Garden of Desire

Ex-pirate Cantor Marlowe is drowning in femininity. Perfumes assail him morning,

noon, and night. And the voices! High and trilling when calling to attract his interest.
Low and throaty when whispering dark and sexy promises in his ears. Loud and
strident when bringing their never-ending complaints for him to resolve.

As the governor to a fledgling colony, Cantor and his fellow pirates have entered

into a pact to set down roots, self-govern without Dominion interference, and raise
families on an uninhabited planet at the edge of the known galaxy. Who would have
thought the ex-cons they liberated to make their wives would have so much to
complain about in paradise? 'Tis no wonder Cantor itches to go a-pirating.

Martha knows how to pick a lock. What the little thief can't figure out is how to

steal Cantor's heart. When Cantor's head is turned by the arrival of an innocent harem
girl, Martha fears she's lost her chance at love until the girl turns to Martha for a little
lesson in love.

ARDEN O F

ESIRE

Delilah Devlin

Delilah Devlin

Chapter One

The pirates descended on the hapless transport ship like sleek, deadly wasps.
Wearing flexible breathing apparatuses belted to their backs and jet chaps strapped to their

thighs to propel them forward, they swarmed toward the docking portal. With any luck, they’d be

inside in minutes and the treasure aboard the ship would be theirs for the taking!

The magnetic soles of Cantor Marlowe’s boots connected with the hull beside the portal. He

pulled his electro-stun gun from its holster and his laser sword from its scabbard. “Are we in?”

he asked, leaning close to the man hunched next to the portal.

“I’ve bypassed the ship’s security programming,” Ivan, the Raptor’s science officer, said.

“Just give the signal.”

Cantor looked over his shoulder at the rest of the breaching team hovering nearby and

signaled for them to converge. “Ivan, now!”

The outer door slid soundlessly open, and Cantor stepped inside followed by the first few

members of his team. Ivan worked his techno-magic to close the outer portal door behind them.

Hopefully, he’d also managed to shut off the sensors that would alert the transport ship’s crew

they had been boarded.

Once the dial on the wrist of his space suit indicated the pressure within the portal had

returned to a normal level, Cantor pressed the button next to the inner hatch. He didn’t have to

tell the crew to ready themselves; this was a drill they’d repeated together many times over the

past years.

He stepped quickly through the door into a darkened cargo hold. Immediately, the hairs on

the back of his neck rose. Obeying his well-honed instinct for danger, he shouted, “Take cover!”

to the crew and dove to the floor behind a pallet of goods. An explosion tore through the cartons

stacked in front of him. A quick glance behind and he saw his men were trapped inside the portal,

unable to enter the hold. “Ivan, Darak! Wait for my signal!”

He crawled around the pallet on his belly until he could see a burst of rapid laser fire aimed

at the hatch. A second burst from the same spot made Cantor wonder whether they faced only

one weapon. He looked to a tall line of storage bins. Noting there was space between the

containers and the wall, he rose to his feet and crept to the end of the row. There, he found

himself standing in a spot just behind the shooter.

“Dammit, Cantor!” Darak’s voice broke loudly in his helmet’s embedded receiver. “What’s

taking you so long? Shall we abort?”

“Quiet!” Cantor whispered. “I almost have him.”
The figure squatting behind a forklift took aim once more at the open hatch. He was cast in

shadows, his profile blurring in the darkness. When he squeezed off the next shots Cantor

launched himself, taking the man and his weapon to the floor.

Garden of Desire

They rolled together once, then surprisingly, the man ceased to struggle beneath him. That

was when Cantor realized something his body had noticed almost immediately—the person

beneath him possessed distinctly feminine curves.

Cantor stretched himself over the woman, trapping her arms and legs with the weight of his

own limbs. He hit the latch on the side of his helmet and raised the shield, baring his face to get a

better look at what lay beneath him.

The woman’s eyes were wide and her breaths came shallow and fast. She was a comely lass

with strong, even features and a mouth that framed each gusting breath in a delectable ‘O’.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, willing his voice to remain soft and

soothing while blood surged south to his unruly cock. “We’re here to relieve you of some of your

cargo, then we’ll leave peacefully.”

“You’ve caught yourself a woman?” Darak said, his voice crowing in his ear. “Bloody hell!”
The woman, unaware of the chatter coming from his headset, darted a glance at his lips, then

her gaze locked with his. Her features lost their fearful edginess to be replaced with a soft,

blushing awareness that transformed her wary, blue gaze to half-lidded desire.

“Well, what have we here? Aren’t you a pretty lass?” Despite his best intentions, his cock

lengthened, nudging the top of her thigh.

Her eyes widened again and he cursed. His lusty perusal had terrified her—or so he thought

until her thighs shifted underneath him and her sex settled directly under his.

The woman’s head thrashed, and she made a good show of struggling against the arm that

anchored her two hands to the floor high above her head—but her hips circled, rubbing his

hardening flesh. “Let me go!” she said, her voice sounding husky. “What are you going to do

with me?”

“Oh brother!” Darak groaned in his ear. “Tell me, you have the situation well in hand and

we can proceed.”

Cantor lifted his chest from hers and smoothed his free hand over the full globe of her breast.

“I have this one well in hand.”

The minx beneath him grinned and he tweaked her nipple, surprising a gasp from her. He

sealed his mouth over hers and she moaned and rubbed her breast against his palm.

The Captain might have his ballocks in a vise later for taking the time, but Cantor couldn’t

resist a little bout of plundering to accompany the day’s pirating. He reached for the snap at the

top of his suit.

The woman pushed him to his back and smoothed apart the edges of the fabric. A small,

warm hand slid beneath his suit and skimmed down his abdomen toward his cock--

Cantor Marlowe awoke to the sensation of a silken hand gliding over his cock. Was

he still dreaming? Please, let it be so. Burrowing into his pillow, he kept his eyes firmly

closed and reached for the wispy vapor trail of his last pirating jaunt.

The sheets rustled and the mattress dipped beside his hips. Another small, soft

hand encircled his shaft. Lifting one eyelid, he peeked down the bed and found the

Delilah Devlin

outline of a huddled figure beneath his covers that hadn’t been there the evening

before.

Too late to protest, he sighed in resignation. Already, blood pooled in his loins and

his balls tightened in their sac. The question now was which of the 378 women of his

tiny colony had picked the lock on his door.

Who possessed the criminal talent? In his mind, he searched the list of unclaimed

women.

Kirsten? Megan? Masha? Jennifer? Linda? Ulana?
A hot, wet mouth closed over his balls and his hips rose, defying his need to control

at least his own body. As her tongue laved his balls, her lips tugged and caressed until

his cock ached for attention.

Which of the women with a talent for locks had pursued him relentlessly over the

past weeks?

Allie? Pingat? Briana? Jasmine?
Then the hands encircling his shaft began to pump up and down aided by the

moisture of her tongue as it flickered above and below her sliding palms. His breath

deepened and his pulse revved like a Synth-tech engine. Such a talented little mouth

and hands. Better than most he’d experienced over the past months.

Valerie? Martha? Kamilia?
Soon she’d pop above the covers and straddle his hips, sure of her welcome after

her labors. And led by his ballocks like all of the exhausted men of the colony, he would

do nothing to discourage her.

Some days he wondered how his poor over-used cock hadn’t developed calluses.
The blanket shifted and a lock of strawberry blond hair appeared beneath the edge,

catching the early morning sun filtering through his curtained windows. Martha!

He shivered. That one was forever following on his heels, much like a spaniel he’d

owned as a child. He’d thrown sticks over fences, down ravines, into neighbor’s yards,

attempting to elude the loyal dog, but she’d always tracked him to his hiding places—

just like Martha.

The dog had slept, curled atop his feet at night, leashing him even in his dreams.

Leashing him as tightly as Martha would—if he couldn’t escape her.

He dragged the cover from her head and her brown, puppy-dog eyes winked a

moment before her mouth sank down the length of him. A mouth and tongue that

swirled in dizzying circles over the head of his cock.

What was a man to do? Grasping her beneath her arms, he pulled her up his body

and rolled, pinning her to the bed. “Imagine my surprise to find you here this morning,

Martha.”

“Are you mad?” she asked, sounding breathless, her eyes giving him that soulful

look that could make a man kick his own ass.

“I locked the door,” he said, his tone dry.

Garden of Desire

Her pale pink lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Locks are a specialty of mine. I

thought it was a test.”

“A test?”
“Mmmm-hmm. To see which of the women is the cleverest.”
“Well, you are clever. But I put the lock on the door to assure my privacy.”
Disappointment furrowed her brows. “Oh. Sorry.” She held her breath.
Inwardly, he groaned. “You’re forgiven—this time.”
Her eyes pooled with tears and her cheeks grew a lovely pink. “Does that mean you

don’t want—”

His insides knotted. Women’s tears had a way of undermining his resolve. “Course

not.” He added a small tight smile to ease her embarrassment. “You have to finish what

you started, love.”

With an eagerness that crowded his heart, Martha wriggled to free her legs and

bring them up along side his hips. His wayward cock appreciated the effort and

nudged her slick folds.

Martha’s shiny, moist lips opened on a winsome sigh, and she lifted her head to

kiss him. At the same time, she tilted her pelvis to take him inside.

Cantor groaned, this time loudly, and drove deep. Despite the constant assaults on

his manhood, he still appreciated the warm, wet glove of a woman’s body.

He relaxed, enjoying Martha’s soft sighs, the cushion of her lush breasts, and the

gentle gliding rhythm they quickly found. She smiled up at him and he kissed her

forehead—an affectionate peck, only. No sense giving the girl false hopes.

Martha’s eyes narrowed and her sweet cunt rippled and clutched at his cock. He

panicked and pulled out again, but then blamed the treacherous flesh between his legs

when he had to thrust back inside.

Her head rose and she latched onto his lips, eating his mouth, smoothing her full,

sweet lips over his, suctioning to keep him glued to her.

Cantor gasped into her, and she finally let him come up for air. Her smile was wide

and her gaze glittered with challenge. Suddenly uneasy, he thrust harder, faster—racing

her to the finish.

Although braced above her body on his arms, she wrapped herself like a python

around his body, her pretty, rosy-brown nipples tangling in his chest hair, her arms

clutching his neck, her legs wrapped so tightly, he had nowhere to go but deeper inside

her.

Worse, she never shut her eyes. Those large, shimmering pools reflected his destiny

in their depths. The harness of his responsibilities cinched tighter. Sweat broke on his

forehead. He shut his own eyes to close the woman out of his thoughts, concentrating

instead, on her rising moans and the tightening grip of her fingers on his shoulders. Let

her be some faceless, nameless creature of delight rather than a flesh and blood woman

Delilah Devlin

with emotions and needs he felt inadequate to meet. Gauging every thrust and twist

and dip of his hips, he worked to bring her quickly to fulfillment.

“Cantor! Cantor!” she soon chanted, invading his head again, when he wished

awareness of only the pulsing bands of muscles that clasped his cock, rippling along the

sides of his shaft. Suddenly, she gasped and then mewled, her body melting to the

mattress as her orgasm shuddered through her body.

Then he was free! His body jerked and spasmed with his release, while his mind

soared. If only for a few moments, he was master at the helm, once again chasing after

the stars.

A giggle from the woman beneath him brought him back to himself, and he

realized he’d collapsed on top of her. Her hands stroked his back. It was a pleasant,

comforting sensation—soothing, binding.

He reared away and their bodies parted. Rolling to his back, he stared at the rough

plank ceiling of his cottage. Martha nestled her body close to his, resting her head upon

his shoulder.

Feeling much more relaxed, Cantor pondered his present predicament. Martha was

a sweet thing, but cloying and overeager. Every time he turned around—there she was.

If he had to choose a mate, he’d prefer someone less needy, less clinging. Thus far, he

hadn’t found that woman.

When he’d first taken on the job as the governor of their small colony, he’d seen

only endless possibilities for the community’s growth and had reveled in the mating,

sure he’d find a lass or two to serve as helpmates. When had the joy gone out of his job?

He reached around and slapped her ass. “Wench! Be off with you now. I’ve work to

organize.”

Martha walked her fingers up his chest. “We could play hooky today. You’ve

labored so hard, no one would blame you.”

Closing his hand over hers to prevent any further exploration, he infused his words

with regret, “A transporter’s arriving from Arturia. I’ll have my hands full directing the

last of the women to their new quarters and seeing to the disposition of the stores.”

She sighed loudly and sat at the edge of the bed, her back to him. “One of these

days, Cantor Marlowe, I’m going to prove to you I’m what you’ve been looking for.”

Despite his troubled thoughts, Cantor couldn’t help admiring her firm, straight

back and the feminine flare of her hips. Martha was a lovely lass. But too persistent. “Be

sure to lock the door as you leave.” He needed a few minutes of blessed solitude.

Martha glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose, then pulled her shift over

her head. “Would you like me to come back later to wash the bedding?”

“That won’t be necessary.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t understand you. You want to keep this

cabin and your bed all to yourself, when every other man on this planet is greedy for as

many women as he can keep.”

Garden of Desire

He didn’t respond to her observations. They were too accurate. Her insight made

him uneasy and restless. Why wasn’t he content? He had his choice of women—Martha

being among the most beautiful—but all he felt was smothered by her desires and

attentions.

Subdued, and with a shadow of sadness in her eyes, Martha walked to the door and

turned the bolt. She opened the door a crack, and then turned back one last time. “If

you lock the door tonight, I’ll consider it an invitation.” With a lift of her chin and a

feminine flutter of her fingertips, she slipped out.

Alone at last, Cantor drew in a deep breath and sighed, flinging his arms wide over

the bed. Solitude in paradise was a rarity, but even alone, the women left their mark.

Martha’s sweet, floral scent filled his nose, overlaying Ulana’s cinnamon aroma and

Pingat’s wildly erotic musk.

Cantor was drowning in femininity.
Perfumes assailed him morning, noon, and night.
And the voices! High and trilling when calling to attract his interest. Low and

throaty when whispering dark and sexy promises in his ears. Loud and strident when

bringing their never-ending complaints for him to resolve.

Who would have thought women would have so much to complain about in

paradise? And his fellow ex-shipmates weren’t any help in the matter, either. They

encouraged the women to take their problems to him, all the while laughing up their

sleeves at his growing frustration.

‘Twas no wonder he itched to go a-pirating and was the main reason he’d built his

cabin apart from the others. Yet even now he heard the echo of the women’s voices.

They haunted him.

No, the voices were coming up the path to his cabin! Cantor jackknifed to a sitting

position and scrambled off the bed, searching the floor for his clothing. If they found

him as he was, he’d have a devil of a time avoiding a second round of morning sex.

Oh, the sacrifices he made to ensure the contentment of the inhabitants of the little

colony.

* * * * *

Cantor slipped down the forest trail, having eluded the women at his door by

sneaking out his private entrance. He’d built the bolthole beneath his woodbin himself

to ensure it remained a secret.

Escaping the women’s clutches wasn’t quite the same as leaving a Dominion cruiser

in his space dust, but it was enough of a victory to lighten his steps. He cut through the

forest, pushing aside fronds from lacy ferns and kicking at the vines tangling with his

feet.

Delilah Devlin

Forging a new path through the forest’s thick undergrowth where no human foot

had trod before, he followed a low ridge he suspected ran parallel to the trail leading

back to the settlement, enjoying the quiet woodland and the ripe scent of vegetation

made damp by the morning dew.

Alone, with only the sound of his footsteps crunching on a carpet of dead leaves

and twigs to keep him company, he reached a promontory of bare rock overlooking the

valley the colonists had claimed for their own. He paused at the edge to look through a

thin mist at the place he was reluctant to call home. This place was placid, bucolic—not

the prow of a cruiser slicing through clouds as it sailed toward the stars. Cantor wasn’t

ready to drop his anchor at this shore—regardless of the beauty of the place before him.

A river ran through the center of the settlement. On the far bank were the rough-

hewn longhouses and a few individual cabins that housed the inhabitants. Beyond the

settlement stretched an open field ending in a bluff that looked over a sea of azure blue.

On the side of the river nearest him lay green, grass-covered meadows and brown

patches of newly turned soil. Directly beneath him, massive Moldan yaks grazed

alongside Earthen sheep and goats. The herds were small, but already several animals

were heavy with the promise of the next season’s bounty.

“Hallo!” A voice drifted up and Akron, pirate-cum-shepherd, waved his staff. With

his long bushy, red hair brushing the tops of his massive shoulders he looked like the

ancient Highlanders of his heritage.

Cantor broke into a grin and waved back, then climbed down the rocky hillside to

the meadow below.

“Good morrow, Governor!” Akron called out as he approached. “Did you lose yer

way along the path?”

Cantor leveled a narrow-eyed gaze at his grinning friend. “I decided to do a little

exploring.”

Amusement glittered in the big man’s eyes. “You must have just missed the

women. They were headed yer way with new curtains for yer cabin. If you hurry, you

might catch them.”

“Leave off!” Cantor said, giving the burly man a shove. “I’ve been given three sets

of curtains since I finished the cabin. How many do they think I need?”

“Ah, but these are far superior. Kirsten made them,” Akron replied, his tongue

firmly in his cheek.

Kirsten! Bloody hell! Cantor groaned, recalling the tall, amply built woman. “The

curtains are probably made of leather she chewed herself to soften.”

Akron’s dark eyebrows drew into a frown. “Yer a lucky man to have a braw, hardy

girl like that one.”

“She’s not mine,” he said quickly, feeling the need to nip that misconception in the

bud. “If you’re interested, you’re welcome to her.”

Garden of Desire

Akron eyed him with disgust. “No woman will give me a second look with yer

handsome puss around.” He pulled the waistband of his trousers and leered, “Now, if

they could see me without me breeches, it’d be a different story. I didn’t earn the

nickname ‘Bull’ for the size of me shoulders, alone.”

“I’m surprised you’ve kept your pride hidden in your pants all this time.”
“Ach! Leave off, yourself,” Akron said, flushing.
Cantor rubbed his chin for a moment. “But there’s your solution. You’ll have to let

the woman see you starkers.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Akron asked, aghast. “I’m not like the

rest of those randy boys. I wouldn’t want to show the whole planet me arse!”

“Certainly not all the planet. Let’s see…” Cantor gave his friend a speculative

glance. “You’re a man of the land now. And a hunter.”

“Only of small game. I’ve set a trap or two.” Akron looked a bit worried.
“Well, you’ve got to become a predator. Stalk the woman night and day—but don’t

let her see you. Or she’ll think you’re pervert.”

“Not me!” Akron bristled. “Why I don’t even polish me own rocket.”
“No?”
“Never mind that,” the blushing man said quickly. “Go on.”
“Get to know her habits. If she goes to the showers at a certain time, you be there

first. If she washes her clothes in the river, you be there—”

“Takin’ a bloody bath!” Akron’s ruddy face beamed. “Aye, lad. I think you have

it.”

Cantor stepped back and let out a breath. Would that all the problems presented

him today would be as easily solved. He just hoped the woman didn’t appear on his

doorstep complaining of a stalker in their midst! In the meantime… “Do you think I’ve

time to make it down the trail before they’re done?” Cantor asked, looking up the path

leading to his cabin.

“If you hurry. Perhaps, I can distract them. Do you think it would look odd if I were

to take off me clothes to get a bit of a suntan?”

Cantor blinked then bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. “I think they

might be worried for the sheep, if you did.”

“Oh!” Akron’s eyes widened. “Oh!”
“Yes, well I’d better be off. Good luck to you.” He meant it. With Kirsten occupied,

he’d have one less woman to avoid. He turned to walk down the hill.

“Wait, Cantor!”
Cantor glanced back, and then halted at Akron’s serious expression. “What is it?”
“I meant to tell you something before you sidetracked me.”
“I sidetracked you? You’re the one waving your ballocks at the sheep!”

Delilah Devlin

Akron flushed, and then his face grew solemn. “I hate to lay another problem at yer

feet, but I don’t know what to make of this.”

“Out with it.”
“Two of my sheep have gone missing in as many weeks.”
“Perhaps they wandered off,” Cantor said with a shrug.
“Sheep wander together, and I’ve checked all the gullies to see if any were injured

or trapped. They’ve simply vanished.” Worry etched his face. Akron was devoted to his

herd.

Cantor gave the problem a moment’s consideration before replying. “We’ve seen no

sign of any wild animals large enough to take a sheep. So who the hell would steal

communal mutton?”

“It’s a puzzle.”
Looking out over the green pasture brightened by the rising sun, it was hard to

imagine anything disturbing this bucolic scene. “Have you found any signs of an

animal being butchered?”

“Not a one. Like I said, they’re just gone. And it had to have happened at night. I

keep a close watch on the buggers when I’m out here.”

“Well, you keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps, we should

set a watch on the herd at night.”

“Aye, sir! Excellent idea.”
“I’ll speak to Mario about it this morning. In the meantime, keep your trousers on

around the herd!”

Garden of Desire

Chapter Two

Fahgwat toyed with her seat belt, ignoring the sounds emanating from the couple in

the chair behind her. Those two hadn’t been farther apart than a kiss during the entire

journey from Arturia. Still unaccustomed to the presence of men, and the open

sensuality everyone aboard the ship displayed, Fahgwat remained in her seat, quiet as a

sand mouse.

Calandra and Drago seemed unaware of their surroundings, so lost were they in

their love. Seated in the rear of the space cruiser, they were far from the rest of the

passengers. Unfortunately, the only unclaimed seats had been in front of the randy pair.

As a last minute passenger aboard the flight, Fahgwat had been relegated to the rear of

the cruiser as well.

She didn’t understand the passion that drove the pair, but the delighted cries the

two made as they consorted in the narrow seat made her restless just the same. And

warm. She plucked the fabric of her gahna. For some reason, the narrow straps that

covered her breasts seemed to constrict over her nipples.

The softer noises they made were the most disturbing. Drago’s gravelly whispers

and Calandra’s soft sighs and moans made Fahgwat shift in her seat. At times their

voices rose in a climactic cadence to accompany the faint creaking of their chair and the

moist, slurpy slaps that Fahgwat could only attribute to that ultimate mystery—sex!

She was simply thankful Calandra’s long black kahfet hid most of whatever the two

were doing—most of the time. Calandra didn’t appear to notice when her robe twisted

around her hips, rising to expose her long legs, now draped over Drago’s thighs, or the

lush curves of her buttocks.

Unable to resist the occasional backward glance, Fahgwat marveled over the snug

fit of the couple’s bodies. She’d seen the length of Drago’s penis. How Calandra

accommodated his size without being torn asunder was a mystery. Fahgwat shuddered

at the thought of taking such a large sword inside her body, and prayed for a less

endowed lover.

Not that Fahgwat was so innocent she didn’t understand the mechanics of

lovemaking. She knew her woman’s furrow would stretch to accept a man’s sword—

after her scabbard had accepted many “fittings”.

As a girl, she’d sat blushing and giggling with her many sisters as her mother and

aunts schooled them concerning the various positions and acts men enjoyed. Drago’s

delight she understood. His organ needed vigorous exercise in order to achieve

climax—an act that assured procreation.

Delilah Devlin

But it was Calandra’s audible joy, which caused Fahgwat’s consternation. This was

a lesson she had never been taught. Apparently, women enjoyed the act as much as

men.

“Are those two still at it?”
Fahgwat jumped guiltily at the sound of Mary’s voice. The tall, dark-skinned

woman had befriended Fahgwat during the long flight, in between her own frequent

disappearances with her handsome mate, Darak.

“Are we arriving soon?” Fahgwat asked, damning the note of desperation in her

voice. As the only person aboard not engaged or interested in sexual games, she’d

exhausted herself trying to pretend she wasn’t bothered by the open sensuality of her

fellow travelers.

“Baby girl, all this is a bit much for you, isn’t it?” Mary wrapped an arm around her

and gave her a hug. “Just you wait. Some pirate’s gonna eat you all up.”

Panic welled in her belly and made her queasy. “What if I don’t want to be…eaten

up?”

