Page 50 of Ride with the Devil

I obviously didn’t. Fingers threaded through my hair, holding me against her box, I licked and sucked and nuzzled until she was screaming my name. She might not have enjoyed it as much as when I was pumping into her ass, but hell if I didn’t make sure she had a merry Christmas herself before we curled up on the cot, sated and pleasured and ready to take a nap before I made her lunch.

At least, Kylie was ready to take a nap. I thought she passed out almost immediately. Me? Unwilling to let this amazing morning come to an end too quickly, I twirled one of her curls around the length of my pointer finger while trying not to notice how close my cock is to her entrance.

One thrust. If I angled my body around hers just right, all it would take is one thrust and I could be seated inside of her pussy.

I don’t. I wouldn’t. Not only would I never betray Kylie’s trust like that, but I haven’t changed my mind. My clever girl found a way to share her body with me without breaking my promise to myself that I’d wait for marriage. If I threw it away now, what was the point.

Even if, at this moment, my lifelong conviction is wavering a little…

“Luca?” murmurs Kylie. “You still up?”

I’m not the only one—and I don’t mean how Kylie’s obviously awake.

Angling my hips back so that I don’t poke her with my erection, I say, “Yup. You?”

She tilts her head enough that I can see her bright eyes. In the basement, there are two lights. One that we keep on around the clock so that there’s always some illumination. The more powerful bulb is overhead, and it lights up the entire space.

It’s one for now. That’s okay. I can see that she’s not only wide awake. I don’t think she fell asleep at all.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to ask for ages now, and I never did, but I’ve been staring at it ever since we climbed into bed and…” The chain around my neck bites into the back of it as she gives it a quick tug. “What is this?”

Even without asking for verification, I know she’s not asking me about the chain itself. She wants to know about the key.

My first instinct is to brush her off. This isn’t really a conversation I want to have after she let me see what it was like to fuck even if it wasn’t her pussy, but because she did, I can’t see any way I can refuse to answer her.

And why shouldn’t I? I thought I’d turn her off when she learned the truth about the brand on my arm. That didn’t happen. And if I didn’t want her to every be curious about thekey I usually wear tucked under my shirt, hidden out of sight, I could have removed it before she could ask.

Maybe, in some ass backward way, I wanted her to ask.

I wanted Kylie to know.

I wanted her to care.

And, most of all, I needed to tell her about Emily. Because how can I keep from making the same mistakes with Kylie if she doesn’t know about what happened before her?

I blow out a rush of air. “It’s stupid,” I warn her.

“It’s not,” she whispers back. Letting go of the key, she slides her hand up the side of my throat before rubbing her thumb along the edge of my jaw. “If it matters to you, it’s not, Luca.”

“You remember how I told you about the church I was raised in? About Donovan?”

“That prophet guy?”

My jaw clenches. I’m sure she can feel it. “Yeah. Him. This key belongs to him.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. Weird. Not the kind of story I was expecting, but?—”

I roll onto my back, making my confession to the ceiling. “Donovan stole my girl. So I stole his key.”

Kylie rises up on her elbow so that I have no choice but to see her; at least in my peripheral vision, that is. “Back up, ace. I think I missed a bit of the story.”

I exhale. “It’s not a fun story. When I was still a member of the church?—”

“Cult.”

Right. “—there weren’t any other girls my age. Just Emily. Emily Dallas. Her family joined the HCofJD when we were both twelve. By thirteen, I knew she would be the girl I married. At fourteen, we started to date. Church-approved dating, obviously, but when we were twenty-one, the prophet said I could marry her.”

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