Quietly they reined their horses to the hitching post and dismounted. No one said much of anything. They followed Devin and started up the steps. Once Megan was inside with the girls, Devin stood in the middle of the porch, rifle in hand. He blocked their further advancement with a warning glare.
“Ya’ll sleep in the barn. We pull out at dawn. Take care of my horses.” He swung on his heels and strode inside. They heard him bolt the door.
At his audacity of subjecting them to a night in the barn, they gaped and scowled at each other for a curt second. Morrow and Webster mumbled a heated protest.
“Well, you heard the man, Toledo,” Sergeant Major finally barked, hastily untying his horse from the hitching post.
“Me? Why me? I got more rank than Morrow and Webster,” he bit back, yanking the leather strap free from the post as the two other men chuckled, doing the same.
“You the one wanna be so helpful. Help with their horses,” Sergeant Major ordered, leading his horse to the barn without so much as a glance over his shoulder. Gravely mindful Sergeant Edgar Toledo’s one-track mind got him into more trouble than a porcupine had bristles, and with results equally sharp and destructive.
* * * *
“Where are the guests? Megan asked, coming out of the girls’ bedroom with extra blankets in her hand as Devin finished bolting the door. His rifle rested next to the doorjamb.
“Barn.” He turned to face her, tossed his hat on the wooden dining table in front of him. He combed his fingers leisurely through his dense, shoulder-length mane.
“There are two beds in the loft upstairs. We have plenty of room, as well as blankets and pillows for them to sleep comfortably.”
“They’re sleeping in the barn.” He undid his gunbelt and hung it on a peg near the door, then started to undo the knife collection strapped to his legs and waist.
Her eyes roved over him nervously as she watched each weapon freed from his massive body. She couldn’t help but wonder why a man who obviously was capable of killing someone with his bare hands would need so many superfluous weapons. “They’re soldiers. It’s impolite,” she muttered, pulling her gaze away from the growing pile of fate sheathed on the table.
“Dimples, I’m not changing my mind. We have business to attend. After the girls are settled, come to bed.”
“Tonight, I…” Megan stammered, blinking in surprise.
“Saying no?” His eyes narrowed and lips tightened.
“Of course not, it’s just that—” Already, he challenged her. Her pulse raced madly. She was treading on dangerous ground.
“I’ll be waiting in our bedroom.” It was a restrained, yet effective order.
Her heart thundered against her ribs as she watched the door to Reed’s bedroom close behind him. There was no evading what was coming. She felt her legs weaken. His reference to “our bedroom” didn’t escape her.
Apparently, he didn’t care Emma was still awake, four cavalrymen were outside, and Reed barely dead a week. Her immoral reputation as a former employee of a whorehouse was all that interested him. That, and how best to recoup the money he’d paid out.
Megan checked on Shelby one last time and found her tucked in and fast asleep. She kissed Emma good night. In an attempt to prolong the inevitable, she offered to read a bedtime story. On the verge of falling asleep, Emma declined.
There was no other way to dawdle, she concluded with a pout. The beginnings of a smile began to tug at her lips. An idea occurred to her. If Devin wanted her, he was going to have to work at seeing her naked.
Taking her time, she changed into her long-sleeved eyelet nightgown and robe, ensuring each button was securely fastened on both garments. Underneath, she wore her pantalets, stockings and garters, and burdensome corset. Though her breasts were smaller because of her loss of weight, they were still as firm and pert as when they first sprouted. Rarely did she use the pinching contraption, except for propriety sake whenever she ventured into town.
Megan stood outside her new bedroom and prayed for courage. Inhaling deeply, she reached out and opened the door.
She gasped and stood stock-still, staring wide-eyed and breathless.
Awed.
“Come in and lock the door behind you,” he instructed quietly, sprawled on the expansive bed. He was propped up on one elbow, stripped raw, and stroking his glorious hard-on slowly. Each movement of his fingers up and down the thick, purple-veined stalk and around the mushroom-shaped head mesmerized her, made her tremble with need. She felt naked and completely exposed despite the layers of clothes.
