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The Gold Digger

Page 7

by The Gold Digger (lit)


  “Your clit,” he whispered and lifted his finger. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. Touch it again.”

  He tapped against her clit with his fingertip. Each touch made her hips jerk and her body quiver. Her knees felt like they would buckle any minute. She felt herself reaching for something that she couldn’t even name, something that shimmered at the edge of her imagination, like a mountain of gold, like a beautiful party dress, like a— Damn it! She felt like a dog chasing a rabbit. Each time she reached toward it, the cagey little thing slithered through a log, and she lost it. She couldn’t quite get it in her grasp. Her body tensed, and she tightened her hand on Stuart’s arm.

  “Be patient, babydoll. It’ll come.”

  “When? What?” she cried. “Whatever it is, I want it now!”

  “Just relax. Enjoy every sensation. When you least expect it, you’ll get it.”

  She pouted again, rolling her head on his chest. His fingers smoothed over her clit again, trying to appease the ache. “I’m not very good at patience.”

  “I noticed.” He dipped his head toward her, and she lifted her face. His lips met hers in a soft, gentle kiss. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth, and she closed her eyes and let him do all the exploring he wanted. He was her guide, her scout, her fellow adventurer and—

  She tore her mouth away as her body trembled violently. The sensations ripped through her body like water from a busted dam, pouring through her, cascading over her skin, rippling and splashing through her blood. Her pussy spasmed, then clenched, the muscles clamping on emptiness but pulsing with the manic beat of her heart. She’d never felt anything like it in her life. Delightful little shivers spread over her body, followed by a flash of heat that nearly melted her from the inside out. Her limbs quaked then trembled then seemed to hang limp. She slumped in Stuart’s arms, listening to his soft laughter.

  “I see you found it.”

  “Holy hell. Did I ever.”

  “It gets even better,” Stuart said.

  She smiled at him. “Oh, it couldn’t possibly.”

  He lifted his finger from her clit long enough to slide through the juices coating her slit until he found the opening. A little swirl of his finger made her lift to her tiptoes and push back into him. He chuckled, and the sound vibrated from deep within his chest. He slid one of his fingers inside her pussy, and she pushed against his hand, eager for more.

  “Tell me what you want, Cinda.”

  He knew what she wanted, but he was going to make her ask for it.

  “More. I want more.”

  “More of what?” A second finger joined the first. “This?” He moved his fingers in and out, while he pushed the heel of his hand against her clit, stroking with a hard, rhythmic movement.

  She gasped. “Yes, more of that. More fingers...more...”

  A third finger joined the other two, and she felt stretched. He had big hands and long fingers.

  She reached behind her and ran her hand across the front of his trousers. Now here was something that hadn’t managed to elude her like that damn imaginary rabbit. Hard, long, big, throbbing… and all for Cinda Parks. And since she’d been having the best luck of her life recently, she had an identical one somewhere near the cabin. Damn, it was good to be her.

  Where had Mitch gone anyway?

  She slipped her hand inside Stuart’s pants. “How do you want me to touch you?” she asked, unsure of what to do, but eager to please. She wanted to give him back the same pleasure he'd given her.

  He made a low sound like he was in pain when her fingers wrapped around his organ.

  “Do you know what it’s called?” His voice was measured, like he was trying to hold on to his control. He put his hand over hers, wrapping her fingers around him.

  “Oh yes,” she sighed. “It's called a cock.” She couldn't believe anything could be that hard and feel so soft.

  “Stroke it. Like this.”

  He demonstrated, guiding her hand fully up and down his length several times. She wanted to take her time and explore him, to run her fingertips over the velvety soft skin of his cock, but she didn't think that was what he had in mind, so she turned to face him. Much as she wanted to look into his eyes, she couldn't for the life of her keep from glancing down to what she held in her hand. Oh mercy me. There was no way that was going to fit in her body. She drew back a little, and Stuart tilted her face up to look at him. Something must have shown on her face because he gave her a little smile.

