He gave as he took and with his hands under her delightful little rump holding her
tightly to him, he stoked her fires as he stoked his own and they came at the exact same
moment, her climax the sweetest thing he could imagine as he lapped at the dual
wounds on her neck, closing them. Retracting his fangs, he rolled off her, carrying her
with him, holding her atop him as he looked up into her sated eyes.
“You have bewitched me, milady,” he said in awe. “You are fast becoming an
addiction I know I will never break nor is it one I would ever wish to.”
“Is it not time you had something of your own, something that belongs only to you,
Bevyn Coure?” she asked.
Why she said it, Lea would never know, and she was as shocked by the words that
came out of her mouth as was the man lying beneath her.
“Milady,” he whispered, and gathered her to him, tears flooding his golden eyes.
They lay like that for a long time with his arms tightly around her, Lea’s cheek on
his shoulder. Her fingers danced gently along the buttons—undoing them slowly—
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Her Reaper’s Arms
until his shirt lay open, peeled back from his broad chest. She threaded her fingers
though his chest hair, tracing spirals and whorls, plucking playfully at the crisp curls.
His fingers were smoothing her hair.
“Sheriff Gilchrist says he found a plot of land behind the mercantile store that you
can buy,” she told him. “It has a wonderful view of the creek where everyone goes
swimming.”
His arm constricted around her and his hand stilled on her head. “You don’t go
swimming, do you?” he asked.
She lifted her head. “Not if you don’t want me to,” she answered.
He looked into her lovely gray eyes. “Do you know how to swim?” he asked.
“Aye, but I know you can’t so if you—”
“I always wanted to learn but now it’s a moot point,” he said. His forehead creased.
“Are you a good swimmer, Lea?”
“A very strong swimmer,” she said. “But—”
“Then I see no reason why you can’t continue as long as there are others around
who could aid you if you needed them,” he said. “I don’t want to change your life so
drastically that you will hate me for it.”
She reached up to stroke his lean jaw, rubbing her palm over his whiskers and
loving the sensation. “Nothing could ever make me hate you, milord. I will love you for
as long as I draw breath, and if there is truly a land beyond, I will continue to love you
through eternity.”
How, he wondered, had he chanced upon such a treasure as the one he held in his
arms? For once life wasn’t kicking his ass but extending a friendly hand to him. He only
hoped the Fates did not decide happiness for Bevyn Coure had been a mistake.
“I’d like to see that land,” he said, and released his firm hold on her.
Lea wriggled off him, gazing pointedly at his cock. She giggled. “Hanging there like
that, your staff looks like a snail trying to come out of its leather shell.”
Bevyn glanced down at his shaft. “Aye, well, why don’t you stuff him back in,
wench?” he challenged.
She knew by the look on his face he didn’t expect her to take up the gauntlet he’d
thrown so when she reached for him and wrapped her slender fingers around him, he
drew in a ragged gasp.
“Poor little fella,” she said.
“Wench,” he said in warning, feeling himself harden in her hand. “You’d best not
grip him like that else…” He stopped for her eyes were glowing with heat and when
she bent over, he held his breath, afraid even to move.
Though she had never lain with a man before her Reaper, Lea had heard the other
women talking over the months she’d worked at the White Horse. Mable had also given
her a few tips while Bevyn had been gone and though Lea didn’t think she’d ever use
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
the saloonkeeper’s advice, she wasn’t so sure when her man’s rod responded as it did to
just her touch.
The Reaper’s hands shot to the headboard of the bed the moment his lady’s mouth
closed around him. His entire body shook for just a second or two as the warmth and
the wetness surrounded him, and he felt the gentle pulling of her lips and the roof of
her mouth on his suddenly stiff cock.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, his chest shuddering. He stared down at the top of her
head as she placed herself between his legs, elbowing aside his thighs as he’d done with
hers. He nearly came out of his skin when she insinuated a hand into his pants to cup
his balls as she suckled him. As it was, he let go of the headboard just long enough to
wave his clothing away, the heat of the leather on his legs and the cling of the silk on his
chest too much to bear.
Lea smiled around the salty treat between her lips. She raised her gaze to his and
when she winked at him, she watched the most breathtaking smile pull at his lips.
“You wicked little wench,” he told her, and sucked in another quick breath when
she raked him gently with her teeth.
She would have milked him to release had he not reached down to cup her
shoulders and pull her up him.
“Straddle me,” he said in a husky voice. “Let me come inside you, dearling.”
“Fan away my dress then,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, I want you just as you are.”
Wrestling with her long skirts, she managed to pull them up, pouting at his refusal
to unclothe her. Doing as he instructed, she eased herself down on his hard cock, her
eyes widening at the wonderful sensation that greeted her.
