Outlaws: A Romance Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  “Somewhere we can be alone.”

  He chuckles lightly as he crosses his arms loosely over his chest.

  “And you don’t think we’re alone here?” he quips with a smirk on his face.

  “We’re not.”

  Lawson narrows his eyes at me, and I turn my face away.

  So strange how hearing the devil speak to me fills me with something I’ve never felt before.

  Not for Tallulah.

  Not for the thing inside of her.

  Not even for Sylvie or myself.

  And it feels dangerously close to what they preach about as love, though I refuse to believe it.

  How can someone love the person that’s orchestrated the theft of their own life?

  “In the Penance House,” I propose quietly before I turn and walk out of his house.

  Chapter Nine

  It took every ounce of strength I had not to vomit on his doorstep once the fresh air collided with my skin. Every last hair on my body has stood on edge as I stumble toward the smallest home on his property. The one he reserves for the sinners, the wayward fallers, the people that simply just have to be dealt with in one way or another.

  But the important thing is that the whispers have started to subside which means I’m in control again.

  And I fucking plan on staying there.

  As I walk toward the Penance House, I’m almost sure that I’m alone. That is until I can hear his footsteps crunching against the fallen autumn leaves as I lead the way.

  Maybe he wanted to let me believe that he wouldn’t follow me, but the pull I have with him is too strong.

  He wants to devour me, body and soul, and the only way to do that is to be alone and attempt to play whatever hand he thinks he may have.

  Once I reach the small two-room hut on the outskirts of the property, I shove my hands into my jacket pockets and wait for Lawson to catch up and unlock the door.

  He’s damn near out of breath by the time he reaches me, but I attribute most of that to the bitter cold that seems to surround the Penance House.

  This is a place of punishment, so he doesn’t allow any types of comfort to be used here, heat being the least of his concerns.

  Lawson reaches into his pocket and removes a key ring, then licks the tip of his thumb before he begins to meticulously pick through the keys. When he finds the one he’s looking for, he places it in the lock, turns it, and then pushes the door open.

  “After you,” he says, a hint of amusement playing on his tone.

  I roll my eyes and glance up at the moon high above in the sky before I walk in through the open door.

  By the time I’m done with him, Sylvie should have completed her task too.

  I glance around the small abode once curiously. I’ve never been banished to this place before and in a way, I find myself suddenly feeling thankful for being the quiet man that I usually am.

  How the hell someone is supposed to survive in such a barebones home for however many days he deems fit is beyond me.

  “What’s on your mind, Kester?” He asks, startling me.

  Is that what he sounds like?

  I glance at him curiously, wondering why he sounds so goddamn clear so far away from everyone else.

  “I want to go home,” I confess.

  Is that what I sound like?

  The clarity of everything happening in this small home startles me enough that my body begins to tremble slightly.

  Do I need to be in a place where the castaways are sent until they’re reclaimed to be able to hear and understand the world so damn clearly again?

  If that’s the case, then I know I’m doing the right thing.

  “You are home,” he chides me as he raises a finger and shakes it at me like a father would when scolding an unruly child.

  “I want to leave,” I say, amending my prior statement so that he can’t misinterpret my words any further.

  “Why?”

  “Because I hate it here. I hate everything about this fucking place,” I shoot back. His candor is building rage inside of me, and he seems to be enjoying it as evident by the small smile curving his lips.

  “With Tallulah?” he asks, curiously.

  “No.”

  “Alone?”

  “Does it matter?” I bark at him. “I want to leave, now are you going to let me collect the few belongings I have or am I going to have to fight you for this?”

  Lawson lets out a good-natured laugh as he cracks his neck, then tilts his head.

  “And what do you possibly think you can fight me with, little boy? Your temper tantrums?’

  And now it’s my turn to smirk.

  This is exactly what I wanted to have happen. I wanted him to refuse me because then it allows me the opportunity to prove to him that he’s not an ethereal being.

  He’s made of flesh and bone just like I am.

  He has desires he won’t speak of to anyone and I’m going to fulfill each and every one of them.

  Then he’ll have no choice but to let me leave or topple from his graceful fucking perch in shame at what we’ve done here.

  “With my body,” I say simply as I reach toward him and place a hand on the side of his face.

  Chapter Ten

  The stubble on his rugged face feels funny against the flesh of my palm, but I maintain eye contact. The way his breaths come in shuddering waves makes me smile, but I don’t show it. Lawson needs to be a man right now not the fucking deity everyone thinks he is. All men are easily made to sway if the right words are whispered in their ears, against their lips—into their very fucking souls.

  “Kester.”

  The way he breathes my name, like it’s a sin, starts a small spark inside of me. As the gentle flames begin to kindle, I slowly move my hand from his cheek down to his throat, gripping it tightly and digging my fingernails into his flesh. It reminds me of when Tallulah stole everything from me, and he needs to know how it feels to be lost and stolen all at the same time.

  It’s the only way he’ll truly understand.

