The Surrender of Lacy Morgan

by Suzanne Ferrell

  He reached for her breasts and cupped them in his hands as he thrust up into her. “Ride me, Lacy.”

  Her pace quickened.

  Up and back.

  Lifting to the tip and sliding back down to the base, working them both and putting them through their paces.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded as he pinched both nipples.

  She obeyed, moaning softly, “No, please.”

  He pulled and twisted them, enjoying her continued pleas and the shivers that shook her body.

  “Please, no more. Ah, I can’t…”

  To the side, just out of her vision, the door to the other room opened. Quinn nodded that he’d accomplished his mission and was ready to join them. Dakota returned the nod, signaling that Lacy was ready, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  Careful not to loosen her bandage, he slid his hands back down to her hips. Gripping her firmly, he lifted her and turned her onto her back. Before she could utter a protest, he settled himself between her thighs and entered her with one full thrust.

  Lying on her back, Lacy wrapped her legs around Dakota’s thighs as he filled her completely once more. Arching her back, she ground against him.

  “That’s it, darlin’. Give him all you’ve got.”

  Her eyes snapped open at Quinn’s voice.

  Was it his turn to watch?

  She turned her head to see him standing naked next to the bed, his hand wrapped around his turgid shaft, stroking it in rhythm to Dakota’s thrusting inside her.

  Mesmerized, she couldn’t take her eyes off his movements, not even when he laid one hand on her cheek and slowly climbed on the bed to kneel next to her head.

  “Please me, Lacy,” he said, guiding the head of his cock to her lips.

  And damn if she didn’t just open her mouth.

  She slipped her lips over the swollen head, tasting the saltiness. The masculine scent of him teased her senses as he plundered her mouth in a slow thrusting rhythm.

  What was wrong with her?

  She should protest. Refuse to do as they asked. Even through she was their prisoner and she knew they planned to make her pay for her part in the robbery and murders, she wasn’t a plaything to be used for their pleasure.

  “Yes, darlin’. That’s it. Suck me. You’re so good.”

  Quinn’s moaned praise filled her mind and warmed her heart—all thought of protest gone.

  He’d wrung her first orgasm from her out on the trail. He’d saved her from near death, cared for her and pleasured her long before he took her last night.

  It was her turn to give to him. To them both.

  “Pet, you’re so tight, so hot around me,” Dakota rasped the words out as he thrust into her heat a little deeper.

  His passion sparked another desire inside her to please them. She wrapped her legs tighter around his thrusting hips.

  Each man grasped a breast, tweaking and pulling her nipples like musicians plucking the strings of new fiddles. Heat built at her core, drawing tighter and tighter. Moaning around Quinn’s thick rod as he slid deeper into her throat, she wrapped a hand around his balls, squeezing gently in rhythm to his thrusting. She laid her other hand on Dakota’s chest, fingers spanning the scarred ridge slashing across it.

  Connected.

  Accepting.

  Desiring them both.

  “Come, Lacy,” Quinn growled, gripping her hair as he guided her farther onto his cock. “Give us your pleasure.”

  As if her body recognized his control, a hard spasm shot through her. When the second one hit, both men matched her.

  “Fuck, yes, darlin’!” Quinn growled, holding her head tight against him and shooting his seed down her throat.

  Lacy swallowed each blast. At the same time Dakota gripped her hips and filled her with his seed too.

  “Oh damn, pet.” Dakota dropped his hands on either side of her. Grasping the sheet in his fingers, he braced his arms and panted heavily. Then he slid from her body and stretched out beside her.

  “Mmm, so good.” Quinn gripped the headboard with one hand and leaned sideways, easing out of Lacy’s mouth. With the palm of the other he stroked her cheek.

  “Sweet darlin’. You were made for lovin’.”

  He moved her over until he could fit on the bed and slid down beside her, continuing to caress her face. Leaning in, he claimed her lips with his. The long, languid tenderness squeezed around her heart and her breath caught in her throat. Tears filled her eyes.

  God, she couldn’t cry. Not now.

  Quinn released her lips, cradling her face up against his chest. “Shh, Lacy. It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

  It didn’t feel like it. What had just happened had changed her. Her world had tilted and she’d never be the same.

  A sob escaped her and she clenched her arms tighter around Quinn, the tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Slow down, darlin’. We’ve got you,” he crooned as if comforting a small child.

  The mattress shifted behind her. Dakota pressed his body along the length of her back, sandwiching her between them.

  “Take a breath, pet,” he whispered in her ear, stroking her arm.

  They held her for a long time. The heat of their bodies soothing her body, their hands caressing her, as if she were something special.

  God, why did they both have to be so tender, so gentle? Why didn’t they kick her out of bed and treat her like pig slop beneath their feet, like Devil had Mama?

  “What’s wrong, darlin’?” Quinn asked when a desperate sigh escaped her.

  “I…I’ve become her.”

  “Who?” Dakota asked from behind her.

  “Ma-Mama.”

  The tears started anew.

  “What do you mean, pet?”

  “I’m a whore, just like she was.”

  “You’re no whore.”

  The anger behind Quinn’s words startled her. She shook her head, finally getting her tears under control. “How can you say that after what I just did? With you both?”

