little butts over here,” the
large black woman said with a sniff. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get on in here!” She
hobbled back to give them room to pass her.
“Sorry,” Bevyn mumbled as he tried to smile at the dark face, but the widow just
glared at him. He felt like a little boy again.
“The breakfast was delicious, Miss Cornelia,” Lea said.
“Uh-huh,” Cornelia agreed, closing the door. She folded a pair of huge arms over a
very impressive chest and just looked at them.
Bevyn cleared his throat. “We’d like to take you up on the offer of the room,” he
said.
“Uh-huh,” came the reply.
The Reaper exchanged a look with his lady. “I’ll be glad to pay you for—”
56
Her Reaper’s Arms
Cornelia snorted. “Son, you won’t do nothin’ of the sort. Don’t want no money for
the offer. I ain’t running no bed and breakfast here.” She sniffed. “You’ll earn your
keep.”
“Ah, well, now, I don’t…” Bevyn began, his eyebrows drawn sharply together.
“What is it you would have us do, Miss Cornelia?” Lea cut him off, giving him a
warning look.
“Done done it so far as I’m concerned,” Cornelia said.
Bevyn just stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
Cornelia arched a nearly non-existent eyebrow. “You went and took this little girl
here as your lady and that’s all the payment I need.” She smiled to reveal two missing
front teeth. “Now, who wants some egg pie?”
Half an hour later, Bevyn was shifting uncomfortably on the chair in the kitchen,
wishing he were anywhere else. He had already downed four glasses of water but the
sugar overload that was rushing through his system wasn’t abating and he gave
another nasty look to the empty pie plate that sat on the counter.
“One dozen eggs, two cups of sugar, two cups sweet cream, one teaspoon each of
vanilla and nutmeg…”
He tried not to listen to Cornelia giving Lea the recipe for the ultra-sweet pie that
had turned his cock into a living nightmare between his legs. There was no way he
could stand up without the women seeing the evidence so he just sat there—sweating
and silently cursing his Reaper’s need for sweet food, holding the tablecloth close to his
stomach to hide himself.
“Son, what ails you?”
Bevyn jerked, his eyes going guiltily from the pie plate to Cornelia.
“You want another piece of pie, just ask for it,” the black woman said. “I got
another one in the icebox and—”
“No!” Bevyn stated emphatically. “No more sugar!”
Lea’s face turned bright red and her gaze snapped to the pie plate. Both she and
Cornelia had had small slices of the heavenly concoction but her Reaper had practically
inhaled the rest of it, gobbling it up as though there were no tomorrow. “Oh,” she
whispered.
“You got the diabetes or somethin’, son?” Cornelia demanded.
Bevyn gave Lea a pleading look.
“Why don’t we go into the parlor, Miss Cornelia,” Lea said, hooking her arm
through the older woman’s.
“What for?” Cornelia asked.
“He’s…the pie…well…” Lea shrugged. “Sugar does things to him.”
“Wench!” Bevyn hissed.
57
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Cornelia looked from one red face to the other then nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said.
“Guess I won’t be offering him none of my homemade lemonade then. It’s got two cups
of sugar in it too.”
“Best not,” Lea agreed.
“Humph,” Cornelia commented, and ushered Lea out of the kitchen with a lastminute order for the Reaper to get matters in hand then come join them.
Long after the two women had left him, Bevyn sat where he was, gritting his teeth
and willing his cock to behave—which it didn’t feel inclined to do. It stayed hard and
full and burning, so aroused he could feel every breath he took pressing against his
crotch. He was acutely embarrassed then confused, then annoyed and finally amused.
This was a situation he’d never run up against before and although it was
large black woman said with a sniff. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get on in here!” She
hobbled back to give them room to pass her.
“Sorry,” Bevyn mumbled as he tried to smile at the dark face, but the widow just
glared at him. He felt like a little boy again.
“The breakfast was delicious, Miss Cornelia,” Lea said.
“Uh-huh,” Cornelia agreed, closing the door. She folded a pair of huge arms over a
very impressive chest and just looked at them.
Bevyn cleared his throat. “We’d like to take you up on the offer of the room,” he
said.
“Uh-huh,” came the reply.
The Reaper exchanged a look with his lady. “I’ll be glad to pay you for—”
56
Her Reaper’s Arms
Cornelia snorted. “Son, you won’t do nothin’ of the sort. Don’t want no money for
the offer. I ain’t running no bed and breakfast here.” She sniffed. “You’ll earn your
keep.”
“Ah, well, now, I don’t…” Bevyn began, his eyebrows drawn sharply together.
“What is it you would have us do, Miss Cornelia?” Lea cut him off, giving him a
warning look.
“Done done it so far as I’m concerned,” Cornelia said.
Bevyn just stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
Cornelia arched a nearly non-existent eyebrow. “You went and took this little girl
here as your lady and that’s all the payment I need.” She smiled to reveal two missing
front teeth. “Now, who wants some egg pie?”
Half an hour later, Bevyn was shifting uncomfortably on the chair in the kitchen,
wishing he were anywhere else. He had already downed four glasses of water but the
sugar overload that was rushing through his system wasn’t abating and he gave
another nasty look to the empty pie plate that sat on the counter.
“One dozen eggs, two cups of sugar, two cups sweet cream, one teaspoon each of
vanilla and nutmeg…”
He tried not to listen to Cornelia giving Lea the recipe for the ultra-sweet pie that
had turned his cock into a living nightmare between his legs. There was no way he
could stand up without the women seeing the evidence so he just sat there—sweating
and silently cursing his Reaper’s need for sweet food, holding the tablecloth close to his
stomach to hide himself.
“Son, what ails you?”
Bevyn jerked, his eyes going guiltily from the pie plate to Cornelia.
“You want another piece of pie, just ask for it,” the black woman said. “I got
another one in the icebox and—”
“No!” Bevyn stated emphatically. “No more sugar!”
Lea’s face turned bright red and her gaze snapped to the pie plate. Both she and
Cornelia had had small slices of the heavenly concoction but her Reaper had practically
inhaled the rest of it, gobbling it up as though there were no tomorrow. “Oh,” she
whispered.
“You got the diabetes or somethin’, son?” Cornelia demanded.
Bevyn gave Lea a pleading look.
“Why don’t we go into the parlor, Miss Cornelia,” Lea said, hooking her arm
through the older woman’s.
“What for?” Cornelia asked.
“He’s…the pie…well…” Lea shrugged. “Sugar does things to him.”
“Wench!” Bevyn hissed.
57
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Cornelia looked from one red face to the other then nodded. “Uh-huh,” she said.
“Guess I won’t be offering him none of my homemade lemonade then. It’s got two cups
of sugar in it too.”
“Best not,” Lea agreed.
“Humph,” Cornelia commented, and ushered Lea out of the kitchen with a lastminute order for the Reaper to get matters in hand then come join them.
Long after the two women had left him, Bevyn sat where he was, gritting his teeth
and willing his cock to behave—which it didn’t feel inclined to do. It stayed hard and
full and burning, so aroused he could feel every breath he took pressing against his
crotch. He was acutely embarrassed then confused, then annoyed and finally amused.
This was a situation he’d never run up against before and although it was
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