River Bound: Bound and Tied, Book 3 (8 page)

BOOK: River Bound: Bound and Tied, Book 3
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It was just like Dalton to create a sense of chaos, even when he was nowhere to be seen.

Movement on the stairway caught her attention. The devil in Rosalyn’s mind, Dalton Black, eased down the steps, his finger pressed to his lips.

Rosalyn’s breath caught in her throat, and she jerked her head toward her room.

Dalton tiptoed back up the stairs, disappearing.

“We apologize for the inconvenience, Miss,” the marshal said as the men filed out of her room. “If you should see Dillon Green, please let the captain know to contact us.”

“Why certainly. Marshal, what has the scoundrel done?”

“His real name is Dalton Black. He’s wanted for murder and theft. He’s a dangerous man, ma’am.”

“Oh my.” Rosalyn lifted her fingers to her lips, feigning fear. She knew how dangerous Dalton Black was, having lost her heart to him. The bag of gold bumped against her leg as a brutal reminder of how little Rosalyn really knew about Dalton Black. As soon as the marshal left the Marie-Dearie, she’d corner the gambler and get a few things straight.

 

Dalton stole around the back of the Marie-Dearie. The marshal and his men didn’t stay below long. Soon they climbed up the stairs and split up, searching decks, the galley and the captain’s helm. The only place they didn’t look was the place Dalton chose to hide. He’d climbed onto the backside of the paddlewheel, grateful the boat wasn’t moving and that the paddles were completely dry.

When all the deputies and the marshal gave up and left the ship, Dalton eased down from the paddlewheel and went below to the cabins. In his room, his breath caught in his throat when he spied the overturned trunk. He hurried forward and dug out the saddlebag where he’d hidden the bag of stolen gold.

Dalton’s heart skidded to a stop. The bag wasn’t there. The marshal and his men had found the gold, proof enough for them that he was the murderer.

“Looking for something?”

Dalton jumped to his feet and spun toward the door.

Rosalyn, wearing a black dress cut low over her bosoms, leaned against the doorframe, her dark brows winged upward, her blue eyes cutting directly into him.

When he reached out to pull her into his room, she avoided his hand, drawing away. “I’m not staying.”

Dalton frowned. “You’re right. It’s not safe in here with me. That marshal could come back anytime.” He grabbed her arm and led her down the hallway to her room, pushing her through the open doorway. Once inside, he closed the door and locked it.

“The marshal was looking for you.” Rosalyn crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m afraid he might have found the bag of gold I had hidden in my room.”

“The bag of gold stolen from the murdered soldiers?”

“Yes, that’s the one.” Dalton gripped her shoulders. “Did the marshal take it?”

Rosalyn stared into Dalton’s eyes for a long moment before she answered. “No.”

“No?” Dalton gazed down at the beautiful woman in his arms, his fear dissolving, a smile sliding across his lips. “You have it, don’t you?”

“If I did, why would I tell you?”

“Because you’re the most wonderful woman in the entire world.” He hugged her, lifted her off her feet and spun her around the room. “Thank you.”

When he set her on her feet, she stood stiff, her jaw tight. “Dalton, did you kill those men to steal the gold?”

His smile faded. That she suspected him of murder cut him to the quick. “You think me capable of killing a man for a bag of gold?”

“I don’t know what to think. When I found the bag of gold…” Her eyes filled and she turned away. She walked to the corner where she’d left her trunks and stood staring into their contents. “I didn’t know what to think.”

Dalton had hoped she’d trust him, but then when had he given her much of a reason to place her faith in him?

He walked up behind Rosalyn and laid his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, the movement plunging a knife into Dalton’s heart.

He sighed. “Where did you hide the gold?”

Rosalyn ducked beneath his arm and moved a few feet away. “I have it on me.”

Dalton’s lips twitched. “You hid an entire bag of gold on you with the marshal looking through your room?” He cupped her face. “You defy explanation.”

“Not really. A woman’s skirts can hide a lot of sin.” She bent to gather her hem and lifted the ends of her skirt up to her waist. The bag of gold hung low over her pelvis, dangling between her pantaloon-covered legs.

