11. Jaxcen

Chapter eleven

Jaxcen

A loud gasp escapes me which turns into a strangled moan when Devon buries his head between my legs and starts pashing my pussy.

Yes, he actually pashes it. Like a full on make out session, and I swear, oh boy do I swear, I see stars.

I can’t look away from the sight, not just because he’s on his knees before me, something I didn’t think I’d ever see Devon Marx do, but because it’s all just so… filthy.

His hot lips nibble, nip and suck at me, while his tongue flicks, glides, and dives inside the place aching to be filled.

I have no choice but to give in, heat igniting my entire body from head to toe as I tug on my wrist, needing it free so I can lean back and give him better access.

Getting my silent meaning, Devon releases my wrist, and I brace my hands back against his desk top while his grip shifts to my hips, holding me in place.

Oh wow. The feel of his hot tongue gliding over my most intimate flesh feels unlike anything I’ve felt before. I’ve seen this happen in the adult movies I watch, and at Cloud 9, but I’ve never experienced it personally until now.

I don’t have much hands-on experience when it comes to sex, but I already know this has to be my favourite thing ever.

EVER!

My heart thrashes wildly in my chest as I pant and cry out, and I can’t even tell how loud I’m being but I don’t particularly care right now.

All I know is if he stops, I’ll commit murder.

“Yes.” I moan, my hips shifting as they work of their own accord to chase this building ache deep inside me before I start grinding against his face.

Yes, I’m actually grinding. That’s the only way I can explain it. The need inside digging its claws in and taking over, possessing me like a dark and sinister demon inside me has awoken from thousands of years of sleep.

And now it’s hungry.

So, so hungry.

A scream rips from my throat as I explode, a rush of cold tingles sweeping up my legs, and over my hips, and all the way up to my head as my core pulses with the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

I collapse on the desk top, my arms giving way, no longer able to support me, while my hearing floats in and out as I go languid.

My body must be numb, because I don’t even feel Devon shift from between my legs before he appears in my line of sight, hovering over me.

“You doing okay, little mouse?”

“I… ah…” I shrug. I think. I still can’t feel anything.

Devon chuckles. “So what do you think?”

“About?” I whisper, my lids blinking rapidly as the surrounding sounds start to creep back in.

“My kiss.” He smirks, and hell, he could ask me to do anything for him right now, and I think I’d obey without argument.

“I think…” I breathe, a lazy smile tugging at my lips. “I think I like mistletoe.”

Throwing his head back, Devon laughs, its deep rich tone seeping into my chest and settling there like a comfortable weighted blanket.

Scooping his hands under my back, Devon helps me to sit up, and it takes a moment for my lightheadedness to fade away. He eyes me with that damn shit-eating grin he wears so well, before taking a tissue from his desk and dabbing at the mess I made on his chin.

And there’s my cheeks, on fire once again.

“Sorry,” I whisper, and he shakes his head.

“Don’t ever apologise for taking what you need and leaving a mess behind. Own that shit.” He insists, but all I feel is embarrassed.

I can’t imagine Eddie ever wanting to do that . He’d tell me it’s dirty filth. Depraved. That I should be ashamed to even consider doing it. To ask him to do that.

I kind of hate him right now.

Why is it so bad to want to do these things if they feel so good?

I guess heroin makes people feel good too, doesn’t it. But sex isn’t illegal.

It’s natural.

Isn’t it?

It felt natural. My body felt like it would die if Devon stopped. Even now, I feel swollen between my legs but it doesn’t feel bad. And hell, I kind of feel like I want more.

Eyeing Devon, my gaze travels down his black tee and how it hugs his impeccably sculpted chest and abs, to settle on the hard bulge hiding in his pants.

He jerks his hips forward and laughs when I flinch back and start blinking, embarrassed that he caught me staring.

“See something you like?”

“I-ah.” Getting tongue tied, I take a deep breath, lick my lips, and try again, gesturing my head to his crotch. “Should I?” I can’t say the words out loud, because I’m a wimp, but I point to his crotch just in case he isn’t picking up my brand of awkwardness, hoping he’ll catch on.

“You want to kiss my cock, Jaxcen?”

Do I?