“Ooh,” she said. “He’s so deep inside me.”
Her words were like a prod to the Reaper’s libido and he put his hands to her hips
to show her the rhythm, the movement that would bring them both to climax. As she
ground her sex on him, lifted and lowered her sweet sheath upon his staff, he put his
palms over her breasts and squeezed, running his thumbs over the material to turn her
nipples to hard little pebbles beneath the cloth.
Lea let her head fall back, her long hair tickling his thighs as she rode him. The
pulsing that began deep within her was an itch she quickly realized could be scratched
on his stony rod.
Watching his lady through half-closed eyes, Bevyn was in absolute heaven. Her
tight muscles were squeezing him. His climax was rapidly approaching. He arched his
hips to meet her downward push and felt the ripples begin in her velvety warmth.
“That’s it, wench,” he said, guiding her, helping her to push harder upon him.
“Come for me, baby. Come for your man.”
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Her Reaper’s Arms
Lea ground against him brutally, rotating her hips as he showed her and the
bursting of the sweetest pleasure shot through her on long, tightening waves that made
gooseflesh pop up on her arms and legs.
Pulsing into her in a thick stream, Bevyn held himself still until the last jerk of his
cock told him there was no more cum to release. They were both breathing heavily and
when she stretched out atop him, he thought he could die right then and still be the
happiest man on the face of the earth.
&
nbsp; “Is this normal?” his lady asked, her palm splayed over the Reaper tattoo on his
shoulder.
“It is for us, milady,” he answered. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you.”
“You’d best not try,” she warned him. She pushed against his chest and climbed off
him. “But we can’t spend the day doing this, Bev.”
Bev? He questioned as she stood at the side of the bed flouncing her skirts. No one
had ever called him “Bev” and he found he liked it.
“We need to go thank Widow James,” she said. She walked to the window to push
aside the curtains.
“Aye, we should,” he agreed with a sigh. Waving his uniform back on, he swung
his legs from the bed. “First I want to see that land.”
With his gun belt strapped on his hip, he escorted Lea down the stairs, nodding
politely to the women who were sitting together at one of the tables. They looked
unhappy and the cause did not escape him.
“You can have your customers come back, Mable,” he told the saloonkeeper. “I
think we’ll take the widow up on her offer to stay at her place.”
Relief appeared on the older woman’s face for she would hate to turn away a
customer while the Reaper was in residence in her establishment. No man wanted to
cause even a moment’s trouble for Bevyn Coure, and not being able to laugh and carry
on while drinking, whoring and gambling was a right hard thing to keep from doing.
Strolling out into the bright sunlight, Bevyn was astounded at the activity around
him. Normally when he rode into a town, the people scattered, not wanting to garner
his attention. Now they treated him as though he’d been living there all along—smiling,
nodding, waving to him and Lea.
“You’re ours now,” Lea told him when he voiced his surprise. “This will be your
home base and we are your people. They know you will protect them better than you
will any other town in your territory.”
“But they’ve always been scared shitless of me before,” he said, tipping his hat to a
pair of elderly ladies who nodded regally to him.
“Aye, but that was before you became one of us, milord,” she said.
“Huh,” he grunted, not really knowing whether he was pleased or annoyed at the
sudden attention.
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
The parcel of land to which Lea led him would indeed suit a nice little clapboard
house that Lea insisted would not be pretentious or gaudy.
“Something small but comfortable,” she’d insisted.
“But large enough for a good-sized study,” he argued.
“With plenty of bookshelves,” she added, her hand clutched tightly in his.
He thought of his promise to give her a library and realized such a thing would
keep her occupied and safe when he was out taking care of business. A trip to the
sheriff’s office netted them another look at an empty store that would be ideal for such
an enterprise.
“Let’s get some carpenters in here and start gutting the building,” Bevyn said.
“Milady can draw up a plan for where she wants shelves and furniture.”
“We’ll be a city before you know it!” the sheriff said with a grin then coughed,
realizing he’d spoken out of turn.
“Say what you want when you want, Buford,” the Reaper told him. “You and I will
be working closely together to keep our people safe.” He held out his hand. “I think of
us as partners.”
The sheriff’s mouth gaped open. “P-Partners?” he repeated. He grasped the
Reaper’s hand.
“Friends too, I hope,” Bevyn said.
Buford Gilchrist could not find the words to answer that. He just beamed from ear
to ear, his shoulders thrown back with pride for the first time in many a year.
“Okay, so now, we’re off to see the Widow James,” Bevyn said, easing his hand
from the sheriff’s tight grip. “If you’ll set things into motion on the library, I’ll have the
plans drawn up for the house before the week is out.”
“Aye, milord,” the sheriff agreed, his head bobbing. “I’ll get right on it!”
