Lady Gone Bad (15 page)
Authors: Sabine Starr
Chapter 29
L
ady felt Rafe’s whisper of a kiss go straight to her gut where it exploded like a stick of dynamite, flames licking out to singe every bit of her. Fever turned to chills, and she shivered as her mind raced along with her body.
ady felt Rafe’s whisper of a kiss go straight to her gut where it exploded like a stick of dynamite, flames licking out to singe every bit of her. Fever turned to chills, and she shivered as her mind raced along with her body.
She’d been a fool to think she could walk away from what Rafe made her feel. She’d tried to reject him. She’d known it was the smart thing to do. But when he’d told her that he needed her, he’d melted her right down to her toes.
He was so different from Derry Atwater, that long-gone, rotten-to-the-core fiancé. She desperately wanted to know if sex, forget romantic love, could always be as good as Rafe had revealed at Medicine Spring. Most likely she was making excuses for being in heat, which was nothing more than a physical reaction to an extremely desirable man, namely Rafe Morgan.
She’d been playing with fire so long, with low-cut satin gowns, emotional songs, the come-on teasing, that when she finally got burned she shouldn’t have been surprised. And yet she had been. After Derry’s betrayal and the death of her parents, she had iced down her emotions, pushing her anger and hurt deep inside, and believed she was beyond the needs other people felt. Maybe she had been, but not from the first moment she’d set eyes on one big, bad deputy marshal.
She’d intimately known only one man. Derry had been a slam, bam, thank you, ma’am sort of lover. She hadn’t figured she was missing out on much till Rafe showed her different. Now that she’d made her bargain, she could only hope it was a good one.
So far she didn’t have any complaints. Rafe continued to hold her hand, nibbling each finger in turn, creating a sensual result that another man probably needed total body contact to achieve. She was beginning to think Rafe knew a lot more than just how to be a lawman.
“Sharlot,” he said, his voice vibrating low as he placed her hand over his heart and smiled down at her, firelight dancing in his smoky gray eyes. “Do you want to draw straws to see who gets their needs met first?”
“I don’t want to even think about finding straws.” She frowned at him. “No hay in sight and the grass is green.” She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her palm, and her heart matched his tempo.
“Twigs?”
“If you stop touching me, I’m gonna make you regret it.”
He chuckled, pressing her hand harder against his chest. “Last thing I want is to annoy you.”
“That’s mostly what you’ve been doing since the moment we met.”
“About time I changed that, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t disagree.”
He smiled, a wolfish movement revealing white teeth. “What kind of thanks do I get in return?”
“The pleasure of Lady Gone Bad’s company.”
“Good. But not good enough.” He slowly pulled her hand down his body, fingers catching against one button after another, until he stopped at the first metal button of his Levi’s.
“I’m thinking you’re not wantin’ to wait,” she said, her voice husky as she pushed lower to the bulge that was waiting for her, only her. She massaged in a slow circle. “You gonna bust out all the buttons of your jeans before we’re said and done?”
He pushed long fingers into the loose hair on either side of her face. “Hope you’re good with a needle and thread.”
“Maybe I ought to sew your Levi’s up for good.”
“Then what would you do?” He tilted her face up, so he was looking down into her eyes.
“Guess it’d be a cryin’ shame.”
“I’d be doing the cryin’.”
“Not alone.”
He smiled again, predator to prey. “Darlin’, I’m gonna strip you down to your birthday suit and ogle you by firelight.”
“Not if I strip you first.”
He chuckled, pushing fingers deep into her hair, grasping her head for control as he lowered his face and pressed feather-light kisses across her forehead, the tip of her nose, then down her cheek to her ear where he toyed, hot, moist breath followed by a hotter tongue that delved into sensitive skin before blazing a path down her neck to her shoulder where he nibbled and licked and kissed until she felt her knees go weak.
She grabbed the front of his shirt and hung on for dear life, not sure if her own legs would hold her up any longer. When he worked his way back up her neck to her lips, teasing and tormenting with sharp nips followed by soothing kisses, she moaned and reached up to wrap her hands around his neck. His fingers dug into her hair as his kiss turned hard, insisting and demanding, so she opened her mouth to allow him entry, but he sucked her tongue into his mouth so that she was the aggressor. She was desperate for more, so much more of him, as she crushed his thick hair in her hands and pulled him against her, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, body to body. Fire lapped at her like water on a bank, and she wanted to drown in it . . . in him.
When he finally raised his head, she actually felt dizzy. She clutched the fabric of his shirt again, steadying herself as she looked up in wonder at him.
“Not annoying you now, am I?” he asked, looking pleased with his actions as he rubbed her shoulders with strong hands.
“Only if you keep your clothes on.” She smiled, feeling pretty wolfish her own self.
“Didn’t we agree you’d go first?”
“If we did, I changed my mind.”
“Lady’s prerogative.”
“I want your shirt off.”
“Take it.”