Hell, the idea has a small ache beginning to build between my legs again, so I guess I do, but I shrug, because admitting that is just too much right now.

“Hmmm. Lying to me once again I see,” he mutters, taking a step back. “It’s okay, little mouse. The fact that you want to suck my cock like a lollipop will remain our little secret for now, because I’m pretty sure you’re not ready to handle it.”

Turning his back on me, he moves to the door, leaving me sprawled on his desk with my dress bunched around my waist.

“Wait!” I screech, and he turns back, a smirk already present. “I need my underwear.”

“Oh, you mean these?” He holds up the mauve fabric, the lace dangling from his finger, and I quickly shuffle off his desk, nodding. “Nope,” he says, and tucks them into his pocket.

“Stop. I need them,” I protest, but then he’s turning and swinging the door open wide, stepping out into the bar with my panties in his pocket.

Chasing after him, as I enter the bar again, I come to a stop as I notice several sets of eyes on me, as Devon starts to chat quietly with the bartender.

What are they staring at?

Glancing down at myself, I make sure my dress is in place and I’m not unknowingly flashing everyone, feeling naked without fabric covering my bits underneath.

Can they tell what we were just doing in Devon’s office?

The thought has me glancing up again, to see one man smirking into his beer.

Oh. My…

They all totally heard me, didn’t they?

Heat engulfs my cheeks once again, and I wonder if someone can get sunburnt from the inside out.

Is that a thing?

I kind of want it to be a thing right now, because self combusting and turning to ash sounds a helluva lot better than knowing these people heard me… Oh god, they heard me have an orgasm.

It’s more than obvious these people know exactly what just happened in Devon’s office. Well, maybe all but the couple sitting at the end of the bar, their expressions solemn as they stare into their drinks.

“Jaxcen,” Devon calls, turning his dark gaze to me. “This is Ronnie. He’s your man if you’re thirsty, but he doesn’t make those fruity cocktails. If you want one of those, Miss Barber serves them at her house on Friday and Sunday afternoons. The only payment she expects is a plate of treats.”

I nod, even though I’m not sure why I need to know that because I’m not staying.

Then it hits me once again.

He brought me here against my will.

Kidnapped me.

And now he’s making me into his… his… plaything.

For a moment I feel used, but then I remember that not once has he used my body for his own pleasure. He’s only given it to me.

I’m so confused.

“Come on, love. I’ll show you around.”

Devon starts walking off, and I freak out, feeling the light breeze coming through the door rush up my dress and over the bare flesh between my legs. With both hands pressed to the sides of my thighs, I hurry forward, hoping the damn thing doesn’t blow up.

“Devon!” I whisper yell, catching up to him. “I can’t walk around without panties on.”

He chuckles. “Sure you can.”

“Stop. This isn’t funny.” I complain, as he leads me out to the front porch lining the Palace.

“It is for me.”

I slap his arm which just makes him laugh again at my damn expense and keep walking down the steps and out onto the path.

Oh. My. God. He’s really going to make me walk around without panties on, isn’t he?

Glancing over my shoulder to the large entrance doors, I consider bolting back into the building and up to his suite to get a new pair to put on, but the thought he might catch me and throw me over his shoulder again has me squashing that idea.

My naked coochie will surely be noticeable if he does that.

Dammit.

I concede and follow behind.

As we walk side by side, I keep my dress in my clutches, making sure there’s no chance of it flying up with the breeze.

Devon shows me the convenience store, the bakery, the butcher, and all the little shops that make up a small country town, before leading me up the hill to some of the house lined streets, all of which are decorated with Christmas dressings.

I find myself listening contently as he explains who lives where, the deep timbre of his voice having a calming effect on me that I’m not willing to analyse.

I should probably tell him I’ll never remember all of this, nor will I ever need this information, but he sounds so proud as he speaks. I can also see it in his confident stride and the tone of his voice. This little community means a lot to him.

Once again, most of the residents I notice are females, and the only men in sight are dressed in back vests and armed with weapons, all bar a few older men that were starting their drinking sessions early in the bar, and a middle aged man that ran the butcher’s store.

It’s clear Devon is the king here, and this is his Palace.

