Cruise, Samantha - Devil's Promise: The Garden [The Devil's Playground 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Samantha Cruise

  “Consider them forgotten.”

  “Your visit is unexpected.” She turned to face him. From the way he stared at her with narrow-eyed intensity, he, too, remembered their recent intimacy. Like a harlot, she had given herself to him, shamelessly cried out at the shocking pleasure that assaulted her sensibility. The things he did with his hands…oh, those delightfully wicked hands of his…Just thinking of them made her blood race through her veins. He looked at her like he was aware of the slick heat that pulsed between her thighs. She glanced down to smooth the front of her skirt, avert his perceptive gaze, even if momentarily.

  “Are you worried my presence here will compromise your virtue? Surely, you have been alone with a man before?” His voice was low, sensual.

  Never. “When I left your office yesterday, I hardly expected to see you again.” She stood with her back to the wall, lacing her fingers behind her waist to veil her trembling.

  “Didn’t my assistant explain? I was called away on an emergency.”

  “Indeed. She mentioned an accident. I believe a young lady was involved.”

  “Yes. Most inconvenient, the new fashions of today. The hoops in the woman’s crinoline caught on the hackney. She was dragged quite a distance before the driver realized it.”

  “Oh, my, is the woman all right?”

  “An associate and I were able to save her life. Unfortunately, she lost a leg in the process.”

  “How tragic.” Damn him. Why did he have to be so noble and so arrogantly handsome and incredibly sexy? She wanted to hate him.

  “Tragedy may befall anyone at any time. For starters, this establishment is unsafe for a woman traveling alone. Someone may get the wrong impression regarding your character.”

  “That louse-infested mattress alarms me more so than the people downstairs,” she retorted. After the first night of scratching and waking with red, splotchy skin, she had taken to sleeping on a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor.

  He jumped upright. “Good heavens, woman, you could have warned me.”

  “You could have waited for an invitation before making yourself comfortable.” She didn’t care that her smug grin matched the amusement in her eyes.

  “Do you mind?” He gestured en route to the trunk. Without waiting for approval, he took a seat.

  “Depends. Are you here to lecture on your biased conceptions regarding social class, the frailties of women without a man to protect them, my poor taste in accommodations, my inadvertence toward sanitation, or my lapse in proper etiquette?”

  “If you seek broader knowledge, I have a far more interesting topic in mind,” he replied as he ran a hand along the exotic seaport labels attached to her trunk, twisting his head so he could read them.

  “No need to pilfer for clues, Dr. Sinclair. If you wish to know something, simply ask.”

  He sat up to face her, stretched out his long, muscular legs, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Why portray someone you clearly are not?”

  “My personal life is none of your affair.” She smiled tensely on her way to the corner window.

  “No need to be unforgiving. I only followed your direction.”

  “I never said my response would meet your approval,” she replied with unabashed satisfaction. To distract her heightened senses to the virile male form feet away, she stared out the window at a white-haired, elderly man dressed in rags. The frail man struggled to drag a donkey pulling a cart filled with coal down the street.

  “Perhaps I should return to rummaging for clues.”

  “Then I will have no choice but to insist you leave.” She leaned her hip against the windowsill. Afraid to give him her full attention, she dared a slanted glance. It was a move she regretted instantly, for in his sparkling eyes she read the unspoken promises of nights filled with passion.

  “Do you always get your way?”

  In fear of the dangerous temptation he posed, she once more revisited the bleak scene below. Quietly, she answered, “Eventually.”

  “Be forewarned, Miss McKinley, I succeed without fail.”

  Breathless, she shuddered at his dark warning. Even with her back to him, she was keenly aware he moved toward her. He confidently spoke of taking her the way a man takes a woman, penetrating her aching flesh with his massive cock again and again until she collapsed in his arms. Then after he conquered her like the besotted female she was, he would leave her once again.

  “Alas, I foresee failure in your destiny. My ship sails at dawn,” she said, as though the span of too few hours could stop him. She feared there wasn’t anything that could stop the erotic urges that spiraled out of control in her body.

