Not his favorite way to spend a night in town. What he really wanted was to crawl into a soft, comfortable bed, preferably between Lacy’s spread thighs.
Doubt that was happening tonight.
Despite her apparent willingness to please both Quinn and him orally at the river the other day, he doubted she’d take them both as easily into her bed. No, she’d need to be coaxed into it.
And since Quinn, whether he admitted it or not, had staked his claim on their buxom captive, he’d have to be the one to decide how far to push her sexual limits. So here he sat, drinking bad whiskey, watching for any sign of trouble, while Quinn, presumably, was finally sinking his cock into Lacy’s luscious folds.
Damn. With a shift in his seat he adjusted the fit of his pants. Whenever they’d shared a woman, he’d hated being the one to wait. Of course, Quinn was worse at it.
Why wait?
For a moment he studied the two whores making time flirting with the patrons and sipping drinks at the bar. Their clothes were tattered around the edges where their breasts threatened to spill out of low-cut bodices. Even in the saloon’s dim lighting he could see the face paint they’d slapped on to hide the ravages of too many late nights with too many men.
Used. Abused. Rode hard and put to bed wet.
Things Lacy was not.
Fresh and almost naïve. You could smell it on her. A cleanliness of spirit despite years living among Devil’s men. And he’d bet if she wasn’t a virgin when they’d found her, she’d been close to it.
That’s why he’d wait.
He’d wait to have his time alone with her or share her with Quinn. If he missed his guess he’d be surprised, but he had a feeling Lacy was different than all those other women, at least for Quinn. And damn wasn’t that going to be a bitch of a problem for his blood brother when it came time to take her to trial in Laramie.
The saloon door swung open, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. He slid his free hand over the Colt tied to his thigh.
The bartender surreptitiously reached under the bar. Dakota suspected he kept a shotgun under there. The man had made the same movement when he’d entered half an hour earlier. The saloon girls shifted farther down the bar, out of the line of fire. Conversation among the few other patrons—a couple of cowboys fresh from the trail and a handful of miners playing cards at one of the tables—stopped while everyone watched the stranger enter.
Sleek.
That’s the word that popped into Dakota’s mind as the sidewinder entered the bar. He wore his flat-top vaquero-style hat low over his eyes. A thin moustache lined his upper lip and a patch of hair covered just his chin. Long and lean, in a calf-length duster that Dakota would bet his lucky twenty-dollar gold piece covered a pair of six-shooters. Sharp-wheeled spurs on his boots jangled loudly as he strode up to the bar, instantly setting off Dakota’s inner warning bells.
One hand still on the butt of his gun, Dakota lifted his glass with the other to sip more whiskey. His movements seemed to signal the other patrons to return to minding their own business. The card game resumed, the cowboys went back to eyeing the saloon girls and the bartender eased his hand off the shotgun.
“Whiskey,” the man ordered.
“Sure thing, mister.” The bartender poured two fingers’ worth into a clean glass. “You staying in town a while or just riding through?”
Same question he’d asked Dakota.
“I’m looking for someone.” The man downed the whiskey in one gulp, then pointed to his glass again.
The bartender obliged him with a refill. “Anyone in particular?”
“Woman.” He turned to study the two women at the end of the bar for a minute, then refocused his attention on his drink. “You got any new whores in town? One that maybe wears a gold chained necklace?”
Shit.
Lacy. The bastard was looking for Lacy. Was he a bounty hunter using the same Wanted poster he and Quinn had? Or was he one of Devil’s gang trying to find her? Either way, he was trouble they didn’t need right now.
“No new girls here. Sarah and Becky there’ve been with me for a few years now. In fact, I can’t say as I’ve seen any new woman wearin’ that kind of necklace in town, ever.”
As if on cue, the women sidled up to the newcomer, flanking him on both sides and stroking their hands over his chest and arms.
He looked them over. “You girls seen anyone wearing something like that?”
“No, can’t say as I have.” The too-skinny blonde shook her head.
“Me neither, sugar,” the older-looking brunette said. “What you need from her that we can’t give you?”
“You keep your eyes out for the woman wearing that necklace and I’ll make it worth your while the next time I pass through town.” The stranger ran a hand down their backs to cup each of their asses.
The women laughed and leaned in to whisper in the man’s ear before moving over to join the miners at their poker game.
Dakota leaned farther into the shadows as he watched the man finish his whiskey, toss two coins on the bar, then exit the saloon.
Three minutes, then he’d follow.
Slowly, he finished his own drink. He slipped out of the corner. A quick nod in the barkeep’s direction and he was out on the street before any of the other patrons could register his departure.
The hard thud of a bootheel accompanied by the loud jangle of spur sounded to his left, in the direction of the general store.
Undecided how to handle the man—kill or misdirect him—for the moment he settled for tracking him. Hell, with the noise the man’s spurs made, Dakota could be blind and still follow him, no problem.
Years ago, Cap had told him humans were the easiest animals to track. For supposedly intelligent creatures, men would do the stupidest things.
“And criminals, Dakota, can be more stupid than cattle in a snowstorm.”
