Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

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Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance) Page 15

by Dalia Daudelin


  Ashton's eyes closed a bit longer than a blink, but she noticed. "That's a fair assessment."

  "Well, you said they're territorial, didn't you?"

  "I said that."

  "If there was something big and scary and very territorial, and it didn't want you and your kind of folks coming after it non-stop, it would want to stay pretty quiet, don't you think?"

  "Let me see if I'm following. You think that the place we're looking for would be one where there's an unusual lack of anything going on?"

  "It's not very stupid, is it?"

  He took a moment before answering. "Not at all," he said, finally. "In fact, that might just be the ticket."

  "I'm going to go find somewhere we can buy some supplies for the road," Cora said finally. "We can spend tomorrow looking for anyplace that fits that description. Until then, I'll have someone sent over to look at your jacket."

  Ashton stepped over to her, picked it up off the back of the chair, and held it out so that the hole was right in front of his face. "I was hoping to have Chester look at it," he said, but there was no fight in it. "I guess you're right. Have someone sent up. They can't ruin it any worse than it already is."

  "That's the spirit," she said, smiling. "I'll be back tonight to make sure that they've done the job right. If not—well, an out-of-town girl might not be able to do much, but I think I'm well-enough known back east to count for something out here. My word should still count for something."

  Ashton gave her an amused look that told Cora he didn't buy it. Oh, how little he knew. "I'm sure it does."

  "Oh, you'll see. I know how to get my lips to the right ears, and make no mistake, Ashton Lowe. I know exactly what I am doing. Now, I'm going to go make arrangements. Get some rest. You look dog tired."

  She left the room, and left Ashton, feeling good. It seemed as if it would never happen, but he was finally accepting how it was going to be. Her brother had never been in charge, not really. Now that he was beginning to see that, perhaps they could start really working together.

  Nineteen

  Ashton waited in his room. Evans, more a butcher than a tailor, had come and gone. So much for the power of recommendations, he thought. Well, if Cora had one tenth the authority she seemed to think that she had, then he hoped she exercised every ounce of it.

  He slipped the jacket back on again, not bothering with the good shirt he had left. The one that Evans had brought with him, the one now laying out on Ashton's bed, fit like…

  God, he couldn't even think of a case where his clothes had fit more poorly.

  His toe tapped. He could hear her voice through the walls. Someone was still in there, selling her something else. How many sellers could one woman deal with? Evidently, Evans had been more interested in expedience than the others. Perhaps, the way his belly hung out over his belt, it would have made him late for supper if he'd taken the time to repair the coat properly.

  With his arms slack at his sides, it almost fit normally. Making the slightest forward reach, he could feel it starting to pull. Heaven forbid that he had to actually reach for something, he might pop the seam again himself. And if he had to do it with two arms?

  Lord, the thing would split clear in half! How had it come to this? How could anyone do such a poor job that it made the rest of the jacket measurably worse? Ash frowned and shrugged the jacket back off. It would forever be a mystery.

  This was exactly why he didn't live out West. Because of this exact problem. Because the supposed best that they could do didn't do anything better than to ruin his clothing and his day.

  The voices next door had stopped, thankfully. A knock came at the door a moment later, and he opened it. Cora took one look at him, and didn't bother to ask how things had gone.

  "How bad is it?"

  He took the jacket off the back of his chair and held it out to her, the stitching visible as he held it flat between his hands. Her lips immediately pursed, and then she looked up at him.

  "I see."

  "Yes," he agreed, her tone saying that no more words were needed. Most tailors he had dealt with couldn't compare to the artists he preferred to deal with back in Cincinnati. They had poor taste in fabric, they made clothes that didn't quite fit perfectly.

  Chester's clothing felt as if he wasn't wearing it. The confidence of never worrying about it was immeasurable. This was so much worse than that. Bad enough that anyone could have seen it with the plain eye.

  "I'll have a word with the papers in the morning."

  Ashton dropped the jacket back on the chair, not bothering to drape it properly. What would the point? It was little more than a hundred-dollar piece of trash, now.

  "I'm sorry, Ashton."

  "I know," he said. He settled down onto the bed, trying to forget about it. There would be other suits. He had a closet full of them back home, with all the pockets stitched in perfectly. This hadn't even been his favorite. No, his favorite was lying in the twisted hulk of the train at the bottom of a Dakota valley.

  Ashton heard the sound of the door closing, but when he looked back up, Cora was still there.

  "I can't fix your suit, certainly not on such short notice. But I can try to make it up to you."

  She was already wearing a different dress, clearly one that she had bought today. It was pretty, and suited her well. Like everything he'd ever seen her in. This one was an emerald green that set off the color of her eyes, brown rimmed with a green that seemed that much more prominent with the dress.

  Ashton should have told her to stop when she started to undo the buttons. He should have told her to go back to her room. But he didn't. Instead, he stood up, smelled in the heady smell that he recognized as hers, and pressed her back against the door.

  He tasted her neck, a mix of salt and skin that he would never get enough of, eliciting a moan that he needed to hear. His hand moved up to knead her bosom roughly. It wasn't professional. It wasn't proper. He should have known better, and of all things he knew he shouldn't do what he was about to do.

