The Devil's Kiss Series Boxed Set

by Gemma James

  I wouldn’t lie, least of all to myself. Seeing him with someone else wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but I couldn’t stop the curve of my lips at witnessing how happy he seemed.

  Or how head-over-heels Simone was for the man who’d at one time held my heart in his gentle hands. I’d returned his kindness and devotion by ripping him to shreds. But she’d weaved him back together, and I refused to let my drama get in the way of that, or ruin this holiday.

  Simone broke away as Ian shut the door, but his hazel eyes widened upon the sight of me standing just outside the kitchen, wringing my hands because I didn’t know what else to do with them.

  “Hi…” His surprise registered in his deep voice.

  “Hi,” I said, my cheeks heating from the sudden awkwardness in the room. I looked to Simone for help.

  “Kayla’s spending Thanksgiving with us,” she rushed to explain.

  Ian took a step toward me. “Are you okay? Where’s Gage?”

  “He and I are…taking a break.”

  The astonishment that washed his face attested to the momentous nature of my news, and it told me how bad of an idea being the third wheel was. I moved to grab my coat. “I shouldn’t be here. This is just…”

  Way beyond awkward.

  I had one arm in my jacket sleeve before Ian placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t go. You’re always welcome.” He glanced at Simone, including her in the conversation. “Right, babe?”

  So they were at the “babe” stage. I wondered how much time they’d spent together. Had Simone visited him at the treatment center, wherever that had been? Just how long had he been back?

  And that’s when I realized there were things I’d probably never know, and for a good reason too, because our histories were cocooned in hurt, and crisscrossed in a web of wrong. We only had two options at this point; remain hung up on the past, or salvage what little friendship we had left.

  The third choice—walk away for good—was unfathomable.

  Simone gave me a reassuring smile, so I assumed she voted for the second option. “Of course she’s welcome. We’re all adults, but more importantly, we’re friends.”

  My husband excluded, for obvious reasons.

  Ian removed his jacket, and we settled in to watch parts of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while the food cooked and boiled. When it came time to carve the turkey, Ian took on that task as I set the table for three. With each minute that passed, the nagging awkwardness subsided. We settled around a table crammed full of turkey and all the trimmings. I loaded up my plate, overjoyed that my morning sickness was mostly a thing of the past since I’d entered the second trimester.

  “How about we say what we’re thankful for?” Simone arched a brow at me. “Would you like to go first?”

  I set down my eggnog with a slight gulp. “Um, sure. I’m grateful for…”

  The baby.

  But thinking about my unborn child brought tears to my eyes, and I didn’t know if Ian was aware of my pregnancy. The last thing I wanted was to rub it in his face.

  “I’m grateful for your unconditional friendship.” My gaze swerved between the two of them. “Both of you. You’ve been there for me, each in different ways, for such a long time. So that’s what I’m thankful for.”

  Simone took Ian’s hand. “You’re next.”

  “I’m gonna have to cheat and mention two things. I’m grateful to be alive.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And I’m grateful for you.”

  Silence fell over the table, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just was.

  Simone cleared her throat. “I’m grateful for the three kids whose cancer went into remission this week. By the grace of God, they got to go home and spend the holiday with their families.”

  I raised my glass. “That takes the cake, Simone. It deserves a toast.” Our glasses clinked together—three glasses representing three lives that had come together through trial and tribulation, yet here we were, sitting around the same table and thankful to do so.

  But God, how I missed Gage just then. And Eve. Frigid air whistled through the holes in my heart where they should have been. With a little distance, I saw things more clearly, and Gage’s past with Katherine didn’t lance my heart as badly as it had yesterday. But not being with him did.

  A bang on the door went off like an omen as if the universe heard my pain and wanted to reply. Even so, dread formed in my gut. I didn’t know how I knew, but that angry fist pounding on Simone’s door belonged to Gage.

  She scooted back, the legs of her chair scraping loudly across her floor. “I’ll deal with it, Kayla.”

  Except that I beat her to the door. She tried stopping me from opening it, but nothing and no one would keep me from seeing him. The instant I laid eyes on his disheveled appearance—his uncombed hair and the redness that rimmed his eyes—I fought against myself to fall at his feet.

  He barreled into Simone’s apartment, letting the door slam behind him. Everyone seemed to hold their breath for a few heavy seconds as Gage and Ian exchanged a look. But it wasn’t a look I could put a name to.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, and my wife isn’t at home. What do you think I’m doing here?”

  Simone tried wedging between us—always the protector—but Ian gently held her back. He pulled her to his side, one hand curving around her shoulder, and Gage didn’t miss the obvious bond they’d come to know in such a short time.

  “I think you should leave,” she said, though her tone was far from harsh. She might not like Gage, but she managed to rein in her temper for my sake because that’s the type of friend she was—the type of friend who invited the ex-girlfriend of her new boyfriend to Thanksgiving.

  “I’m not leaving without my wife.”

  “Gage, please don’t do—”

  “I mean it,” he interrupted. “What do I need to do to get you to come home?” To my utter astonishment, he dropped to his knees and nuzzled my belly. “You want me to beg? Well here I am, baby. For you and our children, I’ll do anything, even if it means getting on my knees, and I don’t give a fuck who’s around to see it.”