  “I'm not going to hurt you.”

  “I’m not worried,” she murmured. “Just a little surprised by the size. I mean I’ve only seen one, and it wasn’t quite this pretty…or big.”

  She looked back down at the cock in her hand, giving an experimental little stroke back and forth. He swore softly under his breath, and she set a rhythm that seemed right. She didn’t know how she understood that, but she knew she did the right thing. And, if she had any doubts, Stuart's low, whispered encouragements would have erased them.

  She licked her lips, wondering what it would be like to slide her tongue over that silky skin. From very near, she heard Mitch clear his throat. She dropped her forehead against Stuart’s chest then turned her face toward his brother.

  Mitch shot a disgusted look toward Stuart, and Cinda backed up a step. Mitch’s gaze dropped down to the hard cock jutting out of Stuart’s pants. “I see you started without me.”

  “Your last words to me were ‘keep going’, so I did.”

  “When did you start listening to me?”

  “I listen when you get a good idea. Besides, you’ve been gone so long, I thought you fell down the mine shaft.”

  “The shaft’s on the hill, dumb ass.”

  “Could you two argue later?” Cinda said. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

  * * * *

  Stuart peered at his brother. “Something wrong, Mitch? You look a little…something.”

  Mitch had that look on his face. He’d been thinking too hard again, and Stuart could take a wild guess on what thoughts galloped through his brother’s head. Mitch had never been the trusting sort, but the last woman they’d hooked up with had really screwed Mitch up good. He still blamed himself for several pounds of gold that vanished into the streets of Denver along with Missy Carter. In Stuart’s way of thinking, losing a little bit of gold had been worth it to get rid of the bitch. He’d put up with Missy because Mitch had fallen for her hard and fast. She had a body to tempt a preacher and a set of angelic dimples that Stuart knew immediately would be trouble. Trouble seemed to find Mitch like he wore a lightning rod.

  “I’m fine.” Mitch glanced at Stuart’s cock. “And I can see you’re more than fine.”

  “I’d be more than fine, too,” Cinda said, “if someone would touch me.”

  “She’s a greedy thing,” Stuart said. “She came already, but she’s obviously a little self-centered.”

  “I liked it!” Cinda cried. “And you promised me more.”

  Mitch reached out and lifted a curl off Cinda’s shoulder. “You have the prettiest hair.”

  Cinda rolled her eyes. “And eyes like cornflowers. I know. Thanks, but what about the rest of me?” She wiggled her hips.

  Mitch stared at her like he’d suddenly lost his concentration. Stuart swallowed a laugh. So Mitch was over dimples and suddenly had a thing for long, shiny hair. Well, Stuart had to admit Cinda had pretty hair, and it happened to be the color of gold, their favorite color.

  She ran her hands down her pants. “I’m all itchy now. If you want to touch something, touch this.” She grabbed Mitch’s hand and pulled it between her legs. Mitch moved closer as though pulled by an invisible string and curled his hand over her. She lifted her face. “You could kiss me again if you want.”

  He dipped his head down.

  “I hate to butt in here,” Stuart said.

  Mitch’s gaze slid toward him. “I’ll bet.”

  “You kind of in
terrupted things.” He motioned to his cock, stiff, swollen, and jutting out from his body. “She was stroking me, and I kind of liked it.”

  “I kind of liked it, too,” Cinda said. Mitch’s hand must have hit her clit because she let out a little moan and shivered. “But I think I like this even better.” She leaned toward Mitch, grinding her pelvis against his hand.

  “Still and all…” Stuart said.

  Cinda threw her hands in the air. “Oh for land’s sake! We’re wasting time here talking.”

  “Going somewhere?” Stuart asked.

  “Yes, no, well, I hope not, but—”

  Mitch’s gaze raked over her body. “I’m not giving the gold back if you fuck us.”

  “Who said anything about the gold?” Cinda snapped.

  “You seemed a little fixated on it earlier.”

