Shana's Guardian

by Sue Lyndon

  “I came to a decision about the question you asked me earlier, about marriage.”

  His expression cooled and he stiffened, more apprehensive than she’d ever seen before. It raised her spirits to know her decision caused him this much worry. He sincerely wanted her as a wife. This is why he’d kept her for all these years, refusing match after match that was proposed by another man’s parents. He’d tried to keep each proposal a secret, but Shana picked up gossip from her friends, and the whole settlement knew of Daman’s possessiveness for his niece. It dawned on her that she’d have to stop calling him Uncle.

  “And?” he asked, his eyes growing more intense by the second.

  “And I very much want to be your wife.” She smiled.

  “Oh, Shana.” He gathered her closer. Cupping her face between his large hands, he leaned down to capture her lips in a demanding kiss, exploring and tasting all that belonged to him. “Tomorrow. We’ll go to the priest tomorrow,” he said, pausing from the kiss only long enough to speak.

  Tomorrow. Shana melted into the man she cared about more than anything else in life. Even when her parents had been alive, she couldn’t remember loving them this much. Of course, she supposed it was a different kind of love. The kind that could kindle the fiery passion coursing through her veins and reignite the desperate throbbing of her pussy. Without thinking, she scooted closer and grinded her center against his side as he continued to brand her with his mouth.

  “Does my wife-to-be want something?” he teased, cupping her breasts through her nightgown. She arched into his touch, reveling in the feel of his hands on her aching mounds. The idea of writhing in the midst of an orgasm while Daman watched – and hopefully, assisted – drove her mad with longing. She unabashedly grinded against him once more, meeting his stare with hooded eyes.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “I’m going to explode if you don’t touch my pussy.”

  * * *

  Daman briefly wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven. Maybe a tornado had ripped through the settlement during the night and caught him unawares. After all, having his sweet Shana beg him to touch her pussy was high on his list of sexual fantasies not likely to happen. Or maybe he was dreaming. No matter. If it was a dream, he’d enjoy himself in the meantime and then wake up and go make it a reality.

  “Take your nightgown off.” He caressed her thigh.

  A shy look crossed her face, but she soon yanked the garment off and flung it to the floor. His eyes swept over her firm bare breasts and he almost spilled himself in his pants. God, what a perfect sight. Her dark nipples were hardened, begging to be pinched and sucked. If only it was their wedding night, he’d be able to sink his cock deep between her wet folds. Premarital sex was just another ridiculous so-called sin the church riled against, in his opinion, but he didn’t want to risk the chance that Shana would despair over it. He’d bring her the pleasure she craved and somehow manage to keep his cock encased in his pants for a few more hours. They would visit the priest in the early morning and he’d have her as his wife-in-truth before noon tomorrow.

  “Touch yourself,” he said, nodding at her breasts.

  Slowly, her hands traveled up her stomach and she kneaded her tits, cupping and squeezing herself as her eyes closed tight and her head tilted back, revealing her neck in a vulnerable manner that nearly caused Daman to come undone at the seams. When she rolled her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, it was all he could do to keep from drooling. Her hips gyrated in his direction, aiming for his leg. She was an intoxicating bouquet of lilac and womanly arousal. He couldn’t wait to bury his face between her legs, run his tongue along the outer rim of her intimate folds, and lap at her clit until she shuddered against his mouth.

  A little moan escaped her lips, drawing Daman back to the task at hand. “Lay down, Shana, baby. I’m going to make you feel good.” His voice was strained.

  He guided her down with her legs spread wide, her knees bent. Her eyes flickered nervously in his direction, and her cheeks looked heated. The embarrassment he imagined racing through her delicate senses thrilled Daman beyond words. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. What fun he’d have breaking his little wife in, introducing her to the most wicked pleasures he hadn’t acted out in years – not since he’d visited the brothels in Davidson Settlement, where the morals ran much looser.