Nostrils flaring in excitement, she inhaled sharply and caught his scent of sage and leather mingled with wildflowers and buffalo grass. Nature gone wild.
Wanting to savor every moment, she started with the cuffs of his shirt, slipping free each button before she reached up to the collar. From there she made a steady descent, button after button, pulled out the hem, more buttons till his shirt was nothing more than a husk ready to be shucked.
“Take it,” he said again, voice vibrating low and urgent.
“Not so fast.” She grasped the waistband of his Levi’s. “More buttons. A lady’s work is never done.” She popped the top button, and then the next. “You’re not wearing drawers!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“Wouldn’t want to slow you down.”
She glanced up at his face, saw the amused smile, and then shrugged. He was giving her exactly what she wanted and making it easy, so no need for her to turn prim and proper. She was only two buttons away from revealing the heart of him, the hard heat of him, and her hands trembled in anticipation.
“Darlin’, I’m waitin’ for some help here,” Rafe said, voice tight with suppressed tension.
She dropped to her knees, quickly undid the last buttons, jerked down his blue jeans, and came face to face with a whole lot more than she’d expected, or seen before except on a stallion. Thick. Long. Dark. “May I touch?”
He chuckled, an amused sound drawn from deep in his throat. “If you don’t, I’m gonna be in trouble.”
She put out a fingertip, gently touched the throbbing head, and then closed her hand around his shaft. Hard. Hot. Heavy. She felt a corresponding heat in her core, a searing knowledge that what she held belonged inside her. Only this long length of him could ease her burning ache.
“You gonna hang me out to dry, or you gonna give me some help?” Rafe asked, his voice husky.
“I don’t know what to do.” She knew she sounded embarrassed, and she felt that way, too.
“I’m happy to educate you.”
Rafe wrapped both her hands around his cock, covered them with his own, and began a movement, rhythm, friction that had him groaning with increasing need. She felt her own excitement build when he dropped his hands and she continued what he’d taught her, feeling empowered in a way she’d never experienced before this moment. She felt him grow hotter and harder, if that was even possible, as she stroked his long length, gaining mastery over him as she gained more confidence with every single motion.
“Kiss me quick.” He pulled away her hands and jutted forward, angling toward her mouth.
Uncertain, surprised, even shocked, she hesitated at his next lesson. Yet she also felt emboldened and determined to learn how to please him. She gently kissed the pulsing tip, heard him groan, and then felt his hands on the back of her head, pulling her face toward him. When his shaft filled her mouth, he moved in and out, deeper, harder, quicker with growing urgency.
Now she understood the type of kiss he wanted. She gave to him what he’d given to her on the banks of Medicine Creek, reveling in the power and the pleasure. When ecstasy overcame him, he quickly pulled out, shuddering with release on the ground nearby.
He glanced at her, eyes like silver fire, a flame she had ignited, nurtured, and stoked to brilliance.
“I’ll take that shirt now.”
Chapter 30
“Y
ou look entirely too pleased with yourself,” Rafe said, shucking off his shirt and tossing it toward her.
ou look entirely too pleased with yourself,” Rafe said, shucking off his shirt and tossing it toward her.
Lady caught the garment with both hands, and then rubbed her face against the soft fabric like a contented cat, smiling slightly.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said, drawing her attention back to him, real flesh and blood, not spun cotton.
She set aside his shirt, and then looked him up and down, letting her gaze linger here and there as if she was branding him.
Not a fanciful man, he still felt scalded, stroked, wound up for another round of passion. He didn’t even know how he could respond so quickly. It had never happened before. Yet this was Lady Gone Bad, and she could inspire a whole mountain of men with the lift of one eyebrow. One man was a goner, for sure.
“About my birthday suit?” She put one hand on her hip and the other in her hair, striking a notorious erotic pose.
He felt his prick jerk in response. At this rate, she might have to bury him at Antlers Spring. But at least he’d die happy. “I’m ready for your show and you don’t even need to sing.”
“Singing is not part of our bargain anyway.” She tossed back her hair, highlights blazing crimson in the firelight. Agate eyes sparkled like precious jewels. When she touched the first button of her blouse, she hesitated, as if unsure.
“Don’t stop now.”
She backed up to a nearby tree and leaned against the rough bark. She plucked off one boot and sock, then the other, and lobbed them at him.
He caught the flying missiles, amused that she was testing his reflexes. He set them out of harm’s way. He wanted to be comfortable for the coming show, so he sat down on his blanket near the campfire. Plus, this way he was near his Winchester and Colt .45 in case somebody tried to catch them by surprise, maybe a little too easy when they were so distracted with each other.
When he turned back, Sharlot stood in the light of the fire, all soft shadows and wanton curves.
“You ready?” she asked, her voice husky with repressed emotion.
“Ready since the first time I saw you in the Bend.”
She tossed him a mischievous look. “You and all the other bad hombres.”
“Yeah. But they lost out.”
“And if they hadn’t?”
“They’d be in jail.”