Dalton’s cock hardened. He reached out to untie the ribbon holding the bag of gold around her middle. He let the bag fall to the floor, one hand holding on to Rosalyn to keep her from darting away. “Have I told you today how amazing you are?” He cupped her ass, pulling her close, the thin muslin of the pantaloons a teasing barrier between them. If she wasn’t already suspicious of him, he’d rip off his clothing and drive deep inside her.

The tiny dent in her brow worried him, slowing his desired raucous pace to one of gentle coaxing. This woman needed loving in a special way. A way that showed her that he knew her, what she liked, and most of all, that she could trust him.

His fingers tugged at the bow holding her drawers up. The knot slipped loose and the material slid down her legs.

Dalton bent to untie the ribbons around her ankles, easing the drawers over the tops of her boots and off. Kneeling in front of her, he stared up at her naked legs framed by the delicate crinoline and petticoat beneath her full black taffeta gown. Without the drawers, the tuft of dark hair over her pussy stood out against the white of her undergarments.

His mouth dry, Dalton swept his tongue across his lips, imagining the taste of her sweet juices. He straightened, letting her skirts fall down around her, and turned her back to him. He pushed her hair aside and kissed the long slender line of her neck exposed by the low cut of her bodice. With deliberate and painfully slow movements, he loosened the ribbons of her bodice, drawing them through the eyelets one at a time.

Rosalyn’s body swayed toward him, a moan rising in her chest.

The bodice fell to the floor, revealing a black corset, trimmed in brown and ivory lace. He worked the laces at the back until the stays were loose enough the corset could be slipped over her head. The corset joined the bodice on the floor. He made quick work of the skirt, the petticoat and the crinoline, each dropping in a pool around her until she stood in nothing but a shear cream chemise, her thighs peeking from beneath the hem.

Dalton turned her in his arms, his desire overwhelming the need to take it slowly to build her trust. His lips crashed down over hers, his hands gripping her arms, crushing her to his chest. He swept past her teeth to taste and twist his tongue around hers, slipping in and out in the age-old dance of lovers’ bodies joining in the most intimate way. Then he trailed kisses over her chin and down her neck to the rounded swells of her breasts.

She fumbled with his jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. Her fingers worked the buttons loose on his shirt, sliding beneath the cotton fabric to touch his chest, searching for and finding his nipples.

She tweaked the hard brown nubs, her hands slipping lower to his waist, freeing the fasteners of his trousers, liberating his cock.

Dalton sucked in a breath as her fingers closed around his member, warm, soft, deft at coaxing him to hardened steel. He thrust into her palms, his cock eager to fill her.

His shirt hit the floor, and he danced out of his boots. Finally naked, he grabbed the chemise Rosalyn still wore and ripped it up over her head. As they stood naked, surrounded by piles of clothes, Dalton marveled at how beautiful she was. Pale skin, dark hair, pale eyes and a waist so small he could fit his hands around it easily.

And the woman liked making love hard, fast and rough. He swung her up in his arms and tossed her on the bed.

Rosalyn squealed, her eyes alight, and scooted to the far corner of the bed. “You’re a scoundrel.”

“And you love that about me.” He rounded the bed and made a grab for her.

She eluded him, rolling over to the other side and off. She stood, her hands on her hips. “You’ve slowed down in the past year. Think yourself worthy of me?”

“The lady has a point. Perhaps I need to prove myself once again and let the lady know exactly who is in charge.”

“I doubt you have it in you, dear sir.” Her lips curved into the smile of a seductress, luring him to his demise.

Dalton went willingly, diving across the bed. He grabbed her wrist, twisted and dragged her on top of him. “Not fast enough, am I?”

Her breasts pushed against his chest, her legs straddling his waist. “I doubt you have the stamina necessary to please a woman properly.”

“Dare you impugn my manhood, woman?” He flipped her over and laid her across his lap, his hand poised over her pearly white ass. “Care to retract your accusation?”

“Never.” She wiggled against him, her thatch of hair abrading his cock and sending shafts of lust through his body.

Dalton quelled the urge to drive into her, preferring to play the game as she so enjoyed. He slapped her bottom hard enough to make a light red imprint on her fair skin.

She squealed. “How dare you spank me!”

