1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise

by Devil's Pact (lit)

  Nothing seemed to escape his keen vision.

  “Like hell you can. If I had the time, I’d make you soak in a hot tub. For now, get rest. When I return with the girls, I’ll bring in the tub.”

  He left the room before she could voice an argument.

  “Till then,” he added, returning with only her dress. She wondered what he did with the other garments. “Stay in bed.”

  He took the quilt folded at the end of the bed and covered her with it.

  “I’m not a child.” She pulled the cover up to her neck and gritted her teeth. Shocked even that small movement renewed the aches shooting through her arms.

  “That’s why I fucked you. If you were a child, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Chapter 17

  Megan felt as if her body was perched on the losing side of a battlefield. However, each time she thought of yesterday afternoon, it tingled with a rush of desire that rekindled her hunger for his powerful body. Maybe the sizzling need wouldn’t be so unbearable if she’d stayed awake after soaking in the steaming hot bath last night.

  Devin waking her before dawn by licking the tender folds between her legs, bringing her to one orgasm after the next, made up for her disappointment.

  In return, he showed her how to take more of his cock in her mouth—what he referred to as “face fucking”.

  She found it immensely enjoyable and was actually good at it. Almost half his thick stalk fit in her mouth. While squeezing his balls, his hands tightened in her hair, the prickling of pain sent fiery pulses rushing through her system, straight to her empty pussy. It flared her appetite, had her sucking harder until he came twice. Hungrily, she swallowed every drop of his hot release.

  The warmth of his body, the beat of his heart against her chest as he held her close made her want to stay in bed forever. The sun climbed over the horizon and beamed like a beacon through the lace curtain, warning her reality existed and what she felt was transitory.

  Over breakfast, Shelby mentioned Ms. Rosalinda, their teacher, had joined the three of them for supper at the café yesterday. Ms. Rosalinda was a nice enough young lady. Pretty in a tall, blond, hourglass sort of way, but not one for socializing outside her close circle of well-heeled friends.

  Of course, Devin brushed the encounter off, saying Shelby insisted Ms. Rosalinda join them after the teacher practically invited herself. Not wanting to cause undo suspicion, he went along with the child’s request.

  Since there was no reason to turn green over an innocent dinner, she let the subject drop and went about her day. Devin tried his hand at taking care of the animals, and Megan stayed mainly in the house, only going outside to pick vegetables for lunch and supper.

  Most of the day, she was on pins and needles, expecting him at any moment to do what he so vehemently threatened—lift her skirt and take her.

  To her chagrin, the man was an absolute total contradiction.

  As she moved around the house, wearing nothing under her widow’s weeds, her body quivered with anticipation. She was dying to work on her stamina, to try out her new suckling skills once more, or have him fill her aching pussy with his cock.

  What did he do? He stayed away. He actually stayed away. When he came in for lunch, he hardly glanced at her. Right afterward, he hurried out the door, mumbling about the weather.

  By late afternoon, it began to rain. When it was time for bed, she questioned if he would even want to sleep with her again, much less touch her and keep her warm on such a cold and windy night.

  What changed? Did she do something wrong? Was she too inexperienced to please him? Was she too skinny? Too short? Not pretty enough?

  Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t her inability to keep up with his carnal desires. The man was intensely sexual and possessed unparallel stamina. She doubted she’d ever be able to keep up. Was a lofty debt enough to keep him around longer?

  All sorts of asinine thoughts left her so distracted, she hadn’t noticed it was thundering outside when she walked in the girls’ bedroom.

  Megan’s jaw dropped, and she froze mid-step. She not only noticed the pink flush covering her bare arms in her short-sleeved dress, she felt her entire body warm instantly, responding with undeniable lust.

  “Megan, come here and look at Devin’s scars,” Shelby hollered excitedly, standing on Emma’s bed and indicating the part her hands made in Devin’s wavy auburn locks.