  God, I was going to cry.

  “Gage, please get up.” As much as I loved him kneeling at my feet, we both knew he didn’t belong there. “I’ll go home with you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Simone said.

  Gage shot her a glare. “This is between my wife and me.”

  “Then why did she come to my house with a packed suitcase? You need to give her some time.”

  “She’s had time. Slumber party is over.”

  My friend was about to explode, so I interjected before she did. “Thanks for everything, Simone,” I said, silently pleading with her to understand. “I think I should go home.”

  “But you were a mess yest—”

  “Babe,” Ian said, massaging her shoulders as if that would be enough to calm her. Who knew? Maybe it would. He probably knew her buttons and how to set off each one better than anyone. “Let them go. Kayla’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

  His new attitude astounded me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if a second chance at life was the only reason behind the change. I knew Gage had spoken to him the night he sent him away, but I’d never had the guts to ask what they’d talked about.

  And I probably never would. That was a conversation Gage would likely never tell me about. We both had our flaws; I relapsed into the land of trust issues every time new doubts arose, and he refused to open up emotionally. We could fight each other on those two things until we destroyed our marriage and each other, or we could accept them.

  Everyone had flaws. Some more than others.

  “Thank you for having me,” I said. Not everyone was lucky enough to be blessed with a friend like Simone. She’d always have my back, and I prayed that when the time came, if it ever did, I’d get a chance to have hers as well.

  Gage laced our fingers
together. “Where’s your suitcase?”

  “By the couch.” I pointed to the sofa where I’d slept last night, tossing and turning and agonizing over my impetuous decision to leave. There was a saying I’d once read in some pregnancy book, or maybe I’d seen it on a forum, but I’d found the advice sound.

  Never make big decisions while pregnant.

  Gage fetched my suitcase as I put on my coat. Before we reached the door, I stopped to give Simone a hug. But I didn’t dare touch Ian, and the glance he exchanged with Gage spoke volumes. Just because they’d managed to occupy the same room for ten minutes without tearing each other’s heads off didn’t mean they were on the way to becoming best buds.

  But I was optimistic. People changed. Gage had, in spite of his habit of hiding painful things from his past. I had too, in spite of my penchant for doubting first and asking questions later. Even Ian had gone through a metamorphosis. Maybe, by some miracle, these two would someday bury the past and find some common ground.

  We left without another word, having already said our goodbyes—for now anyway—and Gage pulled my luggage behind him as he led me to the car. After stowing the suitcase in the trunk, he opened the passenger door and helped me into the seat.

  Gage settled in beside me and amped up the heater before digging my cell out of his pocket. “It still works,” he said, handing it to me as if it were a token of apology. “But I’m afraid the screen is cracked. We’ll get you a new one.”

  I merely nodded, my thoughts still lingering on what had happened in Simone’s apartment. Gage steered the car onto the road. Fog hung over the city, obscuring skeleton trees and roadway signs, and though the heater blasted warm air toward me, I shivered in my cold leather seat. Neither of us spoke until we were on the freeway.

  “Did you know he was going to be there?” he asked.

  “No.”

  A few nail-biting beats passed. “They seem happy together,” he said.

  I could not have given him a more stunned expression. “I think they are.”

  Letting out a breath, he ran irritated fingers through his messy hair. “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Baby…I was wrong.”

  I had no words. My mouth was too busy gaping.

  “I should have told you.”

  “I’m glad you can see that now,” I said.

  “But if you ever leave me like that again…” He shook his head, jaw rigid.

  “So I’m to be punished then?”

  “What do you think, Kayla?”

  “Am I not allowed to have feelings?” I angled to face him head-on. “What about space? Is that out of the question too?”

  “You’re allowed to have feelings. But space? Fuck no. Not only are we married, but you belong to me. If you need space, I’m happy to put you in the cage for a while. You can have all the time in the world to think things through in there.”

  I gulped. “Gage, please.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Please don’t hate me for what I did.”

  He glanced at me, raising incredulous brows. “That’s not even possible. Jesus, Kayla. I’m upset that you bolted like that, but I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I’m so fucking in love with you that I can’t see straight.”

  “You might want to tone down the love a little, so you don’t wreck the car.”

  He laughed. “Fuck, you’re crazy, and I love you for it.”

  “When she told me those things, I went crazy, and I doubted you. Again. This nasty voice in my head told me you only wanted me to get at him, that I’m only a possession to you. A thing you use.”

  “You’re everything to me.”

  On that note, with those words echoing in my mind in the soft way he’d spoken them, we rode the rest of the way home in silence. By the time we reached the driveway and rushed to the front steps, the sky had opened, but we beat the worst of it by seconds. Rain pounded the windows and danced on the rooftop.

  And something smelled delicious. My stomach growled, reminding me that Gage’s arrival had interrupted dinner.

  “Come,” he said, reaching for my hand. He escorted me into the dining room where a man I’d never seen before readied the table for us. A full Thanksgiving dinner had been set out.

