WildOutlaws (10 page)

Tuff seemingly took her to the brink and then stopped and started over. He left her dangling by a thread seconds later. She needed to come and when the tide finally washed over her it would be one of the most shattering experiences of her life.

The bed covers were tightly drawn in her hands. She clenched her fists, hanging onto the material as she resisted the urge, fought to make the moment last forever. Then, when she couldn’t contain the pleasure brewing anymore, she exploded. She was like a tightly wound cord slowly coming unraveled. That is, until the second orgasm overpowered the first.

* * * *

Tuff was gonna kill him. No question about it. But Creed couldn’t help it. They were hired to protect her. The marshal wouldn’t understand it if they reported back to Stockton and told him Mary Margaret died in the throes of passion, but she did in fact die.

Besides, Creed wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

He stormed into the saloon and avoided eye contact with the men seated at the long bar. The tall one on the end looked up, his eyes following Creed all the way up the stairs. He was the ring leader. He was there to bring Mary Margaret harm. Maybe he was a paranoid fucker, or just an outlaw who’d taken the time to do a little research, but either way he’d know something was up after the way Creed entered the saloon and took the steps three or four at a time.

As he topped the steps, the sounds of passion resounded. From the left to the right, everyone seemed to be having a mighty fine night. One room was getting along a little better than the others, or at least one of the whores.

A woman’s voice hummed in a sing-song tone as she cried out for more, begged him not to stop, and then cursed aloud. What a tiger. Creed pushed open the bedroom door and was taken aback by what he saw.

Tiger, hell. Mary Margaret was going at Tuff like a ferocious mountain lion. Here kitty, kitty, he thought, getting carried away with notions of his own.

Tuff didn’t see him. His back was to him but the little vixen down on her knees wasn’t surprised. Their eyes met as she swallowed Tuff whole, his cock disappearing down her throat as if his dick was a slick piece of candy she couldn’t wait to lodge in her windpipe. She licked his length, striking out at the tip before she suckled the top as if she hoped to draw an instantaneous flavor.

Creed poked his head out the door and stared down the hall. Shit. Yep. Tuff was gonna kill him.

“We’ve got company, Tuff,” he said, clearing his throat.

Tuff glanced over his shoulder. His palm fell to the top of her head, but Mary Margaret stayed right with him, twirling her tongue around his length, dragging him closer and closer to her tonsils as she made the most ball-numbing slurping sounds Creed had ever heard.

“Can it wait?” he asked, exasperated.

Creed stared at the bow-shape of Mary Margaret’s mouth, wishing to hell and back everything could wait and time would stand still. He leaned out of the room again and noticed a man he hadn’t spotted in the bar walking toward him. He had a predator’s gait and a killer’s eyes.

“Nope!” Creed screamed, stepping inside the room, slamming and locking the door.

By the time Creed turned around, Tuff was helping Mary Margaret to her feet. He took the time to kiss her lips and gently said, “It will probably be best if you hide over there behind the dressing screen. Get dressed while you’re there.”

“What about you?”

Creed looked at the floor and across the room. He didn’t see Tuff’s clothes. “Shit, Tuff. I know you think you carry around a deadly weapon but where’s your damn gun?”

Tuff ran his fingers through his short hair. The only thing he had was his cowboy hat, an accessory item that must’ve fallen off after or before he lost his pants somewhere else. Good God. None of them had a lick of sense anymore.

Creed glared at Mary Margaret. “He said behind the screen.”

About the same time, a man pounded on the door. “Mary Margaret. Are you in there?”

Creed shook his head.

“Mary Margaret! I need to talk to you. I have a message from your father.”

Immediately, Mary Margaret dashed out from behind the screen. She stared at Creed blankly. Tuff grabbed a towel from the floor, wrapped it around his waist, and snatched Mary Margaret’s wrist, leading her out of sight again.

Another knock and then another. A jiggle of the doorknob followed. “I know you’re in there Mary Margaret. I can smell that sweet pussy from here.”

“Who is this guy?” Creed asked when Tuff reappeared.

“One of Jesse’s boys, if I had to guess.”

“Remind me to kill him.”

“Don’t think you’ll need me for that,” Tuff said, grinning.

Ah hell. Tuff was one to talk. He could imply Creed had it bad for Mary Margaret but he should’ve seen the way the stars lit up in his eyes when his cock was halfway down Mary Margaret’s throat. As far as Creed knew, no other woman had been able to take him. Few even attempted it. They were afraid they’d forever remain permanently strangled.

“Where the hell is your gun?”

Tuff looked down.

Creed snarled. “Prick.”

“That’s what it is. I can’t get offended.”

“Yeah, but your enemies might. That’ll be the first to go if they see the size of that damn thing.”

“Thirteen inches,” he stated proudly.

