1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise
Page 19
Her eyes glazed, darkened with the greedy need raging through her system. He smiled down at her. She loved it. He was unable to believe how lucky he was to have her at his beck and call. In spite of the conditions, he was going to enjoy her luscious body immensely.
“That was amazing.”
She smiled at the compliment, and as if not wanting to waste any, wiped drops of come dripping down the corner of her swollen, rosy-tinged lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Now, it’s your turn,” he murmured, ignoring the maddening urge to fuck her, to thrust hard and bury himself deep in her depths that blazed through his blood, nearly destroying his control.
“No, we can’t,” she blurted, scooting back on her heels.
Confusion and disappointment tightened his body. The blood pounded hard in his veins, his abandoned cock jerking in the air, hungry for more the instant she withdrew. She wanted him. His offer to share her bed wasn’t totally abhorrent as she let on. He had seen the fiery excitement in her eyes, smelled her arousal, felt her body’s need in his arms, yet now she was truly frightened.
“It’s wrong. Something bad will happen to you if you put that,” she muttered, glancing at his penis, then at him, “inside me.”
Devin had no intention to fuck her tonight, if that was all she feared. Her blatant refusal was cause for punishment, but what she said made no sense. He half-moaned in annoyance, his body far from satisfied. “What in the hell are you babbling about?”
“Reed.” She averted his gaze, eyes lowering to her clasped hands on her lap. “It was because of me he suffered his first stroke.”
He grimaced but remained silent, studying her intently. His hand rested on his parted thighs, his hard-on, aching for another type of satiation, hung heavily between his legs.
“We were together in bed when he suddenly collapsed. That night I was about to perform my wifely duty. I guess it was too much for him. Coupling is for procreation only. We weren’t—at least, I wasn’t trying to conceive. What we did was morally wrong, and it was entirely my fault. I’m a bad, evil, wicked person. And if you try to take me, the same result shall befall you.”
For a long moment, he didn’t say a word, just held her anxious, terrified gaze. After a while, he calmly stated, “You were raised to believe sex is solely for conceiving and all else is uncalled-for, therefore leading to Reed’s tragic illness.”
She nodded, appearing relieved he fully understood.
He wanted to laugh at the absurdity, except she actually believed it. His eyes narrowed. “What we just did, you sucking my cock, doesn’t apply.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Hate to admit this, but I’ve been humping like a jackrabbit most of my life, and I ain’t been sick a day.”
“Different for men, I suppose. Nonetheless, I’ve been warned against the perils of partaking in the pleasures of the human flesh. The circumstances of my,” she paused, frowned faintly, “sinful nature led to your father’s death. I wouldn’t want to take further chances.”
“Who told you you had a sinful nature?”
“It’s not important.” Her lashes lowered to half mast.
“If I didn’t think it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t have asked. Now tell me. I won’t repeat myself.”
“The woman who raised me after my parents were killed.”
In a few hours, he would be tracking down the Laredo Gang, living in his saddle, going without food and sleep. There was no time for her life story or everything he wanted to do to the cute delectable body in front of him. Except she looked so miserably entrenched in the antiquated, misguided sexual teachings and past ordeals dealt in childhood. He doubted she would ever enjoy whatever he did to her until she got over her guilt and any instilled taboos. Apparently, there were plenty.
“Perhaps we should start at the beginning.” He drew her up by the shoulders, and together, they sat propped on the pillows against the headboard. She trembled, nestling alongside his chest. He wrapped an arm around her. One hand slowly started to undo the front laces of her corset. “Don’t mind me. Talk while I keep my hands occupied.”
Her eyes widened as though surprised of his adeptness at such a taxing undertaking as women’s lacings.
“When I was thirteen,” she started, her voice catching as the top three laces came undone, “my family attempted to move here from the East by wagon. We were attacked by savages.”
“Indians?” he asked, and she slanted him a look as though galled he truly required further clarification. In his line of work, he ran across savages from every race imaginable though most people reserved that term for red-skinned people.