  The first taste of her pussy was exquisite. Aw, fuck, he was the luckiest man alive. He didn’t regret keeping her to himself for a second. His tongue ran down the inside of the wet lips between her legs, up and down, inching toward the engorged red button he glimpsed when he splayed her wide with his fingers. She started and shrieked as he began to lap at her clit.

  “I want you to orgasm against my mouth,” he said, pulling back. “This will be one of my favorite things to do to you when we’re married.” If she knew about all of his favorite things she’d have to contend with, she might not have accepted his marriage proposal. He smirked at that thought and positioned his mouth lower to pleasure Shana. She accepted him more readily this time, but she still jumped a little.

  He continued, pushing the hood of her clit back and licking it in its most defenseless state, watching her whole center pulse and quiver as she tried to remain still. He trailed one moistened finger to her freshly punished asshole and pushed against her, sliding straight in past his knuckle. At the same time, he circled his tongue rapidly around her hardened nub and started sucking on it as she moaned loud and quaked against his mouth.

  “Daman!” She writhed until her legs suddenly went limp, and he knew her wave of release had run its course.

  Without a word, he retrieved her undergarments and nightgown from the floor and dressed her. She seemed dazed, her mind adrift at sea, and he couldn’t help feeling proud he’d put her in such a state, especially with a finger penetrating her bottom hole as she came hard. She would learn to accept larger intrusions than a finger, whether she liked the idea at first or not. His cock throbbed in agony as he tucked her in bed, and he cursed the stupid church for putting images of fire and brimstone into every innocent girl’s head in this safe but rigid settlement.

  “Sleep well, Shana.” He kissed her forehead. “In the morning we will be married.”

  Chapter 3

  The flowing light blue dress trimmed in lace would have to do. Shana owned many nice dresses, but choosing the best one out of them all was an impossible task. At the end of the month she would don her mother’s wedding party gown, along with the rest of the Jackson Settlement women who got married this month, for a big celebration in the square, but for now she needed something normal and pretty to wear to the courthouse. Besides, the ceremony was quick and she knew Daman intended to consummate their marriage immediately. How he’d managed not to take her whole body last night was past her understanding. The man had more self-control than she could ever hope to possess. It was one of the many reasons she looked up to him. Even before she’d gotten to know him well, he’d been a beacon of strength and seemed larger than life.

  She would never forget his kindness the night he brought her into his house. He’d traveled to Okkman Settlement to fetch her without knowing a thing about her, save that she was his late wife’s sister’s daughter. He’d bathed her, fed her, and tucked her in a warm bed after the long journey, and promised her grief would one day fade. The pain of losing her parents and leaving her childhood friends behind did indeed fade, and she had him to thank for that. He became her everything when she had nothing. He became the sole candle burning in a world gone dark. And when the worst of the darkness lifted, she saw Daman as her personal savior and her feelings for him grew as the months and years passed. Gratitude turned to devotion, devotion turned to love, and love turned into something so strong it couldn’t be put to words, an emotion so profound it transcended love.

  “Shana?” Daman’s deep voice echoed through her chest, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “I’ll be out in a minute!” She finished buttoning the dress, t
wirled once in front of the mirror, and leaned in to apply the faintest hint of makeup. A little blush and a smear of pink lipstick, nothing more. She ran her fingers through her long blond locks, thanking the heavens above for a good hair day. She’d used curlers on the ends, and the slight wave this produced framed her face perfectly and made her feel pretty.

  “Shana, it’s been five minutes. If I have to take you to the chapel with a sore bottom, I will. Don’t make me come in there.” There was a smile in his voice, but she knew he’d follow through with this threat if she forced his hand. Literally.

  She stifled a giggle. Her bottom still bore a few marks from his belt and would likely be sore for days. Rather than point this fact out to him, she pushed aside the curtain and stood before him in the hallway. She gasped when she saw how handsome he looked in a pair of simple black trousers, a matching black jacket, and a red shirt underneath.

  “I’m ready now.” She smiled mischievously, and his mock-stern visage melted as his eyes swept over her body.

  “You know you were naughty to keep me waiting so long.” He reached for her hands. “But you look lovely, Shana.”