Mary’s dark, husky laughter didn’t reassure her. “When the right man’s lickin’ his

lips, you’ll want it.” She glanced back at the couple whose frantic rustling indicated

another round of entreaties to the gods was imminent and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Calandra! Drago! Give it a break. We’re about to land.”

Drago groaned loudly. “Baby, we better stop.”
“No! Faster!” Calandra begged, followed by more creaking sounds.
Mary’s gaze remained glued to the two, her expression turning to one of

admiration. “Damn, girl! I didn’t know your flabby ass could move that fast.”

“Shut up, Mary!” Calandra said, sounding breathless. “I’m almost the—ah!”
The space ship shuddered and shook and for a moment Fahgwat had the whimsical

thought the couple’s climax had caused the ship to shake. “What’s happening?”

Mary’s hand closed over hers. “Don’t worry about that. We’re entering the planet’s

atmosphere. It’s always a little bumpy.”

The ship did indeed settle into a smoother glide path, and then dipped forward

unexpectedly.

Fahgwat heard a loud thump accompanied by a louder screech as Calandra fell to

the floor.

“Well, that’s one way to separate those two.” Mary turned back to Fahgwat. “I hate

to tell you this, but you’d better get used to it,” she said with a tilt of her head toward

Drago and Calandra. “With almost four hundred sex-starved ex-cons and a hundred

pirates, the colonists have been humpin’ like bunny rabbits.”

Fahgwat didn’t have any idea what a bunny rabbit was, but she understood the

other woman’s meaning. “Will I be expected to…hump like a bunny rabbit?”

Mary grinned. “The men might hope so, but they’ll leave you alone if you tell them

you’re not interested. They may be pirates, but Cantor keeps them in line.” Her gaze

Garden of Desire

flickered over Fahgwat’s body and her expression grew speculative. “I have the feeling

our governor will be very interested in them behavin’ like gentlemen around you.”

“I will be very grateful if he would make it so,” Fahgwat said fervently.
Mary glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “You ready to conquer a new world,

Little Flower?”

Fahgwat summoned a smile she didn’t really feel. She’d fled her home to escape a

life of servitude and find adventure. She had the sinking feeling she was about to find

more than she had bargained for.

* * * * *

Cantor left the communications shack heading for the landing field. Nicky, the

colony’s quartermaster, followed on his heels. The last shuttle from Arturia had just

cleared the outer edge of the atmosphere. Cantor wanted to be on hand to greet the new

arrivals.

“I hope they’ve brought more beds this time,” Nicky said. “Mine’s getting awfully

crowded these days.”

Cantor glanced back at the younger man. “You are looking a little haggard. How

many of the lovelies joined you last night?”

Nicky’s olive skin flushed, but he grinned. “Four. There wasn’t room to roll over, so

I slept on top of one.”

Curious, despite his own lack of interest in sexual games, Cantor asked, “The same

four?”

“Yeah. I think we’re compatible.” A smug note crept into his voice.
“And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“All of us snore.”
The younger man’s answer surprised a bark of laughter from Cantor. “That’s it?”
“Course not.” Nicky waggled his dark eyebrows. “We’re all horny as hell and don’t

care much whose hand or mouth is busy with whom. My cock is never cold!”

Cantor laughed louder. “Then I’m happy for you and your cock. But doesn’t the

noise get to you sometimes?”

“Noise?”
“The complaints and demands—the arguments.”
“Ah!” Nicky’s brown eyes warmed and his expression grew syrupy. “Reminds me

of home. My family was loud. Italian, you know. My girls love as loud as they fight—

and the making up…” He sighed.

Cantor grimaced. He couldn’t imagine how a man could think with all the noise

four women would make in a tiny cabin. As he neared the broad grassy field at the

Delilah Devlin

edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean, a warm, salty breeze greeted him. He inhaled

deeply. Captain Adamarik Zingh had chosen well. Their new world was very like

ancient Earth.

“So, have you picked your mates?” Nicky asked.
“No,” he replied without looking at the other man. “And I’m not going to choose.”
“Playing the field, are you?”
“Trying not to lose the game.”
“I don’t understand you, Cantor. Every other man on this planet is damned happy

with the turn of events. Nearly four hundred women to choose from!”

“Things would have been a helluva lot less complicated if the Captain had stopped

at the hundred we needed.”

“But what a delightful gift he’s given us! He couldn’t have left all those women

behind to face the warden’s ire.”

“No, I suppose not,” Cantor murmured. “But you notice he’s not here, is he?”
Nicky slapped Cantor’s back and laughed. “But he left the best man in charge,

didn’t he?”

“I’m thinking he’s laughing his ass off!”
Nicky’s brown eyes twinkled with merriment. “From what I hear, it’s not likely he’s

giving you a thought. He’s too busy getting to know his new lady.”

“Note, he settled on one female.”
They stopped in the center of the field. Cantor checked his wrist computer. The

shuttle should touch down any minute.

“You’re an odd duck,” Nicky said. “Why, any one of us would give our left arm to

be in your position.”

“My position?”
“Yes. With your handsome face and your position of power, you have your choice

of women. Haven’t you noticed how they flock around you?”

Cantor rolled his eyes. “Talk to Adam when he returns, he’ll be needing a new

governor if he doesn’t assume the position himself. I’m out of here.”

“You’d leave?” The smile left the other man’s face.
Cantor hadn’t meant to announce his plans in such a way, but he felt better after

finally saying the words. Still, Nicky’s dismay niggled at his heart.

“But this is what we dreamed of.” Nicky raised his hands to indicate the settlement.

“What you helped make happen! We have our own planet to run as we see fit. No

authority, but our own. An abundance of woman-flesh to satisfy our every need. What

more could you want?”

Cantor was tired of the questions he’d asked himself and had no answer for. “I miss

the life. I want to be free to sail the galaxies again. Hell, I’m bored!”

Garden of Desire

“Bored!” Nicky snorted. “Take a look at Pingat the next time you need excitement,

the woman knows more ways to sharpen a man’s pike—”

“I’m bored with sex.” At Nicky’s incredulous look, he shrugged. “It’s true. I’ve had

my fill. I’ve fucked every unattached woman on this planet—there’s nothing new—no

sense of discovery, no quest for the next adventure. “

“Well, Darak is serving up a fresh batch of lovelies today—perhaps you’ll find your

heart mate among them.”

“Heart mate?” A dull pain began to pound behind his eyes. “Haven’t you work to

do, Nick?”

“Aye, you be alone and stew in your folly—but keep an open mind when you look

over the new crop.”

Cantor nodded absently as Nicky left him. A glimmer of light winked on the

horizon. The shuttle had arrived. Something inside him stirred. Perhaps this time he’d

find the answer to his troubled heart. Or maybe he’d just stow away…

He ignored the sounds of people converging on the landing site. His gaze remained

on the sleek lines of the black cruiser as it settled gently to the ground. His hands itched

to be at the helm, guiding it skyward once again.

“Cantor, do you think they brought more mattresses?”
Reluctantly, Cantor looked away from the ship and into the face of Doc, the

colonist’s medical officer. “Are you experiencing a bit of a crush, too?”

“Who isn’t? I do my part to ensure everyone has a place to sleep.” Doc’s sheepish

smile stretched his boyish features. “We didn’t plan to accommodate so many women.

Our colony will be bursting its seams before too long.”

“How many are pregnant now?” Cantor asked, heaving a sigh.
“At last count, forty–three. We’ll need cradles next. The first babes will be arriving

after the monsoon.”

Cantor couldn’t suppress a scowl. “Don’t any of them use birth control?”
“Most of our people are eager to start families.”
“You’d think they’d be eager to plant their gardens before their bellies,” Cantor

said, beneath his breath, unable to tear his gaze from the cruiser.

The ship’s landing gear descended, balancing the craft on spindly legs that made it

resemble a giant spider. The gate at the rear lowered and the first of the passengers

could be seen in the opening. Cantor stepped forward with the rest of the eager crowd

to greet them.

“You’re becoming grumpy, my friend,” Doc said. “You know the cure for that.”
Cantor ignored the jibe and searched for Darak among the new arrivals descending

the gangplank. He hoped for word of Captain Zingh’s progress. “Seems everyone’s

taking the cure,” he murmured.

“As your medical officer, I recommend a little lust. It’s good for the heart.”

Delilah Devlin

Cantor leveled an exasperated glare on the man. “Have you narrowed down the

field for yourself?” he asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.

“I have.”
The fervent tone of Doc’s admission caused Cantor to raise his eyebrows in

question.

“I’ve found a couple of ladies who have nursing experience,” Doc added quickly.
Cantor nodded his approval. “A sensible choice.”
“Then there’s Mika. Her talents lie in her hands.” Doc’s expression grew dreamy.
“Ah hah!” Cantor rolled his eyes. “The first two ladies will help you with your

practice, while Mika helps you with your co—”

“She performs therapeutic massages,” Doc interrupted, his expression darkening.

“And the two nurses will not lack for my attentions.”

“Of course not,” Cantor replied silkily. “Besides, what man doesn’t need a

therapeutic massage after a hard day’s work.”

“That’s right!” Doc’s eyes narrowed. “And I’d highly recommend it for penile

dysfunction.”

Is that what Doc thought was wrong with him? “Good God! There’s nothing wrong

with the functioning of my cock!” At the other man’s smirk, Cantor decided to leave

before he throttled him. “I’d better make sure the mattresses make it to the

dormitories.” He stepped away, heading for the group debarking the ship.

“Keep an eye out, Cantor,” Doc said, his stride matching Cantor’s. “You may find

what you’re looking for among the passengers.”

Cantor’s hands tightened into fists and he glowered. “I’m not looking for anything

among the passengers.”

“You never know. A good woman can cure your restlessness.”
“Maybe I don’t consider my restlessness an illness.” What was it with the men

today? Would every one of them offer him advice like some tabloid Aunt Agony? So he

wasn’t as thrilled with the thought of settling down as the rest of his fellow pirates. He

was still young enough to thirst for adventure. They’re all getting soft! Bah! “I’m glad to

see you left off the cologne,” he said nastily, his patience at an end.

Doc flushed at the reminder of his initial attempt at seduction. “Turns out I didn’t

need the pheromones of a Moldan yak to attract the ladies.”

“What clued you in? The smell?” Cantor asked, adding a surly dig, “Or did you

figure out all you needed was the right equipment?”

“It’s not just my cock,” Doc protested.
“Oh?”
“You’ve become a cynic as well as a grump.” Doc eyelashes fluttered. “I’ll have you

know, the ladies tell me my eyes are what draw them.”

Garden of Desire

Cantor pressed his lips together to hold back the guffaw of laughter that threatened

to erupt.

From the corner of his eye he saw a familiar figure among the passengers and he

hurried forward.

Darak, the pirate ship Raptor’s former security officer, strode toward him, a wide

grin on his face. The two men embraced, exchanging manly blows to each other’s backs.

Darak drew back, his expression full of devilment. “How’s life in paradise,

Governor?”

Cantor saw red. Paradise? The Captain had consigned him to the petticoat patrol

while he and Darak enjoyed the footloose freedom of the stars. No doubt both men had

enjoyed a good laugh at his expense.

Without thinking Cantor reacted, hauling back his fist and planting a facer on

Darak’s handsome chin.

The blow knocked Darak to the ground. He sat up, eyeing Cantor warily. Rubbing

his chin, he had the gall to smile. “That good, huh?”

* * * * *

Fahgwat stood still as a statue, resisting the forward surge of the crowd around her

as they swept past her and down the stairs on the gangplank. Her stomach churned and

her palms grew sweaty.

“Come on, girl,” Mary nudged her, urging her on. “Don’t you wanna see your new

home?”

Fahgwat didn’t have the words to reply. Her first impressions of her new home

made her want to turn right around and reboard the ship. She’d made a devil’s

bargain—her fate hadn’t been improved by her rash decision to flee her ordered but

restrictive life on Arturia. She’d entered bedlam.

With one foot poised on the steps, she peered out onto the wide grassy plain.

Passengers were surrounded by laughing women and men—many of whom swept the

women off their feet to spin wildly in circles or kiss them passionately.

“Do they know each other?” Fahgwat asked. “I understood they had not yet chosen

mates.”

“They’re sure getting to know them now,” Mary said, with a wry note in her voice.
One woman squealed when a man grabbed her bottom and squeezed.
Fahgwat drew back further into the doorway. “I’m not sure I want to make their

acquaintance!”

“Too late to change your mind.” Mary laughed when she looked at Fahgwat’s face.

“I didn’t mean that. Honest. This whole place is about freedom. If you don’t like it here,

you’re free to leave. I promise.”

Delilah Devlin

Fahgwat released her pent up breath. “Do I appear such a coward?” She was

frightened and hated that her fear was so apparent. Despised how fast her heart beat

and how her hands shook. She’d felt every bit as terrified when she’d faced Mogi’s

auction block.

Mary smoothed Fahgwat’s hair from her face with gentle fingers. “Not a coward,

just…young and innocent. Look, I won’t let anyone treat you wrong here. You helped

save my friend—that makes you my friend.”

Fahgwat’s relief at not being abandoned so soon embarrassed her. She summoned

up a smile. “Then I shall not cower. But are they always this…boisterous?”

“Tell you what,” Mary said with a wink, “one of them tries to squeeze your ass, and

I’ll see they draw back a nub.”

Fahgwat’s smile broadened. Mary was built like a warrior with broad shoulders

and arms that rippled with well-developed muscles. “I think you could do it, too.”

“Damn straight. ‘Sides, Cantor will make sure no one bothers you. Now, let’s go

find that ornery man.”

Mary grabbed her hand, tugging her down the steps and into the midst of the noisy

crowd. Even with all the commotion surrounding her, Fahgwat noted distinct

differences between this new world and her home.

For one, the faint smell of fish was carried on the breeze—not too strong, but rather

tangy and refreshing. The air itself was moist and heavy—so different from the arid

climate of Arturia. Green grass, soft as any carpet, stretched as far as she could see, and

no one seemed to care that their shoes crushed the tender blades. Indeed, no one

seemed to have a care at all, so loud was their laughter.

In the center of all the noise and mayhem, she spied a glint of something golden.

Mary pulled her toward it. The glint proved to be long, golden locks of hair on the head

of a tall man. When the crowd parted, Fahgwat saw the massively built man pull back

his fist and swing at another. His blond hair fanned out around broad shoulders. Her

gaze followed the movement in fascination and drifted downward. The white fabric of

his shirt pulled tautly around his narrow waist and his black breeches hugged the curve

of his masculine backside and thickly muscled thighs.

As she watched, the man’s features formed a dark scowl that inexplicably excited

her. He fisted his hands upon his hips, widening the gap at the top of his shirt. His bare

skin gleamed with sweat.

Now, Fahgwat comprehended the moist desire she’d listened to throughout her

journey. The slick, wet sounds of passion she’d heard had flooded her own body with

warmth. Instantly, she understood them better because desire oozed from inside her

woman’s flesh to smear along her inner thighs.

Fahgwat, who had been trained for servitude to men, now wondered if she could

enslave one man.

Garden of Desire

Chapter Three

Cantor reached down to haul Darak to his feet. “Sorry about that, mate.”
His friend brushed off the seat of his breeches and gave him a crooked smile. “And

here I was thinking you’d pulled the long straw.”

Cantor realized the people around them had stopped to stare, and he felt his face

flush with heat. “Bloody hell! Let’s get away from here. I need to talk to you.” To the

onlookers he merely scowled, and they turned away.

“Is anything wrong?” Darak’s smile slipped. “Has anyone been hurt?”
“No, nothing like that.” Cantor dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, let’s just

find a quiet place and kick back with an ale or two.”

“Sure. But shouldn’t we get the new arrivals settled?” Darak asked, more questions

in his brown-eyed gaze.

“Right. Responsibility first,” Cantor muttered. Damn! With all the work ahead of

him, it would be hours before he could take Darak aside for a talk. He sighed. “Did you

bring mattresses with you by any chance?”

“Fifty. We’ll be purchasing more on the next run.”
“I thought you said you’d be staying a while this time.”
“I am, but we need a professional trader. Haven’t you noticed, Guv? Our colony’s

growing. We need things.” A bemused expression crossed Darak’s face as he surveyed

the swelling crowd. “By the looks of the ladies, we’ll be needing diapers and formula

before too long.”

“Until we hire a trader, don’t you need a rest? I could take The Intrepid out on its

next run.” Cantor wondered whether he could convince Darak to take a stint as the

headman while he skipped the planet.

“Oh no!” Darak’s ready grin flashed, and he slapped Cantor’s shoulder. “Adam left

you in charge.”

“Then who will captain her?”
Darak grimaced, “I need to talk to you about that. Um, I brought you a couple extra

people.”

“What? We don’t have enough already?” Instant indigestion weighed like a stone in

his belly. “Please tell me they aren’t women.”

“One’s a woman—a very special woman.”
“I wouldn’t care if she were the Queen of Pleasure-givers—we don’t need any more

women.”

Delilah Devlin

“The other’s Drago Chavez. He’s a trader from Arturia—and an ex-Dominion

soldier.”

Cantor’s head whipped around and he stared at Darak. “What? A Dominion man?

And you brought him here? Are you mad? How do you know he won’t bring the fleet

down on our heads for the reward?”

“He can’t. He’s in much the same boat as we are. Probably has a price on his head

after helping me steal two women from the Hazar’s compound.”

Cantor raised his eyes skyward. “Wait, I thought you said you brought one. We

already have 378 here, why the hell would you need to steal two more?”

Darak shrugged and gave him a guileless smile. “387 with the prisoners I brought

today.”

Cantor gritted his teeth against his irritation. Darak knew full well how the

governor’s duties weighed on him. How the constant demands and attentions of the

women chafed—and he’d just added to his burden. What he didn’t know was how he

counted the days until he could leave this idyllic wasteland. “This is going to be a long

story, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but first we have a delicate problem. The woman. The special woman,

remember?” he reminded Cantor.

“Yes, the Queen of Complainers, no doubt.” At Darak’s reproving glance, Cantor

shook himself. “All right, how’s this one unique?” Cantor asked, but with only half his

attention on the conversation. He’d caught a glimpse of a glossy black-brown mane of

hair. “They’re all a pain in my backside.” People stepped in the way, cutting off his

view of the dark-haired woman. Could the woman’s hair really be that long?

“She’s a real gem,” Darak continued, his voice gaining enthusiasm. “But raised for a

ha’arem. No experience whatsoever with men or even with the sort of women we have

on this planet. She’s a nice girl, and quiet.”

“She’ll grow accustomed to our ways.” Cantor waited for another glimpse and was

rewarded for his patience with the sight of her sweet profile. Her olive skin perfectly

suited the dark hair that framed a lovely face—a short, straight forehead, a narrow,

elegant nose, and full, bowed lips above a round chin. Physically she was charming, but

it was her air of trepidation that made him impatient to greet her. Eager to soothe her

nerves, while his body quickened. Again, the crowd intervened.

“There’s no doubt she’s a virgin,” Darak said dryly.
“That can be remedied in a night. I’m sure any one of our men would be up for the

job.” A figure shifted and he saw the woman’s face from the front. Her mouth was

wide, her lips lush and curved, the upper lip fuller then the lower. Her eyes were wide

and almond shaped, rimmed with lush, dark lashes. She appeared so young, so fresh—

so unlike the brazen creatures who assailed him morning, noon, and night. The picture

that was emerging from each brief revelation intrigued him more.

“You’re going to have to talk to the men, because she doesn’t want their attentions.”

Garden of Desire

Cantor sighed in frustration when the crowd closed in again. “As I said, she’ll

adjust soon enough.”

“The poor thing’s very timid.”
Cantor didn’t give a ballocks about the girl’s tender feelings. At the moment he was

intrigued by the dark-haired woman, and felt the first stirring of predatory lust he’d

experienced in months. He must meet the dark-haired beauty.

He stepped forward, pushing his way through the lively crowd. This one he’d have

before the night was o’er.

“Uh, Cantor?” Darak said, his hand grabbing his forearm.
“Not now.” He’d found her again, and she was coming his way.
Her supple little figure was well displayed by her revealing clothing. Strips of a

silky, purple fabric bisected her chest, just covering her small, rounded breasts. More

fabric formed a skirt that knotted at one hip. How he would love to tease the knot loose

with his mouth as he reached beneath it to delve between her velvety petals.

Suddenly, a tall, broad figure completely blocked his view of the woman, and

Cantor bit back an oath until he realized Mary Grogan strode toward him. She stopped

in front of him, and the woman with the glossy black hair peeked around her shoulder.

Cantor smiled, captivated by her beauty.
The woman blinked, and then her sweet mouth curved into a grin.
Cantor’s breath caught. Up close, his gaze noted her large eyes were a warm,

cognac-brown a man could drown in. Her sable hair fell to her waist, curling over her

slender shoulders to frame her breasts.

His loins filled when he noted the hard, pointed nipples that poked against the

sheer fabric of her halter. He could almost feel the soft velvet of the dark areolas against

his tongue. Up close, he could now tell she was naked beneath the short skirt. Even

more delightful, the sheer fabric clung momentarily to her pussy when she shifted,

revealing that her woman’s lips were denuded of hair. To hell with tonight, he’d have

her now.

“Nuh-uh! None of that, Governor.” Mary’s voice intruded. “This one’s a virgin. You

need to take care of her—not pounce on her.”

Cantor heard her words as if from a distance. The woman with the beguiling smile

stood like a rose amid a profusion of exotic, overblown blooms.

“Uh, Cantor?” Darak’s hand closed on his arm, tugging him back.
“Leave off.”
“But this is the girl I was telling you about.”
Cantor shook his head, and a slow, dawning realization hit him. A virgin? This

vision was a virgin. Therefore an untouchable. He couldn’t take her if he planned to

leave at the first opportunity. Stripping virgins of their…virginity, implied commitment

in his mind.

Delilah Devlin

Poised like a doe ready to flee at the first scent of danger, the woman stood still

beneath his gaze. He realized he must be scowling for her smile slipped and her lovely,

soft eyes grew wide.

“She’s a bit shy,” Mary said, her gaze challenging. “The antics of the rest of your

crew and my women seem to unnerve her. I was hopin’ we might find a place for her,

away from the others.”

“Until she acclimates,” Darak added.
“Acclimates?” Cantor felt stupid. His mind was still trying to get itself around the

fact that this delectable piece of womanhood wasn’t going to be his.

“Takes a mate,” Mary said, nudging his belly with her finger. “Aren’t you payin’

attention?”

“But I am not interested in finding a mate,” the girl suddenly interrupted.
Her voice arrested his attention. The gentle, singsong cadence of her words slipped

around him like a caress, lifting the hairs on his body and sending blood to stir his cock.

Bloody hell!

“We can’t put her into the dorm with the rest of those horny bitches,” Mary said.
Cantor took offense to Mary’s use of crude language in front of the girl and glared

at her. “Why not?”

“Think about it. What happens when the lights go out?”
Cantor swore under his breath. He knew only too well, having availed himself of

the bed-hopping orgies his first few months with the colony. The thought of the girl’s

innocence shattered by the carnal games, made him feel a little sick. “Then we’ll have to

clear one of the cabins.”

“She can’t stay by herself!” Mary protested.
Cantor knew she was right, but felt a bubbling panic. The girl must be kept safe—

far from him. “Then you can stay with her,” he said to Mary.

“Hey now!” Darak said, snaking an arm around Mary’s waist. “And where will I

be?”

The girl pushed around Mary to stand in front of Cantor. “I do not need anyone to

stay with me,” she said, peering up into his face, her luscious breasts inches from his

chest.

In defense against her attraction, he gave her his meanest look. “Have you ever

lived by yourself, little girl?”

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t appear a bit impressed with his intimidation. “No.

But I will have you know I have reached my seventeenth year and have had my

woman’s menses since I was ten! I am a woman!”

He nearly groaned. He didn’t need reminding she was a ripening peach.
Her small, round chin lifted in defiance. “I have come to this planet to secure my

freedom from men’s desires. I will learn to stand alone.”

Garden of Desire

Cantor suddenly became aware that the noise from the crowd had died away and

many of the people around them, hung on their words. Worse, many of the men were

ogling the scantily clad figure of the termagant before him.