“Yes, savages,” she repeated, the animosity heavy in her tone. “They killed my father, mother who was five months pregnant, and my younger brother, who was almost seven. A family took me in.” She paused, taking a deep gulp as her corset, half-undone, gaped open, and her breasts bounced out.
“The lady of the house was church-going. After a while, she didn’t take kindly to me. She claimed I possessed a sinful nature and would only beget calamitous troubles if I allowed myself to give in to the carnality of the flesh.”
As he undid the last of the laces, he noticed her eyes close. He lifted her slightly from his chest, slid the corset from underneath. Her breathing deepened, and his fingers ached, mouth watered to sample the taut nipples, rock-solid beads atop the sweetest, creamiest confections he’d ever seen.
“Unable to trust me around her family,” she resumed and her voice quivered. Looking up at him with big eyes, he suspected she was growing anxious, probably waiting impatiently for him to do something, anything. Instead, he just he held her. His arm wrapped around her small waist, hand rested beneath her breast while the other strummed fingers atop his thigh. He watched her, listening. “She turned me out when I was fourteen. That’s how I wound up at Jazelle’s. I did laundry, cooked, cleaned, whatever needed doing until two days shy of my eighteenth birthday, when Reed—”
“Okay, I heard enough,” he stopped her in an effort to avoid the bitter reminder his father had bedded her first. Incredibly, she must have been a virgin when they married. The sorry-assed, lucky bastard. It wasn’t the idea she worked at a whorehouse that angered him, yet he felt a strange sense of relief that a stream of men hadn’t bedded her. It was the fact she’d married his father. The old man who gave him away at birth, then took a girl young enough to be his daughter as his wife. She shared his bed. The same bed they were going to use. His only recourse, from what he gathered Reed’s technique as a lover was, evidently, nowhere near his. Sex only for baby making, what nonsense, Devin mused. If he believed that, he would have been dead long ago.
“Slide out of your pantalets. I want to explain how your body reacts in lessons we’ll both enjoy.”
As though already familiar with what was hiding under her pantalets, she cast him a reproachful glance.
He grinned, his most notable, sinfully erotic grin, and she obeyed, despite the look on her face.
She tossed the garment over the side of bed, and sat upright, legs extended straight out, totally nude except for her stockings. A deep, red blush covered her from head to toe.
“Relax. I won’t hurt you. You might even like it. Lay back.” He gazed at her nakedness. His cock throbbed at the erotic display of innocence and wantonness.
“Only whores like that sort of thing. Married women do it because they have to.” She did as he directed, stiff as a board, hands crossed over her belly and legs squeezed tightly together, staring straight up at the ceiling.
“You don’t look relaxed.” He shifted her hands to her sides and stretched out alongside her. “Married or not, if sex between a man and woman wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable, then your body would have been made differently.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aside from babies popping out from between a woman’s legs and suckling at her tit, a female’s body was made for pleasure—her own, as well as a man’s.”
He took her words as a challenge and grinned at the thought of how he was about to change the doubting expression of her face. “Taking my cock in your mouth and stroking me was a hell of a lot more satisfying than whacking off alone in the woods. Believe me.”
Her eyes snapped to meet his, and he saw that look of doubt intensify.
“Satisfying for the man, but what of the female?”
He quirked a brow in surprise, and a smile crossed his lips to assure her she was about to find out.
“Allow me to demonstrate. If I do something you enjoy, by all means, tell me. I’ll continue, but only if you ask. Same applies if I do something that hurts or you don’t like. Let me know, and I’ll stop. Can you agree to that?”
* * * *
“Yes,” Megan barely managed to whisper. Was he crazy? All he had to do was look at her with those incredibly sensuous, silver eyes and she melted. Her body shivered with anticipation and the fear instilled by Mrs. Walker.