“I’ll spank you again if you don’t retract your accusation.”

“I most certainly will not.” Her bottom rose in anticipation of his next slap.

He smacked her harder this time, the sound sending him over the edge of patience. He pulled her up his body until he could peer into her face. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I apologize.”

“Good, because I can’t hold out much longer.” He flipped her onto her back and held her hands high over her head. “Next time I won’t be so lenient.” He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and settled between her legs, his cock poised at her entrance.

“Please,” she cried, digging her heels into the mattress, lifting her bottom to get closer.

Dalton held back, teasing her with the tip of his dick. “Do you want me?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to beg?”

“Please.”

He rammed into her, sheathing his cock all the way to his balls. Her channel hugged him like a wet silk glove, convulsing around him as he slid back out.

She whimpered. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him back inside her.

Dalton slammed in and out of Rosalyn, his attack merciless, the ferocity of his assault filled with fervor, drive and ruthless passion.

Rosalyn gave as good as she got, biting into his shoulder, her teeth leaving indentations.

When he hit the peak and shot over the edge, he exploded in a flash of color and sensations. The woman beneath him stiffened, her back arching off the bed, her hips rising to meet his one final thrust.

Together, they drifted back to earth, their journey complete, their passion spent.

Dalton must have drifted off to sleep, completely uncaring whether or not the marshal returned. He had the woman he loved in his arms, and he couldn’t be happier than at that moment.

As he slipped into slumber, he dreamed. A midnight-haired woman looped ropes around his wrists and tied him to an iron bed, the better to tame his savage lusts and treat his body to a sensual attack only a woman in love could administer.

He woke to find Rosalyn lying across him, her naked body moving against him, his wrists cinched tight against the white iron headboard.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I don’t want you to leave until we get this little matter of murder settled. When James returns, we will decide what to do with you.”

From dead asleep to fully awake, Dalton jerked, trying to sit up. “Are you serious?”

“I assure you, I did not tie you up as part of a perverse sexual ritual.” Her lips curved upward. “Although, now that you’re here, I can think of a hundred wonderful ways to torture you.” Her hands slipped over his chest, tweaking his nipples into taut nubs. “Shall I show you while we wait for James?”

“What if the marshal returns to search your room?”

“I locked the door.”

“Smart woman. Now untie me so that I can show you just how much I appreciate your intelligence.” He strained against the ropes, testing the knots. He felt a little slippage and almost smiled.

“Not yet. Not until I have my way with you.” She slid down his body, her own skin smooth and warm against him. The lower she moved, the harder his cock grew.

“I feel at a distinct disadvantage.” He groaned.

“Good.”

“How am I to pleasure you when I’m trussed up like a pig on a spit?”

“I gain great pleasure knowing I have you right where I want you. I can do anything to you and you can do nothing to retaliate.”

“Or reciprocate.” He tipped his head, his brows rising. “Am I right?”

“Most certainly. But then, I don’t want you to reciprocate. This is my brand of torture. Lie back and learn.”

His gaze darted to the door, the thought of the marshal storming through almost as titillating as it was worrisome. But what could he do? The woman would have her way with him, and he couldn’t deny the hunger it stirred inside. “I am at your mercy, my lady.”

Rosalyn scooted lower, pressing her mouth to skin stretched taut over his ribs. Slowly, she worked her way down his torso to his flat stomach and finally to the patch of hair surrounding his cock. Her fingers trailed over his member as though coaxing it to attention.

His back arched off the bed, pushing his cock up through her fingers, the light touch not nearly enough. He wanted more. He twisted his wrists, pulling hard against the ropes, stretching them to loosen his bindings.

Rosalyn leaned over him and kissed the rounded head, dipping the tip of her tongue into the tiny hole on the end.

He forgot for a moment that he wanted his freedom, forgot that he was a prisoner held captive by this witch of a seductress mesmerizing him into a lusty trance.

When she slid her mouth down over his dick, he groaned, one hand slipping free of his bindings. He reached up and loosened the other.

His seductress seemed unaware, her attention focused on his member, on sucking it deep into her mouth and lavishing her warm, wet tongue across its hardened length.

BOOK: River Bound: Bound and Tied, Book 3
13.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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