Megan couldn’t move. An uncontrollable fire raged through her bloodstream.
Dear God in heaven, she couldn’t even breathe, let alone make out what his moving lips uttered. All she managed was to stare. Every nude male she’d ever seen before, including Reed and young Caleb, were merely adolescents, boys in training with aspirations someday to develop into what lay before her. Devin Spawn was the true embodiment of the adult male form in its finest, powerfully built grandeur and well-endowed magnificence.
Broad, honed shoulders, heavily built arms, rippled chest, taut abdomen, and long muscular thighs parted slightly as his hand dropped to his scrotum, running his thumb over the full, oversized sacs. His rock-hard erection reached proudly for the ceiling.
“I’m waiting.”
The commanding voice brought her out of her trance-like state. Through a haze, she saw the primitive hunger blazing in his heavy-lidded gaze. His broad chest rose and fell roughly. She licked her lips. She wanted him, heaven help her, despite who and what he was. She wanted him kissing her, touching her, making love to her. Oh, yes, thrusting that big cock inside her, especially that. Most definitely that.
His lips curled into a wicked grin after she locked the door behind her.
“Take off your clothes,” he rasped. His voice was tight with arousal as he sat up, resting on pillows propped against the wooden headboard. His legs spread wide and a large, tanned hand stroked the thick shaft firmly while the other massaged his balls.
Aware her every movement was trailed by his intense silvery gaze, her entire body trembled, fingers shaking excitedly at the buttons. She regretted her flawed button idea, not realizing she was the one who would eventually undo each and every button painstakingly as he watched and waited, sitting three feet in front of her in the nude, playing with himself.
“Good girl,” he whispered when she undid the last button on the robe. “Let it drop to the floor.” She followed orders, and the cotton garment fluttered to the floor around her feet in a puffy white cloud. “From now on, when you come to me, don’t wear it.”
She looked up at him, disconcerted by the demand. A bitter reminder she could refuse him nothing. Forced to submit to his desires, she was his private whore, but oddly enough, the idea didn’t terrify her or make her feel sullied as it should have. It made her insides warm and her outsides tingly.
“Don’t stop. Take off the gown.”
Her gaze lowered to the extensive string of tiny pearl buttons from underneath her neck to the last button on the hem resting on the pine planks. She wiggled her toes in her house slippers, testing for feeling as her legs grew weak. She took a deep breath before starting the next series of buttons. Her bosom rose with each ragged breath, as did her anticipation level. Thankfully, she found comfort in wearing the corset. At least her aroused nipples, straining against the constricting garment, couldn’t be seen.
What was he going to do to her, especially with that humongous thing between his legs? The memory of their first encounter by the river flashed before her eyes. She could feel the warm liquid escaping from her pussy as she thought of that thick, hard fleshy cock tearing between her thighs once more.
Hypnotically, she was drawn to his penis. Awestruck by the sheer size of it, a soft moan escaped her lips and captured his attention. He looked up from where her fingers were working mid-chest and seemed to notice what she eyed. He grinned. “My cock gets hard when I think abou
t you, Dimples. Come here.” He sat on the edge of the bed.
She hesitated briefly, realized there wasn’t a choice in the matter, and moved between his parted thighs. The warmth of his body and manly scent whirled around her, shattering her resolve, causing her failing resistance to dwindle further. Uncomfortably, she swallowed the large lump in her throat, trying hard to keep her eyes above his shoulders.
“Don’t be shy. After all, you’re no virgin. A token bride, hand selected from all the whores at Jazelle’s.” For a moment, he paused. A look of frustration washed over him and vanished just as quickly.
Obviously lewd thoughts crossed his mind. She winced, recalling the peephole at Jazelle’s. Did he imagine her servicing other men? Why would he even care?
“Probably know more than I do,” he hissed, his voice rising in annoyance suddenly, confusing her even more. “Touch it.”