All Cap’s boys knew cows would starve in a snowstorm rather than look for grass just beneath the snow.
“The more times a man steals or kills, the easier it gets for him and the more arrogant he becomes. You give him enough lead rope and he’ll trip himself with carelessness every time.”
“Then what do I do?”
“That, boy, is when you bring him to justice. A polecat will always show his stripes. Our job is to see that no innocent people die in the meantime.”
The stranger stopped at the mercantile, its interior still lit against the darkness. Apparently the storekeep hadn’t yet closed up for the night. Light poured onto the street as the man entered.
Dakota eased up to the edge of the window and peered inside.
The man spoke easily with the storekeep, who smiled, nodded and began setting items on the counter. Supplies for the trail. A woman stepped out of the back room, followed by two small children. The stranger turned to talk with her.
Okay. He couldn’t risk a fight with the man here. Too many innocents could get caught in the crossfire. Misdirection was his only choice.
Decision made, he covered his weapon and his badge with his coat, then stepped into the mercantile.
* * * * *
The light from the fireplace cast the bedroom in a warm glow. The smoky, cedarwood scent from the fire and the faint lavender wafting from Lacy’s soft clean skin mixed for a heady aphrodisiac effect. If possible, the combination surged more blood to his already aching erection.
What he wouldn’t give to just roll her up on to her hands and knees and bury his cock deep in her soft, wet pussy.
But he knew even without her proclamation that she’d never been with a man in a bed that he couldn’t take advantage of her sensuality like that. She was nowhere near ready to be mounted in such a rough way.
No, he needed her to come willingly to him, for his use. He needed her to trust him above all else. Out on the trail a plan had formed in his mind, one that depended on her absolute trust, trust without question. Until he had it, he couldn’t risk taking her back into Devil’s den.
He caressed her cheek, sliding his hand down over her jaw to rest on the gold lace collar.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It’s a slave’s collar. My mother’s mother received it from her owner when he took her to New Orleans to live. It’s the only thing I have of my mama’s.”
“It’s a special kind of collar, darlin’. One a dominant master gives his sexual slave. Obviously, your grandmother held a special place in his heart and mind.”
She reached a hand up behind her neck. He captured it to still her movements.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking it off.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not a slave, Quinn. Not to you, not to Devil, not to any man.” Determination deepened the jade green of her eyes.
“And this doesn’t make you one either.” He released her hand to run his fingers over the metal warmed by the heat of her skin. “What it shows is how much you loved your mama and understand where you came from.”
“Devil said it showed every man that Mama belonged to him.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I hated him for saying that. And I hated Mama for letting him believe that. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that, not by him or any other man. It broke my heart.”
“You’re right. Wearing the necklace honors your heritage and your mother, it doesn’t make you anyone’s property.” He traced the golden strands then trailed his hand down over her uninjured shoulder and chest to cup her breast. “Just like sharing the pleasure of your body doesn’t mean you belong to any man.”
He rolled the nipple between his finger and thumb, then gave it a firm tug.
Her response was immediate. “Yes,” she gasped and arched her back.
“That’s it, kitten. Purr for me.” He worked first one nipple then the other, applying increasing tension until her moans of pleasure followed each gasp of pain. Her body writhed beside him and she parted her thighs, knees slightly bent.
“Mmm, I love hearing your passion, darlin’.” He lowered his lips to claim hers mid-gasp. The fine tremors of her moans vibrating against his tongue sent desire hot and scorching through his own body.
At the same time he crushed her lips beneath his, he slid his hand between her thighs, delving between the fine hairs lightly covering her sex. Dewy heat met his fingertips. Parting her folds, he found and rubbed the nub of flesh at the top of her slit.
Another delicious moan coursed from her depths into his mouth and down his body. It was too good. If he didn’t take control of his raging need, he’d come before he even entered her body.
And that was something he’d never done. At least not since he was a boy.
Groaning, he released her mouth and eased away from her.
A moment. That’s what he needed. A moment to tamp down the desire to roll on top of her and thrust deep. Lacy didn’t deserve to be taken like a common saloon whore. She deserved pleasure and patience and—
She wrapped her hand around his cock.
Damn.
She started to pump him.
Aw, fuck. Yes!
No!
He grabbed her hand and stilled her movements.
“Am I doing it wrong?” Wariness laced her question. She wanted to please him. He could hear it in her voice, see it in her face. Just what he wanted from her. If he didn’t gain some control over her and over his lust, he’d destroy any progress they’d made.
He held her hand around his cock and throbbed against her silken palm. “Kitten, you’re doing it perfectly. But I want this to last. If you keep that up you won’t get to see the surprise I have in store for you.”
“A surprise? I thought we were fucking.”
He pulled her hand away, already wanting to beg her to touch him again. But this was all about sexual control. His. Over her.
With renewed determination, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here, Lacy,” he commanded, holding a hand out to her.
Bewildered at his sudden withdrawal and the steel control in his voice, Lacy slid out of the covers. Gooseflesh covered her body as she walked naked from the bed and slipped her hand in his.
He pulled her around to stand in front of him.
