“I love only you, Megan Adams.” He turned, knife still in hand, stormed out of the door, and swung upon his horse.
Megan clung to the doorjamb, watching as Caleb disappeared around the bend in a cloud of dust. Suddenly, she felt cold, alone and completely empty. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“So tell me, Dimples,” Devin’s deep voice drew her around. “Just how friendly were you two?”
Hatred burned into her mind. Overlooking his brassiness, she stepped away from the door and shot him a look the likes of which he probably wouldn’t soon forget.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Devil Child, or whatever the hell they call you. I only said that for Caleb’s sake.”
“Which part?” he asked in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
“My belonging to you,” she spewed, wiping away tears with a rough swipe of her fingers. “You don’t own me. Not now, not ever. I’ll not be the property of another man. So you see, Mr. Spawn, I’m only here for the girls. As soon as I can, I’m taking them away. I’ll get as far from you as humanly possible.”
“It’s Devil’s Spawn. I suppose it has the same meaning, though. I prefer the way you say it. Definitely has a nice ring to it. Devil Child.” His voice was a relentless tease, and she fumed, anger spreading through her system.
Her gaze dropped to the gunbelt on the table.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, all traces of humor removed from his voice.
She clenched her fist in the folds of her skirt. “Why don’t you jump on that monstrosity you call a horse and ride on out of here? I’ll be glad to be rid of you.”
“Don’t go lying, Dimples.” His voice turned low, suggestive. “There’s something you want from me. A reason you agreed to return to the ranch. The real reason you sent Pretty Boy packing. Since the first night we met in the woods by the river, you’ve wanted it.” He moved around the table, but his eyes never left hers.
She started to back away in the opposite direction, her heart pounding like the beat of a drum. Her body reacted viscerally to his husky tone, the raw arousal in his silvery gaze. The sensual bow of his lips brought to mind the pleasure he’d shown her on their last night together.
“When you look at me, I see it in your eyes. I can see it in your eyes this very instant.”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Every glorious detail of that night, the vivid image of him sprawled naked in the middle of their bed, turned her blood hot. She glanced downward. The bulge in the front of his buckskins grew before her eyes. A flare of heated desire raced down her spine. She bumped into a chair behind her and let out a startled gasp, her breath coming in spurts.
“I’ve wanted the same thing. I’ve dreamt about it, imagined it and thought about it more times than I care to admit. How it would feel to be inside—”
“You’re wrong.” Her eyes widened, watching him advance, the dark intent in his gaze dizzying to her senses. “I don’t want anything of yours.”
“Oh, no, Dimples, you want it bad, as bad as I want it. Want me to show you how bad I want to be inside you?”
Yes. She shook her head.
His hands worked the laces of his buckskins. “How bad I want to fill your sweet pussy, to have you in my arms beneath me.”
Unable to move, her feet were rooted to the floor. Her wide-eyed gaze was riveted to the enormous bulge straining the thin material for freedom. Her fingers curled tightly around the back of the chair. Reflexively, she bit her lip and moaned, a soft, pitiful moan as he peeled apart the butter-colored fabric, revealing the solid erection beneath.
“See how bad I want to feel your tight pussy gripping my cock as you come.” He held his cock at the wide base, stroked the thick length slowly with the other hand. It pointed directly at her, seemed to call her, tempt, promise and warn her all at the same time. It lured her to heavenly bliss or the perils of hell, she wasn’t sure which.
“Come here, Dimples,” he spoke softly as he beckoned her with a wave of his hand, directing her to the chair he’d pulled away from the table.
Mesmerized, weakened by her own arousal, she took a cautious step toward him. Lord help her, because alone she could not resist the temptation he presented. Megan hesitated, drew in a deep breath. She took another step and then froze when he advanced.
With his left hand resting on the small of her back, he guided her the rest of the way. Another small moan of desire escaped her lips when the head of his cock brushed against her elbow. The heat seared her skin, daring her to touch it as the distinct scent of his arousal overwhelmed her senses.
“Sit.” He held the chair. Automatically she did as requested. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes grew even wider, noting his erection was directly within eye level, only inches from her face as he stood in front of her. She swallowed hard and licked her lips.
* * * *
Talk about control. Devin wanted grab her hair and ram his rod down her throat until he hit rock-bottom. That wouldn’t do Megan any good. He wanted to please her, ravage and fuck her, make her forget Pretty Boy and take her to a place only he knew. Limbo, a state of oblivion bordering heaven and hell.
From what little experience they shared, he knew she wouldn’t be able to handle what he had in mind. He had to go slow. Her small, tight vagina wasn’t accustomed to his demands. This was going to require patience, a lot of patience, and he was not a man known for patience when it came to appeasing his dark, sexual desires.
Not wanting to treat her like a common whore, a grimace lined his face. Unsure how to a treat lady, his breathing altered by his pulsing need, while he reflected he wasn’t exactly built for one as dainty as Megan.
She was Devin Spawn’s woman now, and he was just going to have to control the bestial unrestrained lust raging in his blood. He liked the sound of that—his woman.
