1933563060-Devils-Pact-Cruise

by Devil's Pact (lit)

  “If you ever need help, let me know. My assistance is yours. Just ask. My hands will be here. They do anything I ask. Men are so very helpful to a woman in need.”

  Megan tilted her head in astonishment, unable to believe her ears. Rosalinda described her ranch hands as though they were choirboys and not hired guns, ruthless men after a fast dollar.

  “I heard how things were a little rough for you a while back. Thankfully, that’s all behind you now, since you have such an able body to help around the house.” Rosalinda glanced fleetingly over each shoulder. “It must have come as a quite a delightful surprise to learn your late husband had a son.”

  Struck with a bolt of clarity, Megan’s eyes grew wide.

  “Especially one so capable.” With a flick of the wrist, her fan snapped open. Rosalinda waved the fan in a fast frenzy trying to cool the obvious flush on her face as if it were the dead of summer and not spring, with a crisp breeze from the north.

  If Megan didn’t see it for herself, she never would have believed it. With every breath, Rosalinda’s large breasts heaved, swelled above the low neckline of her Sunday best. Swollen nipples tented the front of her tight-fitting bodice. She was aroused. The woman was here to see Devin.

  “And so helpful. Dev—I mean Mr. Spawn.” Rosalinda batted her eyes and laughed, a dainty little chuckle that made Megan want to slap her into next Sunday. Instead, she feigned a smile.

  Rosalinda continued. “When he picked up the girls on Friday, he helped me rearrange the bookcases. He left so quickly, I didn’t get to thank him properly.”

  I bet you didn’t.

  “I was passing this way and thought, how rude it would be of me not to express my gratitude.”

  “I know how busy you are. Wouldn’t want to keep you longer than necessary, I assure you I’ll give him your message.” Megan was proud of herself. She actually sounded sincere.

  “And disgrace my headmistress?” Her tone held a small illusion of chastisement. “Hardly. I was taught it would be much more meaningful if I did it in person.”

  I bet it would.

  “Is he here?” Her eyelashes fluttered once more, maintaining an air of propriety.

  “Yes. He’s in the barn,” Megan replied in a pragmatic tone, grudgingly resentful that the entire town probably saw her as a spent widow with a tainted reputation, whereas, the men all flocked around the prim and proper educator. Were her large breasts the draw?

  Rosalinda smiled sweetly. Her eyes lit up, outwardly pleased with her good fortune.

  “With the girls,” Megan added smugly, watching the disappointment cloud the other woman’s blue gaze.

  In a big puff of purple satin and lace, bodice perfectly fitted to her lush figure, Rosalinda climbed out of her carriage. She gave Megan a polite nod and made her way to the barn.

  Megan stood on the porch she waited until the barn door closed before returning inside. She had no claim over Devin. The only thing he gave her was his body—nothing more.

  Rosalinda had reminded her Devin was her stepson. What could she really expect from him—a lifetime commitment? To live in sin together until they grew old? Another week as his lover? Another day? With Devin, one never knew.

  All that she knew was she didn’t want to lose him.

  * * * *

  Gritting her teeth, Megan chopped the carrots until they were a mound of orange mush.

  “Is that what’s for supper?” Emma asked, grimacing at the orange-colored juice streaming down the table into a small puddle on the floor.

  “Yuck.” Shelby supported her sister’s displeasure.

  Megan snapped out of her doldrums and stared at the mess in front of her. She sighed, feeling foolish for being jealous in the first place. After all, there was no way to be one hundred percent sure of Rosalinda’s reason for visiting Devin. Then again, her greatest concern was Devin finding out who Rosalinda was.

  Dumping what had been carrots into the slop bucket for the pigs, she wiped her hands on a damp dishrag. She wished it would be just as easy to wipe away her feelings for Devin as well.

  “Girls, let’s go outside and gather more carrots.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Shelby exclaimed, running to the sideboard to retrieve the small basket Megan kept on a lower shelf for her to use when she helped in the garden.

  Megan took a step outside and stopped short when she saw the black carriage still parked out front.

