Read The Devil to Pay for Free Online

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    He wanted to tumble the tart in the red dress, dash it. He didn’t know why. He just did. It was probably just the perversity of her behavior. She hadn’t looked at him once all night, which was odd. Women always looked at him, if for no other reason than to take in his size. Perhaps she meant to tease him. Or perhaps he wasn’t her type. On the other hand, perhaps he was? With a curt good night to his friends, he shoved back his chair, took what was left of his money, and ambled off to find out.
    Apparently, he was her type.
    “Wot, a big, strapping buck like you?” She grinned and dropped her eyes to his crotch. “Might ought’er charge you extra, I’m thinking.”
    Devellyn grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the stairs. “You might just find yourself so grateful you give my money back,” he growled. Then halfway up, he stopped. He’d forgotten something, blister it. In the darkened stairwell, he pulled her around to face him. “What’s your name, girl?”
    She dropped her gaze suggestively. “Ruby.” Despite her horrid cockney accent and oddly grating voice, the word came out silky, sending a chill down his spine. “Ruby Black.”
    He let his eyes drift down the tawdry red dress again. Ruby Black looked like she knew what she was doing. Devellyn was suddenly grateful. He was in no mood to tutor a virgin or anything remotely near it. And he was in no mood for a quick rutting, either. Camelia’s leaving him had left him feeling bereft and severely sexually frustrated. He was in the mood for a woman that could take it hard and take it for a good long while. He stopped and jerked her around again.
    “How much, Ruby, for the whole night?”
    “Coo!” said Ruby. But she named her price. He gladly agreed.
    Ruby tucked the money away, then looked up at him through her thick, dark lashes.
    “I’m Devellyn,” he grunted by way of introduction.
    Her room was narrow and squalid, barely lit by one sputtering, stinking tallow candle. The furnishings were threadbare, the floor just rough planking, but the narrow oak poster bed looked as though it could bear his weight. What did he care for ambiance? He wanted sex.
    Ruby ran her hands down his chest, then brushed one teasingly over his belly. “Oh, yer something, Mr. Devellyn, ain’t you?” she said, her nostrils delicately flaring. She leaned into him, her thigh brushing his already jutting erection, and in the gloom, he saw her eyes widen. “Gawd,” she whispered. “I’d hate ter see that one when you’re stone-cold sober.”
    He was flattered. He shouldn’t have been, and he knew it. He was half cup-shot, and she was just bought accommodation, and it was all artifice and show. But there was something, he thought, in her face. A hunger. A yearning. Suddenly, he wished he could be certain. “Damn it,” he said. “Why is it so infernal dark in here?”
    Ruby looked suddenly injured. “I make me livin’ on me back, gov’nor,” she said. “And candles are a penny apiece at the Anchor.”
    He started to pull away, but she slid her hands between his legs, cupping his ballocks in her small, warm palm. “Oh, Gawd, don’t go now,” she whispered, sounding a little desperate. Desperate was good. Devellyn liked his women desperate.
    Then he jerked himself up short. She wasn’t his woman. She was a riverside strumpet, for pity’s sake. But at the moment, he was having trouble remembering that. Lord, he’d best keep his wits about him. He snared her wrist and pulled her against him. “Look here, girl,” he grumbled. “You’d best be clean.”
    Her eyes drifted insolently over him. “I ain’t gonna tip you the token, me fine gent,” she said. “If that’s wot yer thinking.”
    “Good,” he said, snarling a little. “The last bloody thing I need just now is a bad case of the clap.”
    She jerked her wrist away and stepped back. “Look ’ere, Mr. Devellyn,” she said. “There’s plenty o’ warm coves’ll pay ready money for