“Their gifts, it’s...it’s improper. Considering how the money was obtained,” she snapped, covering her heightened state of arousal.
When he cast a fierce glance over his shoulder, she knew she’d touched a raw nerve. There was no proud haughtiness lurking in the dark shadows in his eyes often unduly warranted by men living the way of the gun, but she sensed a deep-rooted bitterness.
Not accustomed to running, she paused a moment to catch her breath. Undid the top two buttons of her bodice to fan herself with the loose muslin material in an attempt to cool off and calm her trampled nerves. Her pulse seemed to race beyond control. A lecture was not her intent. No matter the intended duration of his visit, ground rules were in order if she were to survive.
Her breathing restored, driven by determination, she rambled on hurrying to keep pace with his long strides again.
“If you’ll be departing as proclaimed, it is best for all involved if you have as little involvement with the girls as possible.”
On his way inside the barn he stopped short and she ran right into his back with a resounding grunt. Tossing the bag of oats off his shoulder, he grabbed her roughly by the upper arms.
Startled by his powerful display of dominance, she gasped. Her arms were pinned to her side, toes barely touching the ground, leaving her helpless. Fear and excitement raked over her skin, leaving her terrified at what he would do to her.
“What are doing? Unhand me.” She meant to shout, but it came out needy, desperate. Her eyes widened, witnessing the fury in the taut, determined lines in his strong-edge face. The piercing silver in his eyes deepened to dark charcoal. She drew in a ragged breath, and the outdoorsy scent of his hard body filled her nostrils, making her feel faint.
“I’ve been listening to you yap. Now you listen, and listen well. I’ll leave when I damn well please. I’ll buy what I damn well please. I’ll speak to my own sisters whenever I damn well please. As for where the money came from, it’s none of your damn business.”
He released her so abruptly she stumbled backwards. She rubbed her arms, not that it hurt, but because the blaze of lust she felt at his rough touch was wickedly intense. It scorched her senses and frightened her. Her chest heaved with shock at the arousal racing through her system and her willingness to accept the extremely intoxicating lust he exuded.
She stared at him, wild-eyed and furious. Without regard, he turned his back to her. Her nerves and emotions were in shambles, rioting while he calmly picked up the bag of oats and swaggered off.
“I…I just didn’t want them to get attached, that’s all,” she stammered feeling as though she’d been reprimanded. His arrogance and mistreatment left her aflame, puzzled. What was she thinking? She’d never treat a rabid dog the way he treated her, much less a child. Megan couldn’t take another moment being near him. Part of her wanted to kick him off her land, and something deep inside her wanted to throw herself at him, cling to him and never let go.
She’d lost her mind. There was absolutely no other logical explanation.
Devin Spawn had to leave, and soon.
Terrified by the shocking longing washing through her body, she snarled, “You don’t know the first thing about children.”
“Hell and damnation, woman,” he growled as he swung around. “You don’t know when to quit.” He tossed the fifty-pound bag of oats aside as if it were a loaf of bread, and with long, purposeful strides, started toward her.
Her heart flipped at the menacing glint in his eyes. In an attempt to escape, she backed up until flush against the barn wall. She was a few feet off from her intended target, the opened barn door to her right.
With a hand braced on either side of her head, he leaned close, trapping her against the wall. His heady, masculine scent was alluring, arousing her weakened system further as his eyes burned into hers.
Unable to drag her eyes away from his, she eyed him nervously. He was much too close. She needed distance. Plenty of distance. Miles and miles of distance. Megan splayed both hands against his chest to shove him away but they stilled the instant her fingers touched his bare, sweat-drenched flesh. The heat generated from the hard muscles of his chest seared her skin, and the pounding of his heart rivaled her own.
“Don’t fret over what you can’t control. Bonds don’t form in a few days,” his tone hard, disciplined. His gaze was dark and intense, yet his full lips parted softly. His handsome face hovered inches from hers as if he wanted to kiss her. A kiss she’d welcome as she had by the river.
