CHAPTER 7
Gracie sat back as her breaths blasted in and out of her lungs as he lowered to his knees. It looked like anger mixed with shock on his face as he stared at her, gasping on air. The way he acted, it was the first time he’d ever had somebody do that to him.
“I should’ve asked,” she whispered, never wanting to force anything like those monsters that raised him.
His dazed eyes slowly cleared until they became burning blue shards piercing right into her. His stare crawled down her body until she felt like a meal he’d been hunting for years and was pissed it had taken so long to capture it. Her mind and all its fears sent her in a slow retreat as her body trembled with needs she didn’t know existed in her. The feel of coarse fur under her fingers brought a gasp from her. She’d run right to his bed.
“You’re going to show me,” he said, his voice like hot gravel along her skin. “You’re going to show me your orgasm. Then I’ll give you one. And you’ll never forget it.”
The warning was clear to her. He intended to ruin any future orgasms with anybody else. And she had no doubt he could. And would.
Whimpered cries stuttered out as he took hold of her ankles and gently tugged till she was on her back and staring at the worn gray ceiling while panting wildly. His hands slowly moved along the insides of her calves, pushing them open with a gentle yet irrefutable command that brought heat to her worried whimpers.
She fought the sudden urge to close her legs tight, remembering she’d shaved. If she was going to be putting her vagina on display and needed to show him things, it seemed sensible. But what if his twisted past said something was wrong with it?
As he opened her more she clenched her eyes shut tight, knowing he must be getting close to also seeing she’d left off her panties. How bravely foolish she’d been in the safety of the bathroom.
“Gracie,” he whispered, making her pants turn louder. Her mouth flew open with a gasp when he stroked his fingers reverently over her now wide-open privates. The barest touch of his finger on her clit caused her to jump and clench the poor animal’s hair beneath her.
“Show me sweet Gracie,” he said, moving between her legs and using his hot, muscular thighs to hold her open. “Fucking show me,” he whispered, sounding tormented.
His deep need brought her hand between her legs, finding her sensitive clit. His hands softly settled on her upper thighs, his thick, hard fingers digging in her muscle with a hungry pulsing that matched the one already under her fingers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d masturbated but the rate the fire built, she’d be done with her demonstration in under a minute.
“Sweet fucking angel.”
She pried her eyes open, needing to see what he looked like while sounding aroused out of his mind. His head was angled, locked on the swirl of her two fingers over her clit. She stared at his mouth parted with the lustiest groans while his fingers dug harder into her muscle, forcing her hips to rock against the bed. The erotic motion caused her butt and folds to tighten and open with every move, drawing her orgasm so close.
The moment came when those blue eyes full of terrifying passion rose and found her. His brows pulled together as he stared at her, his groans turning harsher. He moved his gaze to her chest and reached up, yanking the front down over her breasts, bringing her gasps of ecstasy. She pulled her free leg back and he gave a sound of astonishment before shoving the other back just like it.
“Show me,” he growled lowly, his fingers back to digging.
“Oh God!” she gasped as her orgasm rose and rose to the top. “Ruckus,” she shot out, clutching at his hand locked on her leg. Her orgasm came with bucking and squirming as her back arched then fell with the thrash of her head.
****
The flames were back after watching Gracie come undone. And so was that fury. These divine throes pounded in his cock without any touch, its fire burning and searing. He knelt there, locked in a war of hungers that all needed to be fed as he gazed at her hairless, perfect pussy. Visions of everything he wanted to do but couldn’t burned him. His cock moving in and out of that beautiful part of her, that’s what he craved.
He remembered what she’d done to him and lowered between her legs. She’d pulled them back when the pleasure got unbearable. He groaned as he used his hands to hold her wide open then stared at that mysterious little gem. With a finger, he gave a testing stroke, looking up her body when she rewarded him with a sharp gasp. Growls filled his breaths as he fell on that divine secret with a ravenous hunger.
She gave him cry after cry as he drove his tongue and dragging his teeth on this heaven, letting the power suck him under. He pinned her legs to the floor, feeling the buck of her hips on his mouth while she pulled his hair and forced him on that perfection until she broke again. She marked his fucking soul with his own name, singing it over and over till he knew it was over for him. He was done. He was fucking dead. Because he’d have to have all of her, every day in every way. And he fucking couldn’t.
His ragged moans descended with her delicate ones as they returned from that forbidden paradise. He pressed his forehead against her soft inner thigh, then his lips, kissing the impossible silkiness while her fingers twirled gently in his hair. Fuck, he didn’t want it to end. But with every second, the darkness grew thicker inside him. A yawning despair coming to snake into her beautiful spirit until it suffocated it.