At least, until he had his fill of her Then, he would be on his way.
He never stayed in one place long. No woman ever managed to change his ways. Not his aunties, the Comanche woman John married, the pretty squaws who fired up his peace pipe, hot-and-spicy Mexican senoritas, or the enamored soiled doves who promised an endless supply of free goodies if he settled with them.
He enjoyed his freedom too much, lived his self-indulgent days coming and going whenever he pleased.
Megan was surely a passing fancy, someone he wanted for the moment, though the desire was beyond comprehension, out of place for a loner who never needed anyone.
Perhaps it was the death of his father, the idea another man wanted her, or the selfishness coming from some sort of perceived ownership, seeing how he’d paid good money for her. Reason could be simply a physical attraction. One look at the petite, taut body, pert breasts inflating the front of her dress, those pouty, pink lips that could grip a man’s cock tight in her inviting mouth and suck him bone dry, or kiss so softly and passionately, a man could feel the burn clear to his toes.
Whatever the reason, he’d stay a few days, no more.
He sat directly in front of her, legs on either side of hers, his cock practically resting in her lap.
* * * *
Unable to pull her eyes from the erotic site, her body trembled. Megan was barely aware as he gathered up the hem of her skirt. She clasped her knees together when she felt the heat of his hands on her skin just below the hem of pantalets. The throbbing between her thighs intensified.
“Tell me.” He spoke softly, the heat of his arousal darkening his charcoaled gaze and deepening his tone. “What did you two do?”
Her head jerked up. Momentary shock ripped through her. He asked about Caleb.
“Tell me.”
She couldn’t bring herself to speak the truth. The warmth of his fingertips scorched the curves of her calves as they inched higher over the thin material.
After her failure to respond, he asked again.
“We…” she gasped, closing her eyes briefly when his hands rounded her knees.
&nbs
p; His hands stilled, and she knew he was waiting for her answer.
“We didn’t have relations.”
“You and he never fucked?” His voice was surprisingly low, almost soft she thought.
Mortified, she shook her head.
“Say it. I want to hear you say it.” The palms of his hands continued their slow journey up her thighs.
“No, we never…” She paused. With no desire to put what she and Caleb shared in such degrading terms, yet unsure the beast under the calm mask could understand the depth of their love, she chose, “had sex.”
“What have you shared?” His hands trailed over her hips, dipping behind her to cup the roundness of her buttocks as they rested on the wooden seat.
“Must I tell you?” She trembled. The memories, his proximity, and her own lusty awareness were too much.
His hands stilled once again. “Remember our agreement. You are not to deny me anything. Never tell me no. I’ll guarantee you’ll not like the consequences.”
Her mouth clamped shut. Not only did she not want to share the beautiful memories of her time with Caleb, she didn’t want to recall something that could never be.
“I’m waiting.”
For an instant, she considered just what those consequences he spoke of may be. His large hands once again rested on her knees, squeezed them with a minute degree of pressure, a subtle warning of the tremendous reserve of additional strength. It helped her decide. She began quietly, hesitantly, “We—he used to touch me.”
He looked into her eyes, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. With his hands still underneath her skirt, he parted her knees slightly. His voice was low, a rough velvet device of seduction. “Where? Where did he touch you?”
She hesitated, fighting the wave of moisture and the quiver between her thighs, desperately trying to ignore his cock jerking above her skirt. “There…between my legs.”
“Your thighs?” His hands roamed slowly up her inner thighs.
“Higher,” she breathed, closing her eyes, parting her legs to ease his voyage as the ache between her thighs intensified.
“Here?” he asked as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her upper thighs over her pantalets.
“Higher.” The overwhelming excitement, the desire had her shivering.
His large hand splayed over her covered mound as his fingers grazed the sparse curls poking through the timeworn fabric. “Here?”
“Lower,” she moaned on a sigh. Her heart beat furiously as his fingers crept steadily closer to her weeping flesh.
“Here?” he asked sensually, finding the correct location. Her body jerked when he fingered her cotton-clad pussy, drenched with the tell-tale sign of her arousal.
“Yes,” she gasped, arching her back a tad, a silent plea for him to sink his finger inside and ease the ache, the need.
“Did you like it?” he whispered in a heated, suggestive manner. His fingers stroked the throbbing wetness lightly through the thin layer.
“It was nice.” A long moan escaped her when his fingers moved in a circular motion above her labia with a firm pressure.
His brow rose in a skeptical fashion and a single digit eased between the covered outer lips. “When was the last time he touched you?”
“Fourteen,” she murmured struggling to keep her eyes open. She squirmed as the divine sensations took over.
“Days, weeks?” Devin penetrated the folds of her greedy pussy as deep as the constricting material would allow, provoking a loud gasp of pleasure from her.
She bit her lip. The power and heat emanating from him made her quiver. Waiting for her reply, he watched her bosom rise and fall with each shallow breath. Her gaze dropped to his cock, which twitched precariously on her lap. With the desire to end the inquiry, to have his delicious, hard, impossibly wide cock fill her and quench the ache in her pussy, she softly replied, “I was fourteen.”