“I…I worked in…in the kitchen,” she stammered, locking her eyes with his. A dismal excuse, but it explained her lack of experience. Her body burned with embarrassment and shame, ashamed that she wanted to please him. To do all those things she witnessed and more. Despite her fear of ravishment in the process, she craved that glorious weapon between his thighs. Timidly, she crossed her arms behind her, glanced down fleetingly at his erection, and then stared frantically into his eyes, darkened with lust. She nibbled her lower lip. “I never...”
Her explanation trailed off. The blood pumped rapidly through her system, gritting her teeth worriedly. She’d never be able to please him the way perhaps Cheri had.
“Reed knew I never worked upstairs when he married me,” she blurted anxiously.
His eyes flared with seething rage. Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her gown and ripped it open, tearing it from her body. She shrieked, shocked and frightened by his abrupt, almost violent actions. His large hands curled over her shoulders, with little effort, he pushed her to her knees.
“I said, touch it,” he grumbled. His eyes were dark and wild, chest heaving, nostrils flaring as he stared down at her. She trembled in her pantalets and corset, kneeling between his legs. Pieces of the ripped gown scattered on the floor.
She peered up at him, saw the angry fire smoldering in his coal-black eyes. What had she said or done to anger him? Even though her fingers ached to fulfill his request and satisfy her curiosity, her shaking hand hesitantly reached toward his cock in the midst of its bed of dark curls. She closed her eyes as her hand neared. He groaned unexpectedly when she finally touched the tip of the engorged head.
At the velvet softness, her eyes darted open. It was hot and throbbed in frustration at her passive touch. Her fingers ran gently over the crimson head and she marveled as it twitched.
A moment ago, he’d frightened her when she sensed him losing control, an extreme force driving him to madness. She shuddered now, wondering what it would be like to experience that unleashed passion pumping deep inside her. A hot liquid heat surged between her thighs, primed and ready. She groaned at the thought.
“You like my cock, don’t you?” he rasped, as though struggling to sound normal.
Through her lashes, she glanced up at him and blushed, too mortified to reply, she enjoyed herself tremendously. His cock, as he called it, was beautiful. The only word she could think of to describe such a magnificent piece of male flesh. It was very thick, and velvet soft, yet hard and deep red and swollen with bluish veins running along its length. The capped head with the tiny hole in the center secreted a small amount of fluid, tempting her taste buds.
“Say it, Megan,” he persuaded softly. “Cock. I want to hear you.”
“Cock,” she whispered faintly, running a single finger around the ridged head, feeling a little confident he derived pleasure from her touch.
“Very good. Get used to saying it, because I’m going to talk about your sweet pussy when I fuck you. I want to hear you scream how much you want my cock stretching and thrusting into your dripping wet pussy.”
Megan’s jaw dropped in carnal shock. She burned a beet red from head to toe. Everything in his expression told her he was serious. He expected her to use explicit words she never imagined passing through her lips. Worse soap words imaginable.
“You’re doing a good job. Nice, gentle touch. You’ll find I prefer it harder—the rougher, the better. Grip my cock with your hand. Rub it up and down the shaft.”
“It’s too big,” she muttered, her hand halfway around the wide girth. The heat of his flesh was intense in her hand as it pulsed in her grasp.
“Use both hands, one at a time, and move your hand up toward the head.”
She followed his instructions, fingers circling tightly around the base, moving upward and over the head as the other hand circled the bottom. Over and over again, she moved her hands over his penis until he groaned, “Oh, yes, baby, just like that.”
A sense of satisfaction washed over her at her strange erotic influence over him. She noticed his eyes close and his hips rock slightly while she continued to stroke his cock. More fluid dripped from the tip, and she couldn’t help herself. Didn’t know what made her do it. A flood of hot arousal, raw hunger, assailed her. Utterly lost in his gorgeous, naked maleness, the hard length in her grip, as of this moment she ruled him. In an instant, she bent down and licked the droplet off with the tip of her tongue. It tasted exotic, unique, like the man himself.
