River Bound: Bound and Tied, Book 3

by Jackson, Myla

  “No way.” James started to pull his cock free of Rosalyn.

  She stopped him with a hand on his ass. “Stay,” she commanded.

  He froze, his brow furrowing. “I don’t want his mouth on my dick.”

  “Do it for me.” She reached behind her to caress James’s cheek. “I promise you’ll like it.”

  James shook his head. “No, I won’t.”

  “Do it, Dalton.”

  Dalton frowned, torn between touching James’s cock with his tongue and the commanding tone Rosalyn used. In their lovemaking, she’d always preferred to be submissive. Now she’d taken on the role of the master.

  His body quickened, his cock swelling as hard as a steel rod. Without a word, he rose from the mattress and lay down with his head aimed toward the foot of the bed, his mouth in line with Rosalyn’s pussy.

  James remained buried halfway inside, his cock still rigid, his eyes round and watching.

  “Lick him,” Rosalyn said. Her voice dropped to a whisper, her heels planted in the mattress, her knee raised, giving him access to herself as well as James.

  His cock twitched, his groin tightening. He’d never touched a man so intimately, and the thought tantalized and ate away at his reservations. Dalton moved closer, his fingers finding and parting her folds, his tongue sweeping across Rosalyn’s clit.

  She shivered, her nipples puckering into pert little buds, gooseflesh rising across her skin.

  Dalton lapped at her clit, edging closer and closer to hers and James’s connection.

  The man’s cock was thick and veined, much like his, but not exactly.

  Dalton ran his tongue along the edge of Rosalyn’s pussy, not quite touching James, but close.

  “Lick him,” Rosalyn insisted, her voice ragged, her hands sliding into his hair, urging him closer.

  His tongue made contact with James’s cock.

  The other man’s indrawn breath emboldened Dalton to do it again.

  James tasted of Rosalyn’s juices, musky, heady and different.

  Dalton reached out to take the man’s balls in his hands, rolling them gently between his fingers as he laved his tongue along the exposed length of dick.

  James groaned. “Dear Lord, forgive me.”

  “For what?” Rosalyn asked, her voice breathy. “This must be heaven. I’m certain.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, yes.” James moved, his cock sliding in then out of Rosalyn.

  Dalton tongued him as he withdrew and massaged his balls when he entered.

  As the rhythm increased, Dalton returned to Rosalyn’s clit, where he attacked her senses, determined to remind her who was the better lover.

  Rosalyn’s fingers wrapped around Dalton’s cock and urged him close enough she could suck it into her mouth.

  James had lain with Rosalyn and Dalton before, caressing and taking turns with the beauty. But this…this was new and even more exhilarating than anything Dalton had ever experienced.

  He pumped in and out of her mouth, bumping against the back of her throat.

  She grabbed his buttocks and held him as he came, his seed filling her mouth.

  James rammed into her from behind, his body tensing, his thrusts harder and faster as he neared his own peak.

  Dalton’s tongue flicked and stroked her clit to the same rhythm, Rosalyn’s body writhing and twisting in the sheets.

  When her fingers dug into his hair, he knew she’d reached her climax, and he didn’t slow his assault until she cried out.

  James slammed once more into her and held her hips in a grip so tight his knuckles turned white, then he pulled free, his seed spilling over her ass and onto the sheets.

  The three of then lay in the bed, limp, their muscles and nerves raw and useless.

  “What just happened?” James asked into the silence.

  “I think I died and went to heaven,” Rosalyn said.

  Something rumbled in Dalton’s chest, and before he knew it he was laughing out loud.

  Rosalyn and James both frowned at first and then joined him.

  She must have fallen asleep. When Rosalyn woke, the sun had risen and set again, and both James and Dalton had left her room. She lay naked, the scent of sex in the air, surprised she’d slept an entire day away.

