Her Reaper's Arms, Charlotte Boyett-Compo [world best books to read .TXT] 📗

forth in his arms, his forehead

puckered with agitation. “Where, Lea? Where?” he demanded.

“Oh for the love of Peterson! Take the girl upstairs, son,” he heard Cornelia say

from the parlor. “Just this once, mind you. You ain’t gonna make a habit of it.”

Practically taking the stairs two at a time, Bevyn didn’t question their landlady’s

reprieve. He took his lady straight to his room, bumping the door open with his hip. He

carried her to the bed, plopped her down, rushed back to shut the door and with a

wave of his hand, eliminated the clothing Lea was trying desperately to remove as she

sat up on his mattress.

“That is a wonderful talent, milord,” she said with a gasp.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, wench,” he told her, flying onto the bed and landing

atop her.

“You goofy oaf!” she complained with an oomph of air escaping her laughing

mouth.

His mouth slanted down on hers and his tongue thrust wickedly between her lips.

His arms went under and around her, and he wedged his lower body between her legs,

holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

Lea loved the weight of her Reaper lying atop her. Her hands were clutching his

hard biceps and that too was a glorious feeling that made her feel safe, protected and

loved. His tongue was thrusting in and around hers, and those sweet, firm lips of his

were making warm heat flow between her thighs.

“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth. “With all my heart I love you!”

Bevyn’s cock was stiff, the tip moist. It was wedged between them along her belly

as he held her. When she slid her hand from his arm to run it between them and grasp

that hard shaft, he drew in a quick, shuddering breath.

“Show me how much, milord,” she said, her fingers wrapped around him.

He shifted so she could guide his cock into her. The sweet heat of her, the slick feel

of her sheath enclosing him was the closest thing to heaven he knew he would ever

experience. He slid into her moistness with his eyes closed tight, his breath held.

Though every instinct screamed at him to take her hard, to take her quickly, to

carve a niche for himself within her, to master her with that fleshy tool, he held back

and very slowly and with great care began to move gently inside her.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Lea sensed the shifting of his feelings from immediate gratification to loving

restraint and she eased her arms around his shoulders, holding him closely to her.

“I love you, Bevyn Coure,” she whispered in his ear, drawing his earlobe between

her teeth, her tongue lightly plying the interior.

Bevyn shivered at that feeling and increased the depth of his penetration just a little,

though he held himself in check, kept his body from crushing her as heavily as it had a

moment before. He was bracing his body above her, his hands doubled into fists, his

weight resting upon them.

In and out with slow, precise strokes that brought warm honey to coat his shaft. He

felt as though he were sinking into the purest of pleasures and the ache that he was

experiencing in his rod was so intense, so powerful, sweat was popping out all over his

body along with the gooseflesh.

Lea lightly dug her nails into his back to speed up his thrusts. She was aching for

him to ride her, to grind against her and she lifted her hips in invitation.

“Slowly, wench,” he said through clenched teeth. “I want it to last.”

She smiled against his neck, her lips trailing along his salty flesh. “I am here for the

duration, milord,” she replied. “Make it last as long as you wish.”

She was his, he thought as he felt her words drive straight to his libido. She was

entirely his—no one else’s—and she had given herself completely to him. It was such an

exhilarating feeling he experienced at that moment, he thought he might well be able to

do anything he set his mind to.

But the moment she lapped at the vein pumping so furiously in his neck, the exact

instant that warm, wetness stroked over his skin, he could not restrain the wild emotion

that reached out to grip him. His entire body itched to thrust into her. His cock

hardened to the point it was acutely painful and he had no choice but to pump into her

with strong, sure strokes that had the bed beneath them rocking.

“I’ve got to remember that,” Lea mumbled to herself for the next time she wanted

to spur her Reaper on.

She brought her legs up and locked them together behind his waist. Her arms held

him surely—a willing captive to her sweet scent and honeyed flesh. Her fingernails dug

a bit deeper into the flesh of his back.

“Ahh, Lea!” he groaned with deep satisfaction, his speed increasing, his thrusts

coming hard now and deep.

In the parlor, Cornelia glanced up at the ceiling where the chandelier was swaying

to the motion of what was happening in the smaller of her two spare bedrooms. There

was a soft bumping sound, muffled grunts, a soft little whimper. The black woman’s

chubby face broke into a wide grin and she chuckled lightly as she snapped the two

halves of the newspaper spread in her hands and continued reading.

* * * * *

84

Her Reaper’s Arms

Penthe had followed the Reaper on foot, running along as swiftly, tirelessly and

professionally as she had trained on her world to perform. Though he was well ahead

of her, she kept his scent in her nostrils and followed the trail unerringly. It helped that

she already knew where he was going—had followed him there before—so when he

outdistanced her, it didn’t matter.

The town was silent when at last she entered it. She spied her target coming out of

the stable then striding quickly to the dark one’s house. A ripe moon had burst forth

and was hovering golden red on the eastern horizon, lighting a path for him. There was

no wind by which he could catch her scent, but from the way he walked—barefoot and

shirtless—she knew his mind was elsewhere and not on her. As she made her way to

the dark woman’s house and looked up at