  “And the one’s on his back.” Even Emma seemed tickled as she ran her hand over his bare back. He sat naked from the waist up on Emma’s bed. This presented Megan with ample opportunity to admire his masculine form, a well-defined, bulging v-shape which narrowed to his trim hips.

  Shifting slightly to face her, he smiled sheepishly, and her breath stilled in her chest.

  There were so many prominent features on the man. She never noticed the three scars carved into his muscular back. But then again, she had been too busy staring at what was between his legs to look anywhere else. The tapered scars were long, ran almost from the left side to the other at an angle.

  “A bear did ‘em, Megan.” Shelby’s eyes were wide with excitement

  “Yes, and Devin killed him.” Emma actually appeared impressed by the uncommon feat of heroism.

  “And the Indian woman…” Shelby turned to Devin. “What was her name?”

  “Bird Whisperer,” Devin volunteered with a moderately low tone.

  “Yeah, her. She made him all better. It was a good story. You missed it, Megan.”

  Taking a deep, calming breath, she met his gaze. The glimmer of humility caught her by surprise.

  “I hardly think a tale on bears and Indians is appropriate for children before bed.”

  The tone in her voice told Devin she wasn’t happy with his topic of choice. Not that he was boasting. He just couldn’t bring himself to read the ten-cent fantasy novels when he’d lived the real adventure. There were learned lessons, beneficial to even young girls and a stubborn woman who looked like a kid herself.

  “Perhaps she’s right, girls.” He stood and grabbed his shirt off the bed. When she first walked through the door, he caught a glimpse of the sexual arousal bright in her eyes. It left him feeling too exposed. Too aware of every frustrating second that had passed since his cock exploded in the tight depths of her sweet pussy.

  In the morning, Megan had sucked him down her slender throat deep enough that he came twice. It was good. Damned good. However, he was greedy, downright demanding, and he wanted more. A helluva lot more. He fed off her honey-flavored climaxes until she begged him to stop. Dying to ride her again, he parted the slick folds of her tiny vagina and realized the extent of his depraved abuse. Her swollen, tender insides were streaked raw from the driving fury inflicted by the monstrous weapon between his legs. Damn. Sometimes, he felt cursed.

  Until her battered body recovered, he needed to stay away from her.

  Hell, it would be better just to stay away from her entirely. They were so mismatched, it was ridiculous. Her fragile body was never going to get used to the likes of him and his depraved ways. He should get out while the getting was good.

  The girls pouted, and he shrugged. He found Shelby’s quivering lower lip endearing. It was Emma’s soulful eyes mirroring his that tugged at him.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll come up with another story tomorrow,” he added, slipping on his shirt.

  “Oh, goody,” they both cheered.

  “You gonna tuck us in, Devin?” Shelby asked, scrambling to her bed.

  “Only if you get under the covers right now.”

  From the corner of his eye Devin watched Megan return to the sewing she left on the side table next to the sofa, while the girls jumped under the blankets and waited for him.

  “All right, who wants to be first?”

  After he tucked them both in, he let them kiss him good night. Heading toward the door, Shelby stopped him.

  “Devin, why doesn’t Megan sleep with us anymore?”

&
nbsp; Thrown for a loop by her unexpected question, he hesitated. “She keeps me company,” he finally answered after taking a deep, restorative breath.

  “She never kept Pawpaw company,” Emma added bluntly, looking at him with her big, inquisitive eyes.

  “You mean, since he took ill?” Devin corrected, standing at the foot of Emma’s bed.

  “Even before then,” Emma explained, and a sudden realization struck him hard.

  “This used to be her bed ever since she came to live with us. I used to sleep over there.” Shelby pointed to Emma’s bed. “She was too scared to sleep alone in the loft.”

  “Ever since you and the soldiers brought us home, she stopped sleeping with us.” Emma’s tone was direct, accusatory, placing the blame entirely on him.

  “What’s the matter, she don’t like us anymore?” Shelby looked hurt.