“You’re right,” she breathed, and he blinked as if startled by her assent. Besieged by her desire, hot bolts of arousal and lust raged through her blood straight to her throbbing pussy. The heat of his body whipped around her, mesmerized her and depleted her strength. She felt her knees weaken. She was mad for wanting him, but heaven help her, she did.
“It takes an instant,” she whispered, finding her gaze coast to the fullness of his lips, deep rose and lusciously sinful. She wanted to moan at the heated memory of his kiss, the silkiness of his lips and velvet moistness of his tongue. The lingering taste of him left her hungry for more. His nearness stealing what remained of her breath.
As though he read her thoughts, his eyes wandered down the length of her body and settled on the swell of her breasts, visible beneath her gaping neckline.
She felt her nipples hardening from the intensity of his gaze, aching for his caress. Desperate to feel his lips on hers, his touch on her skin, she waited, dying to scream in frustration at the need pulsing through her.
Sexual tension swirled around them in droves, drawing out the lengthy silence, filling the air with their fevered breathing.
When he finally lifted his eyes, the glaze of lust in the heated depths had her heart pounding in her chest. She knew he felt the same. Their instantaneous attraction had ignited at first touch. The desire for more simmered beneath the surface, ready to blaze into a raging inferno of passion. Neither of them could deny the sexual heat sharpening their breathing, heating their skin or darkening their expressions.
Did they dare?
He leaned closer. Her head titled up, and her lips parted in anticipation. Daringly, her fingers slid over his bare skin beneath his shirt. She felt him shudder, his breath growling from deep within his chest. She struggled to keep her eyes open, holding her breath. Desperate, she awaited the heated touch of his soft lips, now only a breath away from hers. So close, she felt the heat of his lips caress hers like a moistened kiss.
“Megan.” It was the tiny voice of Shelby, calling from the front porch.
In a fit of rage, his curse cut through the silence like a savage dagger leavening no prisoners. He straightened swiftly and punched the wall to the side of her head. Her eyes closed as the loud bang echoed in her ears, vibrating the debilitated planks at her back. Several cracks formed in the wooden plank in his wake.
Unmet yearning. Oh, yes, she understood devastation all too well. Her own displeasure would drive her to a similar reaction if she claimed the strength. Powerless to her desire, she watched him, unable to move or speak.
He promptly saddled Deuce and raced off, just as Shelby skipped into the barn, new doll in hand.
Chapter 9
Tired and perfectly content after spending the past several hours taking Cheri, Pearl, and Violet in every way imaginable several times until they passed out from exhaustion, Devin was ready to put up with anything. With no desire to remain in town and sleep on a lumpy mattress too small for his long legs, he looked forward to his last night in the luxurious comfort of Reed’s oversized bed.
After settling Deuce in the stall for the night, he pushed the front door open, took a step inside, and froze.
“Devin! Don’t look,” Emma and Shelby shrieked as they tried to cover their nakedness with their little hands while standing in the tin washtub in the middle of the parlor area while Megan rinsed their soapy hair.
He slapped a hand over his eyes, apologizing profusely while he eased out of
the house. He felt his way along the wooden door with his free hand.
In shock, he shut the door and stared wide-eyed at it.
Safely on the porch, he shook his head, never realizing little girls could scream so loud. His heart was actually racing. That was one spectacle he didn’t want to repeat.
He stormed toward the barn, saddled Deuce, and away they galloped as the cool night air clipped around them.
Little girls didn’t do a damn thing for him. Add little sisters, and the mix became that much more appalling.
“Women and children—the whole lot of them aren’t worth the time or trouble,” he spat.
Months of solitude in the wilderness only intensified his dark desires. His sexual demands were rough, intensely dominant, and sometimes downright abusive. He would never intentionally hurt his partners, but his twelve-inch cannon left first timers raw and aching for days. Like a lust-driven disease he couldn’t control, it seeped into his blood and ravaged his system until he was left succumbing to his explosive impulses.