I don’t want to even think it’s possible, but I’m pretty sure these women are his.

Like he owns them, or they are his wives or something. They look at him with such respect and admiration, which really doesn’t match up to the cocky asshat I met in the church.

Did he kidnap them all like he did me and their admiration is some sort of stockholm thing? Did he groom them into loving him? Did he bring them blinding pleasure too? Is that how he weaves his web?

Am I trapped here forever?

The thought has my heart sinking and my mood souring. I want to ask him, but his reactions are so unpredictable. I’m not sure if he’ll pull out a gun and shoot me in the head, or demand I strip where I stand so he can use my body in front of everyone.

Will they stop him?

No. Mabel already proved that to me.

They are loyal to him and it's either because they respect him or are scared of him. I just need to figure out which one rules their behaviour.

“Who got my clothes and things and brought them here?” I ask as we stroll the streets, momentarily stopping in the shade of a tree.

“I had Finn and Miles collect it.” He admits easily, and for some reason I didn’t think he’d actually answer.

“Why couldn’t you have taken me home to pack for myself?”

He shoots me a ‘really’ look, but I just stare at him, waiting for a proper response.

He sighs. “What would have happened if I took you back to your apartment? Would you have willingly packed a bag? Would you have screamed? Would you have tried to alert a neighbour?”

I gulp. I would have absolutely screamed and hoped Mr Hickock, my elderly neighbour would have heard.

Seeing the truth on my face, Devon nods and steps closer. “The moment you involve a neighbour or a bystander, you give them a death sentence, Jaxcen. I’d have to cover our tracks, and the only way to do that is by killing them.”

Tears prick at my eyes from the severity in his tone, reminding me once again, that I’m with the devil. Not a nice man.

“Why am I here? You don’t need me. I swear I won’t tell anyone. Please let me go home.”

His shoulders drop, almost as if my words disappoint him .

“You’re here because that’s what I want, and if you want your time here to be easy, little mouse, I’d suggest that you don’t fucking ask to leave again.”

Spinning on his heel, Devon storms off towards the town centre, not the least bit concerned with leaving me alone here.

I take a moment to let my scared tears fall, waiting for the loneliness to creep in. But it doesn’t.

I don’t really miss the hustle of the city. The loud car horns and busy streets. I don’t miss my apartment other than the few creature comforts I allowed myself. And I definitely don’t miss Eddie.

Watching a bee buzz at my side, I smile remembering the hives my grandad had on his farm when I was little, which makes me think of my parents.

I don’t really miss my dad, and my mum and I have a strained relationship.

I wonder what my parents would say if they knew what I’ve been up to lately. What would they say about me attending a sex club? What would they think about Devon Marx?

I think my mum would probably faint.

The thought brings a smile to my face, and my eyes drop back to my surroundings of this weird but cute little town that sits on the ridge overlooking Timber Valley.

Slowly, I meander back towards the heart of the town, which all seems to centre around the Palace. Devon’s castle.

Running off Main Street is a big clearing, its grass so green it looks like it must be watered two times a day. There’s a children’s playground off to one side, and a plaque off to the other, but beyond it, the grass runs right up to the cliff’s edge where eight or so park benches face the stunning view over the valley.

I head towards the cliff’s edge, taking in the beauty of the townships below.

Fox Pines and Redfield are closest with Redfield Lake off in the distance .

There’s another lake close by. I saw a sign for it on our way up the mountain. It’s Lake Woodall. And down below are the small dots of people, picnicking by the lake while others swim.

“I hope you’re not planning on jumping.”

I gasp at the voice, spinning to see a woman, maybe in her forties wearing gym pants and a crop top as she jogs on the spot, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Oh, ah… No.” I laugh awkwardly, and she nods.

“Good. It’s awful having to retrieve the bodies that go over. Some think it’ll kill them instantly, but many have found if the fall doesn’t kill them on impact, the injuries they sustain makes them wish they were dead all over again.”

“Oh.” I lean over a little to get a better look over the ledge which is fenced off with clear perspex, but I guess if someone really wants out, they’ll climb it and jump. “Does that happen a lot?”

I glance back in time to see the woman shrug as she checks her fitness watch, still jogging on the spot. “A time or two. Some women just can’t handle it, you know?”