  “Stop it.” He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to lean back and tilt upward. “Look at me, Lacy.”

  She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to see the contempt in his eyes. She couldn’t take the humiliation, not from him, not after what they’d all just shared. The emotions were too new, too fragile.

  “Look. At. Me.”

  Slowly, she lifted her eyes until she met his piercing blue gaze. No contempt. No hatred. Just warmth and intensity.

  “You are not a whore.”

  She started to protest but he settled a finger over her lips to still her words.

  “Would you let any two men bed you like you just did Dakota and me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why, pet?” Dakota pulled her hair from her neck and accented his question with a kiss behind her ear.

  “Because they wouldn’t be you.”

  “Damn right.” Quinn took her lips in another searing kiss, nearly stealing her breath away, holding her still as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. Then he eased back, pinning her with his gaze once more. “Did you demand money to service us? Or did you want to have us pleasure you and give to us in return?”

  She should protest. As their prisoner she was dependent on them, with little say as to what happened to her. But he was right, no money had exchanged hands and she’d wanted them both. Oh how she’d wanted them.

  “It was my choice.”

  He gave a curt nod, his features softening just a fraction. “When we found you in Beaver Run, were you selling your body to take care of yourself?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “That’s right. You weren’t because you are a smart lady. You used your brain. You control who you give your body to, no one else. So you are not a whore.” The look in his eyes turned fierce. “And I never want to hear those words cross your lips again.”

  To drive his point home, he crushed her lips beneath his once more. Demanding. Powerful. As if he cou
ld transfer his confidence and will to her through their joined mouths.

  Unable to fight his sensual claiming, she gripped his back tighter, digging her fingers into his well-defined muscles as he slid one hand into her hair, clenching the curls between his fingers and growling into her mouth.

  Desire coursed through her.

  She’d done that—made his control slip. She’d made the beast in him hungry.

  The mattress behind her gave in a subtle shift. Before she could contemplate Dakota’s movements, Quinn rolled her onto her back in the spot her other lover had vacated, then nudged her legs open with one knee.

  All thoughts fled except the need for this man. Not just any man, but Quinn, buried deep in the core of her. She slipped her hands down to cup his ass cheeks, trying to pull him closer.

  He lifted his mouth. “What do you want, darlin’?”

  “You,” was all she could whisper past the desire thickening her voice.

  He nipped at her lower lip, releasing his grip on her hair to stroke a hand down her arms, over her soft belly and finally to rest over the hot center of her sex.

  “What do you want of me?”

  “More. Please more.”

  “Is this where you want me?” he asked, sliding one finger deep inside her.

  She clenched around him, shifted her hips forward and moaned, rolling her head from side to side.

  “Tell me, Lacy.”

  Damn him. He knew what she wanted. Why make her say it?

  “Tell me what you want. Beg me.”

  “You. Inside me.” She focused her eyes on his blue ones, bright with the desire she felt humming through her. “Please.”

  Quinn shifted, settling between her thighs, his hard cock lying along her slit. He rocked his hips, the warm wetness of her pussy sending more blood to his cock. She bucked beneath him, stroking him.

  He bit back a groan.

  “Tell me, darlin’. Tell me what you want me to do.” He needed to hear her say it. He wouldn’t force her. No matter what she thought. He would never do that to her.

  She gripped him by the ass again, bending her knees, the tip of his cock poised at her entrance.

  A tremble of need shot through him. How much more could he take?

  “Fuck me, Quinn.”

  “Damn, yes.” He thrust deep into her heat. His weight balanced on his upper arms, he stretched along the length of her, chest to breast, belly to belly, joined tight at their core.

  Perfection.

  She was made for him. This was where he belonged.

  Pinning her gaze with his, he eased all the way out to the head, then paused, his body trembling with the desire to slide in deep. But still he waited until she whimpered at the near loss of him. Then and only then did he thrust inside her.

  “Oh yes, mmm,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around his as she clenched around his cock.

  The sound of a door clicking closed triggered the need to take her, to claim her.

  “Mine,” he moaned before crushing his lips down on hers, tasting her, letting her scent fill him as he began moving in long steady thrusts. His tongue plundered her mouth as his cock plundered her body.

  Tension built in spiraling waves as he drove himself faster and faster into her warm, wet heat.

  The first spasm racked her body, squeezing him tighter, yet he fought to keep from coming. Breaking the kiss, he lifted his head to watch her face, her body arching into his.

  “Who do you belong to?” he demanded, working his cock in deeper.

  “No, please….don’t make…me.” Another spasm shook her.

  He held a moment, letting her milk the length of him.

  “Tell me, Lacy.” He nipped at her lower lip, then down her neck, tracing the chains of her collar as if to remind her of his power over her. Biting her shoulder, he slid out and back in, driving her to the brink once more.

  “You. Quinn…ohhhhhh.” She arched and clung to him.

  With her surrender, he sheathed himself completely in her, his own release filling her with his seed. “Agh, yes!”

  Dakota leaned against the doorframe, watching Quinn sink into Lacy’s body, saw her wrap her legs around him, holding him tight to her.