He didn’t know how to behave around ladies, instead seeking release with two-bit whores, and often times, Indian squaws, built strong and trained to endure the pain he so often enjoyed inflicting.
Protection!
His father had asked him to protect his beautiful young widow. Did Reed not know what his son had truly become? Who would protect Megan from him? He wanted to fuck her until she screamed, begged him to stop. He wanted to dominate her, to possess her, to tie her up and force her to submit to his every depraved demand.
He was an animal, a savage beast. A beast to be driven back to the seclusion of the wilderness, among other unholy creatures of nature.
Dear frail Megan, so tiny and childlike—if she knew what he wanted to do to her, she would be horrified. Never intentionally would he hurt a woman or child. He’d even gone so far as to take the lives of members of his own gang if they dared tried to harm one in front of him. Megan needn’t fear for her life, only her innocent body being dominated by primitive lust so potent, it combined forbidden pleasure and searing pain.
For now, she was safe, but he didn’t know how much longer he could contain the fury welling inside him. She was his father’s widow, legally his stepmother. It was wrong, even to him, a man who knew no bounds legally or morally. Visions of her in his father’s arms ran rampant, eating away at him like a vile poison.
After tomorrow’s funeral, he’d turn Deuce’s reins to where he belonged, lost in the vast openness of the wilds and never look back.
* * * *
Kerosene lights in the great room were dim, and the house was quiet. Devin breathed a sigh of relief as he approached the porch. It was late, and he and Deuce had ridden for miles. All he wanted to do now was crawl into bed and go to sleep.
With the assumption he’d given them plenty of time to bathe and go bed, he lightly tapped the front door. There was no response. Slowly, he opened it, stepped inside, and took in the dimly lit surroundings. A smile of satisfaction curled his lips as he carefully barred the door behind him, making sure not to make any noise.
Like a mountain lion in sight of his prey he catfooted across the room. Perched slightly on the edge of the couch, he gazed into the bathtub only a foot in front of him.
There, Megan slept, submerged in water just below her breasts, arms resting atop the rim of the large tin bathtub. Both legs bent, leaning to one side, shielding his view of her most intimate charms except the very top curls on her fleshy mound. White rose petals floated softly atop the steaming water.
Her head tilted backward, lips slightly parted, and her honey-colored ringlets cascading to the floor in a silken waterfall. Her skin, flushed from the warmth of the water, glowed in the soft, flickering lights from the fireplace.
His darkened gaze rested on her breasts, and he counted each deep breath as they rose and fell just above the waterline. The nipples, only tiny pink beads waiting to be touched, pinched, nipped, and sucked, centered teasingly in round areolas so pale, they almost blended in with her cream-colored skin.
He lounged back on the sofa, allowing his legs to spread wide. His engorged erection throbbed in his buckskins like a beating drum. A little more than three hours ago, he left not one, not two, but three women back at Jazelle’s Place, thoroughly and totally fucked and absolutely certain they wouldn’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow.
He sought release to cleanse his mind and satisfy the deep craving to take what wasn’t his.
All because of a skinny, flesh-and-bone girl who was too small to be considered a full-grown woman. Though at the moment, judging from the boiling blood surging through his veins, the lust blurring his eyes, and the hefty size of his erection, every necessary quality was in perfect form.
Damn, she was beautiful. Soft firelight blended with shadows, contouring the swell of her breasts and her delicately slender neck. Moistened porcelain skin only enhanced her svelte figure with a sensuality that negated her childlike appearance, much to his satisfaction.
Dammit. He wanted her so bad. His skin was fraught with tension so tight, it vibrated in his eardrums. She was so close, he could feel the heat of her skin caress his and smell the scent of roses and innocence swirling around him.