Firelight shone on the hard muscled planes of his chest and ribs, shadows etching the hard angles in relief. He was a living statue of male sexuality. The musky male scent of him mixed with the lavender water from their shared bath, enticing her to touch and savor him. His hard erection pressing against his stomach caused her own sex to swell with the need to mate with this man—to hold his hard strength deep inside her.
Perched between his widespread, muscular thighs, she swayed slightly. He caught her hips in his hands to steady her then he slowly turned her away from him toward the oval-shaped standing mirror facing the bed. Pressure from his hands brought her into a kneeling position in front of him.
“No. Please,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to cover her sex and her other arm over her breasts.
“Don’t,” he commanded, his breath caressing her shoulder.
She looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror just over her shoulder. The crystal blue of his eyes seared her with their desire.
“Show me all of you, darlin’.”
Suddenly, pleasing him was as important as taking her next breath. She lowered her hands to her side.
Intensity flared inside his eyes and their blue heat flamed even hotter.
“God, you are a goddess.”
His praise heated her flesh as much as his sensual gaze.
“See how sensual your body is?”
Drawn by his words, she stared at the woman in the mirror and the man seated on the bed behind her. Mesmerized by the scene in front of her, she watched as the man slid his hands over the woman’s shoulders then down to cup her heavy breasts.
“You were made for seducing a man,” he whispered as his fingers pinched her dark nipples.
She inhaled deeply. The movement pulled her breasts away as he held her by the points, sending little frissons of awareness across her nerves. He repeated the action and she moaned, delighting in the heat swelling between her thighs.
“You like the pain just a little bit, don’t you?” he chuckled.
“It feels too good,” she whispered.
He tweaked her nipples harder.
“Oh please…” she gasped.
“More?”
“Yes.” She saw the sweet torture on her face in the mirror and she wanted more.
“Beg for it, pet.”
She couldn’t.
His eyes said she could.
“Please, pinch them more.”
His teeth grasped her earlobe at the same time he twisted both nipples and held them taut.
Fine tremors started in her breasts and ran through her whole body. “Oh…yes…so…good.” She gripped his thighs in her hands to keep from falling with the pleasure.
He released his grip, smoothed his palms around her breasts and licked where he’d bitten her ear. “I love how responsive you are to my simplest command.”
Before she could protest, he slid his hands down her sides to her thighs. Parting them, he lifted her to sit on his lap.
“Watch the woman in the mirror, darlin’. Isn’t she beautiful? She’s made for pleasure.” As he spoke he moved his hands up the soft skin of her inner thighs, sending more tremors skittering over her senses.
“See her mouth parted with need? And the long curve of her neck as she rests her head back on her lover’s shoulder?” His hands traveled farther up her thigh, opening her wide to the mirror. “And her breasts—full, heavy, the tips begging for more attention.”
Lacy arched her back, rocking her bottom against the full hard length of him pressed between her ass cheeks—his words as much a stimulation as the delicious things his fingers were doing to her inner thighs. Anticipation of those fingers touching her hot sex made her purr.
“See how she’s splayed open for her lover? Craving his touch, hi
s pleasure in bringing her to the brink?”
“Oh yes.” She watched as the man’s hands opened her nether lips, the hot pink flesh for her to see.
“Now watch.” He slid his hands around and beneath her thighs, lifting the woman above his cock, backward, until the head slid into her flesh. Releasing his grip, he let her sink down until her body completely engulfed his thickness.
The pleasure of him filling her, stretching her more than she’d ever been stretched before, brought a moan to her lips. The almost exquisite pressure teetering on pain felt too much. She shifted her weight, moving him slightly out.
“Wait,” he commanded, his voice tight and harsh. His hands gripped her thighs to still her movements. “Give me a moment.”
He’s fighting for control. A wicked need spread through her, and she shifted forward, taking him in deep again.
“Oh damn.” His moan, her reward.
That’s when she knew.
He was hers. His pleasure at her control.
Meeting his blue gaze in the mirror, she stroked her hands up over her breasts, cupping them as she shifted her weight back and forth again. His cock slid out just to the head, her juices glistening on the veined and swollen shaft. Then she took him back inside.
“Mmm,” she purred.
“Fuck yes,” he growled. “More, darlin’. Ride me hard.”
She fought to keep the pace slow and steady. With each movement the musky scent of their lust filled the air around them. Each thrust brought him deeper inside her. Each glide out was shorter and shorter, until she rode him like her horse in a full gallop over the flat plains. Pleasure and pressure built inside her.
Movement in the mirror caught her attention. She froze, impaled on Quinn’s cock as the door to the next room opened. Dakota stood in the doorway. Her eyes met his and the heat in the liquid brown depths sent her blood to near boiling.
“Don’t stop.” Quinn gripped her hips, forcing her back and up again, gliding her off and on his cock. “Dakota loves to watch.”
Wanton greed filled her as she returned to the erotic rhythm.
Two men. With her own need for release, she could please two men, control their lust, build it, tease it. At this moment, she and her body were the center of their sexual world.
The Surrender of Lacy Morgan Page 11