“We’ll discuss this later.”
“Beg you pardon, Governor. We need to get her settled—before dark.” Mary’s words

drew his attention. Her full lips were pursed in a knowing smirk.

Cantor could feel the familiar bonds of responsibility tightening around his neck.

There was nothing for it. He heaved a dramatic sigh. “She’ll stay in my cabin.”

* * * * *

Martha hovered on the edge of the crowd, watching the exchange between Cantor

and the dark-haired girl. Her heart had lodged in her throat when she’d witnessed his

initial interest in the other woman. She’d seen it in the quickening of his body, so

attuned had she become over the past months to his every movement and expression.

Her hands fisted at her sides. Months of tempting him with special dishes she’d

cooked herself, teasing laughter, fleeting touches, and bolder, carnal caresses hadn’t

produced the heat one glance from the sloe-eyed woman had accomplished.

When she heard the word “virgin” murmured by the men in the crowd around her,

she knew she couldn’t compete with the allure of innocence. If that was what it took to

draw Cantor’s interest, she was without hope. But as she continued to watch, Cantor

grew rigid, his body rejecting the other woman’s appeal even as his gaze clung hungrily

to her winsome face.

Instantly, she realized he wouldn’t take the woman’s innocence. Martha should

have felt relieved, but she was puzzled. Why wouldn’t he lay claim to her? Any man

would consider a virgin a prize—a chance to form a lover into his own ideal partner

without the competition of comparison with any other man’s performance.

She fought the bitter knowledge of his attraction and refused to allow the picture of

the two of them standing toe-to-toe, only a breath between them, to feed her jealousy. A

cool mind was what was needed now to fight this new impediment to her happiness.

For Martha knew Cantor’s strong hands, battle-hardened body, and mule-stubborn

disposition held the key to her contentment. Any man who could resist commitment so

passionately had a strong sense of honor, and would embrace love, when he found it,

until the day he died.

The tall, blond Adonis would be hers—if only she could find a way to steal his

heart.

Thief that she was, she slipped closer to the small group encircling the woman,

hoping to overhear their conversation and find some nugget of information she could

use.

Delilah Devlin

Near enough now to hear Cantor’s sigh of resignation, her heart thudded when she

heard him say, “She’ll stay in my cabin.”

Anger shook her, tightening her belly. Her throat closed on bile that threatened to

choke her. The witch had been here only minutes and already she would share his

home. Think! The rigid set of Cantor’s jaw betrayed how tightly he held his attraction in

check. Martha could have wept, but her tears wouldn’t solve a thing.

She came to a quick decision. Like it or not, the new girl held the key.
She slipped between Darak and Mary. “Hi, Cantor, Mary.” She turned expectantly

to the dark-haired girl who gave her a shyly inquisitive glance. “You’re not from the

New Attica.”

“No, I am from Arturia.” Her voice was soft and girlish, with a lilt that made her

words sound like a song.

Martha gritted her teeth against a little pain that pressed inside her chest. “Can I

help you get unpacked?”

“I have only these clothes,” she said indicating her skimpy outfit. “Nothing to

unpack.”

“Oh, well we need to find you some extra clothing. It gets cool here at night.”

Martha forced a friendly smile. “I’m Martha.”

The girl nodded. “I am called…Little Flower.”
Martha heard the hesitation and wondered about it. She’d soon learn all the girl’s

secrets, but first she needed to get her away from Cantor. Turning to him, she said,

“Would you like me to take her to the storeroom and get her a few things?”

Cantor’s smile was a little grim as he dragged his stare to her. “I’d appreciate that,

Martha.” He immediately turned to Darak and his face grew surly. “Now, where are

the bloody, goddamned mattresses?”

Darak’s eyebrows shot up. “Aft.”
“Yeah, I’d say he’s daft,” Mary muttered.
Cantor leveled a blazing stare on the black woman. “Don’t you have someone else

to annoy?”

“Nope. I can see my work here’s done.” With a quick flash of her large white teeth

she leaned toward Darak and gave him a loud, smacking kiss. “Don’t make me hunt

you down.”

“Never, my love.” Darak blushed under Cantor’s searing gaze. “I’ll go see about

those mattresses.” He turned and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Martha summoned another smile. “If you’ll excuse us.”
“Wait a minute, Martha.”
Cantor’s deep voice slid silkily down her spine, and she couldn’t repress a shiver.

“Yes?”

Garden of Desire

“You’re to stay with…Little Flower. Get her clothing, introduce her around, and

take her to the galley for dinner. She’s staying with me, so make sure you show her the

path.”

“Oh, I know the way,” she replied, proud she’d kept her expression guileless.
Cantor rocked back on his heels, appearing to want to say something.
“Is there anything else?” Martha asked.
He frowned and shook his head. “No, I’ve work to do.” His glance swept the girl

from head to foot, then he walked off, his shoulders stiff.

Martha turned to her new charge. “Little Flower. Is that really your name?”
The girl blushed and looked at the ground, sifting the blades of grass with her bare

toes. “No. Darak calls me that. He thinks my real name is not very pretty.”

“The cad! What is it, then?”
“Fahgwat,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She glanced up from beneath her

long, silky eyelashes.

Martha wished she could manage to make a glance look that sweet and beguiling

all at once. Blast the girl! “Fahgwat?” Martha grimaced. She’d thought her parents didn’t

love her! “It must mean something very pretty in your language.”

Fahgwat smiled shyly. “I am named for little purple flowers that grow in desert

rocks.”

Martha wished she could be mean, but the girl’s expectant stare took the anger and

the jealousy right out her like a quickly deflating balloon. She was so young, and

Martha didn’t have the heart to be cruel. Telling herself she needed to be kind to keep

her close, she said, “I think it’s a fine name, but maybe we could soften it. Do you have

a nickname?”

The girl shook her head.
“Well, Little Flower’s a mouthful, but since you’re named for a purple flower, how

do you like the name Violet? Violets are pretty purple flowers on Earth.”

“Violet is also my favorite color,” the girl said, touching the fabric of her skirt.
Reminded of the lascivious glance Cantor had swept over the girl’s hips, Martha

said, “We really do need to find you something else to wear.” Taking Violet’s hand,

Martha led her down the rock-lined path toward the communal longhouse.

“Do you think he was very annoyed with me?”
Martha took a deep breath. “Who?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know.
“Can-torr.”
Dear God! Martha groaned inwardly. The man would come in his pants the first

time he heard her say his name like that. The last syllable purred, for chrissakes! Hell,

her own toes curled in her sandals. The pain grew inside Martha’s chest. How could she

compete with Little Miss Exotic?

“He does not like me.”

Delilah Devlin

“He likes you just fine,” Martha said, tamping down her jealousy.
“Then why did he look so angry?”
Martha sighed and stopped in the middle of the path. “Men are strange creatures.

When they like someone, they try not to show it.”

“Why?” Fahgwat’s doe-like eyes stared up at her.
Martha wanted to shake her. “Because, they think it gives a woman power over

them.”

A little frown creased the smooth skin between the girl’s dark brows. “I have a lot

to learn if I am to make him mine.”

Martha felt her mouth grow lax. Shit! “You want Cantor?” As soon as the words

were out of her mouth, she felt like an idiot. What woman wouldn’t?

“Yes,” the girl nodded, eager as a puppy. “I love him.”
“But…you just met him. How can you know?”
Fahgwat’s gaze slid away, and her cheeks grew rosy. “I just know. He makes my

woman’s place wet.”

Martha forced a stiff smile onto her lips. “You’re describing lust.”
“Oh, I know it is love. I never feel this way when I look upon other men.” Fahgwat

sighed. “But such a virr-ile man must have many wives.”

Martha looked at her curiously. “Would that bother you?”
“That he has many wives?” At Martha’s nod, she said, “No. Such a man would

need many to satisfy him. Besides, I do not want to be a wife.”

“To Cantor?” How anyone wouldn’t want Cantor as a husband was beyond

Martha, she wanted him so badly herself.

“Not to any man.”
That surprised her. Someone as lovely and untried as this girl needed a keeper in a

rough place like this. “Why not?”

Fahgwat’s expression turned solemn. “I was raised to serve a man, but I escaped

that prison. Why would I seek another? You should understand that.”

Martha felt the last of her resentment melt away. “I do understand, but I don’t

equate marriage to prison—or a ha’arem. Not if I were married to the right man.”

Fahgwat gave her a glance that was unnerving in its directness. “Do you love him?”
Martha didn’t try to pretend this time she didn’t know whom she meant. “Yes.” She

took a deep breath. “If you don’t want to be his wife, then what do you want?”

Fahgwat shrugged. “I am not sure. But I would like to learn about love.”
Martha smiled then. Just looking at Cantor had her wanting sex all the time, too.

“And lovemaking?”

Her cheeks dimpled with delight. “Oh, yes!”

Garden of Desire

Martha felt her mouth stretch into a smile. “Cantor doesn’t have any wives. I’m not

sure he wants even one.”

Fahgwat blew out a breath. “I was afraid he had many.”
“Why would it matter if you don’t want to be his wife?”
“Only because I thought he would not notice me. His other wives might have been

more knowledgeable of his desires.”

“Do you want to learn about…his desires?”
“Oh yes! I would learn what pleases him.”
“And what about you? Would you want to be pleased as well?”
Fahgwat gave her a sly smile. “How can a man like that fail to please a woman? He

is very well made.”

“He is indeed,” Martha murmured. A very wicked idea blossomed. “Remember

what I said about men trying not to show women how much they like them?”

Fahgwat nodded.
Martha put her hands on Fahgwat’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

“Sometimes, men have to be made to tell. Sometimes, they have to be seduced.”

Fahgwat’s nod was slower this time. “But I have never seduced a man. I mean, my

mother and aunts have told me how to work upon a man’s staff, but I have never

actually…”

Martha’s eyebrows rose. “Well, every man’s a little different. Would you like to

learn what pleases Cantor?”

“Do you know? Have you…”
Watching the younger woman’s face light with curiosity, the idea became fully

rooted. “Yes, but he won’t be bound by sex. Actually, I think he’s spoiled.”

Fahgwat’s head canted. “Spoiled?”
“Women fall all over him. Me, included.” She wrinkled her nose. “He gets what he

wants too easily.”

“Ah!” Fahgwat grinned. “Like a child with too many toys. He expects them.”
“Exactly.” She gave the other woman an approving smile. “You know, I don’t think

you’re as fluffy as you look.”

“Fluffy?”
“Never mind. Fahgwat, I think we can help each other out.” Wrapping an arm

around the shoulder of her newest friend, Martha guided her down the path.

Delilah Devlin

Chapter Four

Cantor paused outside his cabin door at the sound of feminine laughter coming

from inside. More than one woman awaited him. For once, he was relieved.

He’d avoided Little Flower—Daisy—whatever her real name was—all afternoon

and evening, using every problem brought to him as a pretext for delaying the

inevitable contact.

He’d taken his dinner with the men selected to guard the sheep that night, huddled

around a blazing fire while listening to their endless bragging. Hearing of their sexual

exploits had done nothing to cool the heat his body had carried all day from the first

sight of the lovely virgin.

Lovely…untouchable…virgin.
He’d helped to pull a large piece of farm machinery from where it had become

mired in a low-lying trough. He’d climbed a tree to retrieve a lacy bit of underwear that

had blown away from a clothesline, and narrowly escaped the owner’s grateful, full-on-

the-lips kiss.

He’d settled no less than three arguments among the ex-cons, listening endlessly to

their convoluted, impossibly illogical opinions until his head ached. The last had firmed

his decision to flee the planet at the first opportunity. It had been a fight over a bloody

window.

He’d taken his noontime meal in the communal longhouse, when three women

approached with their petition. Their request involved a bed beneath a window in the

women’s dorm that was vacated when one of Doc’s nurses moved into his cabin.

“Why do you all want the bed with the window?” he’d asked.
“Because the sunshine’s so cheerful,” was the answer he’d gotten.
“How does that matter if you’re busy with your chores during the day?”
“I’d love a breeze caressing my skin at night,” one said, casting him a saucy glance.

“It gets very hot,” she’d said, as she walked her fingers up his chest.

“But you’d freeze your arse off in the winter,” he replied. He had thought to end

this ridiculous line of conversation, when he asked, “What makes any one of you more

worthy of the window?”

This question launched a lengthy debate over the comparative gravity of their

crimes, the severity of their sentences, the length of their menses, and finally, their body

weight.

In the end, Cantor showed them the Wisdom of Solomon and ordered the window

boarded up.

Garden of Desire

He had exhausted himself a-purpose this day. He had to protect the girl from his

low-down, horny-dog cock. The thing threatened to overcome his best intentions. No

amount of deep-breathing meditation would bring it down. He’d walked around with

his shirt outside his pants to hide his sorry condition the whole bloody, goddamned

day.

He’d taken himself in hand—twice—to relieve his blue-ball hard-on. As helpless as

any teenaged male against the onslaught of testosterone, bathing his brain with images

of dark, dusky nipples, smooth-as-silk nether lips, and beguiling brown eyes. Even now

his cock was heavy and full, pressing painfully behind the placket of his breeches.

Thank God, he’d had an extra mattress sent to his cabin. He’d give the girl the bed

and make due with the mattress on the cold floor. So long as he didn’t have to bear the

torture of sleeping inches from her, he might calm his “inches” long enough to get some

sleep.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Two heads, one light, one dark

turned toward him. Two pairs of puppy-dog brown eyes stared at him. Now along with

the pressure in his cock, he felt tension cinch around his neck.

Martha! His stomach knotted. He didn’t want to hurt Martha any more than he

already had…but then again, she did know the score. Her expression appeared a little

strained and furtive, and then she licked her lips and dipped her eyelids. Halleluiah!

Now, how would he convince her to step outside the door for a quick poke without

embarrassing the girl? Immediately, he felt shame wash over him. Martha definitely

deserved better than to be used to simply ease an ache.

Then he noticed the two sat cross-legged on his bed, wearing short shifts that

couldn’t possibly hide their mons should he walk deeper inside. Light from no less than

six phospher-pots were placed around the room, chasing away the shadows.

Sweat broke on his forehead despite the cool air at his back. “Good even, ladies.”
“Hi, Cantor,” Martha chimed brightly, and then she nudged Little Flower.
“Hello, Can-torr.”
He sucked in a deep breath and nearly turned to flee the cabin. The girl’s sweet

voice rolled the R’s like a kitten’s purr. His treacherous body tightened hard as a rock.

Walking stiff-legged into the room, he closed the door behind him, shutting himself

inside with their sweet scents. He tried not to breathe too deeply, but Martha’s petal-

soft smell mingled with a fresh, minty-spice that he knew must be the girl’s.

A desperate glance around the room and he realized something was wrong.

“Where’s the damn mattress?” he asked, dismay making his voice harsh.

“We had it taken back. There are so many far more crowded than you are, Cantor,”

Martha replied, her eyes alight with merriment.

Cantor’s narrowed, suspicion creeping into his testosterone-soaked brain that

Martha was up to something.

“Turn around, Violet,” Martha said. “Let me braid your hair for bed.”

Delilah Devlin

Violet? It suited her. Sweet—and crushable. And seventeen, for fuckssake! Sweat

broke on his upper lip. She was getting ready for bed. Violet shifted around on the

mattress and the shadowed area between her legs was exposed for a moment to his

gaze. Her plump lips were indeed bare.

His knees wobbled. “Perhaps, I should head over to the men’s dormitory…” he

said, “…since you’re planning to stay the night, Martha.”

Martha smiled and lifted her arms to brush the girl’s long dark hair. “Suit yourself.

We’re getting to know each other.”

Cantor watched each stroke of the brush. The slow movement pulled Martha’s shift

taut against her generous breasts, revealing the luscious curves and hard points.

Violet’s eyes closed and she sighed with pleasure.

Hunger gripped his loins. He was a drowning man.
Martha slid him a sideways glance. “Of course, you’ll put the word out the other

men shouldn’t expect a welcome, here. Violet needs her sleep.”

Other men? Cantor could imagine stepping into the dorm and the men fleeing out

the back as quick as rats to present themselves at his cabin’s doorway. Double damn! He

couldn’t leave the women unprotected. Could he?

Violet opened her wide, almond-shaped eyes and smiled at him. “Are you feeling

well, Can-torr? You look a little flushed. Are you warm?”

On fire, he was! Thank God, she didn’t understand what she did to him just saying

his name. The poor thing would be terrified.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Martha said, nodding toward the empty side of the

bed. “Violet’s right. You don’t look well. Besides, you haven’t gotten a chance to talk to

Violet, yet. You should make an effort to know her since she’ll be sharing your cabin.”

This time, he didn’t imagine Martha’s mischievous smile. The minx knew how

uncomfortable he was and was exacting a fiendish revenge! That revelation set his back

up, and gave him something other than his cock to think about. What was she up to?

Cantor walked to the bed and sat down. Sliding his legs onto the mattress, he

grabbed a couple of the pillows to wedge against the headboard and sat back,

pretending a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

“Tell me about yourself, Violet,” he said, all the while watching Martha’s profile as

she continued to stroke the girl’s hair.

Martha’s lips thinned, almost imperceptibly. His attentions to the girl bothered her.
“There is not much to tell,” the girl said, in her lovely, lilting tones. “I lived a quiet

life with my mother and my aunts.”

“What of a father and uncles?”
“Uncles?” She giggled. “I have no uncles. Only my mother and my aunts and my

forty-three siblings.”

“Right. You were raised in a ha’arem.” Where women are trained to serve men. He

didn’t want to think about what she had learned from the women of her household, or

Garden of Desire

the fact that she’d had her menses since she was ten. He struggled for another topic.

“What have you and Martha been up to, today?”

Again, the girl giggled like chiming bells. “We have been sharing what we know.”
What the hell did that mean? With Martha’s cheeks turning bright as berries, he

could only imagine the worst. “And what have you learned, Violet?”

A playful smile placed dimples in her cheeks. “That men love to have their scrotum

tongued, but having their anuses breached makes them very nervous.”

Cantor coughed, which thankfully stifled a groan. Good God!
Martha’s shoulders shook with her muffled laughter.
Finally in control of himself, he roared at Martha, “What the hell are you teaching

this girl?”

“Me?” she asked, her hand pausing mid-stroke. “I’ve been agog all afternoon

learning all sorts of exotic ways to bring a man to—how was it you phrased it, Violet?”

She turned to look him directly in the eye. “I remember now—’to a state of heightened

agitation prior to ejaculation’.” She winked at him.

“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
“Nice curtains,” she said, with her eyes wide and innocent.
“Shit!” His cock was strangling inside his pants, so ready to burst just a whisper of

a touch would make him explode. The one woman he could have teased him

mercilessly, and the one he couldn’t have just said a man liked to have his scrotum

tongued. Hell, yes! His life couldn’t get any more complicated. “I need to sleep. Can you

cover some of those lights?” Was that his voice? It sounded rough as gravel.

“Sure.” Martha scooted off the bed, not caring that her shift bunched at her hips,

displaying a lovely view of her bare ass. When she bent at the waist to extinguish one of

the pots, her glistening cunt peeked at him.

Desperate beyond anything he’d ever experienced, he said, “I’ve got to use the

head.” He leapt from the bed and escaped to the tiny, dark bathroom, where he

gingerly lowered his breeches. His hand clasped his cock and he pumped only twice

before he came. Cum spurted at the ceiling, while he imagined a small pink hand doing

the work and a dark head sinking between his legs to tongue his tight balls.

“Ballocks!”

* * * * *

Whispers woke him. The voices were light and feminine and his cock was fully

engorged before he’d blinked away the cobwebs left behind by his dreams.

“Your education seems a little one-sided,” he heard Martha say. She lay beside him,

but must have turned toward Violet on the far side of the mattress for her voice was

muffled.

Delilah Devlin

“Yes, I had no idea a woman could enjoy love-play, as well.”
Sweet Violet’s soft whispers stoked the embers of his lust.
“Have you never experienced an orgasm?” Martha asked.
Cantor waited in agony for the answer.
“Women can do that?”
Cantor’s breath stopped, and he had to remind himself to breathe deeply so the two

wouldn’t realize he’d woken up and was listening to them.

“Of course.”
“I wondered about that. Cal-andrra seemed to enjoy herself as much as Drago. She

made more noise that he did.”

“You watched them make love?” Martha’s voice held laughter.
“I am embarrassed to admit it, but I was very curious.” Her voice dropped lower. “I

had never seen a man’s penis before. His was verr-y impressive.”

Cantor jerked, surprised by a burst of jealous anger. He’d never felt jealousy for

another man, but Violet’s admiration brought out a primitive rage. She should only

delight in the sight of his cock!

“He’s a handsome man.” Martha paused, and then had the temerity to ask, “What

did it look like?”

“Enormous!” Cantor didn’t like the excitement he heard in her voice. “Straight as a

sword—and red, especially around the tip.”

Martha sighed. “Sounds lovely. Calandra’s a lucky girl. Drago loves her very

much.”

“And she loves him. She begged to God for him not to stop—several times.”
Martha giggled. “That’s because she was close to coming—you know, close to an

orgasm.”

“I have wondered what that feels like. It did not sound like a very comfortable

thing. In fact, it seemed almost painful. It made her scream and moan.”

Cantor felt ready for a little moaning himself. His cock and balls were so hard he

could drive nails!

“That’s when it’s best,” Martha said with a sigh. “You’ve never brought yourself to

orgasm?”

“No.” Her breath caught. “I can do that?”
His fingers dug into the bed sheets.
Martha shifted and rose partway. The faint outline of her shoulder was a dark

shadow as she leaned her head on one hand. “Haven’t you ever…touched yourself

down there?”

Violet gasped and giggled. “Well, sometimes. And it is mildly pleasurable.”
“Only mildly? Then honey, you aren’t doing it right. I could teach you.”

Garden of Desire

That was a picture Cantor didn’t need in his mind. Please, let me watch.
“I have so much to learn. I think I would rather concentrate on lessons on how to

bring a man to completion. I have learned much from the women in the ha’arem, but I

have done nothing—seen almost nothing. I am not sure I would know how to go about

it.”

“Would you like to see me make love to a man?”
Cantor shifted his legs apart to make room for his burgeoning erection. He

pretended to mutter in his sleep, and then resumed the deep breathing. Curious to the

point of pain, he hung on their every word.

“You would let me?”
“I wouldn’t mind you watching.”
“Um, who will you demonstrate with?”
“Well…” Martha’s voice was husky, sending a wicked thrill through Cantor’s body,

“we have a man right here.”

He almost trembled with anticipation. They were driving him mad. Part of him

wished to take control and shout at the women to stop their ridiculous conversation

and go to sleep.

Another part feared they’d simply find some other poor sod to torture and he’d

never allow that. If Violet needed lessoning, he was man enough to suffer through it.

He’d deny himself the ultimate thrill. With him, her body would remain inviolate.

Besides, his body was so primed for sex, his cock was already waving for their

attention.

“Take the cover off one of the pots on the nightstand,” Martha whispered. “You’ll

need to see what I do.”

“Should we wake him and ask first? What if he becomes angry?” Violet asked, but

didn’t hesitate to comply. Cantor felt the bed lighten as she rose from the mattress.

“He won’t be able to resist once I start working on him. When he wakes up, he’ll be

too far gone to protest.”

Cantor bristled. Does she think I’m led by my cock? But he couldn’t work up sufficient

anger to stop them. Truth was, he’d been too far gone since the moment he’d entered

the cabin.

“It does not seem right to take advantage without permission.”
Good girl! At least Violet has some sense of propriety.
“And if he refuses us? Would you rather see some other man’s cock?”
That seals it. No way was he letting any one of the horny pirates near the girl.
“I would like to see if Can-torr’s man-flesh is as beautiful as the rest of him.”
Cantor nearly preened beneath her compliment, and fought a grin.
Soft yellow light filled the room. The women glanced warily over their shoulders

and he didn’t bother to try to pretend he still slept. Their blushes pleased him.