Unconsciously, he stroked his cock through the material until the pain became unbearable. He gritted his teeth at the memory of her tight, hot wetness gripping him as the flared head stretched her wide. Oh, hell, if he kept this up, the front of his buckskins would be as soaked as she was. It was then he dipped a hand in the warm water and splashed a few drops in her face.
* * * *
Megan jerked her head upright, waking with a start. Her heart beat madly. Slowly, her eyes focused on Devin leaning over the tub. He stared at her, his hand idly making circular motions in the water. She clutched her bent legs to her chest and curled into a tense ball.
“Get out,” she snapped, her tone heavy with distaste, jerking her head toward the front door.
He regarded her quietly. The lust, raw and unbridled, blazed in his eyes.
“Why?” Devin sat upright slightly, hands dangling between his parted knees.
“Extend me the same courtesy you extended Shelby and Emma. Allow me to dress out of common decency.”
“You’ve had plenty of time, mother.”
“The water had to be reheated…” Suddenly forgoing her superfluous need to explain, she changed her tune when the endearment sank in. She shook her head, annoyed by her rambling. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not you’re mother? So please stop calling me that.”
“Precisely why I’m staying.” His tone was low and provocative as his eyes seemed to melt liberally over her body. He grinned and settled further back into the couch, resting his powerful, muscled arms along the back, extending his long legs on either side of the bathtub. “You’re not blood.”
Her gaze lowered to his erection, thick and hard, gloriously outlined and strained against his form-fitted buckskins. Without volition, she gasped. He tried hard not to notice how her body trembled with desire and how her eyes grew heavy. Mesmerized, she licked her lips and forgot to breathe feeling a heated wetness gush between her thighs.
“We need to talk.”
Her mouth fell open, yet not a sound escaped. Briefly, she met his gaze and dropped it involuntarily to the riveting bulge once again. The grand image of what was beneath bombarded her senses. Amazingly, his cock throbbed under her blatant stare, and she literally heard herself whimper.
Pure lust, clear as day is what she felt. The same as when she looked up at him down by the river and whispered, “Don’t stop.” Her body was on fire, she could feel the juices of her pussy leaking into the bath water, her desire raising the temperature.
“Megan.” His voice sounded pained, heated with arousal as he sat upright.
It drew her attention instantly. The first time he called her by name. Not Mother, not Mrs. Spawn, and not Dimples, but Megan. Dazed by the enchanted music to her ears it took
a moment to clear her mind.
Then, she noticed his eyes roaming over her, consuming her as if he fought the temptation to drag her out of the bathtub and pull her into his strong embrace. If he reached for her, took what he wanted, she wouldn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him. She needed him deep inside her. She wanted him to make her forget the past. Wanted to lose herself in his arms and not even think about the future, just live for the here and now and the pleasure she’d tasted on his lips.
With bated breath, she waited for him to make a move, give her a sign, anything that would give them permission to cross dangerous boundaries beyond sanity’s existence.
Say yes.
Reach for me.
Anything.
The dreaded silence lengthened.
Megan stared at him, unable to breathe or move. Forbidden sensuality washed over her in waves. She waited. Waited for him to reach out and take what she was too afraid to give.
His expression was pained, frustrated and angry, but his eyes blazed with a primitive lust in the dark gray depths. Like a force of steel, he appeared to be fighting his own inner demons.
“Why is the ranch in such ruin?” This was the one question she feared.
Her heart stopped. Nightmares flooded back. She swallowed, gaping at him.
How did he know the ranch had been thriving? Reed was making a name for himself as a well-respected rancher. His illness alone should not have affected the running of the ranch.
“I want the truth.” He sounded as impatient and frustrated as he looked.
“Now?” she asked hesitantly. All she wanted to do was scream never, not now, not ever.
“Yes, now. Tell me what happened.”
“Can’t this wait till tomorrow, or at least until I’m dressed?” she ventured in a tone that was both low and guarded.
“You’ve kept me waiting long enough. I would’ve have asked you earlier. Listening to your nonsense drove me away.” His dark brows deepened in a scowl.
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