  Her head snapped around to Emma standing right behind her. “Rosalinda’s still here?” she asked sharply. How unwise of her to assume because the girls came inside, Rosalinda had left.

  “Yes. She’s with Devin.”

  “Are they in the barn?” Megan remained calm, though her nerves were on edge. She pushed the gnawing fear aside. It could all be innocent. They could just be talking. Perhaps Devin hadn’t found out yet.

  “I dunno. I came in before Shelby. Ask her.”

  “What did Ms. Rosalinda want?”

  Emma shrugged her shoulders. “Something about inviting him to supper at her house.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What did he say?”

  “First off, he said no, but Ms. Rosalinda kept talking. Kinda like she does at school. Only this time, I didn’t hafta stay to listen.”

  Shelby skipped out of the house, basket in hand.

  “Shelby,” Megan blurted loudly when she saw the little girl. Taking a calming breath, she lowered her tone. “Are Devin and Rosalinda still in the barn?”

  Her big blue eyes gazed up at Megan. A look of indecision crossed her chubby face. She clamped her lips together, shook her head, and bounced down the stairs.

  Megan darted down the steps after her.

  “Where are they, Shelby?” She put a staying hand on Shelby’s shoulder.

  “He told me not to tell.”

  Devin was new at this game. Megan knew how to work around it. She dropped to her knees in front of Shelby. “Okay, Shelby, I know you don’t like it when Emma calls you a squealer.”

  Shelby’s gaze darted to Emma, and she stuck her tongue out at her big sister.

  “It’s not squealing if I guess. May I try and guess?” Megan coaxed her.

  Shelby nodded her head and smiled. Her sparkling eyes looked over Megan’s shoulder, straight at the pecan trees to her right.

  “Are they picking pecans?”

  “Flowers—” Shelby covered her mouth with both chubby hands, her eyes wide.

  Megan palmed the girl’s cheek, assuring her everything would be okay. Rising to her feet, she started toward the trees.

  “Megan,” Shelby called after her. “Devin told us not to bother them. They were gonna pick flowers for her father.”

  Shelby’s account made Megan’s heart beat faster. Head to toe, her body stiffened. She tried her best to stay calm, moved on wobbly legs toward Shelby. “What did you say?”

  “Devin said he couldn’t eat supper with her tonight. But he’d show Ms. Rosalinda where to pick some nice flowers so’s she can take ‘em back home. So’s she can let Mr. Hardin know he’ll be paying a visit real soon.”

  For a breathless second, Megan realized her worst fear had come to life. “Girls, go in the house.” She rounded them up and all but pushed them down the path to the porch.

  “Megan, aren’t we gonna pick vegetables?”

  “Later, Emma. We’ll do it later. Now go inside and don’t come out until I return.”

  She waited until the girls closed the door behind them before running toward the wild heather patch just beyond the pecan trees.

  * * * *

  Over Rosalinda’s lusty cries, Devin sensed Megan coming.

  “Shit,” he muttered aloud, knowing Shelby had sold him out. He tightened his grip on Rosalinda’s hips, thrusting his cock even harder into her well-rounded ass.

  “Oh, yes, more, more,” Rosalinda begged, pushing back into his groin.

  He couldn’t stop now, so he gave the lady—and he used the term loosely—what she asked. Spreading her che
eks wide, he surged up, burying every inch deep inside the back entrance.

  Rosalinda gasped, her nails digging into the bark of tree she held onto. Without a stitch on, her full breasts swung wildly when he slammed into her.

  With the help of crackling branches and dried leaves, Devin focused in the direction he knew Megan would appear. Apparently, she saw no need to sneak up on him. Not that he was making a very good effort to hide from her. At least he didn’t want her to catch him with his britches around his ankles while he rammed his cock into another woman’s ass.

  “Get out of here, Megan,” he growled as soon as he saw her through the trees. His heart battered against his chest. She stood a few yards away. He watched the shock and anger washing over her expression and was more than a little surprised her feelings got to him.

  Rosalinda stopped her feverish moans. Her gaze followed Devin’s line of vision until she came upon Megan standing in the trees. “Oh, fuck,” Rosalinda muttered and attempted to scramble for cover.