Delilah Devlin

Then all their glances slid down his body. His cockstand tented the sheet. Cantor

calmly folded his arms behind his head and sent the women a challenging stare.

“You’ve been awake for a while?” Martha asked, biting her bottom lip.
“Mmmm-hmm.”
“Are you…in agreement, then?” He’d never seen Martha anything but confident, so

her sudden shyness intrigued him. Had her bluster been for the benefit of the girl?

“What shall I do?” Violet asked, no such reticence evident in her eager expression.
“Nothing,” he said. “You’ll watch. Martha gets to do all the work. She has a

talented mouth.”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. Her chin lifted and she reached for the hem of her shift,

drawing it over her head, revealing her pink skin and rounded curves. “You’re to

watch, Violet. But Cantor needs all the stimulation he can get. Remove your shift, too.”

Cantor wanted to protest he didn’t need the extra stimulation, or more to the point,

he didn’t want to carry around the memory of the girl’s nude body to torment him in

the days to come. “Perhaps, this isn’t wise. Violet should learn what she needs to know

from her future mate. That man will not be me.”

Martha lifted an eyebrow, seeming unimpressed with his noble speech. “And how

will she know if she’s treated well?”

“I promise to be quiet as a mouse.” Violet’s gaze shimmered with excitement. “And

please do not feel you must restrain yourselves—scream away!”

His cock chose that moment to pulse, noisily rustling the sheet.
“I’m guessing, he votes yes,” Martha said, her lips lifting in a grin.
“He’s the one without a brain,” Cantor muttered. His eyes locked on Violet as she

slowly drew the short dress over her head, baring the tops of her thighs, her plump

labia, the taut plane of her abdomen, and finally the small dark circles with their jutting

tips. Violet let the shift fall to the floor beside her feet and crawled back onto the

mattress.

Side-by-side the women offered a contrast any man would find endlessly

fascinating. Martha’s lush womanly curves that could overspill a large man’s hands,

against Violet’s supple, girlish figure. Martha’s rosy pink tips and Violet’s dusky brown

ones. Martha’s pale down-covered cunt—Violet’s naked lips.

Cantor felt his gaze bounce between the two and his entire body grew so rigid he

feared he’d embarrass himself before either woman touched him.

“You’ll need to move to the center of the mattress, Cantor,” Martha said.
He heard her but his brain was sluggish, as though his mind had settled between

his legs.

Martha lifted her hands and gestured toward the center of the bed. “To give Violet

the best view, I’ll have to move to your other side.”

Garden of Desire

He got it. Cantor didn’t trust himself to speak an intelligible word, so he slid over

silently to the center.

“Okay, Violet, are you ready for your first peek at him?” Martha slowly drew the

edge of the sheet down his body.

Cantor’s belly quivered at the caress of the fabric and his breath caught. When she

reached his cock, she tugged to free the sheet from it, and his manhood sprang back to

graze his belly before standing proudly erect from his loins.

Violet’s gasp was extremely gratifying and her eyes grew round. “Are you going to

take all of him inside you?”

“He fits. I promise.” Martha’s short sentences were punctuated with shallow

breaths.

Cantor gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into the bedding, again. Then he closed

his eyes against sensory overload, striving for control over his body.

He felt one of the women shift, sliding over his belly to settle on the other side of

him, completely avoiding his aching cock.

“When a woman makes love to a man,” Martha said, “she has choices. If she wants

to take him quickly, she can go straight for his cock. If she wants to draw the pleasure

out, she explores farther afield.”

Cantor’s cock voted for quick. When Martha didn’t make a move toward the center

of his torment, Cantor opened his eyes to glare at her.

The twinkle in her gaze told him she knew very well how enflamed he was. “What

do you think of Cantor’s body, Violet?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.

“I like it.”
“No, tell me what you see.”
Cantor took a deep breath. His need was so strong he had the overwhelming urge

to take Martha to the mattress and slam his flesh into her cunt. But he’d frighten the hell

out of the girl if he took Martha like an animal now. He clenched his hands behind his

head while his body remained tight as a newly strung bow.

“He is very large, not just…his sword. And golden, like the sun. The muscles of his

chest and stomach are so rigid they look as though carved from stone, and his arms are

larger than my thighs.”

“How does all that power make you feel?”
“Very wet…in my woman’s flesh. Quivery inside my belly. And I can’t breathe.”
Cantor noted her cheeks were flushed a bright pink and her areolas dimpled. Oh

God, I’m going to die.

“Would you like to know what his muscles feel like?”
Cantor growled deep in his throat and glared at Martha.

Delilah Devlin

“She’s curious.” Martha’s tone was chiding. “Let her touch you.” Martha’s own

nipples were engorged, like plump, pink candies and the scent of her arousal teased his

nostrils.

He nodded and braced himself to receive the girl’s first touch.
Violet crept closer on the mattress and her hands settled on his shoulders,

smoothing over the tops of his arms, then along the underside until she reached his

armpits. Her touch wasn’t tentative as he’d expected, and she didn’t hesitate to rake her

nails through the ruffs of hair.

“You have to say what you feel,” Martha reminded her.
“His skin is smooth and soft, but the muscle beneath is hard as stone.” She sounded

breathless, and excitement shone in her eyes.

Cantor couldn’t take his gaze from her lovely, flushed face. His body put that

excitement there.

Her hands spanned his chest, and then her fingers slid over his nipples. “Here we

aren’t so different, are we, Can-torr? These are as pointed as mine,” she said, and she

lifted one hand to touch her nipple, “and soft like velvet, like mine.”

Cantor groaned.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her expression anxious.
“You’re killing me, little girl,” he said, his voice raspy with strain.
“Pleasure causes pain,” Martha said. “Continue.”
Violet’s small, soft hands glided over his ribs and lower to his belly.
He couldn’t stop the quiver that racked his abdomen.
“He trembles like I do.” Her eyes were wide with wonder and then her gaze fell on

his cock.

“No!” he cried out, and he freed his hands to trap hers against his belly. “No more.”
Violet nodded and sat back on her haunches, pulling her hands away to rest them

in her lap. “I will watch now. I promise not to disturb you further.”

“Impossible,” he muttered. His gaze shifted to Martha. Martha with her lush body

and warm, welcoming cocoon that would envelop his raging erection. “Are you going

to finish this?” His jaw tight, he gritted out, “And no more preliminaries.”

Garden of Desire

Chapter Five

Martha burned beneath his savage gaze. Her body released a gush of liquid to

bathe her vagina.

No more preliminaries, indeed!
Her body was so ripe for this fucking, she knew she hadn’t the will to tease him

further. She’d been in an agony of anticipation since he’d entered the cabin.

Everything that followed had been foreplay.
She and the girl had planned every word, choreographed every action. The glimpse

of Fahgwat’s pussy had set the tenor of their seduction. The long, slow strokes of the

brush planted a subliminal image of his body stroking inside theirs. Her conversation

with the younger woman was for his ears alone. They had him right where they wanted

him.

So why did her knees shake as she straddled his body? She was the one in control,

but his harsh, tight features told her she’d leashed a tiger. How soon before he broke his

bonds?

Soon, she hoped. With her gaze upon his face, she centered her moist cleft over his

shaft, sliding moisture over the tip until he was positioned for her taking.

Cantor’s face was harsh and drawn, his lips curled back and teeth gritted. His eyes

challenged her to take him.

But she wanted more.
Martha’s hands rose to her breasts and she fingered her nipples, circling on them as

she circled her hips on the head of his cock, screwing downward only far enough to

take the head inside her.

Cantor’s nostrils flared and he bared his teeth. His hips lifted to press himself

deeper inside.

She raised her breasts, offering them for his enjoyment—and hers.
His gaze locked on her nipples and he sat up, bracing his body on his hands, and

rooted at one breast until his mouth closed over the plump tip.

Her head fell back, too heavy for her neck, and she sank upon his cock, relishing

how well he filled her, stretched her vagina. Her thighs shook, but she rose and then

fell, taking him deeper this time. Slowly at first, then faster, she glided up and down on

his cock while his mouth suckled at her breast and his teeth chewed her aching tits.

“Cantor!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders, kneading the deep, rigid muscles,

scraping his soft, sweaty skin, and finally clutching him tightly as she pumped, faster,

Delilah Devlin

harder, grinding down to increase the hot friction. The seduction was forgotten in her

own burning need.

“Fuck me,” he growled against her breast.
She writhed and dipped, circling her hips to screw down on him, until all of his

length was buried in her cunt.

“Fuck me, baby.” His teeth closed on a ripe nipple and bit.
Then she was lost to the rapture, flung beyond herself into space to shatter like a

starburst. Her cries echoed against the bare rafters as her body shook. When her breath

returned, ragged and harsh, she opened her eyes to find his gaze spearing into hers.

He hadn’t come.
As quickly as that thought crossed her mind, she found herself on her back, his

hands pressing her legs high and wide. He plunged into her with a roar.

His knees stepped on the mattress, adjusting his thighs just so, jostling her hips

roughly as he pumped, his breath coming in loud, guttural gasps.

Martha flailed wildly for purchase to anchor herself to withstand the storm, finally

reaching above to grasp the ridge at the bottom of the headboard to halt her progress

up the bed.

Still he pounded at her cunt—hard, sharp strokes that jarred her body. “Please,

please,” she begged, sobbing now with renewed need, the fire deep inside her womb

reignited by his powerful thrusts.

“Sweet, sweet bitch,” he cried, and he pumped faster, the sounds of their flesh

smacking staccato, sweat glistening on his chest and face. He planted his hands in the

mattress on either side of her shoulders and he flexed his buttocks, driving harder,

faster, deeper—and suddenly he bellowed and pushed deep inside her, pulsing his hips

as deeply as his cock could reach, grinding against her womb.

Another sunburst of ecstasy exploded in her belly, radiating down her legs to make

them quake. Beyond breath, beyond thought, Martha reached out to hold him tight as

he shuddered with completion, his cum spurting in hot waves.

Martha opened her eyes, surprised she hadn’t passed out. Her arms encircled

Cantor’s heaving shoulders and she smoothed her hands over his strong, broad back.

A lifetime of holding him like this wouldn’t be enough.
Then a sound intruded and she looked over at Fahgwat. The young woman’s arms

were wrapped around her belly and she shivered. She knelt so near that Martha saw the

trail of liquid desire that striped her inner thigh.

She sighed. Fahgwat was her partner in this seduction, but their quarry was far

from caged. And she owed the girl her satisfaction.

“Fah—Violet.” She patted the mattress beside her. “Lie down.”
Martha grasped Cantor’s heavy head and lifted it. His blue eyes opened and she

smiled at him. “Violet has never been kissed by a man, nor has she experienced an

orgasm.” She combed his hair from his face with her fingers and watched while his

Garden of Desire

expression lost its slackness. As his cock stirred within her with renewed vigor, his gaze

sharpened in suspicion.

She’d deliver to Cantor his desire, whether he wanted it or not. “Let’s show her

what it’s all about.”

* * * * *

Fahgwat sat frozen beside the couple still joined on the bed. She wasn’t at all sure

she was still interested in learning what sex was all about. What she’d witnessed

frightened her deeply.

Her new friend, the one she had schemed with in girlish whispers and giggles, had

transformed before her eyes as soon as she had taken the man’s large sword between

her legs. Her gentle, smiling features had sharpened in agony, her mouth twisting, her

cries ragged and loud, as she had strained to reach completion. There was nothing soft

and wonderful in what she had witnessed.

From their conversations, Fahgwat had expected a transcending ecstasy. Her own

body had readied for it, her nipples tightening, her breath increasing in unison with her

heart rate. Even her vagina had reacted, spilling liquid down her thigh.

But as she’d watched Cantor rear up and flip Martha onto her back to pound at her

body violently, her desire had changed to horror.

And Cantor, her blond god, had become a lion, roaring with anger, his body

seeming grow larger, his muscles rippling with exertion to inflict his powerful,

thrusting staff—sharp as a spike—at Martha’s soft body.

If this was lovemaking, she would gladly pass on the lesson.
Cantor reared back, disengaging with Martha’s body to kneel beside her. His wide

chest rose and fell with his harsh breaths.

Martha sat up and shook her head. “Whew!” She glanced at Fahgwat and her

expression turned to one of concern. “Violet, sweetheart, you don’t understand yet, but

what just happened was pleasurable.”

“It is all right. I am a little tired. Perhaps we should sleep.”
Martha threw a concerned glance at Cantor. If anything, his face grew more

frightening and his cock was growing again, huge and straight, with each passing

moment.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” Martha urged her. “I promise he won’t do anything that

frightens you.” Her hand reached toward her and Fahgwat didn’t flinch when Martha’s

fingertip traced the path of the liquid that had grown cold on her thigh. “Some of it

pleased you,” she said. She lifted the finger, smeared with Fahgwat’s juices, and

brought it to Cantor’s mouth.

He shook his head, but she persisted and painted his lips with the moisture.

Delilah Devlin

Unaccountably, Fahgwat felt a tightening in her womb.
Cantor’s nostrils flared and he inhaled, then his tongue licked his lips. His eyes

closed and he groaned.

“Lie down on the bed,” Martha repeated.
This time, Fahgwat complied.
“I won’t take her.” Cantor’s voice was rough and gravelly.
“I know,” Martha said, “but you can give her a woman’s pleasure, no?”
Cantor swallowed, his expression intent, his gaze fixed on Fahgwat’s face. Then he

closed his eyes and his shoulders relaxed, as if he’d surrendered a burden. “A woman’s

pleasure?” He opened his eyes to reveal a hollow desperation. “What do you want, little

girl?”

The tension that gripped her body earlier returned. She had to know him. If he were

a lion, she would bear his strong bite. “I want to know how it feels to be desired and

cherished by you,” she said quietly.

Cantor’s head bowed and his hands clenched on his thighs. “I make no promises. I

won’t be your mate, your husband.”

“I don’t want a mate. I want a man to possess me, for a time, and I would learn

what passion is.”

When he lifted his head, his gaze was stark and his cheeks were colored with heat.

“Passion, I have. If my mouth and my fingers will be enough, I’ll teach you.”

Fahgwat gave him a tentative smile. “I will assume you know what you are talking

about. My body is yours. Your mouth and fingers will be mine. It will be enough.”

A movement beside her drew her attention. Martha rose from the bed. “I’ll leave

you two to get acquainted,” she said, her voice small and tinged with sadness.

This, they had not planned. “You would leave me?”
Martha smiled and gave a little shake of her head. “The bed will be crowded. Your

first experience should be private. He’ll take care of you—or he’ll answer to me.” She

said the last with a warning glance at Cantor. Then she slipped her shift over her head

and left.

When the door closed behind Martha, Fahgwat turned back to the silent man. He

still sat on his haunches, his hands hadn’t moved from his thighs.

Suddenly, afraid, she said, “I am unsure how to proceed. What would you have me

do?”

“Nothing.” His lips tightened, and then he said, “And don’t touch me.”
She nodded and let her hands fall back on the pillow beside her head.
Cantor stretched out on the bed beside her, lying on his side. He cupped his sex,

holding his cock away from her.

Fahgwat found his action amusing. Did he think he could tame it? His man’s flesh

resisted all restraint. “Will you hold it the entire time we are together?”

Garden of Desire

A strained smile twitched at the corners of his lips. He released his cock and it

poked against her thigh. “Don’t take offense. I promised I wouldn’t use this against

you. I won’t break my word.”

Fahgwat laid her fingers against his cock and was surprised by the satiny texture of

the skin clothing the hard shaft. Her thumb swept over the soft, swollen, heart-shaped

tip, and then she looked at him from beneath her lashes. “I have been told there are

many ways to love a man. Perhaps, you will show me one, tonight?”

He inhaled sharply and his wayward cock pulsed against her fingers. “Is it true

you’ve never been kissed?”

She stared at his lips and swallowed. “Never,” she whispered.
“Come over here.” His voice was a sexy rumble.
She scooted closer to him on the bed, exquisitely aware of the long, thick shaft

sliding along her thigh. The intensity of his gaze frightened and excited her, and she

realized she hadn’t let go of his cock. She squeezed her fingers around him and then let

him go.

Cantor moaned. “Witch!” His breath washed over her face as he leaned toward her

and pressed his lips to hers.

Fahgwat forgot to breathe as his mouth slid over hers, rubbing her lips,

openmouthed. His had the texture of warm silk and were firm. He took her lower lip

between his and sucked.

Her breath grew uneven and shallow. She slid her fingers through his hair to hold

him to her. So lost was she in the kiss, she scarcely noticed when her breasts met his

chest. But Cantor moaned into her mouth, and his hand slid over her ribcage to capture

one aching breast.

The nerve endings in her erect little nipple exploded, and Fahgwat moved restlessly

on the bed, sliding her legs closer to his. She exhaled, lifting her chest to press against

his hand, anything to increase the pressure where she ached most.

“Easy, girl. We’re taking this slow.” Cantor withdrew his hand and Fahgwat nearly

wept with disappointment.

His mouth slid over hers again, and his tongue slipped inside. It was a soft, furtive

caress. She tried to capture his tongue, and a dance of sliding strokes ensued which left

Fahgwat trembling.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, she smiled. “So that was a kiss?”
“There’s more.” Cantor’s expression was warm and tender.
With her body nestled close to his larger frame, she felt protected, almost cherished.

“I will surely die, my heart beats so fast.”

His hands cradled her face. “Shall I stop?”
Remembering her friend’s advice about not spoiling Cantor with too much praise,

she suppressed the urge to let him see her growing excitement. Instead, she eyed him

with suspicion. “Will I be blushing with embarrassment in the morning?”

Delilah Devlin

His eyes wrinkled at the corners and his straight, white teeth flashed in a brief

smile. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you—too much.”

She grimaced. “I guess that I could not be any more embarrassed after showing you

my pussy.”

At his raised eyebrow, she realized her slip and decided to confess. Somehow, her

part in the calculated seduction seemed wrong. “Earlier, before Martha brushed my

hair, she said if I showed you my woman’s nest, you would be overcome with lust.”

Cantor’s nostrils flared and his chest expanded. “It worked. I don’t like that you

conspired to trap me.”

“Are you angry with us?”
His gaze followed his hand as it glided over her hip. Fahgwat had the feeling he

wasn’t aware of what the caresses were doing to her, churning her insides—he was

intent on his own exploration. “Martha has lot to answer for.”

Fahgwat slid her foot over his calf and found she liked the sensation of rubbing his

silky hair. “Do not blame her. I was just as guilty. And I am not sorry.”

“How can I be angry,” he asked, “when I have what I crave most, right here?” His

large hand covered her buttock and massaged.

She felt branded with the weight and heat of his palm and excited by the rhythmic

motion. “You crave my backside?”

His hand pressed the small of her back, closely aligning their bodies from chest to

toes. “I’m hot for it all—your sweet ass, your hot, naked cunt, your small, round tits.”

His words, spoken in a strained voice, thrilled her.
“But you’re an innocent. Your scheme, yours and Martha’s, was very dangerous. I

was almost crazed with lust for you,” he said, squeezing her bottom.

She inhaled sharply and her hip undulated, caressing his cock. “Really?”
Cantor rubbed his face on her shoulder. “God, yes.”
“And you aren’t, anymore?”
“Huh!” he grunted. Cantor brought her hand between their bodies, back to his cock,

and folded her fingers around him. “As long as you keep this warm, I won’t need your

sweet cunt.”

Fahgwat clasped him tightly and realized her fingers did not meet. How would she

ever take him into her body? At the thought, her body convulsed deep inside her

vagina and she gasped.

“Does my blunt language offend you?”
“No.” She forced a small smile onto her lips. “I like it when you use coarse

language. It makes me feel wicked…dirty.”

Cantor moaned and gave a little laugh. “Baby girl, you go right for a man’s balls,

don’t you?”

Garden of Desire

Urgency filled her, tightening her belly. “Cantor, I’m feeling funny now. Little

twinges.”

“Where?” He nipped her shoulder.
“Between my legs,” she said on a gasp. She squeezed her thighs together hoping to

ease the ache.

“You’re horny. Let me help. “
“Yes. Oh, please.” Her abdomen trembled and she moved her legs restlessly,

squeezing them together.

He pushed her to her back and rose over her, straddling her legs and lowering his

body onto hers. His weight, the pressure of his heavy sex against her belly, his sac

settling over her mons, assuaged her fevered movements for the moment.

He kissed her mouth, the edge of her jaw, and slid his tongue across the top of her

shoulder. Shifting lower, his cock rested against the juncture of her thighs. She tried to

open her legs to let him lie between, but his knees clamped hers together like a vise. She

squirmed beneath him.

When his tongue fluttered across the top of her breasts she nearly came out of her

skin. “Can-torr, Can-torr.”

He groaned and sucked her skin. “Baby, I love the way you say my name.”
“No talking. Kiss my breasts.” She grasped his ears and directed him to the tight

tips, pressing her chest upward.

His shoulders shook with muffled laughter, but he took her whole breast inside his

mouth and did amazing things with his tongue and teeth until she whimpered and

moaned.

Strangely, she felt an overwhelming urge to move her hips, and she fought against

his restraint, bucking beneath him, but he continued loving her breasts, sliding the flat

of his tongue over her nipple and fluttering against the tip. Then he tortured her other

breast.

She was hot, cold, all at once. Her head thrashed upon the pillow. She needed

something badly. “Please, Can-torr. I hurt. Help me.”

Cantor released her breast and cursed. “Hold still for a minute.” He rested his

forehead on her shoulder, dragging breaths into his lungs as if he had run a long race.

Finally, he lifted his head.

Fahgwat trembled to see his lion’s face again. Fear and excitement mingled to

produce a juicy heat deep within her cunt.

He pressed a knee between her tightly clasped legs and encouraged her to spread

them wide, and then knelt between them. With his hands under her knees, he raised

them, and then pressed them gently apart.

Fahgwat had never felt so exposed. Her hand covered her open pussy, embarrassed

by the moisture that seeped from inside her.

Delilah Devlin

But Cantor pushed aside her hand and pressed it to her breast saying, “Play with

this. I’m going to be busy here awhile.” He stretched out on the mattress, his elbows

supporting the weight of his torso, his face poised above her slick cleft.

The first contact of his fingers on her mound was pure torture. Her hips lifted,

seeking a deeper touch.

He smoothed his fingers over her outer lips. “Like velvet,” he whispered.
She watched him spread the dark folds of her sex, and his fingers traced an aching

trail from the top of her slit to the bottom. Briefly, he pressed his thick thumb inside,

just the pad, and Fahgwat’s hips jerked off the bed.

“Christ, you’re wet!” He brought his thumb to his mouth and licked away her juice.
Fahgwat’s eyes widened as he savored the taste of her. When he finished he used

his wet thumb to flick her distended nipples. The sensation shot bolts of electricity from

her breasts to her groin. She whimpered like a kitten.

Cantor’s face drew taut, his jaw a sharp-edged blade. A quaking started deep

within her womb that caused her belly to quiver and her legs to shake so violently, she

dug her heels into the mattress in a vain attempt to still them.

Cantor smoothed his hands along the inside of her thighs and kissed her mons.

“Shhhh. It’s all right, baby. Don’t fight it.”

But Fahgwat couldn’t stop shaking. Cantor suckled her pussy, drawing her outer

lips into his mouth to chew gently.

She jerked and moaned, urging him with her thighs pressed to his cheeks to give

her a deeper kiss. He parted the delicate petals framing her sex and stroked her hot

core, lapping, swirling—drinking. All the while his tongue worked within, his fingers

massaged her outer lips, building the heat.

Fahgwat squirmed and gasped. Her hands squeezed her breasts, and she

discovered that if she pinched the tips with her fingers, a delicious painful jolt of desire

fed the fire he stoked below. She begged Cantor for relief—incoherent, throaty

murmurs, which gained a rhythm that matched her undulating hips.

When he scraped her tender flesh with his shadowy beard, she mashed her pussy

against his face to increase the friction and a fresh wash of liquid heat spilled from

inside her.

Then his mouth closed over a painfully sensitive spot at the top of her cunt and he

sucked it hard. Fahgwat shattered into a million pieces, screaming as dark, delicious

tide swept over her. Her hips twitched and rolled, and Cantor’s hands closed on her

buttocks to hold her still for his plundering mouth.