He yanked his hands from between her legs and jerked down her skirt so rapidly, she sat up, puzzled by his reaction. Her breathing still shallow and a flush covered her cheeks and spread down to her chest.
“At what age did he begin?” he asked, clearly incensed, leaving her little option but to tell the truth.
“Thirteen,” she blurted, feeling awkward, thwarted by the intimate contact so rude and abruptly taken away.
He stood up so fast, the chair fell backward. Hastily, he stuffed his erection back into his buckskins. “The bastard took advantage of you.”
“It wasn’t like that.” She shook her head, trembling with confusion, in panic at the searing eyes staring down at her.
“I should have killed him,” he growled fiercely.
That would never happen, not while she lived. She needed to reassure Devin with the truth. “We were both young. Caleb is only six months older than me.”
She remembered it like it was yesterday. After all these years, it was comforting to confide in someone finally. She told him almost everything.
* * * *
Caleb’s parents—the most logical choice, since they were the wealthiest family in town—took her in after the raid, which killed her parents, her brother, and their chance for a better future in a developing frontier. Heartbroken and withdrawn while living in the only two-story house in town at the time, she seldom spoke to the conservative banker or his pristine wife. Mrs. Walker’s time was spent either with a small group of society women, praying at church, or patronizing the dressmaker to have the latest European designs replicated to fit her overly round figure.
Caleb was the only one to go out of his way to be friendly, drawing her out of her shell little by little each day. Soon, she was as comfortable with him as she had been with her own six-year old brother, Trevor.
One beautiful, summer day, the sky was blue, the sun bright and hot beaming down on them as they walked home from school. She suggested they take a dip in the river. “It would be delightfully refreshing,” she exclaimed, running down the grassy knoll toward the river. She laughed and taunted Caleb as he yelled after her his mother’s consequence if they dirtied their tailor-made clothes.
“We’ll take them off, silly,” she replied, unbuttoning her blouse and flying it above her head like a kite.
Caleb ran after her, catching sight of her dressed only in her chemise as she jumped in the water. Against his better judgment, he stripped out of his clothes, and wearing only his long johns, he dived in.
After their exhilarating swim, she coyly explained they needed to wait until their undergarments dried, or risk soaking their clothes and having his mother discover what they’d done. Following her advice, he hung their wet garments over a low-lying branch to dry.
Both naked and wet as newborns, she curled into a ball. For the sake of modesty, Caleb sat far away from her. Megan complained she was cold.
Gallant even then, Caleb wrapped his arms around her, used his body to warm hers. So close, their bare moist flesh touching made her ache in places a young girl should have no knowledge of.
Her tiny, pebble sized nipples were hard, and when he noticed, she explained they did that whenever she was cold. In an attempt to warm her as she artfully suggested, he rubbed his hands over them. When his untapped cock became hard, he stopped, turned red with embarrassment.
Megan just smiled as her own budding body tingled with enlightenment.
She liked his hands touching her.
She liked it a lot.
And so it began. Megan Adams introduced Caleb Walker to carnal temptation, seduced him on the way home each day from school after they frolicked in the river. She’d whimper about the coldness, knowing chivalrously he’d offer to warm her. Certain body parts were often colder than others, allowing his hands more time to explore and heat her up each afternoon. Finally, they stopped swimming altogether, stretched out in the grass, and kissed while he touched her emerging breasts and that most intimate of all places, between her thighs. With one finger inside her, sometimes, he would take his developing penis in his hand and stoke it
until a white fluid spilled out. Other times, he would lie on top of her, rubbing against her until the sticky stuff would squirt between their bodies.
Curious and eager to understand exactly what happened to him and why something like that never happened to her, she offered to stroke him until the explosion that always made him shudder and groan, as though in some sort of pain he seemed to enjoy, spilled in her hands.
Caleb Walker’s mother, a devout Christian, preached to Megan nightly that carnal delights of the body were the Devil’s work. She warned Megan to pray for strength, to turn away from wicked, sinful temptations of the flesh, never realizing Megan led her precious son down the immoral avenue of lust, a sensual awakening they both couldn’t resist any more than Adam resisted the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. Their young bodies touched, explored, come alive under the warmth of the afternoon sun. All the while, Caleb whispered in her ear how beautiful she was, how they’d always be together, and how much he loved her. Sweet words she longed to hear, sentiments she returned wholeheartedly.
* * * *
“You seduced him?” Devin watched her in absorption.
Her shallow breathing, the subtle rise and fall of her breasts, the gentle parting of her lips and the heated flush on her cheeks revealed, as she retold the story that it aroused her to no end.
Megan tried to smile, not realizing she somehow managed a wide-eyed innocence. Once again, she witnessed the spark of arousal darkening his gaze.
“Take off your dress.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Megan stood on legs turned to mush and started to fumble with the hooks on her black dress. She felt her body tremble with sensual awareness, could see the lust intensify, glaze his eyes as he focused intently on her fingers. As each hook came undone, his breathing became harsher. She shrugged out of the black dress, letting it fall to the floor around her feet and heard his swift intake of breath.
1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise Page 23