Chuckling, she made quick work of the buttons on her blouse, and then unbuttoned the waistband of her split-skirt. She slowly eased the blouse off one shoulder, then the other, and tossed it to him.
He caught the blouse, crushed it in his hands, and was enveloped in the scent of lavender and lemon. Sweet and tart. Exactly like Lady Gone Bad.
When Sharlot slowly pushed the skirt lower and lower till it fell in a pool around her bare feet, he took a deep breath to keep from reaching out and grabbing her. She kicked the garment toward him, and he added it to the growing pile, never taking his gaze off her.
She stood completely still for a moment, letting him feast his eyes. She wore a white sleeveless, scoop neck chemise with matching drawers that brushed the top of her knees, but not much was left to the imagination since she didn’t wear a corset. Full breasts. Long legs. Narrow hips.
“You bought that underwear in Paris, didn’t you?” He didn’t remember it, didn’t care about it, but he knew women set store by what they bought. He wanted to please her, so she’d please him.
“Good eye. Fine muslin with lace on the bosom and hems of the drawers.”
“Nice. But I prefer a bosom without lace or muslin.”
She chuckled. “Are you sure you’re up to bare flesh?”
“Good thing I’m not wearing my Levi’s.”
“You’d be busting out more buttons?”
“I’m that up to it.”
Still smiling, she lowered her body to all fours on her blanket, and then slowly crawled toward him. A shoulder of the chemise slipped down one arm to reveal breasts like ripe melons tipped with cherries, just waiting to be plucked.
He broke out in a sweat, his entire body rigid with need. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him. She was going to make him suffer. She might even make him beg. He no longer cared. Pride be damned.
Sitting on his haunches, legs spread, prick at attention, he clenched his fists at his sides as she moved inch by slow inch toward him. He could’ve run a mile by the time she leaned down, swiped the tip of his shaft with her tongue, and then gave him a quick, wet kiss on the lips.
“Help,” she murmured.
She didn’t need to say more. He pulled the chemise up over her head, tossed it aside, cupped her bare breasts with his hands, and then jerked her against his chest. He pushed his prick between her legs as he fell over backward with her straddling him.
He held his body still, felt her tremble, both of them breathing fast. A branch collapsed in the campfire, and sparks flew upward, bathing the night in a fiery glow. If she didn’t need him to be tender, gentle, slow, he’d follow that explosion with his own fiery, molten eruption.
Instead, he cradled her head with his hands, pressing quick kisses to her lips, and then plunging inside to ravage, tasting and nibbling with increasing intensity. Body burning, he reached down and cupped her butt with both hands, squeezing and massaging while he pushed upward with his cock, sliding against fine muslin turned wet with her desire.
She set him on fire when she drew her mouth away from his lips and pressed hot kisses across his chest, nibbling and sucking as her hands pulled at his hair. She clenched her legs around his hips and rode him, and he pushed up in response, harder, faster, building toward a climax between her legs.
And then he stopped all motion, gritting his teeth. “No, Sharlot, not like this. I want to be inside you.”
“Rafe, please, don’t leave me this way.”
“I won’t. I promise.” He lifted her and set her gently aside, sweat beading his forehead with the effort to stay in control.
“I need you.” She reached out to him. “Our bargain.”
He pressed a tender kiss to her lips, and then turned away. He jerked open his saddlebag, rummaged around, and found the French tips. Never had he wanted anything more than to be bathed in her hot juices, but he had promised to protect her, so he was going in clothed.
When he had the French tip in place, he turned back to her. Nothing was going to stop him now.
He pushed her back against the blanket, tugged down her drawers, tossed them aside, and then lowered his body between her spread legs.
“If you fail me now, Rafe, I’ll never forgive you.”
He grinned, teeth white and sharp in the firelight. “Did that horse thief of a fiancé fail you?”
She turned her head to the side, eyes downcast.
“Look at me.”
She glanced back, and nodded.
“I’m gonna burn him right out of your mind. Your body.”
She nodded again.
He put a hand on each side of her face and held her still, body to body, heat to heat, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “When we’re done, there’s never been anybody before for either of us.”
“Nobody but us,” she echoed.
He gripped her, raised her hips, feeling the slick, wet heat invite him inside. He mustn’t rush. He shuddered with the need for control. Easy. Gentle. Slow.
“Rafe! I can’t wait.” She lunged upward and rammed him home.
Nothing for it now. He couldn’t stop or slow down, couldn’t do anything but plunge away into her burning, secret depths, over and over, harder and harder, wiping out all that had gone before, imprinting himself so deep, so strong, so hot that she would never want any man but him, ever again.
When he heard her cry out his name, felt her clench and spasm around him, he finally let go, found his own release.
He fell back against the blanket still inside her, drawing in quick breaths, satisfied for the first time since he’d seen her onstage at the Red River Saloon.
“Rafe,” she murmured after a time, moving closer, moving her hips. “You ready to ride again?”
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