  “Tell me you want this,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his. A wheezing breath escapes him in reply, but that’s not good enough for me so I dig my nails in deeper. “Lawson,” I press as I use the other hand to grip him by the waistband of his pants. “Tell me.”

  His normally crystal clear eyes take on a haze I’ve only ever seen once before. It was the night that I was brought here; the night she lied and destroyed what little bit of life I knew. It was the way he looked at me when our eyes first met. Mine full of confusion and fear, his full of indignation and righteousness.

  With a grunt, I push him against the wall and restrict the air he’s already so desperately gasping for. This is his last chance to answer me, to submit to me for a fucking change, and if he doesn’t, it’ll take nothing to steal his life the way they have mine.

  A lone tear begins to roll down his cheek, but I can’t discern if it’s from pain, fear, or need. Either way, a grin begins to form on my lips as I take a step closer to Lawson. He shuts his eyes for a moment before opening them again and nodding as best as he can.

  “Say it,” I tell him again, giving him a gentle shake.

  “I want this, Kester,” he grunts out. I loosen my grip slightly enough for him to inhale a deep gulp of air. “I want you,” he whispers in his next breath.

  I tilt his head to the side, my hand still wrapped firmly around the flesh of his throat and lean forward to brush my lips against it. It’s as rugged as the stubble he’s grown on his cheeks in the past few nights. I find myself wondering if the rest of his body is as coarse as his neck, his face, and I have every intention of finding out.

  “Lock the door and shutter the windows,” I instruct him as I finally let go and pull my shirt over my head.

  Lawson moves much faster than I would have ever given him credit for. Someone who’s as pompous as he is and sits so highly on a throne made of the hopes and fears of others … I would have expected more resis
tance.

  I clasp my hands over my head, stretching my body from left to right, in order to be loose enough for what I want to do to him. I won’t treat him the way Tallulah did to me because if I do, he’ll never speak of this. I need Lawson to feel loved, wanted, needed—all of the things that I’ve never had the opportunity to feel. All of the things that were crushed beneath the heel of his whore of a daughter.

  I look around the small room wondering where I can claim Lawson and make him mine. Because we’ve hidden ourselves away in the place where he sends the disobedient, there isn’t much space to work with. But that’s the point of being here; disobey his word and you’re shunned until he wants to see you again, until he deems you worthy.

  And now he has to earn my praise, prove his worth to me.

  My body goes rigid when I feel his eyes on me. I let my muscles relax slowly, rolling my shoulders deliberately, in a way that I know will entice him into the one sin he’s tried so desperately to bury deep inside of him.

  A man like Lawson can’t afford to be seen as weak, they’ll all lose faith in him if we’re found out and that’s exactly what he deserves. And Tallulah does as well, but first, her father.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Kester?” he asks, his tone slightly raw.

  I glance at him over my shoulder, my eyes traveling up and down his body wondering if it’s as strong as he presents, when the grin slips across my lips again. Turning to face him, I arch an eyebrow and nod at his shirt. With trembling hands, Lawson begins to quickly undo the buttons that hold the fabric in place, fumbling with them like a child.

  “Here,” I state as I close the gap between us. I gently lay my fingers against his and help him with the simple task that suddenly seems like such a burden. And when I’m done, when the last button has been pulled free, I open his shirt and step back to look at him.

  Lawson Bennett, the Abbas of H ϴ M Σ, has the body of a man twenty years younger than him. I lay a hand against the tuft of hair on his chest and smile when I see the sprigs of gray interweaving with the sleek obsidian color locks that sit so damn neatly on top of his head. I don’t let myself get too lost in the moment because it’s only the beginning and the night before us will be long and tedious.

  He reaches down for my other hand and places it firmly against the tuft of his sturdy chest, raising the other to his mouth, using the tips to trace the smooth skin. If I’m not careful, I’ll fall in love and damn us all.

  “Do you still want me?” he asks when he notices my eyes drift toward the floor.

  I nod.

  Without hesitation, without a second thought because I do want him. Just not in the way I think he hopes.

  “Tell me about Tallulah’s mother,” I say softly as I gently pull my hand away from his mouth and slip my arms around his waist. I pull him close to me, rest my lips against his neck and gently flick the tip of my tongue against his stubbly skin.

  I can feel his dick starting to get hard against my leg and I use the newfound sensation he’s feeling to my advantage. I slip a hand into the waistband of his pants, snake my hand down into his briefs and grip the swelling organ. The softness of it makes me smile as does the bead of precum that’s coating the head.

  “Tell me,” I whisper as I flick my tongue against his neck again.

  “I never loved her,” he confesses in a rushed breath. “I needed a child, and she was willing to give that to me.”

  “Did she leave?”

  “No.”

  “What happened to her?”

  When Lawson hesitates, I pull away from him and remove my hand. The ache in his eyes is so damn painful that it almost seems like he’ll die right on the spot if I don’t touch him again, but that’s a far too easy death for a man like this.

  So, I lower myself to my knees in front of him like so many others have done before, but this time it’s not in the praise that he’s used to.

