by Vanessa Vale
“More, yes… please,” she begged, lost and wild as I moved my finger deep inside her.
I didn't relent and gave her exactly what she wanted. With deft curls of my finger and very deliberate flicks of my tongue, I took her to the brink then pushed her over. Her back arched and she cried out as her inner walls squeezed and pulled on my finger. While she was still coming, I sat back and slipped from her.
“Open your eyes, Dahlia.” I aligned my cock with her slick entrance and waited.
When her lids fluttered open and she looked up at me, I continued, “I want to see your face when I fill you.” I worked my way in, inch by inch. I watched as my cock disappeared into her body, her folds spread wide. I could feel her ripple around me, for my cock was much larger than my finger.
“You're so big,” she murmured.
Lowering myself to my forearms, I pinned her arms to her sides, trapping her. I wanted her under my control, for she'd taken all of mine away earlier. I slid in a fraction more, then even more, my seed making her slick and easy to fill. Finally, I was fully seated within, my balls slapping against her ass. I held myself still, savoring the feel of her. She was hot and tight and slick and… perfect. God, everything about Dahlia was perfect. Just filling her and remaining still had me close to coming. I was like a randy schoolboy with my first fuck.
I wasn't going to last. This connection was going to be too much. I'd told her I loved her. She hadn't said the words back, but looking into her eyes I could see it there.
“Garrison, please. Please move,” she begged. While I heard the desperation in her voice, felt her knees come up and press into my sides, even felt her pussy continue to ripple about me, it was the hazy desire in her eyes that had me moving. I could only imagine she saw a similar look in mine, for I was just as lost. I was almost frantic for her. “You're going to come again,” I warned. It was also a vow. I was going to wring every little bit of pleasure from her body.
“Yes,” she cried as I filled her once again. “More.”
There was nothing like it on earth. Her pussy was so sweet, so greedy. So fucking hot.
“You want to come?” I pulled back so just the flared head of my cock parted her lips.
“Yes!”
I plunged deep, watched her body take all of me to the very hilt. “You want more?”
My voice was dark and deep and I was breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down my brow.
“Yes!”
“I'll give you more, sugarplum. More than you could ever imagine.”
And I did.
6
DAHLIA
* * *
“Good morning, Lee.”
I looked up from my lunch to the man standing before our table in the crowded dining room. We'd missed the hotel's breakfast because Garrison had turned his attentions upon me bright and early. A very thorough bout of lovemaking put me right back to sleep for most of the morning. He'd been most attentive and very gentle, for while I had been eager for his attentions, I was sore. He'd kissed my scars, ran his fingers over them almost reverently, before taking me so sweetly. Even now, I had a delicious ache between my legs. While I'd cleaned myself before dressing, Garrison's seed had been copious and continued to trickle from me, a constant reminder of his claim on me.
“Pringle,” Garrison replied, his tone neutral, the one word clipped.
The man was close in age to my husband, with very pale hair, a long nose and narrow set eyes. He didn't smile.
Garrison put down his fork and knife and wiped his mouth with his napkin. The scent of baked chicken and coffee filled the air, along with a large amount of male tension. “What brings you to town?”
The other man glanced at me, but dismissed me readily enough. “A horse purchase. It seems while you were off purchasing something else, I found a nice piece of horse flesh to add to my collection.”
Garrison's jaw clenched tightly and his eyes narrowed as he pushed his chair back and stood. He had several inches on the other man, who reminded me of a tow-headed weasel. “You will apologize to my wife, Pringle.”
Mr. Pringle ignored Garrison and he looked me over once again as if I were the whore he insinuated me to be, only this time with a much more thorough pass. “Well, well. Mrs. Lee, my humblest apologies.”
The smile on his lips and the tone of his voice implied nothing of the sort.
“You're interrupting lunch with my wife. What do you want?”
Mr. Pringle shrugged. “I just wanted to save you some time. The horse you wanted to purchase is no longer available. Good luck finding a stud anywhere in the Territory like that one.”
Garrison's eyes narrowed. “You bought Mann's horse?”
Mr. Pringle grinned broadly. “I did. As I said, I just wanted to save you some time.” He nodded his head in my direction. “Ma'am.”
When the man had left the room, Garrison sat back down and tucked back into his lunch without comment.
“Does that happen to you often?” I asked.
He glanced up at me and shrugged. “While Pringle isn't an enemy, we definitely aren't friends.”
“Are there many who you call enemy or 'not friend'?”
While his tense muscles relaxed and his voice was calm, I could discern that he wasn't as recovered ashe seemed. I'd been watching Garrison since I was little. I knew him.
He shrugged, stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. “My father lost many friends over the course of his life and the repercussions are lingering.”
I remembered Mr. Lee, Sr. He wasn't a very nice man. Gray and old before his time, bitter, too. As a little girl, I'd been frightened of him and had avoided him when at all possible. “He's… he's been gone a long time now.”
Garrison nodded once. “Six years. I've been trying to bring the ranch—and the Lee name—back in good standing in the community.”
I frowned. I only knew how successful Garrison was, how well known his horses were. I'd never heard of the things that seemed to bother him. “You're not your father.”
