She lifted her face to the warmth of the sun and tied the sunbonnet she kept near the front door. While the sun lightly kissed her skin, she had no desire to resemble weather-beaten animal hide, so she diligently wore her bonnet. Circles under her eyes, freckles on her nose, dimple cheeks—besides her dowdy clothes, she didn’t need anything else adding to the homeliness into which she had been born. She doubted anyone with more than one weak eye would even glance at a short, plain, hazel-eyed, scrawny female with unruly spiral curls lost somewhere between brown and blond, who looked more girlish than womanly. Certain the fondness they developed long ago blinded Caleb. She was dubious whenever he told her she was pretty, especially now that she lost what little shape she used to have.

  Perhaps for the very reason Devin wanted to kiss her the evening they met—frontier women were scarce. Average two females per one hundred men meant there were some desperate men seeking female companionship.

  Jazelle’s Place would not be hurting for business any time soon.

  For the second time today, she caught herself thinking of her appearance.

  Flippantly, she shrugged her shoulders and set off to work in the garden. There were too many chores to let Devin Spawn upset her or brooding over her homely looks to hinder supper from being on the table.

  * * * *

  “Why?” Devin grunted pacing the room. His chest rose with each ragged, frustrated breath. “How dare you ask this of me? You send me away, and now, you ask for the impossible. The most ludicrous.”

  He stopped and glared at Reed, wrapped snuggly in the bed, motionless.

  “Why, damn you? Why?”

  He stepped closer to the bed and looked straight into Reed’s eyes.

  “Do you not know who I am? What I have become and all that I have done?”

  Reed’s silver eyes blinked wearily in response.

  “Speak to me. Speak to me. Tell me why.”

  The question went unanswered.

  Devin waited, his own silver eyes imploring, begging for some type of response.

  Reed’s eyes fluttered, and
then closed for the final time.

  “Don’t do this to me,” he growled tightly with pent-up emotion. He grabbed his father by the shoulders and shook him vigorously. As if by sheer force of will, Devin could shake life back into the dead man. “Breathe, damn you. Breathe.”

  Reed’s head flopped boneless until Devin realized it was useless. He let him go. Once more, his father had deserted him.

  This time, for good.

  He didn’t know how long he sat on the edge of the bed, staring absently at the lifeless body.

  In deep thought, he remained stock-still until he heard the front door open and the light steps of Megan cross the puncheon floor.

  Devin took a deep breath and stood.

  * * * *

  Megan decided it was best to act uninterested, ignore the brooding tyrant. She went about her business, rinsing the fresh-picked vegetables in the kitchen sink. She kept her back to him as he took a seat at the table.

  “Got a moment?” He said blandly as she cast a brief glance his way. From under the table, he kicked out the chair across from his, indicating for her to join him.

  “Not really,” she said, returning her full attention to the vegetables. “I have—”

  “Don’t wait for a written invite.” Devin’s tone elicited a prompt response.

  With a sigh, she wiped her hands on the ragged-edged cheesecloth tied around her waist in place of an apron. From across the room, she glared at him. She tried in vain to swallow her indignation through tight lips. Failing, she replied saucily, “Such a warm request. Only a fool spurns a skunk.”

  From the corner of her eye, she could tell he wasn’t the least bit pleased by her insolence by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as though he was only able to stomach looking at her in tiny increments.