  Stretching across the bed, she smiled, her stomach rumbling. Making love with the two men had never been better. As her hands connected with the iron headboard, her breasts pebbled and her knees fell wide. She wanted more, but she knew she couldn’t play the men against each other. It wasn’t fair. They both wanted her, of that she was certain. James for keeps. Dalton? He’d once proposed to her. Did she dare to dream that he really meant it? And if he did, which man should she choose?

  Her heart ached. James loved her enough to try to please her, making love to her rough the way she liked it. Even as he’d spanked her, Rosalyn knew James hated hurting her. It was against his nature to hurt a woman.

  Dalton, on the other hand, had no qualms about spanking her. And he knew what was hurtful and what was play. Never in all the times they’d made love had he purposely injured her. He understood the limits and never crossed the line. Except when he’d broken her heart.

  Rosalyn let go of the iron headboard and let her hands run down over her body, revisiting the places both James and Dalton had touched earlier. Her breasts were sensitive, the nipples beading immediately upon contact. Fingers sliding lower, she stroked herself where Dalton’s tongue had licked her clit. The little nubbin was still swollen, her pussy raw and deliciously aching. She wanted more.

  Where had the men gone?

  She sat up in the bed and looked around.

  All evidence of their presence had been removed. Their clothing was gone, their hats and boots with them. Only the twisted sheets remained with the traces of their sex on them.

  Rosalyn flopped back. What was she going to do? How could she choose? Did she want to?

  Her hand rested on her belly, reminding her of Honor Braun high in the Colorado Rockies giving birth to a baby girl. She’d held the child in her arms and ached to hold one of her own.

  Was that enough of a reason to choose James or Dalton? Would either of them make a good father?

  Or should she leave now and find a more worthy man?

  She shook her head. James would make a wonderful father. He was a kind, caring, man’s man, willing to fight for what was right and good. And he was gentle and treated her like a lady, even knowing her background.

  Dalton, on the other hand, was a gambler. What kind of life would it be for a child to grow up with a gambler for a father? Would he continue his gambling ways and be a drifter on the river, or would he settle down and be happy doing an honest day’s work and rearing a passel of children with her?

  Dare she risk her life and the future lives of their children on such a man as Dalton?

  Rosalyn threw the sheets aside and stood. Who was she fooling? Dalton hadn’t come looking for her. She’d come looking for him. She shouldn’t entertain thoughts of marrying such a man. Besides, she’d gone so far as to throw his ring in his face. Any commitment they might have had to one another had been severed by time and events.

  And where was the confounded man now? For all Rosalyn knew, he’d jumped overboard again. Had James followed to ensure the man hadn’t escaped?

  Rosalyn pulled a black satin gown out of the trunk and shook out the wrinkles. Time to learn where she stood and what Mr. Dalton Black had hiding up his sleeve on the Marie-Dearie.

  Chapter Five

  Dalton sat in the gaming room with a three of a kind—the best he could get from his current hand of poker. He and James had quietly spread the word that a certain Dillon Green had gold to burn at the gaming tables aboard the Marie-Dearie in hopes of luring Pierre Saulnier, the notorious card sharp, into the open.

  So far the evening had been a bust. Not only had he lost at every hand of poker, Pierre hadn’t shown up.

  James sat smoking a cigar, his feet propped on another chair ac
ross the room—relaxed but ready.

  The men at Dalton’s table had long since pushed him past boredom into a semiconscious state, not good for playing poker.

  “Today must be my lucky day.” The Memphis businessman, wearing a striped shirt and a gray wool suit, scooped the money from the center of the table into his pockets. “You might consider giving it up for the evening, Mr. Green. You haven’t won a hand since I sat down to play. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. The little lady will be right pleased with my day’s winnings.”

  “You’ll have to buy your wife a present on the way home,” the man across from him said.

  “Who said anything about my wife? I was thinking more about Sugar at the Rose Palace.” He winked. “She’d be much more appreciative of a gift.”