  None of that mattered. She wanted him, and he wanted her, and nothing was going to stop them, even if it was just this one more time. A voice inside him told him what he already knew. That wasn't an option, not any more. He was going to do this every chance he got, and that was that.

  "Don't stop," she purred. He didn't plan on it.

  Her hips were already moving against his, stoking a fire inside him that would only be appeased by her. He pushed the dress down to the floor, pushed the chemise off her shoulders and let it fall, revealing her perfect breasts to him once more. He wasted no time in teasing the rosy peaks to hardness, enjoying the way that they crinkled around the hardened bud.

  He pulled one into his mouth, continuing to tug gently with his teeth. He could hear her breathing, ragged and rapid and shallow, and he could feel her need in the way that her hips pressed into his exploring hands.

  "Get on your knees."

  He barely recognized his own voice, so hoarse and full of desire. She slipped down to her knees, already knowing what came next. He freed his already-hard erection from the confines of his jeans.

  She pressed a soft kiss against the head, the feeling of contact making him twitch with pleasure and with anticipation. A teasing lick, too short to bear and too tantalizing to ignore. Then another, longer this time, lingering a moment on the sensitive skin of his cock.

  His eyes fluttered shut as she took him into her mouth, exploring his hardness with her lips and tongue. He wasn't going to finish with only that, though. He stopped her before the pleasure was too great, helping her up from the ground only long enough to push her back onto the bed.

  Ash took a moment to admire the sight of the woman in front of him, the way her breasts pooled when she laid on her back. The way that her face shone with the heat of arousal. He dipped to a knee, kissing her between her thighs for a moment, swirling his tongue and earning a groan of pleasure, but neither wanted to delay what would come next.

  He li
fted her legs to sit over his hips and moved into her with a slow motion, easing into her inch by inch. When he was finally inside he set a slow, repeating rhythm. There would be time for the ceaseless passion, for the need to overtake them both, but now they were moving slowly together, gently rocking back and forth, letting his cock touch her everywhere she needed him to touch.

  He let one hand gently stroke her beautiful breasts, his other hand softly rubbing at the nub that lay at the top of her folds. He enjoyed the mewls of pleasure that she let out, but the growing demands of pleasure already starting to overtake him demanded that he move faster.

  He picked up the pace, feeling her walls tight around him, driving him further toward the edge. He was moving hard now, both of them on a frenzied race to fulfillment until he spent himself inside of her.

  She laid there, even her breathing coming out like soft moans, rippling out from the pleasure that they'd both lost themselves in. Ashton stole another kiss before he withdrew from her. They were in for a very long night, he knew.

  Let the morning be the morning, and let the future be the future. For right now, he thought as he felt himself starting to harden again at the sight of her slick with passion and body heat, he would take the beautiful woman below him as many times as she would let him.

  Twenty

  The last time Cora had been in Salt Lake City, it had been so cold that she'd bundled up for the mountain trip before she even left her hotel room. Though it was only a few days later, the difference was massive. No more worrying chills running up and down her spine, no more need to bundle up in two different coats. In fact, it was probably alright to go out in little more than a shawl, compared to Detroit.

  She smiled as they walked together. Silvertown. It was a little place, opened up when a small silver vein was found. Folks talked about it like it was the Holy Grail most of the time, but they—of course—didn't feel any way or the other about it, since that would be terribly improper.

  But the word was good enough. No dangers down in Silvertown. Devils tended to stay away. They said it was the power of the people's faith. Ashton nodded and headed straight for the coach, and now they were on the move, easy as that.

  The stagecoach wasn't too far now, but she wanted to spend every minute she could enjoying the Ashton that she had found. The one that didn't fight her at every step, the one that wasn't pretending to be distant just to be ornery.

  He should have already realized by now how much easier it was to just listen to her. Sure, the tailor hadn't worked out, but other than that. Letting her head rest against his shoulder, he stopped to let her have her moment before they went into the stagecoach office.

  The man behind the counter didn't smile as they came inside, but he didn't look like he was going to fall asleep, either, so Cora supposed it could have been worse.

  There was indeed a stage to Silvertown, left once a day. Two dollars, he said. The stage usually left 'round noon, which wasn't for a few hours yet if they wanted to go get something to eat before they left.

  Cora looked up at Ashton, hoping he would pick up on the signal in spite of how bullish he tended to be.

  "We'll wait."

  Cora settled onto the bench and didn't let herself show any disappointment. The man was impossible. Every step forward came with a step back, and every so often he just… moved right back to square one. There really was no teaching him. He was too stubborn, and too perfect to just let it go.

  Cora waited beside him, no longer in the mood for the affectionate act. If he was bothered, he didn't show it. And if he did show it, Cora added silently, then he didn't show it well enough.

  When the stage came, it was a welcome distraction from looking angry with Ashton. They didn't have much to carry on, though she now had one new bag, so they at least had that much. Ashton helped the man load it up onto the top of the coach and the driver tied it down as Ash joined her inside.