Some women?

No, I don’t know, but I’m not telling her that.

A cold chill runs up my spine, her words just another convincing factor that these women didn’t come here voluntarily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” I smile fakely, but all she does is quirk a brow.

“I didn’t offer it. But I’m guessing you’re Devon’s little mouse?”

I nearly choke at her words, my own saliva working against me, getting stuck in the back of my throat.

“What? How?”

She snickers, her eyes roaming me from head to toe before she starts jogging off and calls over her shoulder. “Welcome to the family.”

The family?

My heart sinks.

I was right.

This is some sort of a cult, or a polygamist community, and Devon is their husband. And probably not because they wanted to be his, but because he kidnapped them too, and groomed them into accepting a life here.

I peer over the edge of the cliff again, looking at the steep drop that looks pretty lethal to me.

Is that the only way out? Did some women feel like jumping to their death was their only choice?

I back away, suddenly not so sure the view is as beautiful as I thought it was.

I need to keep my wits about me and figure out a way out of this town before I become just another woman Devon claims.

Glancing at the Palace as I make my way back to Main Street, its sheer size compared to everything else in this town is overwhelming. It’s named appropriately given how it towers over the rest of the town, with the next biggest structure being the church at the end of the street.

My feet lead me there, my heart hammering in my chest as the reality of my situation settles in my gut. I need to figure out a way to get out of this place. To get away from that man.

Hurrying up the small paved path, I grip the old wrought iron handle and pull, only to have the door not budge.

“It’s locked,” a woman calls, and I turn to see a younger woman than the last, pushing a stroller with a toddler in it past the church. “Mr Marx is the only one with a key.”

Of course he is.

“Do you know why it’s locked?” I ask, making my way towards her, my eyes dropping to the dark haired child sleeping with a pacifier in its mouth. A little boy.

My gaze darts back to the woman, who must be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair is auburn, not dark brown, so the father must be dark haired too.

Wait… Is Devon the father?

I wonder if the little boy has Devon’s eyes?

“We don’t practise religion in this town,” she states, not seeming to be concerned about that which I find odd since Devon said he’s a religious man and we literally met in a church.

“Why not?”

She shrugs, pushing the stroller back and forth as if she doesn’t want to stop the movement in case the child wakes. “Mr Marx prefers it that way. He hasn’t banned it. Says we can worship and do whatever we want in our homes, but it won’t be a communal thing.”

Well now I’m confused. A cult would have some sort of worship thing, and as far as I know, polygamy is also religious, so if worship isn’t the factor here, then it only leaves one conclusion.

Devon Marx is a monster who steals women and keeps them for his own pleasure.

Oh but what pleasure it is.

Oh shut up inner voice.

“Right.” I nod, like her explanation makes perfect sense. “Well thanks.”

I go to leave, but the woman keeps talking.

“I’m Marilda, by the way. I live on Oak Tree Lane. Number three.” She smiles, offering me her hand, and I take it, because she has to be the least threatening person I’ve come across so far.

“Hi Marilda, I’m Jaxcen.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty name. So much cooler than Marilda.” She screws her nose up.

“Most people assume I’m a male when they read my name. Sometimes I tell them my name is Jac, and they assume it’s short for Jacquie or something.”

She nods. “When I was little, I used to tell people my name was Matilda instead. My youthful mind was hoping that by changing it to that, magic would come my way.”

I giggle. “And did it work?”

Her smile falls a little. “No. Well, I guess little Damon here is pretty magical and I made him so…” She shrugs.

“Yeah,” I smile down at the sleeping child, trying not to get hooked up on the fact his name starts with a D, just like Devon. “That is pretty magical.”

“You should come by Miss Barber’s house on Friday afternoon. She makes the most amazing cocktails, and all of us ladies have so much fun.”

“Ladies?” I ask, remembering how Devon told me about Miss Barber’s cocktail sessions.

“Yeah, most of the ladies go and relax. It’s a male free zone, so we can speak freely about all our dirty little secrets.” She winks.

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Oh come on. You have to. You’re part of the family now.” She beams, reaching out to give my shoulder a squeeze while my heart just about stops. “I’d better keep moving. When Damon wakes from a nap, he gets pretty moody. Just like his dad.”