He started by brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder, drawing it behind her ear. She inhaled on a gasp when he nibbled her ear, the warmth of his breath tantalizing the skin along the curve of her throat. His tongue lined the shape and he nipped the lobe. It was heavenly to give herself to him, trust in him. She sighed and closed her eyes. Her head fell to the side freeing his mouth to kiss along her jaw line and down the curve of her neck to the slope of her shoulder.
Her chest rose with each deep breath, and her nipples puckered and ached for his touch. He brushed wet, hot kisses along her chest, down the cleft of her breasts. When he captured her breasts with his hands, possessing them with long, knowing fingers, and teased the crests with his thumbs, she whimpered softly. He squeezed the tender mounds firmly, drew a sensitive tip into his mouth, and lapped it greedily with his tongue.
She cried out, jutting her breast eagerly toward his mouth.
“Do you like that?” he asked, drawing back just enough to speak. Insatiably, he suckled the hardened nipple without waiting for a reply.
Apparently, even he didn’t hear her faint reply, because he moved to the next breast. She felt his hand knead one breast and cup the other while he devoured the globe almost entirely in his hungry, moist mouth. Her body writhed beneath him and dim whimpers escaped her throat. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop or keep going. His hands glided down her belly as his tongue and lips trailed a fiery path of desire, lower and lower.
His weight shifted, she felt him move further down the bed while his hands caressed her hips, encouraged her legs to part freely as he planted kisses atop her mound.
Her whimpers grew in volume, and he held her down with one hand on her hip as she wiggled her bottom toward him instinctively.
“Open your legs,” he ordered with a rough, strained voice of authority. Unable to resist, she parted her legs a minute degree. “More. Spread them wider.”
As her thighs separated further, the bed shifted once again under his weight as he moved between them. He hooked his hands beneath her knees, dragged her toward him until her legs were upon his shoulders, leaving only her upper back, outstretched arms and a long trail of hair remaining on the bed. He curled his arms over her hips to hold her still.
“What are you doing?” she murmured through closed eyes, unable to see, only feel, unaware of what was about to happen only aware of the all-consuming desire to be his. Too aroused to open her eyes, her cunt swollen and slick with her own arousal, she was willing to beg for what she craved, except she didn’t know exactly what to beg for.
“Partaking in your carnal flesh.” Fingers combed through her pubic curls as his palm curled over her mound.
She felt him opened her labia wide, spreading her wantonly, helplessly to his view. Her tender flesh was his for the taking. “Devin,” she moaned. Her body trembled with excitement, burned out of control.
“Yes,” he groaned as she felt two probing fingers sweep over her clit and along her aching entrance, driving her arousal higher.
She moaned harshly, her body arching upward, his face only inches from that most intimate part of her.
“What’s wrong, Megan? Don’t like what I’m doing?” She felt him again, and this time, his silky fingers flickered over her clit longer, teased the narrow slit of her pussy. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her head thrashed on the pillow as the strange sensations collided within her body. Her senses shattered as an intense, fiery longing struck between her legs. She struggled to breathe as she wiggled her hips, discovered the pleasure increased when she bore down on his fingers.
When he gradually slid a finger through the slick entrance, she cried out at the lingering sensation that assaulted the core between her thighs, quenching the burning ache momentarily before it raged into a full-blown fiery inferno. Her body stiffened as her thighs tightened on either side of his head.
“If you like what I’m doing, tell me, or I’ll move on,” he murmured as his finger began moving inside her with ease. Her intense arousal lubricated the tight passage, accepting his possession of her.
She tried to catch her breath, answer, make sense of the pleasure driving her crazy, mad with desire, when all she was supposed to feel was shame. Yet there was no iniquity or embarrassment, just utter bliss. She wanted, needed, yearned, had to have more.
“Devin,” she called out his name softly, arching her hips toward his face as his mouth replaced the finger that had been strumming her clit. She could feel the moisture of her arousal trickling from her body and coating the finger thrusting in the tight channel, driving her wild. She was anxious for him to continue fanning the flame he ignited within her, to keep his tongue swirling over the root of her desire, sending hot currents from her clit to every pulsing nerve in her body.