Sobbing his name, Fahgwat fell into darkness.

Garden of Desire

Chapter Six

Cantor pressed soft kisses to Violet’s inner thighs while her trembling subsided.

Violet! What a sweet, demure name—it didn’t match the fiery spirit of the girl who’d

demanded her release, who’d plotted with another to seduce him.

Christ, she’d been sweet! Her responses to his lovemaking had been everything a

man could want. When she’d quivered and jerked beneath his mouth, he’d felt

powerful and possessive of her body. She’d writhed for him.

With her cum still bathing his tongue and the scent of her musk in his nose, he was

overwhelmed with his own responses. His chest and shoulders strained with the need

to crawl over the girl and surround her with his arms and body. His cock was so

engorged he could drill a hole in the mattress.

His face still hovering above her pussy, he could well imagine how it would feel to

slide between her dark, furled lips. How tight and small—and hot and wet—she’d be.

He stroked a finger over her sopping cleft, and then couldn’t resist the urge to

explore a little deeper. He pressed the tip inside her opening.

Violet moaned, but her knees fell farther apart. An invitation to explore, although

her eyes were still closed and her hands rested beside her face on the pillow where

they’d fallen when she climaxed.

He pushed inside her to the second knuckle, and her juicy walls closed around him,

constricting to draw him deeper. Pulling his finger out, he painted the moisture on her

petals, and then traced a path downward to circle the small, dusky rose of her anus.

Violet groaned and he looked up. Her eyes were slitted, staring at him, and her

hands were on her breasts again, squeezing and tugging the small mounds. His gaze

never wavered from hers as he pushed his fingertip inside her ass. Her mouth opened

around a shocked gasp, but she didn’t retreat. Indeed, her hips pumped, and Cantor

buried his finger inside her, all the while wondering how her tight little ass ring would

feel around his cock.

He ground his groin into the mattress, and sank his face into her pussy again to lap

at her slick flesh. Then he drove his finger in and out as deep as he could reach.

Violet squealed and the tight little ring clamped around his finger, contracting

tighter around him. “Can-torr, please! Oh, please!” One of her small hands slid down

her belly to rub her cunt, her fingers circling on her clit.

Christ, she was a fast learner!
“Put your finger inside my pussy!” she cried.

Delilah Devlin

Cantor slid a finger from his free hand into the slick glove of her sex and pushed

and pulled both fingers now. Her hot, tight channel squeezed his finger. Her sexy

kitten-like whimpers urged him to tunnel deeper.

A rumble from deep inside his chest broke free and his hips pumped into the

mattress. How he wanted to slide himself into her hot cunt, break through the thin

barrier that guarded her womb, and make her his!

“More, please, more!” Her voice was high and thin, with an edge of desperation.

Desperation, he understood only too well.

He squeezed a second finger into her vagina, crowding the tender tissue, and

nudged aside her hand with his nose to renew his assault on her clit, gliding his tongue

over the hard button, sucking, nipping, while screwing his fingers in and out until he

felt the first tremors ripple through her vagina.

Violet keened, her body arching off the bed, her hand scraping through his hair to

drag his head closer.

And still he fucked her with his hands, suckled her with his mouth while his own

body screamed for release. She’d have her woman’s pleasure. Even if it killed him.

At last, her restless movements subsided and her moans quieted. He withdrew his

fingers from her body and caressed the skin of her quivering belly, blessed each turgid

nipple with his mouth, and then, reaching her face, he cupped it in his palms and kissed

her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to share the taste of her passion. Violet

accepted his invasion and sucked on his tongue until he could take no more and raised

his head to take a ragged breath.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she gave him a little smile. “Passion is a painful

thing,” she said, her voice raspy. Her hands settled on his chest and she leaned toward

him to kiss his shoulder and snuggle her face in the crook of his neck. Her lower body

nestled closer and her thighs grazed his swollen cock. He felt her body relax, and then

her leg rubbed him again.

“Go to sleep,” he said, gritting his teeth against the delight.
“But what of your pleasure?” Her hand slid down the sweat-slicked skin of his

belly and glided around the root of his cock.

“Show me how to please you,” she said, her breath hot against his neck.
He was dying to bury himself inside her sweet cunt. Instead, knowing he tempted

himself beyond redemption, he said, “Take me into your mouth.”

She lifted her head, her eyes glittering with a dark excitement. “You will tell me if I

do something wrong?”

“So long as you don’t sink your teeth into anything I have down there—there is no

wrong.”

“I will remember that,” she said, her expression solemn.
“Then take me.” Cantor rolled onto his back and let his hands fall beside his head

on the pillow. He’d let her explore, suffer her tentative touches.

Garden of Desire

Violet scooted down the mattress on her hands and knees, giving him a delicious

view of her pink, swollen labia and tight little asshole. After several long minutes

deciding how best to approach his cock, she finally knelt between his widespread legs.

He was glad she’d chosen to face him. He’d watch every emotion and thought pass

across her winsome face as she experimented with his body.

A gasp broke from him when she grasped his shaft and pushed it this way and that,

looking at him from every angle. Cantor was convinced he’d come before she was

finished examining him.

“Does it matter where I start?” she asked.
“No.” Everywhere in the vicinity of his groin was already in agony.
With a wicked, feline grin, she said, “Men like their scrotums tongued. I think I will

start below and work my way up to the tip.”

Now that he knew her itinerary, he was prepared. He settled back, fighting the

need to surge his hips. Despite her enthusiasm, he didn’t think she was quite ready for

him to pump cum at her face. Although, once that thought crossed his mind, the picture

of white, glistening stripes decorating her cheeks left a tightening coil of sensual tension

in his belly.

Violet’s hand cupped his sac and gently rolled it gently in her palm. “Mother told

me I should roll a man’s balls with my fingers, but that I could not squeeze them until

he was very near to bliss.”

Her voice sang to him, her words gusting warm air over his tight sac with each

breath. “Tell me if I do this correctly.” She opened her mouth and took one of his balls

inside, her tongue sweeping over the sac, laving it with luxurious laps.

His body was gripped with fine tremors that wracked his lower body.
Then she switched to the other.
Cantor thought his cock had been as hard as it could get, but new pressure from the

base squeezed upward. Now, he was so swollen he feared his cock would split like a

sun-ripened tomato. Still, she mouthed his balls, suctioning, licking, until he was sure

he’d die without release.

“Enough! Violet, my cock. Suck my cock!” Not eloquent. Not even everything he

really wanted her to do, but his mouth was dry and the words stuck in his throat.

With a shy glance from beneath her eyelashes, her hand encircled him at the root

and tilted her head to glide her mouth up the shaft, mouthing his rod all the way. When

she reached the inflamed head she opened her mouth wide and took it inside, sucking

him like a child’s lollipop. Her tongue swirled on him as both her small hands clutched

the pole, and began sliding, twisting, until he could no longer resist the rhythm, and he

pumped his hips.

She took every inch he gave her deep into her throat, bobbing her head while her

gaze remained on his face. As he watched, her little breasts rose and fell more quickly

Delilah Devlin

with her exertions, perspiration broke on her forehead, and her cheeks flushed red. His

randy little virgin was ready for more.

“Bring your sweet little ass here,” he growled.
Her eyes widened and her mouth lifted off his cock. “Tell me. Tell me what you

want,” she said breathlessly.

“Put your pussy in my face, baby.”
Violet liked it when he talked dirty. He could tell because her eyelids dropped to

half-mast, and her slim body shivered with delight. Most telling, the musky scent of her

arousal intensified—he couldn’t wait for another taste.

She crawled up the mattress, her breast dangling, her ass sliding side to side. His

hands shook as he helped her turn and straddle his face, then he quickly guided her

head back to his cock.

She was proving a quick study in the sexual arts. Her hands wrapped around him

and she resumed sucking, noisily, moaning occasionally as her whole body bobbed and

twisted. When she felt the first stab of his tongue into her cunt, she danced on his

mouth.

Cantor’s body surged beneath her, his hips bucking, but he needed to bring her off

again, give her loving she would never forget. He pushed two fingers inside her pussy

and pumped his hand. She pressed back to take him deeper and he resisted, aware of

the fragile barrier he’d promised to leave intact. Instead, he inserted a third finger into

her, stretching her opening.

Her head bobbed faster, her breaths coming in sobs, her hands working his shaft

feverishly, creating a sliding friction that was driving him out of his mind.

He cupped all four fingers to make them as narrow as possible and pushed them

into her, aided by a spurt of her feminine excitement, screwing her to get them inside.

Violet screamed around his cock, pressing back violently to rock on his fingers.

Cantor stroked her swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. Her head sank on him, taking

him to the back of her throat, her strangling moans vibrating on his shaft.

The bed shook with their frantic movements and time stood still, suspended on a

crescendo of loud, guttural groans. As Violet’s cunt spasmed around his hand, his cock

exploded, shooting cum deep into her throat. They rocked against each other for long

moments afterward, until Violet’s legs collapsed. Cantor helped her turn and pulled her

into his embrace, draping her over his boneless body.

He held her close while sweat dried on their skin and their hearts slowed, savoring

the sensation of her breasts crushed to his chest, her thighs cradling his spent cock.

She turned her cheek to press a kiss above his heart. “Thank you, Can-torr,” she

murmured sleepily.

He didn’t reply but hugged her, and continued to hold her close while she fell into

sleep. Long after her gentle snoring began, he stared into the darkness and cursed

Garden of Desire

himself for the fool he was. Had he really thought this would only be about sex? He was

a horny, lying bastard.

Sweet Violet deserved someone better—younger—to initiate her. If he were a better

man, he’d end it now and help her find that worthy man.

But the pleasurable ache in his groin told him he wasn’t done with her yet. He

wondered how he’d ever leave her behind when he went a-pirating.

* * * * *

Insistent pounding at his door, woke him. He judged it wasn’t long until daybreak

by the gray gloom filtering through his window. “I’m coming,” he shouted, irritable

from lack of sleep.

“Tell them to go away,” Violet murmured sleepily and snuggled her ass into his

groin.

“Sorry, I shouted,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.” He eased off the bed and

pulled the blanket up to cover her before padding to the door.

He jerked it open. Akron and Nicky stood outside, their cheeks flushed and their

eyes glittering with excitement.

“There’d better be a damned good reason—”
“You have to come, Cantor,” Nicky interrupted.
“Yer not goin’ to believe what happened in the pasture.” Akron looked over his

shoulder into the darkened cabin. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. Is it true the young beauty

was a virgin?”

Cantor glared. No doubt they all thought he’d swived the girl. Guilt still rode his

shoulders that he’d done as much as he had. “Still is. What happened? Did we lose

another sheep?”

“You have to talk to Travis,” Nicky said, “You’re not going to believe it.”
Cantor’s curiosity was aroused. “Let me get dressed.”
“Yeah,” Akron said, glancing down his body. “Don’t want the sheep gettin’

nervous.”

* * * * *

Cantor knelt in front of Travis, who was seated on a campstool beside the grazing

herds. “You say it breathed fire?”

Travis tugged at the end of his bushy, brown beard and peered down at it. “Singed

me whiskers, it did.”

Delilah Devlin

“And it flew?”
“Came down from the sky. Flappin’ its great wings! Didn’t know what the sound

was at first, but it made the sheep nervous. Then it swooped over their heads, scatterin’

them. Looked like it was cullin’ the flock!”

Cantor and Darak shared a glance. They had an intelligent predator. “Did you get a

good look at it?”

“Like a dragon, it was—and huge!” he said, looking exhilarated despite his close

call. “When I waived me torch at it, its head jerked back and belched flames—and the

smell! I nearly puked me dinner.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Cantor asked.
“It blinded me for a minute or two. I’m right as rain now. But Cantor, we lost

another sheep. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”

Cantor clapped his shoulder. “Go back to the dorm and get some sleep. Make sure

Doc has a look at you first.”

“Yes, Cantor.” Travis stood up on wobbly legs.
Cantor rose to assist him. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Nicky, give him a hand.”
Nicky stepped close and slung an arm around the other man’s waist. Together they

made their way down the hill to the settlement.

Cantor turned back to Akron and Darak. Ivan, the colony’s science officer, joined

them. “Ivan, I thought you said there weren’t any large predators here.”

“There’s been no evidence of anything larger than one of those dog-sized rodents

that keep eating through the storeroom door.”

Frustration made his reply surly. “You didn’t think it strange that we haven’t been

overrun with big rats? What did you suppose was keeping their population in check?”

Ivan shrugged. “Like I said, we hadn’t found anything to indicate—”
“Never mind. Akron, show me where the sheep was taken.”
Akron led him to the top of a knoll. In the gray light of dawn, there wasn’t any sign

of a struggle, no scorched earth, or even bits of sheep’s wool or blood to mark the place

from which the sheep disappeared.

“You think it’s really large enough to lift one whole?” Darak asked, worry creasing

his forehead.

“Looks like it.” He glanced up at the large Scotsman. “Akron, you’re sure one’s

gone?”

“Aye, Cantor. I’ve counted heads twice.”
“If the creature’s large enough to carry a sheep,” Cantor said, “it’s large enough to

take a slender woman, wouldn’t you think?”

The men looked at each other.
“It’s nocturnal as well,” Darak murmured. “We’ve been here for months, but

haven’t seen it.”

Garden of Desire

Cantor stared down the hill at the quiet settlement. “The women will have to be

kept inside at night until we’ve figured out what we’re facing.”

“We’ll need to put together a hunting party, wouldn’t you say?” Darak said.
“Aye. Ivan, do you have the topographic maps of the surrounding region on file?”
“Aye, sir. What are you thinking?”
Cantor reviewed their scant clues. “The creature flies. It’s large. The forest beyond

us is too dense for so large a creature to travel through it. Look for higher ground.”

Ivan touched the side of his wrist computer and a holographic image of a file list

appeared before them. “Open the planet maps. Show us our present coordinates.”

An image of the settlement and pastures as seen from the sky blinked into view in

front of them.

“Find the nearest mountains,” Cantor said.
Images flickered in rapid succession, until the program halted its search on a dark,

craggy peak.

“I say we start our search there,” Cantor said. “How far away is it?”
“A day as the crow flies,” Ivan said, “but since Drago left with The Intrepid, we’ll

have to hoof it.”

Excitement like nothing he’d experienced since his last pirate raid, surged through

Cantor. Here was true adventure! “Ivan, plot the route. Darak, choose six men for the

hunt and break out the weaponry.”

“We can’t leave the women unprotected,” Darak murmured. “We’ll need electro-

stuns for the men left to guard the settlement. We’ll carry laser-swords, guns, and small

artillery.”

“Ivan, since we aren’t sure what we face, or even where to look, bring what

instruments you need for heat seeking and environmental analysis.”

“Aye, aye. I’m in then?” The youngest of the pirates, his smooth cheeks glowed

with pleasure.

“You are,” Cantor assured him. “I’ll need you the most. Now, let’s get back. We’ll

tell the others at breakfast.”

“Will we tell them everything?” Darak asked.
“There’s no need to cause a panic. We’d better get back quickly though, before

Nicky and Travis have everyone thinking we have a reign of fire coming down on our

heads.”

“But what will we say to the women?”
“We’re going hunting.”

Delilah Devlin

Chapter Seven

“So tell us, Fahgwat, was he gentle?” Kirsten asked, a grin transforming her

normally stern countenance almost pretty.

Martha listened for the answer from her seat at the end of the trestle table. She’d

lingered over her breakfast, waiting for Fahgwat to come down the hill. By the time she

had, the galley was full and Martha knew they wouldn’t have a chance to talk privately

about last night’s results until later.

In the meantime, the other women had crowded around their table for the juicy

details.

Fahgwat’s cheeks flushed. “Can-torr is a verr-y giving man.”
“I bet,” Kirsten murmured, taking a bite of onion cake. “You stayed the whole

night?”

Fahgwat nodded.
Sighs sounded around the table.
“You aren’t walking like a man shafted you the night through, and you were a

virgin,” Pingat said, her narrow, black eyes alight with curiosity.

“Although he did many wonderful things, he did not take me that way,” the girl

said, her voice soft with embarrassment.

“Ahhhh.” Knowing looks were exchanged around the table.
“He’s a sly one,” Kirsten said, “he’s still trying to slip the noose. Probably figures if

he takes you, he has to keep you. It’s a good thing I’ve turned my attentions elsewhere,

or I’d be gray waiting for that man to settle down.”

Pingat turned to Kirsten. “Elsewhere? Have you found someone delicious?”
Kirsten’s face turned pink. “I have. He’s a fine, strong man. Kind to animals—so I

know he’ll be good with children. He doesn’t know it yet, but his exceptional cock is

mine.”

“Then you’ve already had him?” Pingat asked.
“No. He scarcely knows I exist. And I think he’s a bit shy.”
“Who?” Martha asked, relieved the woman no longer had her sights set on Cantor.
Kirsten leaned over the table and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Akron, the

shepherd.”

“Akron?” Pingat laughed. “He spends his days with the animals doing who knows

what. And he has no beauty to speak of. How can you give up Cantor for him?”

Kirsten shrugged. “I’m just being practical. We can’t all share the same man.”

Garden of Desire

“I wouldn’t care if Cantor took a different wife for each day of the week, if I had

that luscious man to myself for one of them,” Kamilia said, with a toss of her blond hair.

“Cantor is no prize,” Kirsten said. “The man’s spoiled. When he does settle, he’ll

expect a wife to do everything for him. Look at him, now. He has his choice of women

and they fall all over him to please him.”

Everyone turned sympathetic gazes to Fahgwat.
“But why choose Akron?” Pingat asked, a smile curving the corners of her lips.
Kirsten tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder before whispering, “Because he

has the most amazing cock!” At their interested stares, she continued, “I’ve seen it. It’s

massive! The man would only have to cram it inside me and I’d come.”

Pingat shrieked with laughter. “How did you see it? You said the man’s hardly

spoken to you.”

With a conspiratorial smile around the table, she said, “I was at the river yesterday,

preparing to wash Cantor’s old curtains. I was walking through the trees when I heard

a noise coming from the water. He was standing in the river—buck-naked—washing

his big cock.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Just looking at it made my toes curl. The

man’s made for me.”

Martha smothered a smile. Kirsten was indeed Akron’s perfect match. The two

were of a similar build—tall, broad, and stocky. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing! I didn’t want to embarrass him. Like I said, I think he’s shy.” Kirsten

smacked the table with her broad palm. “But I will have him. Mark my words.”

“The man is doomed. Congratulations.” Pingat gave her a hug. “He’s as good as

caught.”

“But what of Cantor’s young miss, here?” Kamilia turned her attention back to

Fahgwat. “That man really needs to be brought to heel. He’s toyed with all our hearts.”

“Martha and I have a plan,” Fahgwat admitted, flashing a smile at Martha.
“A plan?” Pingat’s small slanted eyes narrowed to slits.
“We are not going to trick him,” Fahgwat said. “Nothing so devious. We are simply

showing him the possibilities.”

Martha recognized her own words. She should have been pleased at Fahgwat’s

solidarity with her plan, but a twinge of guilt niggled at her conscience.

“Well, someone needs to bag him,” Kamilia said. “Lord knows, I’ve tried. I wish

you both luck.”

“They will need more than luck,” Pingat said, her mouth drawn in a tight line.
“They’ll need help,” Kirsten said. When everyone looked at her, she raised her

hands. “Look, we all need mates. It could be our project—our work—to ensure every

one of us finds what we need. If we pool our resources and help, rather than competing

with each other, we can accomplish more.”

Delilah Devlin

Pingat tapped her chin. “If we put our minds together—our criminal minds—we

can’t fail.”

“What do you say, Martha, Fahgwat?” Kirsten said, “Since you’ve already agreed to

share your prize, would you like a little help?”

Fahgwat’s eyebrows rose, worry creasing her forehead. “I am not sure it is right to

play with his affections. He did not seem very pleased to learn of last night’s scheme.”

“You told him?” Martha said, her stomach plummeting.
“He was so kind. I felt bad,” she said, distress making her eyes large and liquid.
“Honey, you have to look at it this way,” Kirsten said. “Are you doing anything

illegal?”

Fahgwat shook her head.
“Are you planning to harm him?”
“Oh no! I only want him happy.”
“We all do,” Kirsten said. “He’s a stinker, but not a bad man.”
Martha leaned over the table, “Haven’t you heard all’s fair in love and war?”
Fahgwat nodded.
“Baby girl, this is both.”
A commotion at the doorway drew their attention. Cantor entered followed by

Darak and Akron. The stern set of his jaw and his purposeful stride told Martha

something was up. Others sensed the tension emanating from the men for the room

quickly fell silent.

Cantor glanced at their table as he passed and his gaze sought the girl’s for a brief

moment. Not a look was spared for Martha. Her heart fell, but her hungry gaze

continued to cling to him as he walked to the front of the room. He was everything

golden and good in her life; she wasn’t ready yet to let go of the dream.

When he faced the group, he raised his hand for their attention. “I’d like a moment

of your time. Something’s happened you need to know about. I don’t want rumors

starting that make this into a bigger problem than it is.

“Over the past few weeks, we’ve lost three sheep after nightfall. Last night, I set a

guard on all the herds. The sheep were attacked by a large predator and another was

taken.”

“Where was the guard?” one of the men seated near Cantor asked.
“Travis attempted to repel the attack, but was unsuccessful.” The room erupted in a

rumble of whispers. “He wasn’t injured,” he assured them, “but we still have a problem

we can’t name. I’ve assembled a hunting party and we’re going into the interior to try to

find this animal. While we’re gone, I’m instituting security measures to ensure the

safety of the women.”

The rumble became a roar, and Martha felt the first stirring of unease.

Garden of Desire

Cantor raised both hands. “Let me finish. We think the creature is a nocturnal

hunter. So the women are to remain indoors at night. If the men venture out, they’ll be

armed. These measures are temporary, and I don’t want you reading too much into

them. I simply want everyone to use good sense and remain cautious until we’ve

investigated. Do you have questions?”

“How long will you be gone?” The question came from the back of the room.
“Perhaps as much as a week.”
“Did Travis say what sort of an animal attacked?”
“We aren’t sure, but the creature flies and it’s large enough to carry a sheep.”
Martha immediately understood why he didn’t want the women about at night.

Then she realized what else he’d said. He’d be gone a week—long enough to steel

himself against the girl’s allure and to forget about Martha altogether.

“Who is accompanying you?” the man at the front asked.
“The three of us, Ivan, and six volunteers.”
Kirsten raised her hand. “When will you leave?”
“As soon as we’re packed.”
Martha stared at Kirsten. The woman’s eyes were narrowed in concentration. She

had something in mind.

Darak stepped close to Cantor and whispered something into his ear.
“We have preparations to complete. While I’m gone, Doc’s in charge.” With that,

Cantor left the room without a sideways glance.

Kirsten leaned over the table. “Martha, our men are leaving. What do you want to

do about it?”

Martha stared at her. “You heard him—nothing! Besides, what can we do? He

wants all the women to remain in safety.”

“Did you see how he looked at the girl?”
Martha nodded slowly.
“He won’t forget her while he’s gone.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“They’re looking for volunteers, aren’t they?”
“Cantor won’t take women. He’ll want fellow pirates along with him.”
Kirsten rose from the table, stretching to her full, ominous height. “What’s the harm

in asking—first?”

“But we don’t know the first thing about hunting.”
The tall woman raised her eyebrows. “You were a thief; I was a gangbanger. I’d say

we’re plenty tough and smart. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

“And when they refuse us?”
Kirsten grinned. “We follow.”

Delilah Devlin

* * * * *

“I think I would’ve been better off wearing my sandals than these ill-fitting boots,”

Kirsten said over her shoulder, as she slogged down the rough-cut trail through the

forest.

“Stop complaining,” Martha said, tugging at the waist of the breeches she’d nicked

from Ivan’s wardrobe. For the hundredth time, she wished she’d thought to steal a belt

along with the rest of his clothing; the trousers fit snugly at the hips, but bagged around

her middle. “There aren’t many men with spare boots to fit your big feet.”