  She swallowed hard and fought the emotion rising in her chest. She’d almost burst into tears last night when she’d thought he meant to marry her to another man, and now she sensed the dam holding in her feelings cracking once more. Blinking like a madwoman, she lowered her head and stared at their joined hands.

  “Thank you, Unc – uh, I mean Daman.” This name change would take some getting used to.

  “I was only married to your aunt for a month, and I’m glad for it even though she died soon after. If I hadn’t married her, then I would’ve never met you. If anyone in the settlement gives you grief over our union, I want you to tell me at once. It’s my job to protect you.”

  She stared up at him in wonder, trying to form words past the dryness in her mouth. Her tongue felt heavy and awkward. “I understand.”

  He trailed a finger down her cheek. “You will sleep in my bed, and you will call me Daman. No more Uncle Daman.”

  He led her outside, down the creaky porch steps, and toward the church near the square. Butterflies assaulted the pit of her stomach as they approached the wide, red door of the chapel, and she was grateful she’d eaten a light breakfast.

  Pastor Quentin greeted them with a warm smile and ushered them inside. He cradled a large book, pushed his glasses up, and said, “Let’s begin. I have a baptism to get to in an hour.” He winked and began reading the vows for Daman and Shana to repeat. A short time later, they were declared husband and wife. “You may kiss the bride,” the priest said, pushing up his glasses again.

  Shana turned, peering up at Daman from under her eyelashes. His gaze penetrated her, stripped her soul bare, and left her legs shaky and her heart thrumming frantically. She remembered how he kissed her forehead each night before tucking her in and how loved that gesture made her feel. This was different. It would make her burn worse than she already did for Daman, just as it made her burn last night before he buried his head between her legs.

  He finally stepped closer and tilted her chin up. She forgot about the priest. She forgot about the church. It was as if they were all alone, and the fallen world no longer existed. He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. His hold on her head tightened and his tongue glided inside her mouth, calling up her full desire and prompting her to lean into his hard body in search of relief that wouldn’t come until they reached home. Reality floated further away as she ran her hands up his back, and the kiss deepened to leave her breathless, yet hungering for more. A fierce ache spread from her lower belly and cascaded down sharply between her legs where it rolled around like butter in a churn. She felt his cock pressing against her, hard and ready through their clothes. In a matter of minutes, it would probably be buried inside her pussy.

  Air flew into her lungs when Daman broke away and regarded her with longing in his dark, beautiful eyes. Panting, she stepped back and tried to compose herself, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her dress. The priest cleared his throat and said something, but his words sounded far away and she didn’t know what he said. Suddenly, Daman pulled her down the aisle and into the crisp fall morning. Her legs felt funny, and her thoughts fuzzy. If they passed anyone on the street, she couldn’t say. It was all a strange blur, and her mind didn’t clear until she heard the creaky porch steps beneath their feet.

  Home. This would always be her home, and she didn’t have to worry about leaving Daman ever again.

  “You’re all mine now.” He swept her up into his arms without warning to carry her inside. “Mine.”

  Yes, I’m yours, she thought, always yours. Shana nestled her head against his solid chest, lost in a moment of bliss.

  If this wasn’t happiness, she didn’t know what was. Her body swayed with his footsteps, and soon they were in his bedroom. He laid her down with great care, catching her eyes in his hot gaze and not blinking as he leaned over her body. Burning a trail down her neckline, his fingers traced her skin, rubbing from behind her ears to the hollow of her neck and back again. She raised her hips to press against him, and he began unfastening the buttons of her dress, one by one. When he took his good time, she brushed his hands away and started working them herself. His eyes flashed and he grabbed one of her wrists and slapped her hand soundly.

  “Ouch!” Shana cradled her wounded hand and gave him a hurt look.

  “Push my hands away again and I’ll be smacking more than your hand,” he said, his brow creased as he glared down at her menacingly.