  Cinda flushed. “A girl can change her mind.”

  Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “Is this part of the deal? ’Cause we haven’t agreed to anything yet and—”

  “Forget the deal! We’ll talk about the deal later. You can’t start something with me and not finish it. That’s just not fair!”

  Stuart stifled his smile. If she’d forgotten the gold, and Mitch was thinking about her hair, things were looking up. He saw a lot of stew on the horizon. He pressed against Cinda’s back, eager to get back to business. His jaw dropped when Mitch said, “I can’t do this. You need to go.”

  Chapter 5

  Cinda closed her eyes and pressed a hand against her forehead. What had Mitch said? They had both hypnotized her. Her head felt light, and her body still trembled. When Stuart took a step backward, she shivered and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Mitch leaned toward her and drew her chemise closed. “Get out of here.”

  Something had gone wrong. She only had one chance to fix it. She tugged on the laces and tied them as best she could. Her mind whirled as she wondered what she could do to get things back on track. This hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to. Not at all. What had she said?

  Don’t mess this up, Cinda. Be nice, be sweet.

  Both brothers turned and headed back toward the cabin. Oh no. She started to follow, her fingers flying as she tried to close the buttons on her shirt.

  Stuart stopped and turned. “Time for you to go.”

  “But, I want—”

  Mitch glanced over his shoulder and let his gaze drop down her body. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, but Cinda had no idea what it might mean. He looked both sad and angry at the same time. He studied her for a moment. “Don’t bother. You’re not getting the gold back.”

  “I don’t want—”

  Mitch shook his head. “No lies, doll.”

  She slammed her hands on her hips. “I don’t lie.”

  “There’s one right there.” Mitch gave her a tiny smile. “Hit the road, sunshine. See ya around.”

  He spun around and stomped into the cabin. Stuart reached down and grabbed her satchel. He tossed it to her, and it slammed into her chest, almost knocking her over. She caught herself before she fell and rushed toward him.

  “Talk to him, Stuart. Make him let me stay.”

  He gave her a glance that seemed a little apologetic. “It won’t do any good.” He nodded toward the stream. “Better get out of these woods before dark. You can’t trust people in the hills.”

  He turned and followed his brother inside.

  Cinda slid the satchel over her shoulder. “I think I could have trusted you.”

  She heaved a sigh, glanced up at the sunlight then started down the hill toward the stream. She swiped at the tears that leaked out and decided she’d keep her gaze on the water.

  * * * *

  When Stuart barreled into the cabin, Mitch stood with his hands flat against the wall of the hearth, staring into the small pile of dead ash. Stuart slammed his hat down on the table. “What the hell is the matter with you? What were you thinking?”

  His brother grunted. “I was saving your sorry ass.”

  “My ass? Look closer, brother. I liked her. I wanted to keep her around.”

  Mitch shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “It’s better if she’s not.”

  “Better for whom? Did you get a good look at her?”

  “Hard not to,” Mitch grumbled.

  Stuart clenched his fists. If he’d ever wanted to punch his brother’s face more than right that moment, he couldn’t remember when. “How long do you think she’ll survive in Deadwood on her own?”

  Mitch spun around. “That’s not a problem. Someone will take her in.”

  Stuart kicked a chair away from the table and fell into it. “No, not a problem at all. And that’s exactly why it’s a problem. Did she look like a whore to you?”

  Mitch refused to look at him.

  “Did she?” Stuart repeated.

  “No.”

  “At least you’re not fucking blind,” Stuart said. “But you know what, Mitch? You just guaranteed that little woman will be a whore before the end of the week. Hell, the next time we go into town we can pay her a visit and—”

  “Shut up, Stu.” Mitch ran a hand through his hair. “She would have stolen us blind.”

  “She wasn’t stealing, she was settling in. Did you look around this place? She was nesting, Mitch. And she’s either the most hard-working or the luckiest woman I’ve ever seen. She’d have been an asset.”