  “Dinner is served, Mr. Channing. Do you require anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The man made himself scarce, and a couple of moments later, I detected the front door open and close.

  “You knew I’d come back.”

  “I was hoping.” His mouth tilted up in a halfway grin. Bringing a hand to his tie, he loosened the knot before reaching into his pocket. “First things first though.” He fisted a set of clover clamps—the worst kind I’d ever been punished with.

  “If you weren’t pregnant, you’d have a date with my bullwhip in the anal stocks right now. Lucky for you,” he said, coming closer, “your womb is growing my baby and making your belly sexy as fuck.” Stopping in front of me, he cocked his head to the side. “Just how sensitive are your nipples these days?”

  I covered my breasts on instinct until he flattened his mouth into a firm line. Slowly, I let my hands drop and dangle at my sides.

  “Good girl,” he said, beginning with my left nipple.

  “Ow!”

  “It hurts, does it?”

  “What do you think?” I said, scowling.

  “Good. Now address me properly before I change my mind about the stocks.” He raised a thoughtful brow. “Or you could spend some time in the cage after dinner.”

  “No, Master. Please. I’ll be good.”

  “It is Thanksgiving, and I’m feeling grateful and a bit lenient, so assuming you get rid of that bratty attitude and let me feed you,” he said, pinching my other nipple between his horrible clamp, “I’ll offer you some mercy. No cage.”

  I was relieved to hear the words no cage fall from his lips, but my mind had latched onto the first part of what he’d said. “Feed me, Master?”

  “Mmm, yes.” He whirled me around, causing my head to spin, and used his tie to bind my hands at the small of my back. “I imagine you’ll have a difficult time eating without the use of your hands.” Happy with his handiwork, he pushed me into a chair and ordered me to spread my legs before taking a seat a mere arm’s length away.

  And in between bites of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and the best damn cranberry sauce I’d ever had, he fingered my pussy until I teetered on the edge of orgasm, then he yanked on the chain connecting the clamps every time I uttered a plea to come, no matter how small. Even a whimper for more got my nipples punished. My face had become a tear-stained mess from the vises trapping my overly sensitive buds in never ending torture. And yet the pain faded the instant he pushed his fingers into me again.

  Arching my spine, I curled my toes. “Please let me come!”

  He brought those same digits, slick with my arousal, to my chin. “You will not come tonight.”

  I groaned.

  “But you’ll be happy about something else.” Turning intense blue eyes on me, he slowly dipped his fingers between my lips. “The next time you do come, it’ll be at the expense of the bitch who made you leave me in the first place.”

  25. Karma's Bitch

  I stood inside the bathroom in the basement and listened to the thump of footsteps on the stairs. A few seconds later, Gage’s voice filled the space, his tone arrogant and authoritative. I hated that tone of his, but I hated that he was using it with her even more.

  Katherine. The bitch who’d nearly torn my marriage apart by preying on my insecurities. That whole fool me once phrase echoed through my mind, and I chewed over how it fit me perfectly.

  “You’ll park your ass against that cross because I said so. Don’t make me change my mind about this,” he said.

  “Where’s your wife?” The racket of her heels faded away from where I hid. “Is she out shopping for groceries?” Her laughter got
under my skin. “Or maybe she’s at a bake sale.”

  “That is why I’m going to gag your irritating mouth.”

  “But I want to suck your—” A muffled whine cut her off, mid-sentence.

  “See?” he said. “That’s one thing you never understood about me.” Chains clinked, and I could almost hear the cuffs locking her wrists and ankles in place. “I don’t care about your wants.”

  Creeping closer to the entrance, I waited for my cue.

  “Kayla understands though. She knows and accepts that her wants come second to mine.”

  A few seconds later, Gage called for me to come out of hiding. I stepped into the main part of the basement, my own four-inch heels noisy on the floor, and the look on Katherine’s face was one I wanted to catalog and pull out to gawk at for years to come. Six months ago, I’d been in her place, chained to the St. Andrew’s cross and silenced with a gag, while Gage taunted me with his hard cock and her eager mouth.

  Turnabout was fair play, and it tasted sweeter than ever.

  Straining against her bindings, she attempted to shout epithets around the ball of rubber stretching her lips.

  “I said I wanted to fuck, and you couldn’t wait to get over here, could you?” he said to her, tilting his head as he held an arm out toward me. I fit at his side like I belonged, and I couldn’t imagine ever leaving my place again. “I never said who I was going to fuck.”

  Katherine shook her head, a desperate whine emanating from her throat, but her eyes spit venom. Gage crossed to her fully-clothed body and grabbed her chin. “If you ever come near my wife again, a little bondage and humiliation will be the least of your worries.”

  Gage turned his back on her, but when I met his eyes, longing sparked between us. And Katherine? For a few intense moments, she failed to exist. I parted my lips, standing like a pillar to keep from pressing my thighs together. Only a couple of days had passed since we’d torn up the sheets.

  But I was ravenous, hungry to feel him inside me, and the bed a few feet away called like a siren at sea. I couldn’t wait to rock it.