Cornelia James opened her door to the Reaper and his lady with a hand on her very
ample hip. “’Bout damned time you finally got your skinny little butts over here,” the
large black woman said with a sniff. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get on in here!” She
hobbled back to give them room to pass her.
“Sorry,” Bevyn mumbled as he tried to smile at the dark face, but the widow just
glared at him. He felt like a little boy again.
“The breakfast was delicious, Miss Cornelia,” Lea said.
“Uh-huh,” Cornelia agreed, closing the door. She folded a pair of huge arms over a
very impressive chest and just looked at them.
Bevyn cleared his throat. “We’d like to take you up on the offer of the room,” he
said.
“Uh-huh,” came the reply.
The Reaper exchanged a look with his lady. “I’ll be glad to pay you for—”
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Her Reaper’s Arms
Cornelia snorted. “Son, you won’t do nothin’ of the sort. Don’t want no money for
the offer. I ain’t running no bed and breakfast here.” She sniffed. “You’ll earn your
keep.”
“Ah, well, now, I don’t…” Bevyn began, his eyebrows drawn sharply together.
“What is it you would have us do, Miss Cornelia?” Lea cut him off, giving him a
warning look.
“Done done it so far as I’m concerned,” Cornelia said.
Bevyn just stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
Cornelia arched a nearly non-existent eyebrow. “You went and took this little girl
here as your lady and that’s all the payment I need.” She smiled to reveal two missing
front teeth. “Now, who wants some egg pie?”
Half an hour later, Bevyn was shifting uncomfortably on the chair in the kitchen,
wishing he were anywhere else. He had already downed four glasses of water but the
sugar overload that was rushing through his system wasn’t abating and he gave
another nasty look to the empty pie plate that sat on the counter.
“One dozen eggs, two cups of sugar, two cups sweet cream, one teaspoon each of
vanilla and nutmeg…”
He tried not to listen to Cornelia giving Lea the recipe for the ultra-sweet pie that
had turned his cock into a living nightmare between his legs. There was no way he
could stand up without the women seeing the evidence so he just sat there—sweating
and silently cursing his Reaper’s need for sweet food, holding the tablecloth close to his
stomach to hide himself.
“Son, what ails you?”
Bevyn jerked, his eyes going guiltily from the pie plate to Cornelia.
“You want another piece of pie, just ask for it,” the black woman said. “I got
another one in the icebox and—”
“No!” Bevyn stated emphatically. “No more sugar!”
Lea’s face turned bright red and her gaze snapped to the pie plate. Both she and
Cornelia had had small slices of the heavenly concoction but her Reaper had practically
inhaled the rest of it, gobbling it up as though there were no tomorrow. “Oh,” she
whispered.
“You got the diabetes or somethin’, son?” Cornelia demanded.
Bevyn gave Lea a pleading look.
through the older woman’s.
“What for?” Cornelia asked.
“He’s…the pie…well…” Lea shrugged. “Sugar does things to him.”
“Wench!” Bevyn hissed.
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Cornelia looked from one red face to the other then nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said.
“Guess I won’t be offering him none of my homemade lemonade then. It’s got two cups
of sugar in it too.”
“Best not,” Lea agreed.
“Humph,” Cornelia commented, and ushered Lea out of the kitchen with a lastminute order for the Reaper to get matters in hand then come join them.
Long after the two women had left him, Bevyn sat where he was, gritting his teeth
and willing his cock to behave—which it didn’t feel inclined to do. It stayed hard and
full and burning, so aroused he could feel every breath he took pressing against his
crotch. He was acutely embarrassed then confused, then annoyed and finally amused.
This was a situation he’d never run up against before and although it was nothing to
report back to the Citadel, he would bet his last pay credit that his fellow Reapers
would find it comical.
Not that he’d met any of his kind except for the Prime—Arawn Gehdrin—and he
was in awe of that man. He could imagine Gehdrin giving him a scowl for letting such a
thing happen.
Thoughts of the Prime brought thoughts of the Citadel and then of the
Shadowlords—one in particular, who was going to be more than unhappy with what
Bevyn had done.
“Reapers do not need mates,” Lord Kheelan had lectured. “Mates are a liability you men
can not afford.”
Well, he thought as he eased himself more comfortably in the chair, thoughts of the
High Lord very effectively diminishing his erection, he had fucked up royally and
would pay for it, but if he had it to do over again, he knew he’d make the same
decision. Lea was his and he was going to keep her—no matter what he had to do in
order for that to happen.
“Mistakes are paid for in blood, Lord Bevyn,” Lord Kheelan had once told him. “In blood
and sweat and pain.”
Aye, he figured he would be shelling out some of that coin once he returned to the
Citadel, and he had a fairly good guess what would happen to him, how he’d be forced
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