He sat up when the urge to do all that he couldn’t became more than he could resist.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
His eyes drifted shut at the feel of her warm fingers gliding along his back. Fuck, she was heaven. What was he doing? How did this fucking happen? He shook his head. “We can’t…do this. Ever again.” Words had never been harder to force out of his lungs.
****
Gracie’s hand stilled on his back. Confusion and pain filled her chest until she had to press a hand against it. “Why?” she forced out.
He stood and she quickly moved her dress back down, shaking still from the best thing that had ever happened to her. “You know why.”
“But…it was just an orgasm, I thought.”
He gave a horrible dry laugh. “I thought too. But I have never been so wrong about anything in my life. This pleasure…it’s…it’s more than anything I’ve ever experienced. I won’t be able to stop. I can feel it. I know it with all that I am, and all that I’m not. And I can’t let that happen.”
She stared at his sculpted backside, ready to beg. “What if I don’t believe in all that?”
He whipped around and her gaze fell straight to his cock. She was not a huge cock lover but his was covered in intricate designs she didn’t understand but thought were beautiful. He retrieved the leather sheath and turned, bringing a very sick feeling in her stomach. He picked up the leather trousers next and pulled them on while struggling to breathe around what she knew was coming.
She stood too, waiting for him to turn and do what would kill her. But he didn’t turn and face her, he walked out. She stared at the open door and hurried after him, looking all around once on the small porch. She swallowed, searching for movement until tears prevented her from seeing. The pain in her chest became unbearable and a sob escaped her. She hurried down the pier to the Bird House and slipped inside only to realize she had no privacy other than the bathroom. She made a beeline for it locked herself in it, fighting to be quiet as she cried her guts out. Dear God. There was no way she could ever survive this.
****
Ruckus waited on the front porch of his shack till he saw a light come on in the kitchen. Spotting Spook, he hurried to the house and signaled for him at the door at seeing Gracie asleep on the couch.
He made his way to the door and Ruckus waited for him near the porch swing.
“Hey,” he barely said after he stepped onto the porch and shut the door.
Ruckus paced a couple of steps then turned. “I need help,” he said.
“Anything,” Spook returned.
“I thought…Gracie is…”
“Oh fuck,” Spook barely said making his way to the swing and sitting. “Pretty sure I said those exact words about Maggie at one point.”
Ruckus looked at him. “But not for the same reasons,” he assured.
He gave a shrug. “I touched her when I shouldn’t have. Because I thought I shouldn’t have her or couldn’t. Hell, I can’t even remember why now.”
“I’ve said why I can’t have Gracie.”
“Because of who you were associated with.”
“Am associated with. You can’t leave. It follows you for the rest of your life. It already has me, but I can prevent it from harming others but that requires me to quarantine myself. Now there’s no way I can protect her, she…” He looked down for a second then met his stare. “She’s heaven. I’m hell. I can’t resist her, I can’t make myself stop, I can’t think, I can’t…protect her from myself. She makes me lose myself when I’m near her.”
Ruckus didn’t get the amused look on Spook’s face.
“Sorry, it’s just…” He shook his head and let out a breath while studying the swamp. “I’ve been there and it’s a terrifying place to be.”
“And amusing?”
He shook his head with a chuckle and raised browse. “Definitely not funny. Just…funny to see on somebody else, I guess. And amazing.”
“Amazing,” Ruckus muttered, wanting something to kill.
“Yeah man, the power a woman can have over you,” he said, in awe.
“Women have never had power over me,” he assured, getting Spook’s nod and low laugh.
“My bad.” He regarded him with a grin. “I should’ve said the right woman.”
Ruckus gripped the porch rail and hung his head. “She needs to find somebody else.”
“Here we go,” Spook said, getting Ruckus’s look.
“I can’t do this. To her. She’s already hurt by the little I’ve done.”
“Oh, I know,” Spook assured. “But you can forget about being able to give her to another.”
“I gave up my son up for thirty-nine years,” he growled lowly. “Don’t tell me what I can’t give up”
Spook surrendered with raised hands. “You’re right on that. Not sure how you managed it. Clearly you have bigger balls than I do.”
“Not everybody is raised from birth to live without love and pleasure. It gives you a fucking edge,” he muttered.
“Nitro is a good dude. And he seems to really want a chance with her.”
Ruckus bit his tongue on the uselessness piled up on his tongue. None of it fucking mattered.
“Or,” Spook added, “she may not want anybody else. Hell, she may even want to leave this place. And that can’t happen given our enemies and who she is. Especially now that she’s stuck her nose in it.”