He sat back in his chair. “Thankfully, the Montana Territory is a place where a man makes his own way and I'm thankful to the community for separating me from my father's personality and business dealings. But there are a few, like Pringle, who think otherwise.”
“Why does he hate you so much?”
“His father lost most of his land because of mine and the son has not forgotten. With Pringle, I have taken on my father's sins.”
“He'd said you were here to buy a horse.” I blotted my lips with my napkin. “I… didn't think you actually came to Carver Junction to do so.”
One dark eyebrow slashed upward. “Oh? I told you I was buying one. What did you think I was doing here?”
Cutting my green beans with more deliberation than probably necessary, I replied, “Snooping on me.”
He laughed outright, then winked at me. Patrons at other tables turned at the vibrant sound and the women's eyes lingered. Garrison was a handsome man; there was no denying. “That was just an added perk. Also, very lucky for me.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Mmm. I learned quite a bit about you.” He leaned back and crossed his fingers over his flat belly. “How reckless you are with your own personal safety, your ability to lie like the Poker player you are.”
“And why is that lucky?” I asked, beginning to feel the roots of apprehension take hold.
“Because I could do nothing about it before. Now, as your husband, rest assured I will be taking action soon enough.” He looked to my plate. “Finish up. It seems we have a stage to take.”
Trepidation weighed my every step to the stage, for once we were alone within, I could only imagine what he would do. I thought of how he'd watched me touch myself and bring myself to climax the day before, but I didn't think pleasure was what he had in mind for our return journey. Fortunately, I'd been given a reprieve in the stage because we were not to ride alone. A mother with a small boy and a man with a horrendous need for a bath joined
us. We'd kept the flaps open and the breeze moving, but it had not been a comfortable few hours and we talked little.
When we retrieved Garrison's liveried horse, I expected him to steer the animal toward the Lenox ranch.
“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to shift on Garrison's lap. I'd never ridden with anyone before. It was so… close. I felt his muscular thighs and his hard cock pressing against me with every sway of the horse. With his arms around me, there was no chance I could forget what we'd done together… three times.
“We are going home,” he said simply.
“I need to let my family know where I am,” I replied, turning to look over my shoulder as if I could see the Lenox Ranch.
“I will send a man over with word on your whereabouts, but you didn't seem too concerned about them yesterday when you went to visit Opal.”
My back stiffened at his tone. “How dare you insinuate I don't care for my family?”
“I didn't insinuate you didn't care for them,” he replied, sounding frustrated. “I inferred that you care for yourself more.”
“Who do you think you are talking to me this way?” I tried to spin around to face him, but his arms tightened about me.
“Your husband.”
I remained sullen and angry… and silent.
“Why the hell do you go off on your own and play Poker in a saloon where a man—or men—could force themselves upon you? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”
I didn't say a word.
“You never stop talking and now you refuse to talk?”
I pursed my lips. I wanted to give him a tongue lashing so very badly, but that would only be what he wanted.
“Very well.” He pulled up on the reins and the horse stopped. There was nothing about in any direction, just open prairie, tall grass rippling and waving in the slight breeze. Mountains rose jagged and tall in the distance, the sun working its way toward them. With an arm banded about my waist, he lowered me from the horse.
“What are you doing? You don't expect me to walk the rest of the way, do you?”
Garrison sighed, kicked his leg over and dismounted. “I'd hoped to do this at home, but it's clear I've waited too long. We've got plenty of privacy out here. I doubt you'll be all that quiet about it.”
I took a step back. “About what?”
“Your punishment.”
He took a step toward me, eyes narrowed and focused. I'd seen him like this before, but it had never been directed at me. He was intent and I did not like it one bit. I stepped back, spun on my heel and started to run.
“Are you planning to run all the way to the ranch, sugarplum?” he called. “You'll still get your punishment whether you're tired or not.”
I stumbled to a halt and bent forward to place my hands on my thighs. Wearing a corset took my breath away. He was going to punish me. I didn't know how, but I was filled with trepidation. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, but I'd never been punished before. I was my own woman. I made my own way. I played Poker in saloons—and won! As I walked back to Garrison, I did not like the feeling of being under someone's control, not one bit.
He watched me out of the corner of his eye as he pulled something from his saddlebag. I was a few feet from him when I saw it was a coil of rope.
“What… what do you plan to do with that?” I pointed at the offending object, but I had a reasonable idea of his use for it.
He came to me slowly. Calmly. “I will not hurt you Dahlia. Ever. You know that, correct?”
His eyes still held the dark bite of authority, but had gentled somewhat along with his tone.
I nodded. I was not afraid of him. I'd seen some men's looks when I played Poker and this was not the same.
“I need to hear the words.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I know you won't hurt me.”
He nodded. “I will protect you with my life. I won't let anyone hurt you, even yourself. Are you ready to answer my questions?”
I eyed the rope. “You're going to tie me up?”
He shook his head and I looked him over. He could overpower me, hurt me, do whatever he wanted to me. I only came up to his chin in height; his shoulders were twice as broad as mine. His legs were solid, like tree trunks. His hands…. While I remembered exactly how those hands could bring me the most delicious of pleasures, I knew they could also mete out punishment as needed.