  The Rose Palace, where Dalton had first met Rosalyn. He remembered that day as though it had been yesterday. She’d settled a dispute between two men arguing over one of the ladies in her employ. Her beauty and determination had captured his attention from the beginning. He’d spent countless days convincing her to see him, not as a client, but as a man interested in an intelligent woman.

  Now Dalton had lost every hand because his thoughts weren’t in the game, they were back in the bedroom with Rosalyn. His cock twitched beneath the buttons of his trousers. She made him hard without being anywhere near him.

  All the same reasons he’d asked her to marry him still held true. She was strong, independent and loyal to those she loved. If only he’d stayed and tried to figure out a way around the law. But there’d been a posse after him for months. Rosalyn’s Rose Palace had been the first place they’d searched. No doubt they’d have paid well for anyone to report back if Dalton had showed up. That Rosalyn would disappear as well had never occurred to him until he tried to get back to her only to find her gone. She’d left to protect herself, her business and most of all him.

  She’d make a wonderful mother, defending her children with her life. She’d talked of a house with plenty of room for little ones to run and play, far away from the Rose Palace, from the fickleness and danger of the Mississippi River. Texas, she’d said. It sounded pretty and far enough away from her life as a madame that no one would ever have to know. She didn’t want her children to suffer because of her former profession.

  Rosalyn never talked about her life as a child.

  In his search to locate Rosalyn over the past year, Dalton had paid a private detective to go back east and find out anything he could about her past. Maybe she’d gone to live with some long-lost family member or friend.

  What he’d discovered had been astounding.

  Rosie of the Rose Palace Bordello had been raised as Elizabeth Thomas of the Boston Thomases, one of the wealthiest families of the new world. She’d run away from home when she was only sixteen. The official word was she’d run away to marry a soldier out west. From the Thomas staff, the detective learned Elizabeth Thomas had been a spoiled girl with no regard for her parents and a wild streak they couldn’t begin to control. After a particularly rude incident in public, her father had told her to either act like a lady or leave. She’d chosen to leave. And she’d never returned.

  Dalton chuckled. He could picture the young Rosalyn standing up to her father just like she stood up to the guests of the Palace, unafraid, undaunted and capable of taking on any foe.

  “Your hand that good or that bad?” The man dealing the cards at his table scowled at Dalton. “Want any?”

  He stared down at the hand, realizing he had a full house. “No, I’ll hold.”

  Being alone at the age of sixteen had to have been a rude awakening. With no skills, no husband and no money, she’d left home to find her way in a world where lone women were taken advantage of.

  The game continued, the other three players discarding and gathering new cards. Gold coins were tossed into the center of the table.

  Dalton went through the motions, winning the hand by pure luck, when he could barely concentrate on what was going on in the room, much less what he held in his hand.

  What was the use? Pierre wasn’t showing up and Dalton wasn’t getting any closer to clearing his name so he could get on with his plan to marry the beautiful Rosalyn and take her away to Texas where they could both start over.

  Why he didn’t just grab her up and take her away now, he didn’t know. All his adult days he’d spent on the edge of the law as a gambler. He didn’t want the death of a couple soldiers to follow him around the rest of his days. Not when he’d have a wife and children looking to him to provide for them and to set the example of a fine, upstanding gentleman.

  No, he wanted to start out on the right foot. Finding the killer and returning the gold was the only way he could clear his name. Until then, he had no business even thinking about Rosalyn, Texas or kids he hadn’t yet sired.

  The Memphis businessman left the poker table, claiming he had to get home for dinner. Probably with a stop on the way at the Rose Palace.

  Dalton scooted his chair back with every intention of returning to the room where Rosalyn lay naked, sleeping.

  A man stepped up to the table. “Mind if I join you?” He spoke perfect English with a hint of a French accent.

  When Dalton looked up, he instantly pushed the image of Rosalyn’s naked body to the very back of his mind and focused on the newcomer, Pierre Saulnier.