The smile slips from her face, and she glances over her shoulder like she’s looking for someone, but when she faces me again, she smiles like she wasn’t just freaking out about something.

“I hope we see you on Friday.” She smiles, steering the stroller around me on the path and walking away.

So, I’m part of the family apparently. Two women in the space of ten minutes have said so, and it can only mean one thing.

I was right. Either they are happy and comply because they have been brainwashed by Devon’s charm, or they fear for their lives.

I have to get out of here.

Panic grips me as I hurry up the path that wraps around the back street of the Palace, and make my way towards the road we came in on. I’ve all but forgotten about the fact I’m not wearing any underwear, my need to escape more important than something as simple as a pair of panties .

The road we drove in on is steeper than I realised, and I have no doubt that if it was raining today, I might slip given how quickly my feet are shuffling down the incline.

I know there are armed men at the gates, but maybe I can convince them to let me go. Surely they can’t be alright with Devon keeping all these women here for himself.

Does he ever share with these men or do they just stand guard and watch?

That thought makes me feel just as sick as the thought of Devon trapping all the women here does, which is why I have to escape. I have to get to a phone and call the police and save these women.

Rounding a bend, the gates up ahead also seem bigger than they did when we drove through them in the car last night. The men haven’t noticed me yet, their stances relaxed as they laugh about something, their deep chuckles meeting my ears as I approach.

“Oh shit.” I hear one say as he stiffens, kicks the other guard's foot before standing tall and rolling his shoulders back which makes him appear three times bigger than he did moments ago when he was relaxed.

The other guard looks over his shoulder spotting me, and lurches up, his hand on his gun at his hip, watching me approach.

Plastering on a fake smile, I give them both a friendly wave.

“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “You must be hot out here.”

They glance at each other before returning their intense gazes back to me, their height becoming more prominent the closer I get.

“Can we help you, Miss Summers?”

Shit, they know my name. I bet they know all the names of the women Devon kidnaps.

“Oh no. I was just going for a walk in this beautiful weather and must have taken a wrong turn.”

They nod, and I notice the guy at the back relaxes a little with the way his shoulders drop a fraction .

He doesn’t see me as a threat. Which I’m not. I’m no match for them. I’ve done stupid stuff in my life, but me thinking I can out muscle these men isn’t one of them.

“If you turn around and head back up this road, you’ll find your way back into town,” the first guard offers, shooting me a wink.

Oh. He’s a bit flirty.

I can work with that.

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” I ask him, smiling as sweetly as I can muster. “I could use some company.”

“Is that so?” He grins, while the guy behind him curses under his breath.

“Yeah. I’m just feeling a little lonely, you know?” I let my smile drop and give him puppy dog eyes. “What with being new here and everything. I’d really like to make some friends.”

The guard smirks, taking a step closer. “And you want to be my friend?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’d love to be your friend.”

Ugh. Why is he eating this up? I sound fake to my own ears, clearly not used to being flirty, but his eyes drop to my boobs, and I know he notices the outline of my nipples. Maybe I should bend to pick something up and show him what’s not covering my butt underneath my dress.

“I can always use new friends.” He gestures behind me, but I bite on my lip and glance over his shoulder beyond the gates.

“We could always go that way. You know, just to be safe so no one sees us.” His brows hitch at my suggestion, and he glances over his shoulder to the closed gates.

“Outside the boundary?” he asks and I nod, but his eyes narrow a little.

Shit.

I’m losing him.

Panicking, I start fanning myself and gesture my head past the gates again. “There’s a big old tree over there. I bet it’s nice and cool under it. On the ground.” I reach back and scoop up my long hair, holding the blonde locks above my head to fan the back of my neck with my other hand, and his eyes dart to my clavicle where I know a bead of sweat is running down my flesh before disappearing under the fabric of my dress.

The crunching of gravel sounds beside me, right before the barrel of a gun presses against the guard’s temple.

“What did I tell you about involving other people, little mouse?”

My eyes widen as a gasp escapes me, my eyes locking onto the dark and sinister gaze of Devon Marx.

Oh shit.