“She can’t leave,” he agreed but for other reasons. He couldn’t have her but he had to make sure she was taken care of and got what she deserved. Even if it was by another man.
“We have a meeting at the Basilique this morning. We can add it to the business and come up with a solution.”
It was the last thing Ruckus wanted to do, make this a round table discussion with the men who wanted her. But there was no getting around it given their odd customs. “What other business is happening?” he wondered, needing other things to think about.
“Well…he petitioned the Grand Oratrice to expedite the hearing on the No Hands twins you captured.”
“What is a Grand Oratrice?”
“The leader of the Auditors. The twelve women who judge crimes that take place in our swamps.”
“You have women do that?”
He aimed a grin at him. “They tend to be more well rounded when it comes to hearing the whole disposing of a matter. The Twelve carry out their judgments.”
He would’ve thought the opposite to be true for women. Life in the coven had them at the low end of the intelligence spectrum. He added it to the massive stockpile of lies he’d been told. “What about the matter of the Fate Dice we rolled?”
“Guessing that’ll be discussed. You have ideas?”
“Other than request a second opinion, no.”
He chuckled, draping his arm on the back of the swing. “The Fate Dice are the strike of the gavel on matters difficult for human judgment.”
“Strange form of justice,” Ruckus muttered mostly to the swamp.
“Comes from the Holy Book. Similar to the Urim and Thummim. Ancient practice used by the high priests to discover revelation on a matter. Light and truth.”
He regarded him over his shoulder. “You believe that?”
He shrugged. “Not necessarily. But like I said, it’s only used for certain situations. When the yay or nay is something the good Lord might only know but we need to know. I believe those are to be amended soon.”
Interesting. “How?”
“Allow the criminal to decide if he wishes to roll the Fate Dice or the Judgement Dice.”
He shook his head a little. “And the difference?”
“The Fate Dice answer a yes or no question. The Judgement Dice determine the degree of punishment.”
“And the criminals roll them?”
“Yep.”
Very fascinating. He didn’t hate it. “What sort of judgements are there?”
“Depending on the roll of the dice. The lower the number, the worse the judgement. Sometimes they’re rolled twice. One to determine the judgement and one to determine the degree. We call it The Means and The Method. So, say a criminal rolls a three for the judgement and he’s in court for adultery.”
“Adultery is a crime?”
“Definitely, yes. One of the highest in our swamps. We provide protection and a good life for the families here and the marriage is the foundation of the family. Like soil in a garden. Bad soil makes for bad crops. Both the woman and the man make a lifelong agreement and the contract is as binding as any other. You break it, you pay a fitting price.”
He wondered. “What kind of price?”
“Depending on the crime and the circumstances around it. The Judgement Dice have been rolled on a couple occasions for it.”
“Just a couple?”
He nodded. “We take adultery seriously. Nobody dies over it but there’s never been a repeat offense and I can count on one hand how many adultery trials we’ve had.”
“What do they do?”
“It’s a layered discipline. If it’s the husband, he’s required to go through the Sinners Trial in all of The Twelve’s hatches. Which is like a six-week bootcamp of pain and humiliation on top of his responsibilities as a husband and father if he has kids. Also gives the injured spouse time to heal. Lasts a total of seventy-two weeks or a year and a half.”
“And the wife?”
“Don’t know. None have gotten caught.”
“Caught, huh?”
“I’m thinking they’re not all saints. Just better at hiding, maybe. But… I’m willing to be wrong about that.”
“Evil doesn’t have a gender or age preference last I checked,” Ruckus assured.
“Definitely agree there.”
He thought of Gracie with one of The Twelve. One of the possibly unfaithful Twelve. “So, the wife has to stay with the bastard who breaks her heart and soul?”
“No, she’s free to divorce. If she does choose that, he’s required to leave. She gets everything. Kids, house, assets.”
“Everything?”
“When you destroy the marriage bond, you destroy everything. And if she lets him stay, he has to serve her for the rest of their lives.”
“Serve her how?”
“However she wants.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then he returns to court for more judgment. Nobody wants to return to court for that unless they love pain and misery. Oh, and the spouse sits in on the trial. Depending on the context of the situation, she gets to determine various judgements. And then there’s the personal payments. The lifelong servitude.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “Could be he does the cooking, the cleaning. Gardening. Shopping. One required him to read to her every night.”
This Swamp life was getting more interesting by the minute. And more deadly. He’d never given such things much thought but everything he said seemed fair. And yet every detail produced more questions.
“Sun will be up soon. You wanna get a jump on the day before certain ladies wake up?”
The thought of facing Gracie after what they’d done put a sudden panic in him. “I’ll get my gear.”