  A slight nod across the room to where James sat confirmed to his friend their man had arrived. Now all they had to do was push him to reveal anything he might know about the dead soldiers.

  Dalton settled in to what he did best, playing poker. The first few hands he deliberately threw, offering paper currency each time. He waited until he had a sure thing for a hand to play his trump card.

  Saulnier tossed some of the money he’d won from Dalton into the center of the table. “You out?”

  “No. I got more gold—a whole bag, should I need it.” Dalton dug into his pockets for the gold coins he’d pulled from the bag of stolen gold he’d recovered from beneath a board on the Marie-Dearie. He tossed one of the coins into the center of the table and waited for Saulnier’s reaction, watching him from the corner of his eye.

  Saulnier’s gaze pinned Dalton, his eyes narrowing. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Dalton shrugged, tossed a card onto the table and added another to his hand. “You meet a lot of different people if you play enough cards.”

  Saulnier continued to stare for a moment then returned his gaze to his hand.

  A steward wearing a freshly starched jacket, his hair slicked back from his face, handed Saulnier a folded paper and left. Saulnier broke the wax seal, opened, read the missive and frowned. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and lifted his cards.

  Dalton won that hand and dealt the next.

  His gaze on his cards, Saulnier said, “I could swear we’ve met before.”

  “Can’t recall. Haven’t been on the Marie-Dearie for over a year.” Dalton shot a direct look at Saulnier. “What about you? Play the Marie-Dearie often?”

  “Not for a…” The man looked up, his face paling. “No. This is my first time on the Marie-Dearie.” He tossed his hand facedown on the table. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I just remembered I have an appointment I can’t miss.”

  Dalton’s pulse quickened. He’d seen recognition in the other man’s eyes, and something else. Fear?

  Saulnier hurried from the room.

  James’s feet dropped to the floor, and he sauntered out of the game room after Saulnier.

  “Gentlemen, I fear my hand is equally dismal. Excuse me, I have a matter to attend to.” Dalton pushed back and stood. In seconds he was out the door and following James.

  The sound of footsteps on the gangplank alerted him to his friend’s location. He broke into a run, his pace picking up as he cleared the narrow outer corridors. James was across the ramp and running along the dock to the riverbank, where he slipped in and out of shadows, noise from his footsteps barely audible.
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br />   Dalton hesitated, not eager to leave the boat or Rosalyn, but anxious to prove his innocence. From his position on the boat, Dalton couldn’t make out Saulnier, but if James had gone ashore, he must have Saulnier in sight. Dalton leaped across the gangplank and ran along the dock to the shore. He followed James along the shoreline until his friend crossed toward the buildings lining the riverfront road.

  Before long, James eased to a stop at the corner of a hotel. Light streamed out of the window of a saloon, the noise inside spilling into the night.

  Dalton slowed, walking past the saloon’s open door, casually continuing to the corner, his breathing hard, his lungs screaming. He looped an arm over his friend’s shoulder, pretending he’d just stepped out for fresh air. “Where is he?” he whispered.

  “Shh.” James jerked his head toward the dark gap between buildings. “He went down the back alley to the street behind the hotel.”

  “Why aren’t we following him?”

  “He’s talking to someone.”

  Dalton leaned around the corner.

  Saulnier stood in the shadows with another man who wore a gentleman’s hat and carried a cane.

  A noise behind Dalton made him look around. A man stumbled out of the saloon.

  Dalton let his arm fall from around James’s shoulder and ducked his head. “We need to get out of sight. I can’t risk the law finding me.”

  James slipped between the two buildings, squatting low, remaining hidden.

  Dalton followed suit.

  Around the corner of the saloon, the noise wasn’t nearly as loud. However, they still couldn’t make out the other two men’s conversation.

  Their voices rose and the stranger pushed Saulnier.

  Saulnier didn’t retaliate. He stood as still as stone, stiff, unbending, silent.

  The gentleman said something else.

  Saulnier took off, headed toward where James and Dalton hid.