Kirsten halted and turned to her, a scowl darkening her face. “My feet are in

proportion with my body. They get me where I need to go.” The scowl cleared and

Kirsten looked into the canopy of leaves above them. “Do you think we’re still on the

right trail?”

Martha snorted. “Do you really think any animal on this planet cuts trails with

laser-swords?” She changed the bag she carried from one shoulder to the other. She’d

packed light, but her bag seemed to grow heavier as they walked.

“How come we haven’t caught sight of them, yet?” Kirsten, who’d been so eager to

start this adventure, had kept up a steady stream of complaints for the last hour.

She was wearing on every last one of Martha’s nerves. “Because you keep wasting

our time on bitching.”

“I’m hungry. Do you have any more of the bread Pingat stole from the galley?”
“Yes, but you aren’t having it.”
“Why not? I’m hungry.”
“You’ll be hungrier in the morning when there’s nothing left to eat. Besides, you

could stand to go hungry for a few days,” Martha said nastily. “Now, pick up your

feet.”

Kirsten headed back down the trail. “Do you really think we won’t catch up before

dark? I don’t like the thought of bedding down by ourselves.”

Martha didn’t want to face that possibility yet herself. She was a city-girl, born and

raised in the Dallas-Austin metropolis. She’d rather walk down mean-streets at

midnight than spend a night alone in the woods. “We have the electro-stuns I stole from

the armory. We’ll be fine.”

Kirsten stopped again. “But what if one of those giant bats comes after us? Will it be

enough?”

Martha shoved her onward. “Keep walking! I’m sure they’re not bats. You heard

what Trina said. She had her ear to the door the entire time Doc was in there with

Travis and Nicky. Besides, whatever they are, they’re too big to fly through this thicket.

You’ll be fine—you’re considerably larger than a sheep.”

“Are you calling me fat?”
“If the shoe doesn’t fit…”

Garden of Desire

“Do you think we did the right thing?” Kirsten asked in a small voice.
“Probably not, but I’m not going back with my tail between my legs. Not after

everyone pitched in to help us sneak out of the dorm. Of course, they wouldn’t have

put a guard on our doors, if someone hadn’t cried discrimination and threatened to

mount a female hunting party after Cantor and Darak refused to take us.”

“You know I was right,” Kirsten said, her expression mulish. “How dare they

decide we couldn’t come, just because we’re females?”

“That’s not what Cantor said, and you know it.”
“It’s what he meant.”
“What he said was he needed a well-trained team, skilled in close combat, to

accompany the expedition. Honey, that’s not us.”

“We’ve plenty of skills!”
“Sure, I can pick any lock made this side of Omega Centauri, and you can flatten

them with a single thigh.”

“I never realized you were so weight intolerant. You’re not exactly svelte yourself.

Your ass is so large—”

“Did you hear that?” Martha halted in the center of the trail.
“What?”
“Shhh.” She pointed down the trail they’d just traveled. She’d heard something—

like the crackle of a footstep, just beyond the curve of the trail.

Kirsten’s eyes widened and she flipped the safety off her gun with shaking hands.
Why’d she get Kirsten a gun? Lord, she was more likely to shoot her own foot than

anything in this forest. Martha pointed to a pair of large bushes on the side of the trail

and indicated that Kirsten should take up position behind them.

Kirsten gave her a blank stare, then quickly nodded her head and pushed between

the bushes. She made so much noise while she was doing it, Martha decided to use her

as the bait for whatever followed them. She stepped off the path and made her way

back parallel to it, her progress stymied by vines that snagged her feet. When she

crossed the trail again, she found no trace of a creature, man or beast.

“It’s clear, Kirsten,” she yelled. When Kirsten didn’t respond, Martha’s heart started

to thud loudly in her ears. With her gun cocked and ready to fire, she ran to where

she’d left the other woman, but when she rounded the curve, it wasn’t Kirsten she

found.

Cantor stood in the middle of the path, his arms crossed over his chest, his

expression dark as a thundercloud. He was so tall and solid he made her feel extremely

small and vulnerable—and safe. Her heart ached just looking at him.

Although relieved beyond words to see him, she knew the fat was in the fire, now.

Deciding a little bluster might save the tatters of her pride, she walked the rest of the

way toward him, her chin held high. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Delilah Devlin

Cantor’s eyes narrowed and Martha felt the first tingle of unease creep up her

spine. As much as she wished she could fling her arms around his neck and hug him,

her intuition told her to stay out of arm’s reach. He held out his hand, “Give me the

gun.”

Martha considered resisting, but his expression was growing meaner by the minute.

She slapped it in his palm. “Have you seen Kirsten?” she asked, ashamed of her

cowardice when her voice trembled.

“Akron is seeing to Kirsten, now,” Cantor said, his words curt. He bent to the pack

lying at his feet and shoved the gun into a pocket.

“She should like that,” Martha muttered under her breath. To him, she said,

“Where are the rest of the men?”

He straightened, his face hard as granite. “They’re giving us some privacy.”
“Privacy for what?” By the look of him, it wasn’t the same thing that came

immediately to her mind.

“I gave you and Kirsten specific orders, but you chose to disobey.”
“Oh, you think this has something to do with your little hunting party?” She tried

to laugh, but nearly strangled on it. His stern expression didn’t change, so she tried a

different tack—anything to distract him. “How did you know we were behind you,

anyway?”

“We could hear your bitching for miles!”
Martha bristled and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his stance. “You

know, I think there’s something to what Kirsten said earlier. You really are a

Neanderthal—minus the unibrow! If a man complained about the fit of his boot, you

wouldn’t call it bitching.”

He took a step closer and leaned down. This close, his scowl and the red blotches on

his cheeks made him look all the more formidable. “If wanting to keep my women safe

makes me a Neanderthal, then—”

Martha’s heart lurched. Did he realize what he just said? “My women?”
“What?”
“You said, ‘my women’.”
“I meant it in the communal sense of the word. As your governor—”
“Sure.” She couldn’t help the silly grin that stretched her lips.
“And stop smiling.” His expression grew blacker. “How am I to punish you if you

keep smiling at me?”

That wiped the grin away. Anger puffed her chest out. “You’re going to punish me?

Is that what Akron’s doing right now to Kirsten?”

“He’s likely taking a strip off her wide ass as we speak.”
“Because she’s his woman?”
Cantor bit back an oath, and his lips thinned.

Garden of Desire

“So tell me, are you mad because I disobeyed you?” Martha asked, dropping her

voice to a husky whisper as she leaned into his chest. “Or are you mad because you

were concerned about me—my safety?”

“What’s the bloody difference?”
Martha backed away. She figured she’d pushed him far enough. He was getting so

angry the tips of his ears were red.

“Stand still.”
“Why would I do that? You planning to take a strip off my hide, too?”
“Damn right,” he said reaching for the belt at his waist.
The crotch of Martha’s breeches immediately dampened. This was a game she

never thought she’d play out with the stiff and proper Governor. She lifted her chin in

direct challenge. “Do you think I’ll stand for that? I’m not yours to command.”

Cantor stepped forward. “You’re mine all right. My greatest pain in the ass.” He

pulled the belt from its loops as he stalked her. “My crack-brained—”

Martha darted away, dropping her bag to flee into the forest with the sounds of his

pursuit close on her heels. She hid behind a tree, feinting right when he circled left, then

left to evade him, and she was off again, running deeper into the thicket, fear and desire

making her breathless. She wanted him to catch her, but wanted his pursuit—she’d

waited so long for this moment.

His large hand closed over her shoulder and she shrieked. The ground rose up to

meet her as he tackled her, rolling her in the carpet of leaves, until she lay beneath him.

“You’ve jeopardized this mission. Wasted valuable time with your little game.” He

rose up, reaching for her hands.

She shoved him hard, toppling him to the side, and tried to crawl away. But he was

too strong and his body covered hers again, pressing her into the soft bed of leaves.

Martha writhed and bucked beneath him, her excitement growing with her

struggles. She pounded his shoulders and his back, and kicked at his shins.

He wrestled her for dominance, rolling and cursing until finally he pinned her to

the ground, his legs trapping hers beneath him, his loin pressed to hers to hold her hips

still. With quiet efficiency he bound her hands together above her head with his belt,

cinching it tight.

Her shirt had worked its way free of her loose breeches and his clothing abraded

the bare skin of her belly. He lifted his torso off her and roughly shoved her overlarge

pants down her hips, binding her legs in the twisted fabric.

Martha was helpless against his superior strength—and loving it. When he’d

subdued her struggles to his satisfaction, he looked back up at her. The black passion

written on his face, took her breath away.

Cantor rose and lifted her from the ground and carried her like a bag of potatoes to

a fallen tree. There, he seated himself and dragged her over his lap, face down, a heavy

arm in the center of her back pinning her to his thighs.

Delilah Devlin

Not ready to end the battle, she squirmed and wriggled all the while excitement

beat a tattoo in her veins. When the first loud slap of his palm met her bare ass, Martha

gasped. He’d hit her harder than she’d expected. “Bastard,” she screeched. “You have

no right.”

Smack!
“I have the right you gave me when you agreed along with the rest of the women to

be governed by me,” Cantor shouted back.

Smack! She reared up and scowled over her shoulder at him. “I’m sure this is not

what we had in mind.”

Smack! His face was dark and dangerous, passion and fury riding high in his red-

stained cheeks. “I have the right any sane, responsible man has to teach his woman a

lesson in obedience.” Smack!

Martha’s buttocks smarted from the sting of his slaps, and her cunt gushed with

excitement. “His woman” he’d said this time. “I don’t recognize that right. I’m

responsible for me.”

Smack! “You will learn to obey me.”
She wriggled her ass, lifting it into his strokes.
The next slap stroked her cunt and the sound of it betrayed her arousal. His palm

met moisture.

Martha groaned and rested her chest and head on the tree in surrender to his

mastery. Cantor’s hand remained on her ass, and she heard his loud breaths, felt his

burgeoning arousal poke at her thighs. His hand circled, smearing the wet, then lifted

off her buttocks.

Smack! Smack! Not as hard this time and aimed at flesh he hadn’t touched, but

stinging all the same.

His hand rubbed her hot skin, caressing first one buttock, then the other. He slid his

palm between, smearing more of her pre-come.

Martha didn’t move, waiting to see whether he’d continue her “punishment” or

elect another form of domination. Her body trembled with anticipation.

When his fingers prodded her sex, she wriggled in earnest, trying to entice him

deeper. “Cantor!” she sobbed and held her breath.

Smack!

Garden of Desire

Chapter Eight

Cantor aimed his palm at the center of her buttocks and struck her creamy cunt

again. The scent of the woman’s arousal, and her fierce struggles that ground her thighs

into his swollen cock, distracted him from his purpose.

Martha must be punished. Lacking a place he could lock her away, or a chore he

could set her to, he’d settled on physical punishment, hoping the humiliation of being

treated like a child would somehow penetrate her stubborn brain. She had acted

outrageously, recklessly.

Now, with her delight in her “punishment” smeared across his palm, he realized

he’d underestimated her—and her passion. Martha was driving him out of his mind.

Looking at her buttocks, he felt revulsion for his violence. He’d never left a mark on

a woman, but there was the reflection of his hand in red relief on her tender skin.

Never mind, the minx seemed to enjoy it. He’d dipped his fingers into her well to

test the water, so to speak, rimming her cunt, only to discover the little witch was

primed for sex.

Meaning to soothe, he massaged her buttocks, torn between the need to wring

satisfaction for her foolish prank and the need to pump his cock against her thighs.

Martha moaned, so softly he might have mistaken it for a quiet sob, except that she

raised her buttocks to press against his hand. Intrigued, he administered two sharp

spanks, taps really, in comparison to his previous slaps.

“Harder,” she whispered.
He shoved her pants past her knees and pushed open her thighs, just far enough to

fully expose her labia. Then he slapped her cunt.

Martha sobbed and her sweet little ass trembled.
Smack! Smack!
She bucked on his lap, her back arching upward. “Cantor!”
Smack!
“Please, harder,” she begged. “Baby, now!”
Cantor couldn’t bear the pressure in his breeches for a moment longer. He lifted

Martha off his lap and draped her over the trunk of the tree. Then he wrestled with the

buttons on the placket of his breeches, finally freeing his sex. It fell from the opening

against her rump, and Martha wriggled until he rested in the crease of her ass.

Taking a deep breath, he told himself to take this slowly—extract the maximum

enjoyment for himself and ultimate torment for his captive. Now that he was past the

haze of his anger, he realized what the ultimate goal of his punishment really was.

Delilah Devlin

The problem that confronted him was how to teach Martha to be obedient. If the

physical punishment he’d administered hadn’t done the trick, perhaps he could use her

passion against her.

He backed away to look at her. Her round, heart-shaped bottom was red from his

efforts, her cunt redder still and engorged, the slick folds parting slightly to let him see

into her dark channel.

Cantor placed his hands on her ass and pushed her cheeks apart. He decided to test

another well. He pushed a finger into her asshole.

Martha cried out, rising up partway. “More!” she cried hoarsely.
He slid a second finger inside her and groaned. Bloody hell, she was tight! He

circled, pushing and withdrawing, finger-fucking her ass.

Martha squirmed, fighting the stricture of her trousers still bunched below her

knees. “Free me! Please Cantor!”

“No, love. You must accept my punishment.”
Her pink ass quivered. “Yes, please. I’ve been a bad, bad girl,” she said in a soft

little voice.

Cantor grinned. The girl had spunk. She had to be desperate about now, but she

still wanted to play games. He withdrew his fingers and stood. “What shall I do with

you, Martha?” he said, infusing disappointment in his voice.

“Spank me, again?” she asked, her tone hopeful.
“I’m not sure that’s harsh enough, love. And I can’t bear to mar the skin of your

pretty little bottom. What else could I do?”

“Ream my ass? I’ve been especially wicked.”
He sighed. “I suppose there’s nothing else that might get your attention, but you

must tell me what you feel so I can judge how effective this punishment is. If you’re

silent, I’ll assume it isn’t working.”

“I will. I promise.”
Placing his feet on either side of her body, he took himself in hand and aimed his

cock at the little rosy orifice. He pressed inside her, meeting resistance from the tight

ring.

“Oooh! It hurts, it hurts bad, Cantor.” Her breaths were short and sharp—he judged

the slight pain he caused was exciting her as much as the spanking had.

He withdrew his cock and dropped spit onto the head, spreading the moisture with

his thumb before directing it back to her asshole. “You were very good. Now keep it up.

I have to know what you feel.” He pressed slowly inside her, pulsing his cock to ease

past the tight muscles. “Tell me, Martha.”

“My ass is burning. You’re too big,” she said, her voice strained.
He held himself still. “Shall I stop?”
“No!” her reply came quickly, and he smiled. “Deeper, I need more…punishment.”

Garden of Desire

He braced his legs wider apart and flexed his hips, shoving several more inches

inside her. Her tight ass, virginal in its resistance to his presence, gripped him like a

glove several sizes too small.

“Cantor!”
“Tell me, Martha, tell me or I’ll stop,” he said, even as he thought he’d die if he

didn’t finish this.

“I can’t. Can’t think.” She moaned and her head thrashed. “Feels so good. No,

hurts! It hurts bad.”

“That’s better.” He pumped his hips driving deeper with each hard stroke. “Will

you be a good girl, baby?” His strokes were longer now. He pushed her cheeks apart to

grind the base of his cock into her buttocks.

“I promise. I’ll be good. Soooo good.”
“Will you obey my every command?” He slammed his hips at her ass now.
“Every…command.” Her breaths gusted with his pounding. “Anything… just rub

my clit, pleeease!”

“This—” he crashed into her, lifting her ass off the tree, “is punishment, love,” a

second thrust, and he felt his thighs tense, “not—” a third and his balls squeezed,

“release for you!”

“But I’m so close,” she wailed.
“Tough! I’m there!” With a shout he exploded, cum jetting into her ass.
Even before he stopped moving inside her, she cursed him. “You sorry son-of-a-

bitch! Bastard! Liar!”

Draped over her back, Cantor enjoyed her energetic abuse. Her body still shook

with need.

He lifted himself off her, slowly pulling out of her body. Leaving her helpless on

the tree trunk, he walked back through the forest to find the backpack he’d left beside

the trail. He felt deliciously boneless. He pulled out his canteen and a cloth and

returned to Martha.

She’d finally quieted down. Having managed to roll off the tree, she lay on her

back, watching his approach. He ignored her and poured water onto the cloth and

proceeded to clean himself. When he finished, he tossed the cloth onto the ground, laid

down the canteen, and tucked his cock inside his breeches.

Without saying a word to her, he knelt beside her and removed her boots. Her eyes

glittered with rage, but when he pulled her breeches down her legs she whimpered.

“Did you learn anything, love?” he asked, throwing the trousers onto the tree.
“Do you mean, besides you’re a selfish misogynist?” she said, spoiling the effect of

her smartass comment with a hiccough.

“Yes, besides that.”

Delilah Devlin

“No.” She sniffed and her mouth trembled. “I don’t think I’ve learned my

lesson…yet.”

Admiration for the courage she showed, despite her obvious distress, caused his

chest to tighten. He stepped between her legs and nudged them apart with the toes of

his boots. “Do you need another lesson, baby?”

Her lips pressed together and she blinked away tears that threatened to spill from

her eyes. She nodded slowly.

Cantor knelt in front of her. Just looking at her for the longest moment. Her shirt

had bunched beneath her armpits and one rosy, dimpled peak was exposed.

“Push your shirt up,” he said. “I want to see both of them.” He needed every inch

of her creamy skin vulnerable to his assault.

Martha’s bound hands pushed at her shirt clumsily until both lush breasts quivered

into view.

His gaze followed a path down her belly to her open cunt. Her sex was fragrant and

glistening. “Raise your knees.”

She did so, whimpering. “Wh-what’s my punishment this time?” she asked in a

small voice.

He stared at her pussy for a long moment, and then lifted his gaze to hers. “I’m

going to cram my fist into your cunt. Do you think you can take it?”

She licked her lips. “Oh God.”
“I just realized that in all our previous…encounters,” he said slowly, skimming his

hands along her inner thighs, “I’ve never gotten a taste of your pussy. Martha, do you

think I’ll like it?”

Her lips parted and her gaze pleaded for his touch. “I hope so.”
“Lift your hips to me.” He leaned forward on his hands and knees.
Martha planted her heels on the ground and slowly raised her hips until her pussy

was level with his mouth.

He liked that her legs trembled. “If your ass falls down, I’ll stop. You got it?”
“Y-yes.”
He blew air over her open cunt and fought a smile when Martha sobbed. Then he

leaned into her and lapped at her slit, licking away the juice that coated her hot flesh.

She tasted like sex—dark, juicy, dirty sex. He rubbed his face in her, inhaling her musky

scent.

Martha’s thighs hugged his cheeks, holding him in place as he continued to learn

her textures and flavors. He stroked her plump outer lips, delved between to tongue the

edges of her furled inner lips, stabbed into her cunt.

Martha shivered and moaned, and her hips gently undulated while he plied her

pussy with deeper kisses and strokes. Judging her ready for more sweet torture, he

Garden of Desire

slipped an arm around her hip, and his hand crept over her belly to comb through her

silky down.

“Please, my clit hurts,” she said, her voice sounding raspy with strain.
He lifted his mouth from her cunt and parted her lips with his fingers, pulling back

the hood that guarded her slick, red pearl. He blew air over it. “How bad do you want

it?”

“I’ll do anything.” Her hips circled, inviting him closer.
“Will you obey me—whatever the command?”
“Anything…please…suck it!” Her belly and thighs trembled.
“You beg so prettily, love.” He kissed her clit. “Will you apologize to the men when

we meet up with them?”

“Yes!”
A flutter of his tongue caused her knees to buckle and her ass to fall.
“Don’t do it,” he warned.
She raised her hips again and he swirled the flat of his tongue over the distended

button, his arm now supporting her shuddering frame. “Are you ready for your

punishment?”

Martha sobbed. “I’m already dying here, just finish it!”
He nipped her inner thigh. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
“No. No, I won’t. Please…finish it.”
“Good girl.” He kissed her clit and inserted three fingers inside her vagina.

Immediately, her inner muscles constricted around them. He worked them in and out,

relaxing her cunt.

Martha groaned and pumped her hips.
When his fingers detected a fresh wash of pre-come, he judged her ready for the

next step. “Can you take more?” he asked, and tongued her clit with short, sharp

strokes.

“Yes! More.”
He inserted all four fingers, curving them to work them inside.
Martha’s vagina clasped him tight. She whimpered and pumped her hips. Her

breaths were jagged—edged with sobs.

“Going to take all of me, baby?” His teeth closed on her clit and he bit.
Martha screamed and her hips jerked wildly. “All of it, damn you! All of it!”
Cantor soothed her nubbin with his tongue and fisted his hand. Starting with the

knuckle of his forefinger, he pushed inside, twisting, pulling, and driving into her until

her hot pussy swallowed his hand.

Her legs widened and her hips strained, shaking with the effort to hold herself

high. Her breaths were loud, ragged sobs that racked her chest.

Delilah Devlin

The arm curved around her hip lifted her higher, until he fully supported the

weight of her lower torso, her feet dangling above the ground. She was at his mercy. He

held her firmly, as he rubbed his whiskered chin on her clit.

Martha bucked and jerked, her widespread legs kicking out, but he kept the torture

going. “Cantor! Stop! It’s too much, too much!”

“Are you mine, Martha?”
“Yes!” she screamed.
“Mine to command?”
“Oh please God, yes!”
His lips closed around her clit and he sucked hard while fisting her, her vagina

slippery as butter, as he pushed and pulled his hand inside her. Then she came

screaming his name, the walls of her sex convulsing on his hand.

He loved her with his mouth and hand until the last, faint pulses passed. Then he

withdrew and lowered her bottom to the ground.

Martha’s eyes were closed, her legs splayed wide. Her cunt, still stretched from his

hand, was open and awash with her white cream. He crawled over her body to lie on

top of her and cradled her face with his hands.

Her eyelids drifted sleepily open and she stared at him. Her eyes were moist with

unshed tears, and he had the sudden desire to comfort her. He kissed her mouth, softly

at first, then deeply when her bound hands clasped the back of his neck to pull him

closer.

Finally, he lifted his mouth. “The others are waiting for us. You need to dress.”
Martha wrinkled her nose. “Can I borrow your cloth? I’m a bit sticky.”
Cantor rose and searched for the cloth. He rinsed it with water from the canteen

and brought it to her.

“You’ll have to untie me, first,” she said, holding out her bound hands.
“No. You’ll stay like that for a while.”
Her expression turned mutinous, and her mouth opened to protest.
He raised an eyebrow.
Her lips thinned. “Then you’ll have to wash me…please.”
“Certainly, love,” he said, smiling inwardly. “Open your legs wide for me.”
Martha slammed her heels into the ground and opened her legs. Her breath hissed

between her teeth with the first touch of the cool cloth.

Cantor cleaned her quickly, ignoring Martha’s naked loins and his reawakening

cock. If they didn’t hurry, the men would come looking for them. He didn’t want to

share the picture of Martha’s splayed thighs with them.

He tossed the cloth into the bushes and hooked his hand between her bound ones

to haul her to her feet, then helped her dress.

Garden of Desire

She remained silent throughout, her face white and a little drawn. Exhaustion

shadowed her eyes. The long hike from the settlement, and his “punishments” had

taken their toll. He didn’t think the party would make much more progress this day

until she’d rested. Besides, the shadows were growing longer in the waning daylight.

Cantor led the way back to the path and retrieved her bag, slinging it over his

shoulder along with his. Without a backward glance he started up the trail. He could

hear her behind him, her footsteps heavy, and he slowed his pace to allow her to keep

up with him.

The trail continued longer than he’d remembered and he realized his men had

forged ahead through the dense undergrowth. Martha cried out behind him and he

turned to find her on her knees, struggling to gain her feet.

