Gideon, Robin - Desire of the Phantom [Ecstasy in the Old West] (Siren Publishing Classic) (32 page)

* * * *

According to their preferences, the witnesses concluded
Pamela’s flushed skin tone was the result of a crying jag or
a quick dose of Garrett Randolph’s passion.
Angie Darwell was angry enough to kill—and not cleanly. In her current frame of mind, the killing would be slow and bloody.

Garrett had gone upstairs during the dance and had made
love with Pamela. This infuriated Angie.

There were people who said Garrett had only gone upstairs to calm Pamela down, that the poor girl had clearly been crying. But Angie didn’t believe that story for a second, not after seeing the well-loved look on Pamela’s face when she and Garrett, hand in hand, had come down the long stairway and gone straight out to Garrett’s carriage.

Angie had seen that look on herself, in a mirror, back in
those brief, exhilarating days when she and Garrett had been lovers. Not for a second did she believe that Garrett
had only offered Pamela a strong shoulder to shed tears on!

Most infuriating of all was that Angie had actually ridden
all the way out to the Randolph ranch and had blatantly propositioned Garrett. But he’d turned her down! Now he
was chasing after the sister of a bounty hunter like a stal
lion after a filly, not caring a whit that all of Whitetail Creek’s elite was downstairs dancing and drinking.

Garrett Randolph, always so concerned about appearances, about doing the right thing, the proper thing, the correct thing…

Angie tried to force the irritation from her mind, but she
could not. As she saw it, Garrett had embarrassed her by
choosing Pamela over her. Everyone knew Angie wanted Garrett
and intended to be his wife when he moved into the territorial governor’s mansion, just as everyone knew she was
more than ready to have sex with Garrett
under any circumstances.

Wasn’t she the one with the reputation for being too sexually adventurous? The one who caused scandals by cavorting about?

Most galling of all to Angie was her belief that Pamela was
having fun with Garrett. It should be Angie with whom Garrett
behaved so shockingly.

Angie took another glass of cold champagne, hoping it
would calm her anger, but when she tasted it, she sniffed.
The events of the evening had robbed her of her thirst.

Promising herself that she would get even with Pamela,
and that she would soon have Garrett under her thumb and
in her bed again, Angie left the dance early, knowing in her
heart that it was time to take drastic measures.

Exactly what measures she wasn’t certain.

Chapter Fifteen

“Can I ask you a question?”

Pamela was in Garrett’s carriage, his arm around her shoulders, her cheek against the lapel of his formal jacket. They were making their way very slowly to her house.

“You can ask me anything,” Garrett replied, but only after several seconds of hesitation.

“I don’t know if it’s right to talk about this, but I’ll never know unless I ask.”

“Then, please, ask.”

“First thing I want is to thank you for not climaxing inside me.”

“A timely withdrawal is the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“There’s a fancy word for that.”

“
Coitus interruptus.
”

“Yes. That’s it. I’m not entirely naive, you know. I’ve talked with friends who have told me their men have promised to do that, but they always forget.”

“Men don’t forget,” Garrett said, disgust in his tone. “They just lack discipline.”

Pamela inhaled deeply, loving Garrett’s scent. When she was near him, it seemed all her senses were heightened. She wondered if he had that influence on all the women in his life, or just her alone. She quickly banished the thought from her consciousness, not wanting to even consider the possibility of Garrett with another woman.

She tilted her head back to look up into his face. “You’re ridiculously handsome. Even when you’re the Midnight Phantom and you’re wearing that black mask, you’re dangerously good looking.”

Shaking his head in a self-deprecating manner, Garrett replied, “Right. Sure.”

Garrett’s right arm was around her shoulders. As she looked at his profile, Pamela took his hand from her shoulder and placed it over the mound of her right breast.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, lifting up a bit in the carriage seat to avail herself to her lover.

When he brought his mouth down to hers, Pamela shivered as though from the cold, and the soft, feminine moan she heard on the night air was her own. As Garrett explored her mouth with his tongue, his fingers tightening into her breast, Pamela boldly, blindly reached between his legs. Her fingers slid along the length of his penis, squeezing the shaft several times, and almost immediately she felt him twitch and start to grow.

When a wheel found a hole in the road, the carriage bounced briefly on its springs, forcing an end to the kiss. Pamela looked up at Garrett, amazed at his casual demeanor. He sat turned partially toward her, the reins held loosely in his left hand, his right hand gently kneading her breast with his forefinger and thumb erotically tugging and twisting her nipple.