  “Life is too short to squander a moment.” He came up beside her but not so close that they touched.

  “Already, I have exhausted countless hours in your office.” She closed her eyes momentarily, inhaled his masculine scent. Her pulse raced at the wondrous memory of lying on his exam table, her thighs spread wide, his bulging arousal…

  “Allow me to earn your forgiveness. I have what you want.”

  She knew without a doubt another glimpse in his eyes would invite trouble. Even so, she faced him. “If you are offering your expertise in alleviating my discomfort, I must decline.” She spoke softly, conscious her voice shook with restrained emotion.

  “Surprising how easily the body recalls what the mind cannot forget.” His smile was tantalizing like his gaze.

  She stared at his hands. Every intimate detail of his torturous exam of pure pleasure came to mind. She swallowed hard, struggled to bolster her reason for coming to America, which had little to do with the breathtakingly handsome Dr. Sin.

  “In my possession are the devices you sought. Your lover will be sorely disappointed if you put off his pleasure on my account. Understanding your need for anonymity, I did not leave them with my assistant.” He retrieved a leather sack from the chair, which was concealed under the luxurious cape he brought with him.

  “Kind of you to place the pursuits of others ahead of your own. To go to the trouble of locating me is commendable.” She became increasingly conscious of the way her body reacted to him, the rising arousal even without physical inducement. Did he realize the throbbing in her belly intensified just by his low, silky, smooth voice?

  Nervously, she held her breath, watched and wondered about the feel of his buttocks just before he spun around and strode toward her once again.

  “Repentant for leaving you in wait twice, it is the least I can do. My evening is yours if you wish instruction on proper application.” He stopped inches in front of her.

  The warmth of his hands caressed her skin when he placed the sack in her hands, sending a strong current of arousal rushing through her. Their eyes met. Her heart hammered inside her chest. The intoxicating scent of his maleness coiled around her. She fought the desire to give in to the powerful yearnings tugging at her body. Firmly clutching the leather sack in her grip, she paced the room, praying her wobbly legs didn’t give out. In a contrived attempt at boldness, she reached inside and pulled out the first thing she felt. Between her thumb and forefinger, she held up a clearly packaged French letter. “This covers a man’s penis.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And this—” she began after pulling out a vaginal sponge.

  “Not for washing dishes,” he interrupted with a roguish grin.

  “Yes, of course.” Cassie smiled coyly and stuck the sponge back in the sack. Her fingers wrapped around something solid and quite heavy. She yanked upward.

  Her eyes widened in shock when she saw her fingers tightly gripped the base of what looked like an anatomically correct wooden penis, complete with scrotum. Without thinking, she squealed, “Good heavens!”

  Desperate to get rid of the thing, she tried to shove it back in the sack. In her haste, the part that looked like a cockhead slipped into a small inside pocket. The wooden testicles stuck out like a lighthouse signal warning of impending doom. The damn thing would not
go back in. Without a doubt, she knew he was staring at her, probably laughing at her. Her entire face flamed hotly. Why on earth would he bring her such a wicked gadget? What on God’s green planet could that thing ever be used for?

  “Dr. Sinclair,” she managed to mutter, hiding the blasted sack behind her back, cringing internally at his amused expression. “Thank you for your gracious offer. However, I’ll manage when the need arises.”

  “Have you ever seen one of those before?”

  “Yes, of course,” she lied.

  “Do you know what to do with it?”

  Good God, no! “Don’t all women?” She turned up her chin defiantly.

  “If all women knew, there wouldn’t be so many foundlings in need of a good home.”

  He would get no argument from her there.

  “Allow me.” He reached behind her back.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and drank in his powerful warmth, manly, so very manly. When she opened them again, she found he had removed the wooden gadget from the sack and held it level with her chin.

  “My dear, you fill this with warm water,” he said, pointing to a hole located behind the finely carved testicles. “After your partner ejaculates and withdraws his penis, you insert this end inside your vagina,” he instructed as his thumb and fingers came together to simulate a vaginal entrance. He pushed the wooden cock through the hole, busting his fingers apart by the girth.