  “Of course she does,” Devin supplied, feeling a small pinch of guilt at taking their bedmate away from them. Yet despite their apparent distress, he needed Megan more and wasn’t about to restore the previous sleeping order. “You girls are growing up and need your own space. My bed is big enough for two. Megan has more room to sleep comfortable with me.”

  “But Megan is not much bigger than Emma. She can fit.”

  As usual, Shelby was giving him no breaks, and Emma was staring him down with her intensely observant silver gaze.

  “Yes, but sometimes grownups need to be alone.”

  “Do ya’ll kiss?” Shelby bolted upright, eyes wide, eager for his reply.

  He swallowed the lump in his suddenly dry throat. “Huh?”

  “I saw Miss Rosalinda let this cowboy kiss her when I was supposed to be playing at recess one time.”

  Devin arched a brow. “Oh?” he replied, simply for lack of anything better to contribute to such a declaration.

  “Miss Rosalinda has lots of male callers during recess.” Emma joined in, as though wanting to be included in the discussion that was leaving him more uncomfortable by the second.

  “Uh, good for her.” He scratched his head. “I think you two should go to sleep now. We’ll finish this…talk some other time.” Without waiting to hear more of their age-inappropriate schoolyard gossip he left the room and closed the door behind him.

  “I need to talk to you,” he stated as he walked toward the front door.

  Megan looked up from her seat on the couch. Putting her sewing items aside, she casually replied, “Go right ahead. I’m listening.”

  He opened the front door, and a blast of cold night air rushed inside. “Outside. I don’t want the girls to hear.”

  The sounds of heavy rain inundated the large room. Thunder and lightning lit up the night sky, matching his mood.

  “I’ll get my wrap.”

  With her crocheted shawl tight around her shoulders, they stood side by side on the front porch. Silent. Staring into the dark openness in front of them as the rain came down in thick sheets. The harsh pounding of pellets on the roof necessitated the need to speak above a whisper.

  “You lied to me,” he finally spoke in a low, matter-of-fact tone that belied the deeper emotions bubbling in a confused pursuit of truth beneath the surface of his skin.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slight tilt of her head. Curiously, she looked up at him. “You led me to believe you were a virgin when you married Reed. That he was the only one. You lied.” He turned to face her. “You’re nothing but a whore.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You never loved him. What did you do, marry him for his money?”

  “Devin, no. I…I did. You have to believe me. I did love him.”

  She was lying. She had to be lying. Her avid response was too real, too learned, her need too great, her lust too strong. He glared at her in a long moment of disbelief. He wanted to believe she was innocent, not a whore who enjoyed spreading her legs for men.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders. “If you loved him, why did it take you five years to go to him? If what you said was true about the night he had his stroke.”

  “It’s true. I went to him that night.”

  “Why only that night? What about all the other nights? Who have you been with?” Unable to control the doubts, the questions, his need to possess her in a way no other man had, his fingers tightened around her slender shoulders as he shook her.

  She searched his face frantically. The fear in her eyes was real. Unable to control the crazed sense of rage, he ignored it. “Stop, Devin. You’re hurting me.”

  The pent-up, frenzied tension gripped him, took strong hold and wouldn’t let go. His hands stilled, yet unknowingly his fingers were digging into her flesh. “I’ll do more than that if you don’t answer me.”

  “Let me go, please,” her feeble voice trembled, and her body cringed beneath his hands.

  As he towered over her, he stared down into her pained expression and decided he was moments away from potentially hurting her. The one woman who dared touch beyond the physical, made him feel beyond his dark lust, made him want, yearn, and imagine more than his ruthless lot deserved, and he was about to harm her.

  Gritting his teeth, he released her and moved to the opposite end of the porch. His rage turned his blood to lava. His heartbeat was so loud he heard it over the thunder and rain battering through the darkness. Megan lied to him. Perhaps she lied about everything—Caleb, his father, her family, what she did at Jazelle’s.

  * * * *

  Leaning against the porch rail, Megan caught her breath as the stitch in her arms ebbed. Her raw, quivering nerves were on edge. Devin had reached a higher level of anger, surpassing the day Reed passed away.