I started to relax, relieved he wouldn't be using the rope. He must have felt it, for he continued, “Don't worry, sugarplum, I have other very persuasive ways to get you to talk.”
My eyes dropped to the bulge in his pants. “You're going to fuck me to talk?”
“I don't fuck when I'm angry.”
“Then how—”
“Let's begin,” he replied, ignoring me. “Tell me, Dahlia Lee, why you were playing Poker in a saloon in Carver Junction?”
He wasn't using any type of coercion at all and I narrowed my eyes. “I didn't answer your question before, so why do you think I'll answer it now?”
Before I could blink, he reached out and grabbed my wrist and tugged me into him. He sat down on the ground and pulled me over his lap. I felt as if I were a puppet, being moved into whatever direction he chose, for within seconds my knees were on the soft grass on one side of his thighs, my upper body over the other. I tried to sit up but one firm swat to my bottom had me stilling. Briefly. Then I began to struggle. As if I were a calf, he quickly and extremely deftly had my wrists behind my back and tied.
He pulled up my skirt, his big hand working its way up my leg so it bunched on top of my tied hands. I heard a rip and felt the warm air on my bottom.
“This is the last pair of drawers you will wear.” He tugged them completely from my body and tossed them off to the side. I could see them dangling from a few tall blades of grass. “I want your ass and your pussy exposed and available to me at all times. While I'd much prefer to bend you over something and fuck you, I will not hesitate to spank you.”
“Garrison! How dare you!”
“How dare me? My wife was in a saloon playing Poker with strange men.”
Spank.
“You could have been robbed. You could have been raped.”
Spank.
His voice was low and gruff and he was breathing heavily.
“Why, Dahlia? Why do you do it?”
I winced and held my breath at the continued assault on my bottom. The crack of his palm hitting my flesh was loud—and it hurt! I tried not to let it show, not to offer him any kind of reaction at all, but his hand moved deliberately across my bottom, hitting someplace new each time. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip, but I couldn't do it. I cried out. “Garrison!”
“Why?” he repeated.
He was not going to relent. I could escape and run, but he'd catch me. He'd hold me down and spank me once again. Tears slipped down my cheeks from a painful combination of a sore bottom and Garrison's determination. I couldn't hide from him. Not in any way. He would no longer let me.
“Fine. Fine! I'll talk.”
He placed his palm on my bottom, this time moving over the heated and very tingling flesh in a gentle caress. The motion seemed to soothe the biting pain and turn it into a warm glow. He remained silent, waiting, for which I was glad. I was embarrassed enough to have my bottom not only exposed to him but to the whole outdoors—and have to talk while lying across his lap. I was just thankful I didn't have to look him in the eye as I spoke, but could stare at the green shoots of grass before me instead.
“I was making money so I could move away.”
“Where?”
I shrugged, picked at a tall blade of grass. “The big city. I don't care which one. I want the excitement, the activity a place like Chicago or Minneapolis has.”
His hand slipped lower to brush over the crease where my bottom and thigh met. I startled at the shift.
“This wasn't a one time night of Poker, was it?”
His hand continued to stroke, movi
ng even closer to my woman's core. While it made the bearing of my innermost secrets easier, it was much harder to concentrate on his questions.
I shook my head and bit my lip. I wanted to tilt my hips up and into his fingers.
“How many other places did you go?”
“Does… it really matter where I went? Aren't you just upset that I did it at all?”
“Hell, yes, I'm upset that you did it. I'm surprised Miss Esther didn't catch wind of your… adventures.”
Miss Esther could ferret out information from a turnip.
He brushed over the curls that protected my womanhood, then over my most private of flesh.
“Garrison!” I gasped.
“When you're a bad girl, you're spanked. When you're a good girl, you get a reward.” Every place his finger passed over warmed, heated and I could feel myself getting wetter. “You were telling me about Miss Esther.”
“It...oh God, wasn't that hard.” I took a deep breath and couldn't help the way my hips began to move. Just the very tip of his finger circled my entrance and I clenched down, wanting to pull it inside of me. “I just didn't tell Daisy or Iris. They're… the blabbermouths.”
“Who taught you to play?”
He was the one playing with me. He slipped inside and I thrust my hips back so that he went in deep.
“Oh, so greedy,” he crooned. He didn't do anything else, just held it still inside of me. “Who taught you to play?”
My eyes fell closed and sweat dotted my brow. It wasn't from the sun. “Big Ed. He… When I was seventeen, there was a big snowstorm where we were all stranded for days. He taught me, Daisy, Iris and Marigold how to play, using matchsticks as currency. By spring, I'd switched to money and was cleaning out the ranch hands' savings. After that, Big Ed banned the game. God, Garrison, please. You have to move your finger!”
Instead of listening to me, he pulled me up and onto his lap, shifting me so that I straddled his waist, my hands still bound behind me. Putting his feet on the ground, he bent his knees so I sat with my back against his thighs. I gasped in combination of surprise at being flipped upright and the sting of my bottom against the coarse fabric of his pants.