Shana's Guardian (5 page)

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

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

Chapter 3

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

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

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

“I’ll be out in a minute!”
 
She finished buttoning the dress,
twirled once in front of the mirror, and leaned in to apply the faintest hint
of makeup.
 
A
little blush and a smear of pink lipstick, nothing more.
 
She ran her fingers through her long
blond locks, thanking the heavens above for a good hair day.
 
She’d used curlers on the ends, and the
slight wave this produced framed her face perfectly and made her feel pretty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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