  He stepped into the other room and closed the door. Leaning back, he listened to the sounds coming from behind it, his cock rising in response to his brother’s pleasure in the sultry beauty. Caught up in the vision of Quinn’s ass muscles clenching as he thrust, and Lacy’s hands pushing him deeper into her, Dakota wrapped his right hand around his erect rod and fisted it in long slow strokes, the long scar across his palm adding more friction to the action.

  He could’ve stayed. Watched. Quinn knew his needs and wouldn’t have denied him.

  Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift, float. It was always like this. He could see her, his vision woman. Stretched out in a green field. Naked. Her long dark hair fanned out around her. Legs parted, one hand stroking her pink slit, the other pinching a dark-tipped nipple. She coaxed him closer.

  He had to have her, to conquer her, take her as his.

  The moment her lips called his name, he came. His hot seed hit his belly and coated his hand. He collapsed back against the door with the force of his orgasm. He heaved in a breath or two before grabbing a cloth to clean himself.

  Damn. Every time she came to him he reacted faster and stronger. In all his travels he’d never met her, but he was sure of one thing.

  The dark-haired vixen was his destiny.

  Just as Lacy was Quinn’s.

  Smiling, he strode over to the bureau and poured cold water from the pitcher into the bowl. He dipped in a cloth, wrung it out and began washing.

  That was the reason he’d left the pair alone next door. Quinn might not be ready to admit how important Lacy was to him, but Dakota knew even without the aid of a vision that the pet was his brother’s soul mate.

  He grew serious as he dried off and donned his britches.

  Lacy and Quinn’s path wouldn’t be an easy trail to happiness. Neither trusted easily. Despite the innocence and honesty he sensed in Lacy, he suspected she was hiding something from them.

  Chapter Nine

  As if floating out of a mist-covered valley, Lacy slowly came awake. She stretched beneath the sheet and quilt, feeling refreshed despite the aches in her muscles and between her thighs.

  Heat filled her face at the memories of the things she’d done with her captors. Wanton that she was, she’d enjoyed every moment of it.

  Her brow furrowed.

  Speaking of Quinn and Dakota, where were they?

  She lifted her head and peeked around the room, expecting to see at least one of them guarding her.

  Empty.

  Her heart skipped a beat. For the first time in days she was completely alone. Now was her chance to escape.

  She swung her feet out of bed, sat up and clenched the sheet to her nakedness.

  Was it a trick?

  With great effort, she remained still and strained to hear movement from the hallway or the adjoining room.

  Still quiet.

  Move it, girl. If she hurried, she could reach the stable before they knew she was gone. But she had to be sure they wouldn’t pounce on her the moment she thought she was alone.

  Dragging the quilt with her, she started around the bed to listen at the door connecting the rooms, but stopped at the foot.

  A pale green dress with white lace trim lay there. It looked like the silk dress Mama had once owned. She stroked her hand over the material, remembering the feel from childhood.

  “Oh my.” Tears sprang to her eyes. It felt delicious beneath her fingers.

  Beside it lay a blue cambric shirt, on top of which was a sheet of parchment. They’d brought her gifts?

  With a shaky hand, she lifted the paper to read the dark ink printed there in strong, masculine handwriting.

  The shirt is to replace the one destroyed by the cat. The dress is for dinner tonight. Q.

  Damn
the man!

  Why would he buy her clothes?

  She ran her hand over the material once again. One thing so practical, the other so extravagant. Why would he do something so nice? She was his prisoner. There was no reason for him to buy her gifts.

  Narrowing her eyes, she stepped away from the clothes as if a rattler would slither from beneath them. She wrapped the quilt around her, then stumbled to the ladder-back chair sitting against the far wall and sat down hard on the woven cane seat.

  In her experience men only gave gifts if they wanted something in return. What more could he want of her? He’d certainly had full use of her body since taking her prisoner.

  Her stomach felt as heavy as a fifty-pound sack of flour.

  The clothes were a bribe. Quinn wanted her cooperation. He wanted her to go back into Devil’s valley willingly and help them capture him.

  She clapped her hand over her mouth, clenching her eyes against the sudden wave of nausea.

  The whip whistled in the air just before the snap that meant a moment later pain would shoot through her skin where it bit into her flesh.

  Lacy bit the inside of her lip.

  No, she wouldn’t let the memory take her under. Not this time.

  “Control the fear, missy. Don’t let it control you.” She repeated Mama’s words over and over. Panting, she rocked herself on the chair, willing the tears and nausea to disappear.

  If she was smart, she’d throw on her clothes, sneak out the window and ride out of town as fast as that paint could carry her. Maybe this time she could hide out in a big city—Denver or St. Louis—somewhere Quinn and Dakota would have more trouble finding her.

  No. Stupid idea. In the short time she’d known the pair, she’d learned just how determined they were. They’d track her to hell if need be to bring the marshal’s killers to justice, including her.

  Why shouldn’t they? She was as guilty as the men who pulled the trigger. In truth, maybe more responsible for the man’s death than anyone. Hadn’t she known since the moment she’d realized Santos had used her to lure the man to his death that she’d have to pay for trusting Devil’s chief henchman?