  “Stay,” Devin demanded quite forcefully, grasped Rosalinda’s breasts and squeezed them hard. Her shriek of painful pleasure went along with the unceasing thrusting up her ass.

  “I said, get out of here, Megan, unless you wanna stay and watch.” He held her gaze. She remained stock-still for some time. His stomach clenched, and he worried she would never speak to him again. Let alone allow him to touch or come near her again. How would he ever make her understand?

  Megan’s lips slightly parted and he groaned in disbelief. He watched her cheeks flush a pretty pink, her nipples harden. He couldn’t believe it. Somehow, her anger turned to arousal before his eyes. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and keep her there forever. Except he couldn’t stop, not now, not until he finished the depraved act. That was all it was to him, a means to an end, nothing more. His eyes beseeched her, telling her he wanted her, only her.

  His hand lowered to Rosalinda’s pussy, angling her hips, offering a better view. He heard Megan’s heavy sigh beneath Rosalinda’s gasp when he plunged a trio of fingers in her soaked, gaping cunt. His deft thumb strummed her clit, had her screaming as her orgasm rolled through her. Apparently, Rosalinda forgot Megan looked on, rocking back to bury him deeper, intent on her ravenous pleasure. Rosalinda’s body shuddered in his tight grip while Megan’s eyes transfixed on his cock powering in and out of the forbidden hole between white, fleshy cheeks.

  Devin’s eyes never left hers. Megan watched wide-eyed and intense, breasts rising with her escalated breathing. Her passionate, glazed expression had his cock thickening, enlarging even more. Rosalinda cried out in orgasmic bliss as he continued to fill her rectum with everything he had, imagining it was Megan in his arms.

  At the other woman’s renewed heated cries, Megan’s gaze rose to meet the telling look in his eyes. Lust, dark and pure, burned bright in her eyes.

  Covering her gaping mouth, Megan swirled around and ran.

  * * * *

  By the time she arrived on the front porch, Megan managed to gather a sense of composure. Restrained, she strolled through the front door. The girls picked carrots and she fixed supper, as though nothing out of the ordinary happened.

  Her body still quivered when they sat down to eat. Hurt, anger and jealousy she understood. Confusion and envy replaced her appetite. Unable to think straight, she questioned her innermost beliefs. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she normal?

  She wasn’t supposed to be aroused at the sight of Devin fucking another woman. Yet, seeing him, his thick cock ramming into Rosalinda’s ass, was so erotic her own pussy trembled in desperate, lusty need. She should want him to take her only. Throw only her into climax. Desire only her. It was her wanton nature. Her depraved, carnal desires consumed her, dominated her senses and frightened her. Megan hated to admit it. The raw, undeniable lust that pulsed through her veins was irrepressible

  Devin had that knowing look in his eyes, could tell she was excited, reveled in the other woman’s pleasure. His hands gripping those big, lush breasts, his fingers tunneling into that wet cunt had been highly erotic. On a shameless edge of wickedness, she yearned to see him take those pale breasts in his mouth and suck on the hard nipples that stuck out like plump pillows on a huge round bed. She imagined him spread Rosalinda’s long, solid thighs and bury himself between her hairy pussy.

  When Rosalinda cried out, Megan felt her own slick arousal weep from deep within her pussy. She fought the urge to run to him, push him free and impale herself on the object of her desire. Instead, she ran away in terror and shame, afraid of her own sinful needs, the tantalizing power he held over her, the agonizing truth that no matter what Devin did, she would never stop wanting him.

  Annoyed by her irrational behavior, Megan refused to look up when Devin waltzed through the door. In a straightforward tone, he stated he was escorting Ms. Rosalinda home. To avoid speaking, she took a big bite of biscuit and looked the other way. The girls looked on curiously, but she paid no attention when she heard him grab his rifle and an extra box of shells from the rack and hat off the peg on the wall.

  Without another word, he walked away.

  An hour later, he returned. She ignored him the rest of the evening. He made no effort to acknowledge her, which frustrated her even more. They did not speak up to the time she put the girls to bed and exited the bedroom with an extra blanket and pillow.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, staring at her while he leaned against the doorjamb to their bedroom, arms crossed over his chest.