“Say it, Megan,” he gasped hoarsely, and she felt his breath hot against her vagina, his tongue plunge into the searing depths already taut around his embedded finger, suckling her throbbing flesh.
Hands clutching the bed sheets, she knew what he wanted to hear. The hot need built, tormenting her sensitized body until she wanted to scream for him to never stop. Knowing he would stop if she didn’t answer. “Please,” she breathed.
His thrusting finger paused, and he gave her one last lick before he rasped tightly, “Please what?”
Her gaze collided with his. With his nose just over her mound, she could feel his breath heaving hotly on her sensitive flesh. His tongue slowly flicked back and forth over the sensitive pebble while he seemed to wait for her reply. His pupils were enlarged, black with desire, face flushed with arousal. Her chest heaved. She gasped for each breath, and she knew he was just as lost in the pinnacle of madness.
“Don’t stop.” Her head dropped to her shoulder, and she cried out weakly as his ravenous mouth continued its onslaught, and his finger buried deep inside her. The heated blood in her veins coursed through her body, centering where his tongue intensified its manipulation, sending more hot juices flowing from her inner recesses.
His hand cupped a breast and his fingers tweaked the hard nipple, giving her a flash of sensation bordering between pain and pleasure. His mouth and tongue didn’t stop their torment on her clit. Her body was on fire, and something strange, wonderful, uncontrollable was happening, taking over her body like never before. Bolts of pure bliss, jarring pleasure shot through her as her body jerked with its first earth-shattering orgasm ever. She screamed, body convulsing with ultimate pleasure and felt his hands tightening on her hips, pulling her tightly against him.
He didn’t stop. He continued sweeping his tongue over her sensitive folds, greedily suckling the creamy essence from her climax. His embedded finger fucked her hole with increased vigor, in and out, as the pulsing sensations barraged her diluted body. She felt another powerful culmination build deep inside her womb. His mouth focused, the adept hardness of his finger slid inside her tight, slick folds deeper and faster, while his other h
and clutched and squeezed her breasts and nipples.
Small moans died against the pillow as she buried her flushed face. The second explosion pummeled through her, terrifying her. The pleasure was too intense, the need too carnal and emotions too weakening, and she was rendered powerless to control her body or thoughts.
However, the onslaught continued, despite the swollen root of painful, sensitive nerves. He kept tending the array of lustful manipulations, harder and faster. Increasing the pressure and rhythm and shattered her last sense of reality. The rich essence of yet another release flowed from her body into his mouth. His lips and tongue drank from her moist flesh faster than the juices seeped from her trembling cunt. She was dazed, breathing shallow, no longer conscious when one orgasm ended and the next began.
Like a voracious, wild animal, his blissful onslaught, nonstop sensations overwhelmed her senses with the unending pace that dazed her mind. Her inner muscles quivered. Body trembled with spasm after spasm while he devoured the honeyed cream like a starving beast feasting on her bare flesh.
She was so weak, she thought she was going to die. Then, it hit her with a reprehensible awareness. He wasn’t going to stop. He would persist until she spoke up, told him what she wanted.
Unable to endure such burning, intense pleasure a moment longer, she struggled to find strength. “Stop,” she breathed weakly, her eyes too heavy to open.
Relieved, she gasped for breath when he drew back. Her hazy eyes fluttered open briefly. He lowered her limp body to the bed and stretched out alongside her. He pulled her against the heat of his large, sheltering body, wrapped his arms around her, and draped his thigh over her hips, dragging her even closer. A hand smoothed her honey-colored hair off her dampened forehead. “I was beginning to think you really didn’t want me to stop.”
His breath was warm against the curve of her throat. She could hear the amusement in his voice and smell her heady scent of arousal on his lips. If she had the strength, she’d smack him. Shoot him with his own gun. Later, she told herself. I’ll shoot him later. She closed her eyes and nestled her weary head in the crook of his shoulder.