Cantor fought the urge to lift her gently, the woman had caused a lot of trouble

today, and he hadn’t heard the end of it yet, he was sure. Instead, he grabbed the

tongue of his belt that hung from between her bound hands to haul her up. When she

was on her feet, he kept the belt looped in his fist and tugged her behind him.

“I’m not a beast. You don’t have to lead me.”
“You need to be broken to the saddle, love. This is just a little harness training.”
She dug her heels in the trail and pulled back, but he yanked the belt and she

stumbled after him.

“You sound like you know something about horses.”
“I do. My father kept a few.”
“Did you have a ranch?”
“No. A small farm in New Zealand.”
“However did you wind up as a pirate?”
“The Dominion needed more parking lots,” he said, old bitterness boiling like an

ulcer.

“What about your father?”
Cantor kept walking. The subject was closed. “How’d you become a thief?”
“I was born one.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
Martha grinned. “Family business.”
“Your family was thieves?”
“Thieves, forgers, second story-men,” she shrugged, “professionals. It was all I

knew. I didn’t take to school.”

“What kind of parent would raise his kids as criminals?”
Martha’s gaze dropped. “He did his best. He tried straight jobs, but he had too

many kids to feed.”

“You have brothers and sisters?”

Delilah Devlin

“Mmmm-hmm. Four. Two sisters, two brothers.”
“Are they all in the business?”
“No, just me and my brothers.”
“Did they manage to keep out of jail?”
“No. Same bust.” She took a deep breath. “They’re likely rotting on some other

prison ship. Maybe they’ll get lucky and some female pirates will free them.”

He looked back again. “Do you miss them—your family?”
“Yeah, but I can’t ever go back.” Her smile this time was sad. “And I don’t really

want to.”

“Can you be a farmer’s wife? Seems like that would be a little tame.”
“I can be a farmer’s wife—or a pirate’s wife.” She lifted her chin. “If I loved him.”
He pulled the belt, jerking her behind him. “Let’s catch up.”
Cantor heard the sounds of his men up ahead. He entered a clearing, pulling

Martha with him. One by one, his men turned to stare, their gazes dropping to her

bound hands. He felt his cheeks heat and scowled around the clearing. The men quickly

looked away, grins twisting their lips.

Only Darak continued to pay them any mind. He strode toward them, one eyebrow

raised. “I see you’ve bagged a doe. Is she dessert?”

“She’s not on your menu.” He glanced around the encampment. “Is Akron not

back?”

“No.” Darak’s face broke into a wide grin. “We had to move down the trail. The

noise was ear-splitting.”

Martha knew Kirsten was apt to exaggerate her torment, but she resented the

pirates laughing at their punishment. “Is he hurting Kirsten?”

“It was difficult to tell who was doing the inflicting,” Darak said, his gaze taking in

her disheveled appearance.

“Or who’s on top,” another of the men said.
Still another turned to say, “Kirsten has a set of lungs on her.”
Darak grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Akron was doing some bellowing of his

own.”

The men laughed and Martha frowned, grateful her bellowing had been out of the

range of their hearing.

“What I want to know,” Darak said, “was how you managed to get my Mary to

stay behind.”

“We didn’t tell her,” Martha murmured. “She’s the one person who could have

stopped us.”

Darak shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for you. She’s not going to be happy.”

Garden of Desire

Cantor tugged at her “harness”. “Don’t you have something to say?”
Martha looked up at him, his expression was stern and she stared blankly for a

moment until she remembered. “Oh. You want me to apologize now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any.” He turned to the men. “Gentlemen, Martha has

something to say.”

Martha wanted to kick him. With her hands bound and her appearance no doubt

tousled, Martha wanted to hide. The men’s smirks indicated they knew damn well what

had occurred in the forest. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, mortification heating her face and

chest.

“Not good enough, love,” Cantor said quietly.
Bemused she glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He’d called her “love”

several times, now.

“Apologize,” he said firmly.
She’d promised, of course. A promise given when she’d been drowning in desire—

but a promise just the same. She straightened her shoulders and looked around at the

men. “I’m sorry we inconvenienced you.” She looked back up at Cantor and he lifted

his eyebrow. “And I know we were foolish,” she added. “We didn’t have any business

following you. I’m sorry.”

Cantor nodded and pulled her toward a rock. “Have a seat and don’t move from

here.”

“Yes, Cantor.” She sat gingerly, her bottom still smarting from her spanking.
Martha watched as the men cleared a spot in the center of the clearing and built a

fire within a circle of stones. Then they laid out their bedrolls near the fire. Cantor chose

a place on the far side, gathered armfuls of leaves and spread them before unrolling his

bedroll.

When he was done, he came over to her. “Did you think to pack a sleeping bag?”
She was tempted to tell him no and hope he’d offer to share his, but pride made her

tell the truth. She couldn’t have him thinking she was a total idiot. “I brought a space

blanket.”

Cantor dumped the contents of her duffel onto the ground. The bread and cheese,

he handed over to Darak. His fingers lingered over her underwear before he stuffed

them back into the bag. He tossed a sweater at her. “Put this on—the temperature’s

going to drop as soon as the sun sets.”

Martha let it lay in her lap, not stating the obvious. She’d let him figure it out.
When she didn’t move, he knelt in front of her and loosened the belt. “Put the

sweater on.”

Martha made a show of shaking out her fingers, making sure the rest of the men

noted her signs of discomfort, then slid her arms into the sweater and buttoned it over

her shirt. When he didn’t move away, she sighed and held out her hands. “I didn’t

realize you were so into this bondage thing,” she muttered.

Delilah Devlin

Cantor leaned close and whispered in her ear. “It’s for your enjoyment, love.”

Garden of Desire

Chapter Nine

Martha inhaled sharply and sought his gaze.
A smile curved his lips for a moment, and then his expression grew stern again.

“How’s your ass?”

She blinked. “Sore,” she answered truthfully. “Sitting on a rock isn’t helping.” The

throbbing discomfort was a constant reminder of her earlier treatment by him. She

squirmed beneath his gaze, blushing.

Apparently satisfied he’d planted a seed for her growing arousal, he sauntered off

to talk to Darak. Martha wished she could move closer to listen in, because the snippets

she did hear were intriguing. Ivan joined the two men and they reviewed the map of

the terrain. From the graphic Ivan displayed, she discovered they were at the foot of a

black mountain. The next day they would leave the forest behind and start to climb.

When she heard the words “caves”, “fire-breathing”, and “dragon” her ears perked

up. Was a dragon what they were really hunting? What had she gotten herself into?

A commotion at the edge of the camp drew her attention from the men and she

turned to see Akron strutting into the clearing, a chastened Kirsten following close

behind. Her eyes were downcast, but her cheeks sported two red spots of color. When

she looked up, her gaze found Martha’s and she winked.

Martha smothered a grin and scooted over on the rock to make room.
“Akron, may I sit with Martha?” Kirsten asked, her voice subdued.
Akron nodded curtly and hurried over to the group gathered around the

holographic map.

“Was it awful?” Martha whispered.
“Barbarous, he was,” Kirsten said.
Martha slid her a sideways glance. “Was his cock truly exceptional?”
Kirsten’s wicked smile told the tale. “I came as soon as he stuffed his magnificent

cock inside me.”

They giggled softly.
“What about you?” Kirsten asked. “Was Cantor very angry?”
“Livid.” Martha winced. “I’m not likely to sit comfortably for a week.”
“He spanked you?” Martha’s voice rose in outrage, drawing the amused glances of

the men nearest them.

“Akron didn’t?”

Delilah Devlin

“Oh no! I think he might have wanted to initially, but as soon as he had me pinned

to the ground he pushed my pants down and took me.” Kirsten sighed. “Of course, I

made sure that battle lasted a long time. Did Cantor hurt you?”

Martha blushed and looked away. “I never would have guessed I’d like it quite so

much.”

“You have a dark side, Martha. Does Cantor know you loved it?”
“It’s not something I could hide!” She blushed remembering her juices smeared on

his palm.

“What’s with the restraint?” Kirsten asked, indicating at Martha’s bound hands.
“Part of my punishment.”
“Ahhh. Cantor has you figured out.”
“Indeed, I do.”
Martha glanced up in shock at Cantor who stood in front of her with his hands on

his hips. Just how much had he heard?

Cantor reached for the belt and drew her to her feet. “Time for bed. We’re breaking

camp shortly before dawn.” He nodded to Kirsten. “Keep out of trouble.”

Martha followed Cantor to the far side of the fire and discovered that he’d

unzipped her space blanket and laid it over his open bag. Immediately, her body began

to soften, her hips becoming more pliant, her nipples pebbled and her breast grew

heavier. Cantor didn’t want her out of arm’s reach. Was this protection or a prelude?

He knelt at her feet and removed her boots, one at a time. “When you get beneath

the blanket, strip from the waist down,” he whispered. He flipped back the blanket.

Thank goodness, he was going to soothe her ache—the one between her legs!

Martha knelt awkwardly and lay down on his sleeping bag. Cantor pulled her blanket

over her and turned on his heels to return to the men. She didn’t waste a second,

shimmying out of her pants and pushing them to the bottom of the bag with her toes.

Then she went to work on the buttons of her sweater and shirt, awkwardly opening

them with her bound hands beneath the blanket to rub her nipples on the silky fabric.

The low murmurs of the men from across the fire and the warmth from the blankets

above and below lulled her into a pleasant state of anticipation, her body growing

aroused and moist.

When the crunch of leaves heralded his approach, her body switched into higher

gear. She opened her eyes to see Cantor staring down at her. Without breaking eye

contact, he pulled off his shirt, toed off his boots and lowered himself to slip beneath the

covers.

Martha heard a rustling behind her, and then his hands pulled her body close, her

back to his firm belly and he reached around her and loosened the belt to free her

hands. Then lifting her upper thigh, he slid his cock between both thighs and rubbed

himself in the moisture seeping from her pussy.

Garden of Desire

“Are we really going to do this here? With the others listening?” she asked. She

really didn’t care if he flung the blanket aside and made love to her with the entire

camp standing around them, but she played the game, trembling inside.

“Will you deny me?” he asked, his mouth next to her ear.
“Never. I’ll do whatever you command.”
“Tilt your ass back, baby.”
She did so, and he nudged her with his cock, seeking her pussy. When he was

poised at her dripping lips, he whispered, “Don’t make a sound.” His arms came

around and under her, his hands sliding up her belly to cup her aching mounds.

Martha’s breath caught as his fingers found her nipples and tugged at them,

twisting gently, until she strained back against him, trying to force his penis to enter her

pussy.

His whispered “Quiet now” was all the warning she got. He flexed his hips, driving

into her in a single, sharp thrust.

Martha gasped, but held her breath against the scream.
“That’s it, baby, not a word.” He burrowed into her, coming up with hard thrusts

into her, pounding at her pussy. One hand glided down her belly to slide between her

legs and circle on her clit.

Martha’s gasps were louder now, and she shuddered. She reached behind her to

grab his hip with her left hand, urging him deeper, faster.

Cantors powerful buttocks flexed and he tunneled into her, shafting her with his

large cock. Heat built inside her, friction from his movements aided by a gush of her

desire.

Cantor moaned in her ear. “Baby, come for me. Now.”
“Whatever…you command.” She shuddered, surrendering to his mastery.
His fingers plucked her clitoris, squeezing, vibrating. Martha bit her lip as a scream

strangled in her throat. “Cantor!” Her body spasmed, her hips writhing on his cock as

her orgasm slammed through her body.

Cantor’s hands moved to her hips, steadying them for his assault as he hammered

at her cunt.

She moaned, Cantor’s thrusts pushing gusts of air from her lungs. She was beyond

caring whether the others heard. Her world had narrowed to her pussy and the long,

hot cock that shafted her endlessly. Martha leaned forward to allow him deeper

penetration and promptly fell to pieces.

Cantor grunted in her ear, then his hands clutched her hips in a bruising grip. He

shuddered, his hot cum spurting inside her.

When the last of his spasms ended, Cantor kissed the corner of her neck and

wrapped his arms around her middle. As his spent cock slid out of her she groaned,

missing him already.

Delilah Devlin

“Uh, Cantor?”
“Mmmm?”
“Do you think anyone heard?” she whispered.
“Cantor!” a falsetto voice called out from the other side of the fire.
“Cantor!” “Cantor!”
Cantor’s body shook with his laughter.
Martha turned around and slammed her hands against his chest. “That’s not

funny!”

Cantor deflected her blows, almost helpless with laughter. He rolled to his back,

pulling her over him.

Her legs automatically straddled his body, and her anger came to a screeching halt.

His cock was semi-hard and poking at her pussy.

His smile slid from his face and a look of intense, dark hunger replaced his

merriment. “You’re relentless.”

Martha leaned down to swirl the tips of her breasts in his chest hair. “It’s true. I

want you—all the time. Is it such a bad thing?”

Cantor closed his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She chose to ignore his meaning and whispered, “A little pain makes the pleasure

all the more intense, doesn’t it?” Her hair fell like a curtain around his face, and she

licked at his lips until his tongue came out to play with hers. Martha lifted her hips and

pressed down just far enough to take the head of his sex inside her.

Cantor’s hands closed over her buttocks and he squeezed, pushing her down on his

cock. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? May as well take advantage—while you can.”

Martha felt as though he’d reached into her chest and twisted her heart. “What is it

with you? I only want you happy—not to smother you. I’m even willing to share you.”

Cantor shook his head. “I’m not staying on this planet. I won’t be tied to this place. I

won’t be bound by you.”

With a roll of her hips she eased down to slide her sheathe over him. “I’m not

asking for forever, Cantor. I’m not asking to be your wife. Just take me with you.”

“It’s too dangerous.” One hand lifted and he slapped a buttock.
Martha gasped and rose up, all the way to his tip. “Why can’t you stay? What’s so

alluring about your pirate life?” She slammed her hips down.

“I miss the adventure.”
“You sound like a bored, little boy. Don’t you know you’re smack in the middle of

the greatest adventure of all?” She pushed off his chest and let the blanket drop away

from her shoulders, knowing the other men had only to look across the fire to see her

breasts swaying above him—but this was for him. This might be her last chance to

make him see her. She flung back her head and rolled her hips, rising and lowering on

his cock, faster now.

Garden of Desire

Cantor’s expression remained grim, but his hands claimed her movements, forcing

her faster still.

“You know, she’s in love with you.” She didn’t have to say her name. The instant

softening of his features told her he knew she meant “Violet”.

“I was her first kiss.” His hips lifted, spearing her. “She’ll grow up—find someone

else.”

“You also gave her an orgasm.” She brought her hands to her breasts and caressed

them, pushing them together. “She’s a woman.” I’m your woman, she wanted to

scream.

He snorted. “I know. She’s had her menses since she was ten. Play with your tits for

me, baby.”

Martha smiled and plucked her nipples, tugging them until they rose like hard,

round buttons from the center of her areolas. “I don’t get it. I don’t get you.”

“I can’t be gotten. I’m not staying.”
“Why?” She moved faster, bouncing on his cock.
“Because I’m dying here.” His thighs strained to raise his groin higher. “I want to

go back to pirating.”

“Take us with you,” she said, her breath catching as she ground down, rubbing her

clit on the crisp hairs at the base of his cock.

“No. Not safe.”
“Safe isn’t what I’m looking for. I love you.” Despite the chill in the air, his body,

hot as furnace, caused hers to perspire. She kept moving, grinding and circling her hips

to increase the heat between her cunt and his cock.

“Don’t. This is all there is,” he warned, one hand slipping down her belly to finger

her clit. “All I have to give.”

“You’re wrong. You have everything to give.” Martha abandoned the conversation,

concentrating instead on showing him, gifting him with her love and passion.

* * * * *

The next morning Cantor woke well before dawn. Martha had fallen asleep on top

of him and was shivering, the covers having fallen away. He touched her bottom and

discovered her skin was icy cold.

He pulled the blanket up and turned her to let her take the heat he’d left on the

blanket beneath him. Martha murmured and drove a leg between his and snuggled her

chest against him. But she didn’t wake.

Neither of them had slept much—they had both sensed a farewell in the offing. He

was surprised how much the thought pained him.

Delilah Devlin

Had Martha finally managed to inch into his heart with her relentless pursuit—

much like the spaniel of his childhood?

He looked up at the dark canopy of leaves above him, listened to the sounds of

creatures stirring in the early morning and felt a rebirth, or rather a reawakening of his

spirit.

How could the recycled air of a space cruiser compare to the fresh scent of a forest

or a woman’s musk? How could confinement in a metal-hull offer more freedom than

blazing a trail through a virgin forest?

And speaking of virgins, how could anything be more gratifying than leading a

young woman through her journey of self-discovery?

The two women, the one in his arms and the other waiting in his cabin, offered him

two diverse voyages. Enough of an adventure to sate any pirate’s need for exploration.

Martha stirred and her hair brushed his chin.
It always came back to Martha. Her wide, honest stare stripped away his barriers

and pretensions, leaving him feeling naked and sometimes cruel. Martha made him feel

guilty he wasn’t a better man.

He leaned back to look into her face. Martha was beautiful. She was sunshine and

laughter—and sex. Dark, carnal sex. He remembered her sweet ass lifting to meet his

hand, as she lay draped over his thighs. Her moist response to his lesson. She’d

surprised him. Just like the day she picked his lock and snuck beneath the covers to

blow his cock and mind.

The woman was adventure with a capital “A”.
Cantor wanted to wake her and tell her, but the feeling was too new. And he had a

lot to think about. He kissed her forehead and hugged her close to his body.

Martha giggled, her eyes still closed. “You woke up in a good mood,” she said,

brushing her thigh against his arousal.

“We haven’t time for that. Besides, the men have heard quite enough of your

excitement,” he said grumpily. “They’re probably ready to hump a tree this morning.

How’s your ass?”

“Don’t remind me. I’m a little stiff today.”
“I’m a lot.”
Her eyes opened and she looked a little unsure. “You’re teasing me.”
“Is that against the rules?”
“Don’t go changing on me now. I don’t want to like you too much.”
Cantor kissed her mouth, trying to tell her with his tenderness everything would be

all right. When he lifted his head he smiled at her bemused expression. “Now, find your

pants. The men have already seen as much of you as I’m willing to share.”

“What do you care? Soon, you’ll leave me, and I’ll have to show some other man a

whole lot more than my flabby ass,” she grumbled.

Garden of Desire

He grabbed both cheeks in his hands, making her squeal. “For now, it’s mine.”
“Your hands are cold!” she said, reaching behind her to push him away.
He held firm. “Then warm them.”
Martha leaned back and looked into his face. “You seem different today.”
“Today, I face a dragon.”
Her smile warmed his heart. “Before I put my pants on, I’d like to wash. Can I

borrow your canteen?”

“Sure, but wrap the blanket around you, when you leave.”
She pulled the blanket with her as she stood and uncovered the breeches she’d

worn the previous day. Flipping them over her shoulder she held out her hand for the

canteen he pulled from his pack.

“Here’s a cloth, too.” He handed it to her, laying back on his sleeping bag to watch

her walk away.

“About time you gave that woman some peace,” Darak said.
Cantor looked over his shoulder to watch his friend approach.
His friend wore a crooked grin on his face. “I’m surprised she can still walk.”
With the sun breaking through the leaves overhead, Cantor felt too relaxed to rise

to Darak’s teasing. “She’s a strong woman.”

“So we noticed—among other things. She has a fine, strong body. Broad hips that

will bear children easily, and breasts to feed an entire crew of little pirates.”

Cantor smiled at the thought.
“The men are wondering when you’re going to cut her loose. Several of them are

thinking of courting her.”

Cantor’s good mood evaporated. “She’s not available.”
“Not yet, hmm? Don’t blame you.” The corners of Darak’s mouth turned up. “Cold,

is it?”

Cantor followed his gaze down and realized his cock still rested outside his trousers

and quickly tucked it into his pants.

Darak’s laughter rang loudly in the stillness, bringing curses from the rest of the

men stirring in their blankets.

“I’d better see what’s keeping Martha,” he muttered, stuffing his feet into his boots.
Darak laughed harder. “I thought we were hunting dragons not pussycats.”
Cantor threw his pack at Darak and stalked off in the direction he’d seen Martha

leave. Once he entered the forest, he realized she’d taken a long time. He picked up his

pace, worried now that Martha might be in trouble or had lost her way.

“Martha!” he called out. He heard water burbling nearby and followed the sound to

a pool with steam rising off its surface. Black rocks rimmed the pool and the water

Delilah Devlin

smelled of sulfur. There beside the water, he found the blanket with Martha’s clothing

piled on top, but no sign of her. “Martha!”

“Cantor!” she shouted back, the sound strangely muffled.
He tore off his clothes and waded into the water, then swam in the direction of her

shout past an outcropping. He rounded the corner and saw Martha, naked, kneeling on

a ledge at the mouth of a large cave. As he drew near, he noticed a foul odor that came

from within the cave.

“Sweetheart,” he said, keeping his voice low, “get off that ledge, now.”
Martha looked back at him. “There’s something inside, I heard a scratching sound.”
“Get off the ledge,” he repeated, his heart in his throat. “Swim back to me.”
Martha’s gaze said she didn’t understand, but she backed off the ledge and sank

into the water. Cantor waited until she was near, then whispered, “Get back to the

camp and tell the men to bring their weapons.”

Reading the urgency in his voice, her eyes rounded. She swam back with him

shadowing his movements. At the edge of the pool, they dressed quickly.

“Do you think it’s one of the creatures?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I smelled a rotting carcass. Now get back to camp.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I’ll wait for the others here. You and Kirsten stay behind.”
Martha nodded and hurried away.
Cantor knelt behind a tree to keep watch. They must be nearer to the foot of the

mountain than he’d thought. And the dragons must be able to move in the forest with

greater ease than he’d hoped.

Garden of Desire

Chapter Ten

The men gathered at the edge of the pool. The sunlight, filtering through the leaves

above, reflected on its dark, burbling surface. The pool looked like a giant, heated

cauldron.

“Ivan, do you think the creature can be immobilized with an electro-stun?” Cantor

asked, turning back to the men.

“I’d set the charge to level two to be on the safe side,” he replied.
“Immobilized?” Akron asked. “Why not kill it?”
“We don’t understand what the creature is yet, or how it interacts with this

environment,” Cantor said. “Let’s take a little time to study it before we act rashly.”

“Cantor’s right,” Ivan said. “If we can immobilize it, I can take tissue samples back

for analysis. We should go into the cave so we can also look around its home for clues

to its behavior.”

“We’re goin’ in the cave?” Akron’s face twisted with disgust. “Did ya not get a

whiff?”

“Look, this isn’t a democracy. The Captain left Cantor in charge,” Darak said. “We

don’t have to kill it, today.”

Akron grimaced. “So what’s the plan? And who’s goin’ in the cave?”
“Since you haven’t the stomach, I will,” Cantor said. “I’ll crawl up near the mouth

and draw it out. Akron, you and Darak will hit it with the electro-stuns as soon as it

clears the cave.”

“And if it doesn’t come out?” Akron asked.
“We play it by ear.”
“Take these,” Ivan said, handing him several phospher-flashes.
Cantor clipped the small explosives to his belt. The grenades produced more light

than explosion, but they might give him an advantage in a tight spot. “Let’s move in.

And keep the noise down. We don’t want it waking up before we’re in place.”

The men split into two groups, circling the pond from opposite directions. Cantor’s

heart raced, a familiar adrenaline rush buzzing in his head. When they neared the

mouth of the cave, he signaled to the men behind him and the ones assembled on the

opposite side of the gaping black hole.

“Jesus!” Akron gagged and reached for the bandana he’d tied around his neck for

this mission. He slipped the edge of it over his nose and mouth, but his eyes still

watered.

Delilah Devlin

Cantor shared a grin with Darak. The smell would gag a maggot, but Cantor

pushed aside the discomfort. He couldn’t afford to mask any one of his senses where he

was going.

He donned a pair of infrared glasses and crept quietly into the cave. Through the

lenses, the things lurking in the shadows were revealed in shades of gray and black.