  His threat caused her insides to quiver and she nodded in understanding. She should’ve known better. Daman was in charge and she liked it that way. She just wished he’d hurry things up. Aching like she’d never ached before, she dropped her arms and remained still, even though every cell in her body screamed out in protest. “I’m sorry, Uncle. Uh – Daman. I’m sorry, Daman.” Dammit. Would her slip of tongue ruin the moment?

  A dark smile crept across his lips. “My naughty little wife can’t seem to remember her husband’s name. Perhaps she needs a reminder? Hmm?”

  A reminder? Before she could ask, he flipped her over on her stomach and raised her dress to gather above her waist. He pulled her underclothes up to crease between her bottom cheeks. The unexpected pressure on her clit caused her to squirm and press her thighs tight together. She would burn up if he didn’t touch her soon. His fingers, his tongue, or his cock. She didn’t care what he used as long as he did it before she lost control and touched herself – a sin she knew would only earn her a harsh physical punishment.

  Daman ran a hand over her bottom mounds, caressing and squeezing. Of course, maybe he was about to punish her for the slip of tongue anyway. A spasm of liquid heat rocketed through her center, and she grinned into the pillow. If he wanted a reason to punish her, she’d give him one.

  “Please, Uncle, don’t spank me. I promise I’ll be good. Uncle.”

  His breath hissed between his teeth, the way it always did when something shocked him. She smiled again and braced herself for what was surely to come. He squeezed both of her cheeks between his hands, hard enough that his nails dug into her skin. She fought the urge to cry out in pain.

  “My little niece still has marks from my belt, but apparently she didn’t learn her lesson yesterday.”

  Realizing that he wanted to play too, she wiggled her butt and grimaced as he squeezed harder. “Ouch! Uncle, you’re hurting me. I promise I’ll be a good girl. Please, please don’t punish me, Uncle.”

  * * *

  Still shocked by the naughty game Shana was instigating, Daman dug his nails into her skin and situated his body over her legs. Hearing the word Uncle fall from her lips in their marriage bed drove him mad with need, surprising and thrilling him at the same time. He raised his hand and brought it down severely on her left cheek, then gave the right one the same treatment. He gave her over a dozen quick slaps in all before pausing to rub her reddening flesh
, knowing the wetness between her thighs would grow and grow as he chastised her.

  “Is my little niece going to behave? Or does Uncle Daman need to get the paddle?” He spanked each thigh once.

  “Oh! I’ll be good! I promise! Please don’t punish me anymore, Uncle. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Damn right you will, he thought as he unzipped his trousers and freed his cock. It jutted out as he stood up off the bed, guiding his wife down to her knees on the hardwood floor. “Suck it.” He fisted his hard length in his hand, slapping it against her face.

  She studied his cock, her wide eyes betraying her fear of the unknown. “I . . . um . . .”

  “Open your mouth.” His need was so great he required her mouth now, experienced or not.

  Her pouty lips parted and he took the opportunity to push his cock forward between her lips, all the way to the back of her throat. Hands gripping her hair, he prevented her from spitting him out. He felt her gagging and steeled himself to be harsh. His first wife had refused to pleasure him in this way, and for the month they were married he’d been too lenient on her. The dynamic of his relationship with Shana would always be different, a relationship in which she was subject to his discipline and his every dark whim.

  Soft whimpers vibrated from her throat as he began thrusting in and out of her warm, wet mouth. After a few seconds, she relaxed and closed her lips firmly around his cock. He’d never known pleasure so great. He kept thrusting, filling her up without mercy as he used her mouth. His balls tensed up and tingled, and the room tilted sideways, his vision blurring. Close, too close. Reluctantly, he yanked her head away and put space between them. He didn’t want to shoot his seed down her throat – not this time. He could smell her arousal, the same sweet, musky scent he’d smelled last night, and he couldn’t wait to rip through her maidenhead and fuck her senseless, breaking her in as his wife.

  His wife. His niece. She was both and no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to separate the two. He felt wicked, but he didn’t care. Legally she belonged to him, and that was all that mattered. His property. His woman to love and protect, his bottom to spank, and his pussy to fuck.