  “Well?” I ask as I reach up and pull the zipper down, his pants shortly after. I reach a hand up and begin to rub the bulge hidden inside of his briefs. I want to tease him, I want him to more than just ache for my touch—I want him to fucking beg for it.

  “It was Tallulah,” he breathes tightly as he reaches for my head. I move just out of his reach as I continue to stroke him gently. Things will get tougher soon, but one thing I’ve learned in this godforsaken place is that patience truly is a virtue.

  “What about her?” I press as I lean forward and run my tongue up the shaft of his sheathed cock. Lawson inhales sharply and I damn near laugh out loud at how easy this is.

  “She hated her mother.”

  “Why?”

  Lawson hesitates again, and I know I’m running out of time on his complacency. Pushing myself up to one knee, I grab his briefs and slide them down his legs, giving him the opportunity to step out of them before I grip his shaft and begin to stroke him again.

  For a man of such self-imposed righteousness, it amazes me how cleanly shaven his balls are. There’s a small tuft of hair just above his cock that’s well-kempt and not as wild as I would have expected. And just like the hair on his chest and head, it’s obsidian colored with graying streaks beginning to spring through.

  Placing a hand firmly on his hip, I lean forward and run my tongue slowly up his shaft, meeting my hand around the head of his dick, then using a thumb to wipe away another bead of precum. He shudders slightly, his body and breath trembling under the weight of my movements.

  “Because her mother didn’t want her,” he says, continuing his confession as he lays a hand on the back of my head. I allow it this time as I rest my cheek against his thigh and continue to stroke him. “Adrienne only loved herself. Always concerned with what she looked like instead of caring for those around her.”

  His hips are gently rocking back and forth, my hair now balled into his fist. “Did you love her?” I ask him before I lean forward to gently suck on one of his balls.

  “Yes,” he wheezes.

  I take the moment of his newest confession to pull away from him and get to my feet. I reach for his shirt, brushing my fingers against his skin as I push it off of his body. When it falls to the floor in a crumpled heap of false piety, I motion for him to follow me the few steps to the center of the room.

  I have my back to Lawson, and he uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around my waist. He pulls my body back against his as he begins to hungrily nibble and nip on the side of my neck. I lean back into him to give him a sense of control before I tear it away from his fucking grasp once and for all.

  His hands begin to find their way down my body, wrapping firmly around my stiffening cock. His lips graze my ears as his breathing becomes labored, his hands moving up and down my shaft like it’s all he’s ever really wanted.

  “Tell me she means nothing to you,” he whispers in a thick tone as he continues to stroke me. His movements are rough and gentle at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s attempting to restrict himself from experiencing the full pleasure he sees as such a damn sin. But I want him to enjoy this, I want him to let me use his body, and he mine, because then it’ll be another little blemish on his already rotten soul and then he’ll be as lost as I am.

  “She never did.”

  And now it’s my turn to confess.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tallulah Bennett-Tillman never meant a fucking thing to me and I’ve finally been able to say the words out loud. I just never thought that it would be to him.

  Nor that he would allow me to speak it.

  “You’re mine,” he whispers moving one of his hands from my shaft to my balls. He squeezes them tightly in his palm, and I grunt from the pressure, but I won’t allow him the satisfaction of pain—that much he has to earn. “Say it,” he commands as he tights his fist, eliciting another grunt from me.

  “No,” I say, turning my face toward him. Our lips brush against one another’s as a smile begins to curve my lips. “From this moment on, we belong to each other.”

&
nbsp; Lawson immediately releases his grip on my sac and uses the hand to grab me by the neck as he crushes his lips against mine. The need, the unadulterated hunger … it’s nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

  I reach a hand down and gently pry his fingers away from my shaft. He deepens his kiss, his tongue flicking against mine as he eases the pressure on my throat.

  I break the kiss and turn to face him, cupping the side of his face, my forehead against his as we both struggle for a few precious moments of air.

  “Praise me.”

  The words escape my lips before I have a chance to swallow them back down, but it’s only a repetition of his daily cantor.

  And without hesitation, this man that holds himself in such a pious light, lowers himself to his knees sans second thought and takes the head of my cock into his mouth.

  Lawson stumbles as he begins to move his head up and down, swirling his tongue as he goes, and that’s okay.

  I hadn’t expected him to be an expert at sucking dick, and I’ll teach him better when the time comes.

  For now, I just need him tainted and he’s doing a damn fine job at that.

  I place a hand on the back of his head and begin to roll my hips, mimicking his movements from earlier. Only I’m not as gentle as Lawson was. When he moves his mouth down my shaft again, I press the back of his head firmly down against me, his lips touching the base and smirking when he gags and attempts to push me away.

  I let go of Lawson’s head, lean down, and push him onto his back. Either my cock is slick enough or it isn’t.

  I drop to my knees and push his legs apart, spit into the palm of my hand, and run it up and down my shaft. I’m ready now and regardless of whether he is, this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

  I grab one of his legs and let it rest on my forearm as I lean forward and place the head of my cock against his hole. Lawson’s hands immediately find their way to me. One grips my arm, the other braces itself against my chest as I begin to push my way inside of him.