Water glistened on the walls, dripping into a hollow near the entrance, forming a

shallow pool within the cave. Forest debris was piled at the edge of the pool, looking

crushed, as if something very large had lain atop a bed of leaves. But there was no sign

of any animal, alive or rotting.

The cave was deeper than he had first supposed, and although every hair lifting on

the back of his neck told him not to venture deeper, he resisted the urge to back away.

He’d never backed away from a challenge in his life.

Footsteps behind him told him his men weren’t letting him go in alone. He was

glad they covered his back. As he neared what he’d first thought was the back of the

cave, he found a narrow tunnel, large enough for two men to walk through, shoulder to

shoulder. Wind whistled through the tunnel, carrying a stronger stench with it.

He stepped inside, signaling to the men behind him to follow. The tunnel was long

and dipped toward the end, the floor growing wetter and slimier with moss. He was

careful to find firm footholds as he climbed down lest he slip.

Finally, the tunnel opened into a larger room and he peered out, trying to discern

shapes in the dim, cavernous interior as his men gathered behind him.

“Fucking hell,” Darak whispered.
Before them stretched a naturally formed cave of black, igneous rock, its walls,

shiny as black glass. The floor looked as though a child had tossed pebbles onto its

surface as the volcanic rock cooled to form a thousand circles of graduating rings.

“There!” Akron whispered, touching Cantor’s shoulder and then pointing to

something at the far end of the cave.

Something dark and unreflective huddled on the floor like a great, coiled snake.
“If our weapons don’t take him down, we’ll have hell trying to evade him,” Darak

murmured.

“There’s no light in here,” Cantor said. “His night vision has to be as good, if not

better, than ours with our glasses. I say, we light the place up and see what happens.”

He glanced at the men behind him and knew they were with him. Every last one

grinned, their teeth gleaming.

“I’m going in closer. Fan out to the left and right of me.”
Cantor lowered himself to the floor of the inner cave and moved stealthily toward

the creature, which appeared to be sleeping. He unhooked the first phospher grenade

and pulled the pin, holding the lever down with his thumb to keep it from exploding in

his hand.

Garden of Desire

The nearer he crept, he was better able to discern the form of the creature. Its large,

muscled haunches curved into feet with long, sharp talons. Crenellated spikes ran

down the center of its back. Its long curved neck ended in a head with a wide jaw and a

spiny plate on its forehead. He found the placement of its eyes when they opened and

the pupils dilated to black horizontal slits.

“Oh shit!”
The creature lunged to its hind legs, stretching above him to its full height,

spreading thick-skinned wings. Cantor had found his dragon.

He tossed the first grenade at its feet and threw himself to the side as the creature

blew a burst of noxious flame his way. Cantor rolled in the slippery moss to put out the

fire that caught his sleeve, and then came to his feet quickly, tipping the latch on his

lenses to lose the infrared.

The phospher-flash burned brightly, illuminating the cave. As Cantor had assumed,

the creature was temporarily blinded by the bright light and confused by the sounds

made by the rush of many feet as his men surrounded it.

The dragon roared, a grating hissing sound, and used its long neck to reach out to

snap in the direction of the sounds, baring two rows of razor-sharp teeth. His men

shouted at it, the sound echoing on the walls, and the dragon flung another ball of fire

into the midst of the group, narrowly missing Darak.

“Hit him with the guns!” Cantor shouted, tossing a second grenade at the creature’s

feet.

The burst and the blaze of light enraged it further and it flapped its wings, lifting

off the floor, flying blindly in the direction of the tunnel. Cantor and his men ran after it,

shooting laser-guided charges at the fleeing creature.

One charge, then a second, found their mark and the dragon halted in mid-air,

flapping clumsily before falling to the floor in a heap.

The men approached the creature cautiously, looking for any sign it could still

attack. When Cantor reached it, he kicked its scaly hide. The creature didn’t move.

“Is it still alive?” Cantor asked Ivan who had moved toward its head.
Ivan looked up. “It’s still respirating. Let’s be quick.”
Cantor pointed at Akron and two others in the team. “Take a look around. Make

sure there’s not more we haven’t found. Darak,” he said, looking around for his friend,

finding him on the other side of the creature’s body. “Have your guns ready if it stirs.”

Cantor knelt beside Ivan to open the creature’s mouth while Ivan shoved a long

probe down its throat.

“We’ll take swabs,” Ivan said, working quickly. “I’d like to figure out how it makes

fire.”

When he removed the probe, he packed away the samples, and then he pulled out a

pocketknife. He cut a piece off of one of the spikes on its back then walked to the rear of

the creature holding a portable sonograph above the dragon’s abdomen. “Its sexual

Delilah Devlin

organs are here,” he said, and laid aside the device to pry at a scaly opening near its

tale.

Again the probe was inserted and Cantor winced at the depth Ivan shoved it inside.

This time he attached a hand-held monitor to the end of the probe to see inside the

creature.

Ivan looked up and grinned. “He’s a she.”
“Don’t let Akron see you poking the dragon,” Darak drawled. “He’s already

sensitive about his sheep. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

* * * * *

The hunting party strode down the path toward the settlement like conquering

heroes. Those tending the herds ran back to the longhouses to alert the rest of the

colonists they had all returned safely and a large crowd greeted them at the bridge.

In the center of the crowd was a tall dark-haired man, whom Martha recognized

immediately as Captain Adamarik Zingh. At his side, Evena, the former Cell-block

Captain of the New Attica, and new wife to the Captain, beamed at Martha.

Evena rushed to her and gave her a fierce hug. “You played a very naughty trick.”

She leaned back and gave her a wicked smile. “Was it worth it?”

Martha blinked at tears that quickly filled her eyes. “I was a fool to think I could

entice him to stay. Now that The Raptor is back, he’ll be leaving.”

Evena gave her shoulders another hug. “Let’s see how things fall. These pirates are

tough nuts to crack.” She looked over at Adam, her heart in her gaze. “When they do

fall they crash like mighty oaks. In the meantime, Cookie’s taken over the kitchen. He’s

breaking out kegs of ale for a celebration.”

“Great. I’ll drown my sorrows.”
“Oh, by the way,” Evena said. “I’d steer clear of Mary for a little while. She’s

pissed.”

Martha smiled half-heartedly. “I could use a good ass-kicking,” she muttered. It

might take her mind off the pain in her chest.

She glanced back at Cantor, now surrounded by men eager to hear the tale of their

adventure. Then she caught sight of Fahgwat, hovering at the sidelines. The girl slid

through an opening in the crowd, striding hesitantly toward Cantor. He looked up at

her approach and smiled in welcome, opening his arms. Fahgwat flew to him and he

lifted her high, laughing.

Martha’s heart broke. Tears streamed down her face and she turned, running back

into the woods, needing to get away where she could cry her heart out alone.

She’d gambled and lost. Cantor would never be hers. He’d take to the skies with

Fahgwat, and Martha would be left behind to find another to fill the void in her heart.

Garden of Desire

Martha wandered blindly, sobbing, until her legs grew weak. She leaned against a

tree and slid to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Hands settled on her shoulders, and Martha scraped at the tears on her face before

looking up to see who’d followed her. Cantor and Fahgwat knelt beside her, concern

etched in their features.

“Sweetheart, come here,” Cantor said, gently pulling her into his arms.
“No, leave me alone, please,” she said, her shoulders shaking again with a fresh

round of sobs. His strong arms felt so good, so safe. But that was an illusion. She shoved

at his chest, pushing him away. “Don’t be kind to me. The last thing I want is your pity.

Just leave me alone.”

“Not until you tell me what brought this on,” he said.
“Go away!” she wailed.
“Martha, you gave me a promise,” he said, his voice stern.
“What?”
“You promised to obey me, whatever my command.”
“That was when I wanted you to fuck me,” she said with a sniff. “You’re leaving

now, you can’t hold me to that promise.”

“But I will.”
Martha wiped at the tears again and lifted her chin, angry now at his insensitivity.

“You’re a bastard, Cantor Marlowe.”

“Tell me, Martha.”
“All right!” She scowled at him and folded her arms over her chest. “The Captain’s

back and you’re finally getting your wish. So good riddance!”

“What’s my wish, love?” A little smile curved one corner of his lips.
How dare he laugh at her pain! “To leave! To go back to being a pirate. Adam’s

here, you’re free, now.”

“I am free. He’s agreed to take over the reins as Governor to our colony.”
“Good for you. Have a good life. Now, leave me alone.”
“But Martha,” Fahgwat said, her face white with concern. “Cantor is—”
“No, Violet.” Cantor held up his hand. “Let’s hear her out.” He turned back to

Martha. “Why does this make you sad?”

Martha looked at him like he was crazy. “Because you’re leaving me. Taking her. By

the way, her name’s not Violet,” she said nastily.

“No?” He looked at Fahgwat. “Why did you lie to me?”
Fahgwat’s face crumpled. “Because my name’s ugly!” she wailed.
Cantor threw up his hands. “Now, don’t you start the waterworks, too! One’s more

than I can handle.”

Delilah Devlin

“Well that won’t be your problem for much longer, will it?” Martha said, gratified

he wasn’t laughing anymore.

“This is all your fault,” he said, irritation in his tone. “You’ve made her cry.”
“You make me cry!”
“For fuck sake! Enough!” he shouted.
Both women stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.
Cantor gritted his teeth and rose to his feet. He reached down and grabbed both

women by an arm and hauled them to their feet. “You’re coming with me.”

“Now see here,” Martha said, fighting his grasp as he forced them down the path.

“You don’t have any claim on me. You said it yourself. You won’t be bound by me—

and you’re not the governor anymore. You have no power over me.”

“Shut up, Martha!”
Martha let anger wash over her in a red tide. “Oooh! Oaf! Pig! You let me go!”
They broke into the clearing and the crowd still gathered at the bridge turned

toward them.

“Hey Cantor!” Darak yelled up to them. “Are you cutting her loose?”
“Fuck off, Darak!”
Laughter from the crowd shot Martha’s anger up another notch. She pulled back

again and aimed a kick at his ankles.

In a dizzying move, Cantor grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet,

then turned and did the same with Fahgwat.

“Bastard! Put me down!”
Cantor took off across the field toward the path leading to his cabin, carrying both

women on his hips, laughter and shouted suggestions following them up the hill.

Cantor turned back to the crowd in a move that made Martha’s head swirl. “I think

I can manage quite well alone. Get lost!”

“How are you going to get them through the door?” Akron asked.
“Will you be needing a stick to beat her?” Nicky shouted.
“She prefers his hand!” Akron shouted back.
“Oooh! You’re going to regret this Cantor Marlowe,” Martha screeched, and flailed

her legs striking nothing but air.

“I don’t think so, love,” Cantor said. “I have you right where I want you.”
The cabin loomed in front of them and Martha wriggled desperately to free herself.

Cantor didn’t stop. He lifted his leg and kicked the door open, carrying the women in

sideways. He tossed them onto the bed.

Then he went back to the door and closed it against the crowd outside his door,

latching it shut. He leaned back against it and looked at the women, scurrying to the

side of the bed. “Now, we’re going to finish that conversation.”

Chapter Eleven

Cantor blew out a breath and forced himself to relax. His first thought had been to

take Martha straight to the bed and love her until she begged for release. He could get

her there, he knew, where she’d deny him nothing—give him everything.

He’d left it too long. He should have told her that morning he loved her.
But now she sat on the bed, her face mutinous and red. He much preferred her

anger to her tears. Seeing her defeated, crumpled on the forest floor, a pain had gripped

his heart.

Now, how would he bring her round where they were both victors—because

winning was important to Martha. She’d been relentless in her quest, stubbornly so. A

quality he loved and recognized in himself.

Cantor reached for the buttons on his shirt and opened them, deliberately, slowly.
“Now, you can just forget about that,” she said, her frown pursing her luscious lips.

“What do you think this is? One for the road?”

Cantor heard her inward anguish beneath the bravado. He pulled off his shirt,

satisfied when her gaze swept over his bare chest and hers rose swiftly on a gasp. His

hands unbuckled his belt and he drew it from the loops.

Martha watched the belt and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. By God, he’d

have that tongue on his balls before the night was through. He kicked off his boots and

flung them across the room, causing both women to jump and eye him nervously.

When his hands went to the placket of his breeches, Martha stood. “I don’t want

this, Cantor,” she said, her voice firm. But her mouth trembled.

“Yes, you do, love.” He opened his pants and slid them down his legs, tossing them

across the room as well.

“Stop calling me that. It’s a lie!” Her eyes remained stubbornly on his face, and her

hands fisted at her sides. She was almost angry enough to let loose on him.

“Are you defying me, Martha?”
“Yes! You haven’t the right to command me.”
“Tsk, tsk.” He bent to retrieve the belt from the floor and held it in front of him with

both hands.

“Oh no, you’re not,” she said, burning anger bordering on hatred in her gaze.
“Stop me.”
She flew at him. “Bastard! Liar!” she yelled, hitting him with her closed fists on his

chest and shoulders.

Cantor dropped the belt and opened his arms, taking her blows.

“Fight me!” she screeched, hitting him until her tears flowed freely. “Fight me,” she

cried, then wrapped her arms around herself and backed away.

Cantor didn’t let her take more than a step away from him. He lifted her and

carried her to the bed, laying her gently and coming down on top of her, his hands

cupping her face tenderly. “Shhh.” He kissed her lips, her chin, her nose. “Stop crying,

love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, her mouth twisting, her hands pushing him back.
He refused to be budged. “Why, baby? It’s true. I love you.” He kissed her open

lips, knowing she didn’t believe him.

Martha blinked, her sobs slowing to hiccoughs. “What did you say?” she

whispered.

“I love you, Martha the Relentless,” he said, trying to coax a smile from her lips.
“You’re not just saying that?”
Cantor shook his head. “When do I ever say anything just to spare someone’s

feelings?”

“Never.” Her fingers spread out on his shoulders and she clutched him. “Does this

mean you’re taking me with you, too?”

“No.” Her eyes filled again and he quickly added, “I’m staying right here.”
“But your dream?”
“I was a coward, Martha. I haven’t wanted to let anyone close to me. Didn’t want to

love anyone. I was afraid.”

“But why?”
“When my father lost his farm, he moved to an apartment in Adelaide and willed

himself to die. He didn’t care enough to stay with me. I loved him, but he didn’t love

me enough to stay.”

Martha reached for his face, her palms cupping his cheeks. “You love me enough to

stay?”

“Do you? With me?”
“Oh yes!” she cried, raising her head to kiss his mouth.
Their tongues mated, promises exchanged. Cantor slid his lips over hers branding

hers with his touch. When he finally lifted his head, she smiled at him.

“You’re naked, Cantor. And I have too many clothes.”
“So does Fahgwat,” he murmured.
They turned to the girl who sat grinning beside them.
“You know her name?” Martha asked.
“Of course,” he said.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Fahgwat is a woman, she has the right to choose her own name. But I happen to

like hers. Fahgwati are pretty flowers that bloom in the harshest conditions. They’re

strong and tenacious and beautiful. Just like her.”

Fahgwat blushed. “Then I am Fahgwat, for you.” She turned to Martha. “I tried to

tell you in the forest he was staying with us.”

“Cantor,” Martha said, her expression serious again, “I don’t want you to give

anything up for me. For us. What will you do now that you are no longer the

governor?”

“I have a new post. While Darak sees to our defenses against the dragons, I am in

charge of exploration. Adam brought a new skycraft so that our hunting won’t be quite

as strenuous the next time.”

“You’ll have your adventure.”
“And I’ll have you. What more could a man want?”
“Do you want to be alone?” Fahgwat asked. “I do not mind.”
Cantor kept his gaze on Martha, who was first in his heart. This was her choice to

make.

Martha’s eyes warmed as she looked over at the younger woman. “I promised you

he’d teach you a woman’s pleasure. Cantor’s a lot of man, Fahgwat. We can share him.”

Fahgwat’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Will he take me, finally? I am dying for the

ultimate pleasure.”

Martha’s smile grew wider. “Soon. First, I’ll show you how to masturbate.”
“Oh please, yes! Pingat told me I can never be an adequate lover until I understand

what excites my own body.”

Martha laughed and slanted him a wicked sideways glance, promising sweet

tortures to come.

Cantor’s whole body hummed with anticipation of the pleasures he would know

watching his women love each other.

* * * * *

The interior of the cabin was aglow with the light from every phospher-pot Cantor

could put his hands on for the occasion, and Martha’s talented mouth had taken the

edge off his hunger. He was ready for a leisurely initiation of Fahgwat’s nubile body.

“Are you sure this is what you want,” he asked, as his hands guided her slim hips

over his cock.

“Yes, Can-torr, I am ready.” She reached out her hands and laid one against his

chest for support and threaded her fingers with Martha’s as she lowered her body onto

his.

“You can take me slowly,” he reminded her.
“If I take this any slower, I will die. You both have prepared me well, now be quiet

while I concentrate.”

Cantor bit back a smile and shared a warm glance with Martha. Fahgwat had

certainly come out of her shell the past few days. Her modesty had quickly been

discarded once she’d embraced the passionate loving Martha and Cantor had lavished

on her.

Fahgwat slid down his cock, inch by excruciating inch, the hot channel of her sex

enveloping him in moist heat.

Cantor prayed for restraint when he felt the thin membrane butt against the head of

his cock.

“It hurts,” she said, her face screwing tight.
“Back off a little, baby,” Cantor said.
“Let me help.” Martha leaned over and latched onto Fahgwat’s nipples with her

mouth and hand, her head circling, her fingers rolling the tiny, pebbled point between

her fingers.

Deep within Fahgwat’s body, Cantor felt the first telltale trembling that heralded

her growing arousal.

Fahgwat had certainly shown a penchant for Martha’s loving.
Cantor had spent hours watching Martha instruct the girl in the finer art of

masturbation, even knowing the women did it to inflame his desire.

Sometimes, they loved each other while he watched. Martha would suckle the girl’s

breasts, nearly to the point of orgasm, then send her over the edge when her skilled

tongue plied the girl’s pussy. Her time aboard the New Attica had prepared her well for

the role of teacher and older sister.

Cantor loved to watch the women, loved watching Martha now as her clever

fingers worked on Fahgwat’s clit.

Cantor slid his fingers between Martha’s legs and slipped them into her pussy.

Martha gasped, then wriggled her lush ass to take him deeper.

Fahgwat’s eyes closed and her legs trembled as she slowly slid down his pole,

gasping as thin membrane of her virginity gave way. When she was fully seated, his

cock so deep he touched her womb, she opened her eyes and smiled.

“I am a woman, now,” she said.
Martha released the breast in her mouth and looked back at Cantor. “She is

indeed.”

Cantor’s body shuddered and Fahgwat’s eyes grew round. “I should move now,

yes?”

“Yes!” he said, then added for her benefit, “if it doesn’t hurt too much.” She was

killing him.

Fahgwat lifted on a long indrawn breath, then slid down again, circling her hips a

little. “I like this, Can-torr.”

“Whatever you do, don’t say my name,” he pleaded.
Martha giggled and wagged her tail. “Concentrate, Cantor. You’re leaving me

behind.”

“Impossible, you’re always a step in front of me, little thief.” He groaned when

Fahgwat bounced faster, her little breasts shivering with her movements. He fisted his

hand and held it against Martha’s pussy—giving her the choice.

“Mmmm. Cram it into me, baby.”
Cantor worked his fist into her velvety channel. With Fahgwat bouncing on his cock

and Martha twisting on his hand, his whole world was immersed in fragrant, creamy

love.

“Can-torr!” Fahgwat cried out, her hands squeezing her breasts.
“I warned you, love,” Cantor drove his hips upward, spearing her, taking her,

finally, over the edge—himself along with her.

“Yes!” Martha screamed, pumping her hips, her convulsing vagina making sucking

sounds around his fist.

Fahgwat’s orgasm exploded through her body and she writhed on his cock,

shuddering as she spasmed, milking his sex.

When the sweet violence of their fucking ended, Cantor gathered his two women

close, planting kisses on first one upturned mouth then the other.

“What will you teach me next?” Fahgwat asked, already recovering her enthusiasm.
Martha laughed, tucking her face into the corner of his shoulder.
“Madam, you’ve created a monster.”
Martha’s hand caressed his spent cock. “Perhaps, we could introduce her to the joys

of spanking.”

Cantor held his breath. How had he ever thought he’d be bored? He smoothed his

hand over Martha’s ass and slipped a finger in the crease. “Or maybe backdoor sex?”

Martha shivered deliciously. “Do you know what the women have chosen as the

name for our planet?”

“Adam said you all could name it. You’ve kept us men totally in the dark with your

secret ballots.”

Martha rose above him to look down into his face. “It’s Desire. You pirates have

given us our hearts’ desire.”

Cantor felt his heart expand. “It fits. It’s perfect.” He threaded his fingers through

her hair and pulled her down, fitting his lips to hers.

The women were wrong.
They’d fought, plotted, and seduced, and finally given the pirates what they hadn’t

known they sought—love.

About Delilah Devlin

Delilah Devlin dated a Samoan, a Venezuelan, a Turk, a Cuban and was engaged to

a Greek before marrying her Irishman. She’s lived in Saudi Arabia, Germany and

Ireland, but calls Texas home for now. Ever a risk taker, she lived in the Saudi Peninsula

during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders and

survived her children’s juvenile delinquencies.

Creating alter egos for herself in the pages of her books enables her to live new

adventures. Since discovering the sinful pleasure of erotica, she writes to satisfy her

need for variety—it keeps her from running away with the Indian working in the

cubicle beside her!

In addition to writing erotica, she enjoys creating romantic comedies and suspense

novels.

Delilah welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

addresses on her

author bio page

www.ellorascave.com

Tell Us What You Think

We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email

the author

directly or you can email us at

Service@ellorascave.com

(when contacting Customer

Service, be sure to state the book title and author).

Also by

Delilah Devlin

1-800-DOM-help: Begging for It

Altered States 4: Unleashing the Tiger

Arctic Dragon

Bitten in the Big Easy

anthology

Charmed in the Big Easy

anthology

Desire 2: Slave of Desire

Desire 3: Prisoner of Desire

Ellora’s Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile I

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails III

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction I

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple III

anthology

Frannie ‘n’ the Private Dick

Fun With Dick and Jayne

with Myla Jackson

My Immortal Knight: A Long Howl Good Night

My Immortal Knight: First Knight

My Immortal Knight 1: All Hallows Heartbreaker

My Immortal Knight 2: Love Bites

My Immortal Knight 3: All Knight Long

My Immortal Knight 4: Relentless

My Immortal Knight 5: Uncovering Navarro

My Immortal Knight 6: Silver Bullet

My Immortal Knight 7: Knight of My Dreams

My Immortal Knight 8: My Sweet Succubus

Raw Silk

Red Stilettos 4: Bad, Bad Girlfriend

Print books by Delilah Devlin

Altered States

anthology

Desire 2 & 3: Pirate’s Desire

Dial B for Bondage

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile I

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails III

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction I

anthology

Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple III

anthology

Fated Mates

anthology

Feral Fixation

anthology

Jacq’s Warlord

with Myla Jackson

My Immortal Knight 1 & 2: Twice Bitten

My Immortal Knight 3 & 4: Endless Knight

My Immortal Knight 5 & 6: Silver Shadow

Red Stilettos

anthology

Running Wild

anthology

Un, Deux, Trois, Menage!

Veiled Alliance

White Hot Holidays Volume 3

anthology

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Garden of Desire

ISBN 9781843607892

Edited by Briana St. James

Cover design by Perry

Photo: Dreamstime.com

Electronic book publication February 2004

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in

part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,

Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of

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editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your

support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or

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Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning

publisher Ellora’s Cave. Be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com to find

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Document Outline

Garden of Desire
Garden of Desire
- Chapter One
- * * * * *
- Chapter Two
- * * * * *
- * * * * *
- Chapter Three
- * * * * *
- Chapter Four
- * * * * *
- Chapter Five
- * * * * *
- Chapter Six
- * * * * *
- * * * * *
- Chapter Seven
- * * * * *
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- * * * * *
- Chapter Ten
- * * * * *
- Chapter Eleven
- * * * * *

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