“I get the feeling I should speed this carriage up,” Garrett said, tapping the reins to the mare’s rump. The horse immediately hurried her pace.

“No, don’t do that,” Pamela said after a moment. “We’re all alone, with only the moon to cast a judgmental eye on us.” When Garrett didn’t immediately slow the mare down, Pamela patted the back of his left hand. “Please, I don’t want a rough ride back to the house. It’s much smoother when she’s walking slow.”

Garrett’s brow furrowed for a moment with apparent confusion, and then he tugged lightly on the reins and the chestnut mare slowed to a leisurely walk.

“See how much smoother this is?” Pamela smiled, placed her hand over Garrett’s, and pressed his fingers deeper into her breast. “Now kiss me.”

Her lips were parted in invitation when Garrett brought his mouth down over Pamela’s. As she danced her tongue with his, she again reached between his legs. His erection was very nearly fully formed, already impressive, fighting against the confining fabric of the left leg of his trousers. Just the awareness of his aroused flesh against her fingertips made Pamela feel simultaneously feminine and powerful.

It was Pamela who ended the kiss first. Twisting in the carriage seat, she kissed Garrett’s cheek and then chest, sliding her hips away from him as she moved lower.

“You inspire me,” she whispered, her fingers tugging at Garrett’s belt, “to be bad.”

Inexperience at such matters made opening Garrett’s trousers difficult. Pamela told herself that all she needed was more experience with Garrett, and she’d be much more adroit. Then she promised herself to get much more experience. When she opened his fly farther, his erection sprang out, the bulbous crown taut, the shaft thick and steelish.

“Oh, my,” Pamela whispered as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. It felt almost hot against her palm. When she squeezed it firmly, Garrett groaned above her. “Again?”

She leaned down and kissed the knob. This was new territory for Pamela, and she felt terribly insecure in her abilities, certain that someone like Angie would likely be highly skilled at this type of loving. Tentatively, she slipped the tip of her tongue out between her lips and tasted Garrett for the first time. When her tongue, warm and moist, came in contact with Garrett’s crown, she heard him suck in his breath sharply. She began licking Garrett, moistening the head of his cock as her right hand worked slowly up and down along the shaft.

Garrett’s hand had been at her shoulder, but she felt it slide upward until she felt the warmth of his palm against the back of her neck.

“Deeper,” he said, his tone low, hoarse with sexual tension.

Slowly, desperately insecure in her ability to give pleasure, Pamela let her lips glide softly, wetly over the head of Garrett’s cock until they were a snug ring around his shaft. The hoarse groan of lust she heard a moment later sent her confidence rocketing skyward. She drew a light vacuum on his knob, her cheeks caving inward, and put her tongue in motion. A sudden, involuntary flinch by Garrett let her know she was tantalizing all the right nerve endings.

She began bobbing up and down, taking as much of Garrett’s erection into her mouth as she could before pulling up until only the very tip still parted her lips. Once, after having Garrett’s crown flexing against the back of her mouth, she started to pull up but immediately was stopped by his hand at the back of her neck. He pushed downward, filling her mouth again with his erection, holding her steady. Pamela knew then that she was slowly but steadily stripping Garrett of his adopted demeanor of casual nonchalance.

“That feels so good, Pamela,” he said seconds later, then released the pressure he’d put on the back of her neck, letting her ease the stress against the opening of her throat. “So damned good.”

Pamela sat up on the carriage seat, her right hand moving over the saliva-moistened shaft, and she kissed his chest then looked in his eyes.

“Am I doing this right?”

Garrett smiled. “Blissfully so.”

“Good. I want to make you happy.”

“You make me—ohhh!”

Garrett’s words were cut off when Pamela abruptly bent over and took his pulsing arousal in her mouth again. She held his crown and as much of his shaft as deeply as she could for a long time before resuming her slow bobbing. She felt Garrett’s feverish pulse in his shaft, and felt her own nectar moistening the lips of her pussy. It was heightening her passions to know she could give Garrett pleasure in this new and exciting way.

When his hand slipped beneath her arm so that he could squeeze her breast, Pamela turned her shoulders to allow him easier access. When he tugged on her nipple, she moaned softly, realizing there was nothing he could ask of her that she wouldn’t do. She was his now to be played as a master violinist plays his beloved instrument.

