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

got a man?” he asked Mable as he rocked the shot glass between his fingers,

staring down into the dark liquid.

“No, milord,” Mable said.

He drained the glass and set it down. He straightened, his hands on the rolled edge

of the bar. “Is she clean?”

Mable’s eyes widened. “She’s not one of my girls, milord,” she said, her gaze

snapping nervously to Lea. “She just cooks and…”

“Is she clean?” he repeated, his voice hard.

“Aye, milord, but…”

“I want her.”

Lea heard his low statement and felt her heart skip a beat. Her head snapped

around and she met the Reaper’s steady gaze in the mirror. She could see little of his

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Her Reaper’s Arms

face beneath the broad brim of his black hat, but she knew he was staring straight at

her. She felt herself begin to tremble.

“Milord…” Mable began, but the amber eyes of the Reaper leapt to hers.

“Same room as before?” he queried, cutting her off, holding her captive in the

unwavering glint of his attention.

Mable nodded. “Aye, milord, but she’s not…”

“Send someone to take care of my horse and to bring my saddlebags in.”

“Of course, milord, but…”

“Tell her to bring another bottle when she comes,” he said, snatching up the one on

the bar along with the glass.

“Milord, please,” Mable said. “She’s…”

He wasn’t listening. He took the stairs—a bit unsteady for he’d had nothing to eat

that day and the booze had gone straight to his head—with the neck of the whiskey

bottle clutched in his left hand, the shot glass hooked under his index finger.

Looking to Mable for help, Lea saw the older woman shake her head.

“Ain’t nothing I can do, girl,” Mable said. “He won’t hurt you. Leastwise, I’m pretty

sure he won’t. He won’t fuck you. His kind don’t do that but he’ll expect you to jerk

him off or blow him. Just be quick about it and hightail it outta there so he can sleep.”

Lea’s face flamed. She had no experience with that sort of thing. Although she’d

had her breasts pawed and her ass pinched, her lips slobbered on and her belly rubbed

by stony erections, she had never lain with a man. She’d never even seen a man’s

privates much less knew what to do with them.

“Mable…” she said, tears filling her eyes.

“Look here,” Mable said, coming around from behind the bar. She extended her left

index finger then grabbed it with her right hand, fingers wrapped around. She showed

Lea what was expected. “Don’t squeeze too tight and be careful of his balls. Go slow at

first then faster, pulling on his meat with a firm, steady grip. That’s how to jerk him off.

If’n he wants you to suck him, just pretend his cock is a lollypop. Lick him around the

knob and down the whole of him. Lick his balls. Draw him into your mouth and suck,

but you’ll have to relax your throat to take it all the way in. I’ve heard he’s big down

there. Try not to gag. It might offend him. Be careful of your teeth. Don’t graze him with

’em. And whatever you do, don’t bite him, girl. The gods know what he’d do if you

were to bite him!”

Tears spilled down Lea’s cheeks. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whimpered.

Mable stiffened. “Well, you’d fucking well better if you know what’s good for you,

girl! I’m sorry you gotta do this but you don’t dare gainsay a Reaper if you want to

live.”

Lea glanced at the door, her breathing loud and quick. “I…”

“Girl, if you run, he’ll come after you. I promise you that,” Mable warned. “He’s

done marked you for what he wants and if you don’t give it to him, there’s no telling

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

what he’s liable to do to you and me!” She went back around the bar, grabbed another

bottle of whiskey and brought it to Lea, shoving it at her. “Here, before he starts

wondering where you are!”

Shivering like a leaf in a violent storm, Lea nearly dropped the bottle. She was so

frightened her teeth were chattering.

“Go on, girl,” Mable said. She put out a hesitant hand to pat Lea’s shoulder. “Go on

now. Don’t keep him waiting. As Reapers go, he ain’t a bad sort. Ain’t never heard of

him hurting a girl.”

“Mable…”

“Lord, girl, you don’t keep a Reaper waiting! Go!”

It was the hardest thing Lea had done since burying her mother. As she took the

stairs to the Reaper’s room, her legs felt as though they would give out beneath her

with every step. A hazy red film had invaded her vision to go along with the loud

buzzing in her ears. Each step was a trial, a test of strength as she climbed. Every

squeak of the old wooden steps set her nerves on edge. On the landing she stopped,

looking back down at Mable, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, her wrinkled

hands twisting against one another. She saw the saloonkeeper nod in encouragement

and turned away, her fearful eyes going to the door of the Reaper’s room, yet she could

not seem to take a step toward it. She was panting as though she’d run an exacting race

and her heart was thudding dangerously fast against her breastbone. When the door to

his room opened and he appeared in the opening, she could not stop the moan that

escaped her lips.

“I’ve not got all day, wench,” he said in a gruff voice.

His black silk shirt was unbuttoned and hanging free of the black leather pants to

reveal the thick matting of hair on his broad chest. The belt was gone from his pants

and the top button had been undone. He stood there barefoot, his left hand braced on

the doorjamb, his amber stare boring into her. One look at the dark blue tribal tattoo

that stretched from his temple to his cheek on the left side of his face labeled him the

deadly warrior that he was. Despite the unbelievable male beauty of his face, his

swarthy complexion, the thick crop of curly brown hair that covered his head, the sight

of him standing there elevated her terror to the point she thought she would pass out.

She flinched when he cursed and took three long strides to