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. Appalled at the idea of willingly inserting the big, mushroom-shaped head of that nasty thing inside her body, she cringed.

  His eyes twinkled with mirth. Apparently, he was enjoying her reaction. “You press this, and the water shoots out from this end and washes away your partner’s semen.” He indicated the pumping mechanism at the end of the long shaft then tapped the tip of his finger over the tiny hole atop the head of the penis.

  He stepped back, holding the wooden penis out to her.

  Afraid to touch it, she just stared at it. It was so big and large and thick. Surely, real men weren’t built like that. “I doubt I’ll have use for that thing.”

  His full, sensuous lips curled into a wicked smile. “Prefer a real penis to a manufactured one, I see. Both can provide a pleasure all their own.”

  All of a sudden, she caught herself visualizing the impressive bulge that tented his trousers during her office visit, triggering a tidal wave of raw sexual desire. No! She mustn’t think about him that way. Anxious to regain her sanity, she made her way toward the door. “Trust, Dr. Sinclair, that I’ll manage when the need arises.”

  “I have no doubt you will perform superbly.” He followed close behind.

  She leaned her back against the doorjamb to gaze up at him. Heaven help her, the man was absolutely, irresistibly stunning and oh so dangerous to her resolve.

  “Why don’t you enchant me with your ability over dinner? Those biscuits on the tray look as desiccated as that dead cockroach in the corner.” His head tipped in the direction of the far corner on the opposite side of the room.

  The big, brown roach had scurried over her foot several days ago, after which she promptly stepped on it. Creepy-crawlies of all shapes and sizes continued to share her assigned quarters. Those bugs had sense enough to avoid her person and were allowed to scurry off. After numerous complaints about sharing her quarters with rodents, she had given up on its proper disposal and kicked the decaying remnants to the corner.

  Leave it to Dr. Randolph Sinclair to notice.

  With five brothers, snakes, frogs, lizards, and spiders were part of growing up. Squeamish she was not. In tribute to her brothers’ contribution to her thick skin, she used the first letter of their names to name her roommate.

  “G’font would be offended by the comparison. He is only a few days into rigor mortis. Those biscuits are at least a week past their prime.”

  “You named a dead cockroach?”

  Chapter 6

  The Spawns’ formal parlor was awash with a pleasant glow from the massive fireplace centered in a wall of polished wood and elaborate moldings. An exquisite family portrait held a place of honor above the splendidly carved mantel.

  Cassie studied the portrait dynamics. Megan sat with her son on her lap while Shelby and Emma each flanked her side. Shelby, a blue-eyed, fair-haired little girl of about nine or ten, was obviously the playful one. Whereas Emma, with coal-black hair and striking, silver eyes that mirrored her older brother’s, had a quiet dignity about her, well beyond her teen years. Devin stood behind Megan on the right. What struck Cassie as peculiar was that Dr. Caleb Walker stood just as prominently on Megan’s left.

  Megan approached and offered, “Caleb is an integral part of our family. We would be lost without him.”

  “It is an exceptional portrait,” Cassie replied, for lack of a better response. Apparently, she had stared too long, overstepped the boundaries of politeness, a fine way to thank the host for extending a dinner invitation.

  As the evening progressed, the family’s love for one another became obvious. Shelby and Emma lavished affection on both men equally. Megan doted on the girls as much as she did her son, showing no favoritism. Devin and Caleb were at ease in their surroundings. It was hard to determine which man held the master of the home title.

  It was an idyllic scene that made her feel welcomed. Her heart ached for home, Ireland, where her mother and stepfather were probably worrying over her disappearance. They forbade her to go anywhere near her questionable heritage. Determined in her quest to learn about the man whose vile blood coursed through her veins, Cassie refused. She felt a pang of remorse for stealing out of the house in the dead of night without leaving a word of her whereabouts.