Pamela tried to be objective about what she was doing so she could judge accurately what Garrett most enjoyed and what he responded less favorably to, but the awareness she was pleasing him immensely was exciting her as thoroughly as when he turned all his considerable sensual expertise upon her. When Garrett leaned toward her and began tugging her dress and petticoat up her legs, Pamela immediately twisted onto her side and lifted a foot onto the carriage’s seat, spreading her knees wide and availing herself to his caresses.

“So slick,” she heard him say as a single, slender finger slipped over her clitoris then between her lips. “Such a passionate, beautiful woman.”

Pamela’s efforts at detachment were shattered when Garrett’s finger slipped between the lips of her pussy several times then exited, found her clit with unerring accuracy, and caressed it with just the right amount of pressure to draw out the maximum amount of ecstasy. She began bobbing rapidly, her body twitching as jagged waves of pleasure jolted her system.

It wasn’t enough for Pamela. She had wanted to selflessly pleasure Garrett with no concern for her own desires because he had always made sure she was satisfied. But she wanted more. She needed Garrett’s strength, his raw power, inside her. She needed to be filled to the brim and bound inexorably to him.

“Up,” she heard Garrett say. It was a command she knew she couldn’t resist. “Get up here, damn it.”

His fingers pushed into her hair, destroying her coiffure beyond redemption, and physically pulled her up. Pamela felt strands of her hair get tugged from her scalp, and she thrilled in the sharp, temporary pain because it told her she had shredded Garrett’s
savoir faire
.

Powerful hands pushed up her dress and petticoat, cupping the cheeks of her bottom as Pamela straddled Garrett’s waist. She reached low to guide the crown of his cock to her entrance, and the moment she felt their bodies meet, she lowered her hips. She opened to him gratefully, her lips slick with her lubricating honey.

“Oh, god!” she gasped, beginning to climax even before she’d taken all that Garrett had for her.

The climactic contractions were sharp, almost painful. Pamela wrapped her arms around Garrett’s neck and squeezed him tightly, her body spasming around the long, thick flesh that filled her. By the time her lips were surrounding the base of Garrett’s shaft, the last contraction had shuddered through her. Breathing deeply, her cheek against Garrett’s cheek, Pamela chuckled softly, feeling her lover’s exquisite erection filling her to completion.

“Well, that was quick,” Garrett said.

“You can’t tease me. You made me the woman I am.” She felt his hands on her naked bottom, squeezing lightly. “Do you think me a complete wanton for responding to you as I do?”

“I think if that climax was good, then next one you have will surely be better.”

He lifted her, and Pamela felt the long, stimulating retreat of his cock from her body. She was not a petite woman, yet Garrett raised and lowered her as though she weighed nothing at all. But after several revolutions, Pamela began raising and lowering her hips on her own, letting Garrett stretch her to satiation then withdraw until she ached for that next sweet, erotic plunge of masculinity into femininity.

Garrett was true to his word. When Pamela came the second time in the slowly rolling carriage, it was more powerful than the first by a factor of three. She was at the brink of a third climax when Garrett, with his hands tight on her bottom, lifted her high enough to completely free his cock from her. With a leonine growl, he climaxed, his sperm staining Pamela’s petticoats and his waistcoat.

The mare, meanwhile, continued her leisurely pace through the dead of the night, pulling behind her a carriage filled with two extraordinarily happy lovers.

* * * *

They were two miles from Pamela’s cabin. The trip by
carriage from the dance had been slow, filled with laugh
ter and more lovemaking. Another bottle of wine had been
opened, and Pamela sipped from her glass slowly, not sure whether Garrett’s intoxicating lovemaking or the heady wine was making her skin tingle. They had discussed briefly why Garrett had become the Midnight Phantom, but
the topic was a bit too serious for her taste, so she had
set her questions aside for a later time.

“They’ll never forgive me,” Pamela said, sprawled across
the carriage seat with her head against its padded side and
her legs tossed over Garrett’s lap.

Garrett held the reins loosely in his hands, and his long
legs were stretched in her direction. Pamela had never seen
him look so relaxed, or so disheveled. His tie was askew,
though not completely undone, and his shirt, unbuttoned
to the navel, revealed an expanse of heavily muscled chest
glistening with the perspiration brought forth by energetic
lovemaking. His hair, usually neatly brushed back from his forehead, was now a little damp at the temples, and had
been roughly combed back with his fingers into some
semblance of order.