  He gave her a faint smile as he sat down opposite her. A minute later, another man joined them, and decided to sit beside Ash. He made space for the man to slide in.

  The new man looked like you might expect the sort of person going to a mining town to look. Shabby clothes, shabby hair pressed down by a shabby hat. His white shirt was stained brown by the dust and dirt, and though it wasn't a hot day there were sweat stains already visible in the shirt. Thankfully, though, Cora couldn't detect any offensive odor about the man. So while he took poor care of his clothing, the man at least had the good taste to bathe.

  The ride was uninteresting. A whole lot of not much out in the Utah plains. They were heading south, and from what she understood, they would be heading south for several hours. Most of that time, she had little to look at but the mountains off in the distance and the scrub and brush close by. It was beautiful, but that only entertained a girl so much.

  She thought for a moment about starting up a conversation, but between Ashton, who she saw no special reason to talk to if he wasn't going to learn to read the situation, and the sweat-and-dust-stained man beside him, she couldn't find a single person worth talking to during the trip. So, excruciatingly boring, she just passed the trip in silence.

  The cold hit her all of a sudden like a hard gust of wind. The same sort of bone-chilling cold that they'd been dealing with so many times. This time, though, there was no question what had caused it. Ashton's hand darted immediately for the gun on his hip, which made the other man suddenly press himself into the wall for fear of being shot or robbed.

  Cora wrapped her arm around the stagecoach pillar for support, and in that instant she felt something wrap around her arm. It pulled until it hurt, until she thought that her arm was going to come off. She watched with terror, seeing a whole lot of nothing grip her arm as firmly as she could imagine.

  Then, as suddenly as it had began, it stopped, and for a moment she breathed a sigh of relief. Then all hell broke loose, sending the stage sprawling across the dusty plain on its side. The stranger was thrown from the stage an instant before it hit, and the stage made a sickening thump as it hit the ground, leaving little question in Cora's mind what had happened.

  Her legs dangled as she tried to hold herself away from the bottom, away from the ground. Ashton did the same, bracing himself with one leg and holding on as tight as he could with his arms. Sometime in the confusion his gun had gone to the floor, and now it was skidding along the dust somewhere back behind them.

  He looked ready to scream in frustration, but he had an expression of determination that Cora wasn't sure she could manage if she had to.

  They slowed and then stopped. Ash went first, forcing the high door open and pushing himself up and out of it. "Stay there!" He took off. She could hear his boots stamping in the dirt as he ran hard for where she could see his gun was left.

  A face appeared above her a moment later. A body followed a moment later. The man looked to be in his fifties, dark hair graying throughout, but he looked hard and capable. He reached down a hand without giving his name. "Let me help you up."

  "What happened to the driver?" She didn't take his hand, but she had to admit that she wanted to. Anything to be out of that stage.

  "He fell under the wheels, it's what sent you over."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I was just passing by." The wind howled as it passed across the open windows of the stage, making a strange whistling noise. "I saw you go down, and knew I needed to do something about it. I can't imagine if I passed by and someone was hurt."

  "It's not safe, you need to leave," she said, firmly. If this was a nice man, then he needed to know that they hadn't been knocked over by bad luck, or someone going under the wheels of the stage. They were under attack.

  "If it's not safe, then we need to get you out of there."

  "Please. My riding companion, he'll protect me."

  "I can't leave you down there. He can protect you just as well outside the coach, can't he?"

  She pursed her lips. It made sense, she supposed. She reached out
and took his hand. She gasped at the cold and tried to let go, but by then it was already too late.

  Twenty-One

  Ashton grabbed the pistol and scrambled hard. Someone was leaning into the cabin, he could see. Might have been the driver, and if it was then he would thank the man. Right after he made sure that there wasn't something very worrying going on.

  "Hey!"

  The man leaning in didn't make any attempt to turn and answer for what he was doing. He didn't seem to react at all, in fact. Just kept reaching inside the cabin. The wind was blowing so hard, though, that it might have been he didn't hear. Ashton looked around. Wind this hard, cold this deep, they were close to him.

  And not some dust-shade, either. No, they were close to the real deal. Ashton should have been worried about that. It meant a big risk for Cora, and it meant better-than-even odds that he would be joining Peters.

  Unlike his teacher, who had been buried properly with all his students around, it seemed more likely that he was going to be buried in an unmarked grave, if there was anyone left to bury him at all, once he was done.

  But if that was going to happen then he would make damn sure that it happened after he killed that thing. He raised the barrel of his pistol to point it at the man. Ash wasn't a killer, but if it was to keep Cora safe and kill the thing that took his master away from the world, then this once he would take the risk.

  As his finger started to squeeze, fighting against the cold making it hard to even move, the man—though as he looked now, it couldn't have been a man—got its weight onto its feet, and leapt straight up.

  Ash didn't want to believe his eyes. He'd sworn that he had seen a skirt billowing behind in that split-second, as it began its ascent before winking away into nothing as it got too far to see. One jump. One god-damned jump had sent it more than a mile. The force of landing from a jump like that would kill her, all by itself. Never mind what the thing that had taken her would do.

 

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