  Turning from the wet, windy gloom closing in on her, she looked at him. With his broad back to her, the fury emanating from him was daunting, his strength impressive and intimidating. Truth was on her side, and that had to count for something. “Devin, if you calm down, I’ll tell you everything.”

  He turned to face her, his stony expression unmoved. The front of his clothes were splattered with rain. Keeping his distance, he just stared with a cold finality that sent a shiver down her spine straight to her toes.

  “I loved Reed.” Her voice trembled.

  In the darkness, aided by a flash of lightning, she noticed his eyes narrow, as though he didn’t believe her.

  “I loved him like a father. He was the only one who had been kind to me. He took me away from Jazelle’s, married me because that was the only way to keep me safe.”

  “Safe from what? That bastard Pretty Boy?”

  The stinging rain against the wooden porch planks reminded her of the shrill laughter that rang in her ears when she was dragged behind Jazelle’s washing shed. The flash of lightning was hideous like the glowing whites of his eyes as he bent over her, held her down until his boss finished with her. Her stomach churned. For support, a false sense of strength and permanence, she leaned her back against the porch beam.

  “Everything I said about Caleb was true. We never…you know.” She lowered her gaze, hiding the disappointment and shame that Caleb was not the one. “His mother threw me out of the house, mainly ‘cause…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Cuz why?”

  “Mr. Walker.” She turned her back to him, held onto the thick, rough-hewn beam and stared up into the blackened, starless night, allowed the rain to pummel her face and the front of her dress. “My monthly flow started that day. Caleb was curious. We hid in the carriage house. I had my skirts pulled up around my waist and…that’s when Mr. Walker found us. He ordered Caleb inside, said he was gonna teach me a lesson, take a switch to me. He tossed me over his knee, threw my skirt over my head, and pulled down my pantalets. ‘Cept he never got a switch. He kept rubbing his hand over my bottom and…and…”

  “I get the picture,” he quietly offered.

  “That’s when Mrs. Walker came outside. She blamed me. They shipped Caleb to boarding school
. Jazelle was the only one willing to take me in. Every day, Jazelle reminded me that once I was old enough, I’d work upstairs with the other girls. Jazelle forced me to look through a peephole at women and male customers to learn. Days before my eighteenth birthday, when I was to start working upstairs, your father offered to marry me. Reed said I was a good girl.” At the memory of what prompted Reed’s sacrificial proposal, a big sob overpowered the rain shower as she buried her face in her hands.

  Devin remained quiet until her composure returned a few moments later. She prayed he assumed it was Mr. Walker. What his wife caught him doing was shameful enough, but he didn’t do the unthinkable. Her tormentor came much later.

  “I didn’t learn Reed paid Jazelle to marry me until after his first stroke, when he told me about the letter.” She wiped the tears and raindrops from her drenched face. “I never told anyone about Mr. Walker touching me—not Reed, not even Caleb. I did tell Reed about Caleb. I let him believe Caleb was the sole reason his mother sent me away.”

  “Megan, what about the night Reed suffered his stroke?”

  She closed her eyes, raised her face, let the rain sting her skin to hide her tears. Oh, how she wished that night never occurred. She inhaled deeply and she turned to look at him.

  “Reed treated me like a daughter. Grateful at last to have a real home, I thought it was the only way to show my appreciation. I crawled into his bed. He woke up, shocked to find me there.”

  Devin moved his lips as if to speak. Before he said anything to stop her, she revealed even more.

  “Reed turned me away.”

  “What?”

  “He said that wasn’t the reason he married me. He wanted me to be part of the family, but not as his wife. Ashamed by what I tried to do, I started to cry. I wanted to die. To comfort me, he put his arms around me. That’s when he had his stroke.”

  “And you think you were the reason for his stroke.”

  “If I didn’t go to him that night, lewdly surprise him, he never would have gotten sick.”

  “You don’t know that. The man was old. Who knows how many ailments he had? Don’t go blaming yourself for something you didn’t cause.”