  Casually, she walked to the sofa and sat the blanket and pillow down before she turned to look at him.

  “You don’t think I’m sleeping with you tonight, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Check your facts, Mr. Spawn. You couldn’t be more wrong.” With everything she had, she spoke to him charmingly which seemed to make him angrier.

  “Damn you, Megan, are we starting that bullshit again?” He straightened, hands on hips, giving her a dark, warning glare that sent shivers down her spine. She was determined not to give him the upper hand, no matter the amount of growl in his tone.

  “I believe you are the one who started it. And if you don’t keep your voice down, you’ll wake the girls.”

  He stomped across the room and took her by the arm.

  “Take your hand off me.” She tried to dig her fingers under his as they sank into her upper arm. She loathed the fact with the little pressure he exerted, he could do as he pleased with her. She was no match for his well-muscled strength.

  “You’re not sleeping on the sofa.” He dragged her toward the bedroom.

  “Then you must be, because I’m certainly not sleeping with you.” In no way did she intend to go easily. She shrugged and pulled back every step of the way.

  He didn’t say another word until he jerked her inside the room and locked the door. “You’re getting in that bed, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  “Then cover your ears, ‘cause I’m not staying.” Moving away from the bed, suddenly too large a presence, she took what she hoped was a formidable stand next to the small, unlit fireplace on the opposite wall.

  “I don’t give a shit if we fuck tonight or not, but you’re sleeping in that bed if I have to tie you to it.” He growled, standing by the bed.

  Folding her arms across her chest, her eyes darted toward the door.

  “Don’t try me, Megan.” She met the heated intensity of his gaze head-on, the authoritative manner glistening back at her fueling her anger. His tone was low and unyielding as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. “Now take off that dress and climb in bed.”

  Megan tried not to notice how his sinewy muscles flexed with each movement. Her cheeks grew hot and a flurry of anticipation, need seeped between her thighs when his hands went to his holster buckle. She swallowed hard.

  “I rather sleep on the floor than next to a lily-livered skunk like you.” At least her voic
e didn’t betray her.

  He dropped his holster on the chair next to the bed.

  “Stay awake all night. It makes no difference to me.” Removing the knife sheathed at his waist, he tossed it amid the holster. “But you’re gonna be lying next to me as naked as the day you were born. And it ain’t gonna be on the sofa, or the floor, in the barn, or anywhere else but this here fucking bed.” He gestured to the bed with a nod.

  “You must be confusing me with one of your harlots if you think you can order me to do something I have no intention of ever doing again.”

  By the way his eyes widened fractionally, she could tell he didn’t like the sound of that—not the least bit. Insecurity propelled her furious resentment. She wasn’t woman enough to satisfy him. Unable to bear the thought, the desperate fear of losing him, she’d rather send him away than risk him hurting her, waiting until he made her fall in love with him. If she hadn’t already. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back.

  “I suggest you find comfort with one of them,” she continued. “Rosalinda is a tall girl, and perhaps you’ll fit in her bed.”

  “I don’t want to sleep with Rosalinda.”

  “No, you just want to fuck her.”

  He rolled his eyes and darted a glance at the bedroom door. She felt a sense of triumph. Suddenly, the sofa idea seemed a whole lot more appealing to him, she speculated. If she kept this up, he’d toss her out the room.

  “There ain’t enough room in her bed for me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, drawing her gaze to the solid bicep cording his arm, well-shaped shoulder, broad chest. “Besides, I don’t want to fuck her, or anyone else at Jazelle’s. I just wanna go to sleep with you by my side. Is that too much to ask?” He sighed as though he realized his mistake, knew the answer before he finished asking the question.

  “We’ll you sure as hell coulda fooled me. You sound so sure there isn’t room in her bed. Tried it out, have you?” Raising a brow, she added in a silky smooth voice. “What—too lumpy?”

  “More like too full.” His hands dropped to the ties in front of his buckskins. Taking note of the butter-soft fabric taut over his cock, she licked her lips, imagined the thick length sliding between her lips, her tongue licking the bulbous head…