“Shit, Dimples,” he growled, eyes flaring open. He stared into her eyes as she smiled up at him, beaming with unspoken promises. Fascinated by his response, she willingly licked the thick-ridged tip of his shaft, lapped at the fluid collecting on the end. A tortured hunger to taste every hard, thick succulent inch of him overcame her inhibitions. “Keep it up. Don’t stop. Use that tongue of yours.”
She flattened her tongue, swirled it over, around the head, and up and down the thick stalk, bathing his hot flesh with her saliva. She was eager to please him and taste more of his tangy essence.
* * * *
“You’re fantastic.” Devin’s voice was tight, strained with the need to bury his cock down her slender throat. He could tell she lacked experience though. Her eagerness to please him made up for any deficiency. Amazedly, she sucked, licked, and tasted him as if his was the first cock she ever touched. Perhaps it had just been too long since she had a good fucking. He closed his eyes, fighting the resentment, not wanting to imagine her doing this or anything else with his father.
“Oh, yes.” He trembled, opening his eyes. He watched her tiny hands squeezing and tightening around his thick length, pleasuring him until his scrotum drew tight, until he battled with himself to hold back. One hand gripped her hair, holding her head as the other grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed it over her greedy tongue and lips. “Lick it, taste it, get used to it, because you’re going to be drinking a whole lot of my come soon.”
Her tongue followed his movements, darted over the head as if she was starving for him to fill her hungry mouth. In utter fascination, he stared as her hand covered his, stopping him, showing him what she wanted. He nearly lost his mind when she fed the swollen head into her mouth, felt her pearly teeth raking the sensitive flesh. He let out a guttural groan, an animalistic noise of exquisite pain, bodily desperation, and hot-blooded arousal.
The wet suckling sounds filled the room. Shamelessly her tongue stroked, licked and tasted the hard flesh in her grasp. She stuffed the wide head into the tight grip of her velvety mouth and pulled it out with a loud pop, repeatedly until he groaned in pleasure.
“Suck it. Use your tongue.” He stared at her, smoothing a hand over her cheek, dimples filled to capacity with the head of his cock, her tongue raking the underside of his flesh. Never in a million years could he have guessed this half-woman, half-child could make him, a man known to last for hours, want to come so quickly. But damn, he struggled to hold back as she suddenly drew back. He watched, groaning from the ravenous need as her pink lips and red tongue nibbled on the veins along his hard flesh.
/> “Shit,” he growled when her mouth stretched wide over the head and it disappeared between her taut lips. She devoured him vigorously, sucked hungrily. Like a wild woman bewitched, she couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Her heated moans of desire vibrated over the bulging head buried in her moist cavern while her hands continued to stroke the long length of his throbbing cock.
“Fuck yes, Megan.” His hips lifted off the bed as his head fell back. “Grab my balls, tight. I want you to feel my sperm shoot from them. That’s it, baby,” he groaned when her hand grabbed his swollen, aching-for-release scrotum. Her fingers rolled over each ball, mimicking the maneuver she saw him perform earlier. “Oh, yes. I’m almost there. Stroke faster, harder. Keep the grip tight and your mouth open.”
He felt her hand tighten around him and start to move up and down his length faster. Her fingers squeezed his balls hard, and her mouth opened wider, keeping the tip of the head perched on her tongue as it fluttered over the sensitive vein underneath.
His fingers tightened their grip on her head as his hips lifted off the bed. “Don’t stop. I’m coming. I’m coming,” he growled, fingers twisted in her hair, and as he hoped, the slight pain spurred Megan to suckle harder, stroke faster. Her whimpers of pleasure vibrated over his imbedded flesh.
“Swallow it,” he ordered with a ragged breath, holding her head still, his body shuddering with the explosion rippling through him. The head of his cock buried in her mouth, she tightened her grip, swallowing as each load spurted down her throat in hot gushes. “Swallow my come, baby.”
Eyes shut, he felt her searing strokes glide over his length and the moistness of her silky tongue lap softly at the last drops of come seeping from the hole. He opened his eyes, released his grip and pulled his still-erect penis back.
1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise Page 18