Her Reaper's Arms Read online

  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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  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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  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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  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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  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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  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.
r />   “Why don’t we go into the parlor, Miss Cornelia,” Lea said, hooking her arm

  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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  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