Her Reaper's Arms (11 page)

a long ride, now won’t it?”

Bevyn looked at her neck then shook his head again. “Don’t tempt me, milady,” he

said. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” she repeated. “Take what you need, Reaper! I demand it as my right!”

51

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

A part of him needed something far different from her and the more he looked at

her beautiful neck, the more he wanted it. Before he gave it any more thought, he

hopped up from the table and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.

Lea thought he was simply lying her down so she’d be more comfortable but when

he flung her skirts up and out of the way and began fumbling with his fly, she just

stared at him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Too…much…sugar,” he said, crawling atop her. “Entirely…too…much…sugar!”

He was inside her before Lea could react to his curious words. Full and thick and

pulsing within her, his shaft was a wondrous delight that had her circling his neck with

her arms. She was a bit sore from the previous night but his warmth inside her was

starting a fire that she realized she was eager to have spread through her.

“Is this how you want to start each day, milord?” she asked with a laugh.

“Is there a better way?” he countered, grinding his hips against her.

“You still need Sustenance,” she reminded him.

“Aye,” he said, and bent to her neck, his fangs lengthening.

Although his body was beating at him to pump wildly into her to assuage the

burning need in his cock, Bevyn had just enough patience and discipline to cloud her

mind of the pain his fangs caused as he sank them gently into her neck, impaling her,

drawing her sweet blood into his mouth. He heard her sigh and felt himself jerk inside

her.

A light mist of numbness had spread over Lea’s mind but her lower body was

responding to the hard rod sliding in and out of it. She was aware of his mouth at her

throat, could feel her life’s blood being drawn, but there was no pain. If anything, it was

highly erotic and when he swallowed, she trembled in his arms, her sheath tightening

around him.

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—

52

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

53

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.”

54

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.

“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.

55

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