  Years of questioning her identity left her trusting only those closest to her. Innate fears of being like the man she grew to despise kept men at a safe, impervious distance. Her stepfather and five brothers were the only men in her life. Men, she warned herself, were all the same. They lusted after only one thing. Regardless of the consequences or who they hurt in the process, men would do anything to satisfy their depraved desires. No female was safe when it came to their licentious affairs.

  Did she share her biological father’s voracity for debauchery? Every night since she learned what type of man he was, she prayed she most certainly did not share identical carnal excesses. What worried her most was the fact she held little in common with her perfectly reserved and exceedingly dull mother.

  A servant announced dinner, jarring Cassie from her familiar thoughts. She looked over at Megan, who carefully handed the precious bundle in her arms to the nanny.

  “Allow me the honor of escorting you.” Caleb abandoned his seat and strode across the room.

  Graciously, she accepted, smiling up at him. Caleb was tall, witty, and charismatic. His chest was expansive and his long legs looked fetching in his dark trousers. Amazingly, he held a striking resemblance to Dr. Sin. In other words, he was decidedly handsome, but with a much more restrained sensuousness.

  Cassie detested tedious, flirtations remarks. Scarcely did she consider herself a raving beauty. Despite that, she grew accustomed to dissuading men’s intents on forming a more intimate liaison. Oddly enough, Caleb, an unattached bachelor, had yet to make a single advance.

  Though Caleb demonstrated no effeminate qualities outright, his total lack of responsiveness to her led her to one conclusion.

  Past teachings offered her insight to Caleb’s preferred lifestyle—those of prehistoric cultures in Africa. Primitive Pangwe men of Camaroon were known to have reviled women in favor of men even after the promise of a large dowry upon marriage. It may be Caleb became an integral part of the Spawn household due to lack of desire to start his own family.

  Far back as she could remember, there was an amazing curiosity, a thirst for knowledge that besieged her. At a tender age, while vacationing in London, the city was abuzz with talk of a raid upon the Swan, a Molly house. Captivated by the dialogue surrounding the trial of 1810, sh
e had eagerly asked her stepfather what “buggery” meant. “A disgrace upon society deserves no further clarity.”

  A dismissive response that only managed to worsen her need for truth and understanding made her yearn to become a self-governing adult. Years later, during an exhibition to study ancient Hindu temples, she analyzed explicit sexual sculptures and finally mastered the mystique of Molly houses and their male patrons. While others in her party were shocked at the perversion within the temples, she saw pure beauty.

  Shelby giggled behind them. A few steps ahead, Devin and Megan walked arm in arm. Once recovered from the intimidation Devin’s formidable size governed, she noticed he possessed a rugged handsomeness. He was quiet, controlled, with piercing, silver eyes that always seemed to be analyzing his surroundings. Huge hands remained at the sides of his dark suit as though ready to reach for an unseen holster. There was a definite air of danger about him that both excited and frightened her.

  Devin was a giant in comparison to Megan, her sweet, tiny host. Baffled by the vast disparity, Cassie speculated at his most intimate dimension and wondered how they managed to couple. Her body trembled at her shameful query into their sexual life.

  “Are you cold?” Caleb placed his free hand over her bare forearm, and a sudden tremor raced through her body. Her gaze rose to meet his, and her breath caught in her throat for a brief moment. His smile was natural and his deep blue eyes warm and friendly.

  What was happening to her? She had never been so tempted to broach the lines of respectability by a man, even one as splendidly handsome as Caleb. Yet she found herself responding to him just as she did with Dr. Sin. Perhaps not as strongly, but the attraction was there, simmering beneath her skin. Each time she looked at Caleb, she recalled Randolph’s penetrating gaze. His pale blue depths warned of a dark, carnal nature, a glimpse into his hot-blooded, sexual core. When he looked at her, his eyes held a hypnotic, unspoken, sensuous promise that made her aware of her own feminine weaknesses. It was a far cry from the glittering concern in Caleb’s sympathetic, dark blue gaze.