  “We can’t keep her here. Women don’t mix in our lives, and no matter what we think of her, she doesn’t fit.”

  “She could have fit,” Stuart said softly.

  “Where? With you?”

  “Maybe.” Stuart leaned back in his chair. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “And where exactly does that leave me?”

  “Is that what this is all about? You think she’d pick me over you? Hell, how do I know she wouldn’t pick you? That charming personality of yours practically guarantees she’d fall right into your arms.”

  Mitch clenched his hands into fists. “I’m warning you to shut the hell up.”

  “No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. Sit down.”

  Mitch looked ready to kill him, but he dropped into a chair. Stuart opened his mouth, but the sound of Cinda’s voice made him snap it closed.

  “I think you should both sit down. I have something to say.”

  Mitch jerked and twisted toward the door. Stuart smiled as she marched across the floorboards and tossed her bag on the bed.

  “I need money, and I’m willing to do anything to get it. Let’s barter.”

  “You have nothing we need,” Mitch said.

  “That’s not true. You like the way I look. I know you do.”

  Stuart’s gaze swung between them. Mitch set his lips in a firm line then said, “If we want a whore, we’ll go to Deadwood.”

  “Did I say anything about being your whore?” Cinda slammed her hands on her hips and glared at Mitch. When her gaze swung to Stu, he put his hands in the air.

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “Maybe not,” Cinda said, “but you’re not helping.”

  Mitch pushed away from the table. Cinda winced when his chair screeched against the floor. “Why should he help you? He’s my goddamn brother! What the hell do you want from us?”

  Cinda blew out a disgusted breath. “I told you. I need money. Look, I want out of this territory, and I—”

  Mitch flung his arm toward the door. “So leave.” When she stood her ground, he bolted to his feet, stomped toward the door and grabbed his hat from the peg. “Do you want a ride down the hill? I’ll be more than happy to deliver you to town just to get rid of you.”

  “No, I don’t want a ride to town! I want to stay here. Please, Mitch, let me stay.”

  “And have you ruin my life? Not a chance.”

  Mitch stepped off the threshold, and Cinda snatched at his arm. He lurched away like she’d touched him with a branding iron at the exact moment a loud crack echoed thro
ugh the cabin. Mitch stumbled backward a few paces then fell to his ass in the dirt. Brow furrowed, Stuart rose slowly to his feet, his gaze locked on his brother’s face where a trickle of blood etched its way down his cheek. For a crazy moment, he wondered where the blood had come from. Finally, he understood.

  Stuart lurched to his feet and shouted “Get down!” just as another violent crack echoed through the cabin. The bullet ricocheted off the dirt and slammed into the cabin wall, splintering the wood.

  Mitch managed to get to his knees and teetered precariously. Cinda tumbled out the door and dropped down beside him. She covered her head as another bullet exploded a log behind her then began tugging on his arm. “Mitch, come on! Someone’s shooting at us.”

  Stuart dodged across the cabin, keeping low. He grabbed the rifle from near the door, yanked open the barrel, and found it empty. Cursing and snarling, he began to search the drawer for bullets. Jesus, Mitch had bullied her with an unloaded rifle.

  “Cinda, come inside. I’ll get him.”

  She completely ignored him and gathered Mitch’s face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. Stuart saw that his brother’s eyes had clouded over, and Mitch was completely oblivious. He was barely aware of the woman kneeling in front of him. He blinked several times and frowned.

  “My head hurts.” He started to sink toward the ground, and Cinda shoved her hands under his arms, trying to pull him back up. He straightened for a moment then closed his eyes and leaned toward her.

  “Mitch.” She shoved him back up and gave him a little shake. “Come on. Stay with me.”

  His eyes snapped open then narrowed as he peered at her. “You.” The word oozed from his mouth like it was wrapped in filth. He jerked away in disgust, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Don’t touch me. Thief.”

  “Stop being so mean,” she growled back. “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

 

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