“Ain’t no way,” Creed said, thinking he wasn’t about to stir their ongoing argument over dick size when an outlaw was standing on the other side of the door. He was likely armed and dangerous.

Tuff, on the other hand, was strange and delusional.

They were outmatched in this situation.

Mary Margaret appeared again. This time, she was carrying two weapons.

On second thought, they were good to go.

Chapter Nine

Shots were already fired by the time Buck, David and Jared rushed upstairs. The patrons downstairs hunched together in the far corners away from the steps.

The bartender was on his way to check out the commotion when Buck stopped him. “We’re bounty hunters,” he informed him, realizing the bartender probably couldn’t care less. If Buck spared a guess, this fine and upstanding establishment belonged to the man willing to defend its employees. “Let us handle these guys. They’re the worst outlaws alive. You tend to your women down below. It ain’t safe on the second floor.”

“I’ve got whores up there working!” he bellowed, as if he thought Buck would move aside.

Buck kept walking.

David said, “Well then by all means, come on up and get your left nut shot off and see how well those whores like you when all you’ve got is your right.”

By the time they reached the next level, gunfire was coming from everywhere. Buck ducked behind a wall leading to what he assumed was a bathroom. He stepped inside and found a woman there. She was in a crouched position next to a bathtub.

“What’s your name, hon?” Jared asked, entering behind him.

“Constance,” she said. “Remember I’m the one you met in the hallway the day you came here looking for Mary Margaret.”

In the dimly lit room, Buck wasn’t able to make out her features but she had the same southern accent he’d admired the day they met Constance for the first time. He’d take her word for it.

“All right,” Jared said. “We need you to stay down. We don’t want any innocent women getting caught up in the crossfire.”

“You’re too late,” she wailed.

“What do you mean?” Buck asked, kneeling next to her and trying to encourage her to slide in behind the thickest part of the tub.

She shook her head. “There were three of them. They went in Mary Margaret’s room.”

“Was she in there by herself?” Jared asked.

David snarled. “What the hell do you think?”

Constance shook her head. “I reckon the only one in there was the guy who paid to bathe with her.” She pushed his clothing toward them. “And he forgot his gun. It’s there in his belt.”

Buck stared at the holster placed on top of the britches. He swallowed hard.

“Don’t panic,” David said. “No one has seen Creed since he took the horses to the stable.”

“Is he the one with long hair?”

“Yep,” Buck replied.

She shook her head quickly. “He was the first to die.”

“What?” David asked, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Positive.”

“Did you see him get shot?”

“Yes. It was horrible. Someone fired through the door. I guess it must’ve been the man who came out of the room with Mary Margaret’s gun. I’d know that gun anywhere. Her daddy left it for her—God rest his soul—before he died. Mary Margaret’s aunt gave it to her the last time she went to Stockton. It’s the only rifle I’ve ever seen with a large plate and lots of scribbling on the side.” A beat later, she said innocently, “His name must’ve been Winchester because that’s the name on the rifle.”

“You ain’t seen many weapons, have you girl?” Jared asked.

“About Creed,” David began, refusing to believe his best friend was dead, “you’re sure it was a tall Indian-looking fellow. He has long dark blonde—nearly brown—hair, high cheeks, and a big mouth.”

“Creed doesn’t have a big mouth,” Buck said.

“Sure he does,” Jared said. “He runs it all the time when the guns start firing. Haven’t you ever listened to him?”

About that time, and before Constance could reply, Creed shouted out, “Son-of-a-two-timin’-fucking-lowdown-bitch! You missed again mother fucker!”

“Constance,” Jared said gently, “I believe you need to pay closer attention to detail. That voice out there? That’s Creed.”

“Oh,” she said, shrugging. “Well I’m glad your friend is alive.” She extended her full arms. “Wonder if
he
is wearing
his
pants?”

* * * *

By the time they made it to Mary Margaret’s room, Jesse Strain’s gang members were either dead or missing. Best they could tell, Jesse and two or three others made it out alive.

“Glad you could make it,” Creed said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“We weren’t invited to the party,” David said.

Buck tossed Tuff his clothes. “You might need these.”

“You’re a better man than I am,” Jared said. “There’s no way I’d get into an outright war with Jesse’s gang without something to cover me from the waist down.”

“Yes but you aren’t Tuff. He likes the freedom to move about the country,” Creed said, working his hips from side to side as ripples of laughter broke out.

David strolled over to Mary Margaret and instinctively cupped her cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, gripping his wrist with both hands. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m in one piece,” he assured her, leaving her with a peck on the lips.

Immediately, David turned around and addressed Tuff, “I thought we agreed none of this one-on-one stuff while we’re trying to keep Mary Margaret safe.”

“Someone blew that all to hell about six or seven hours ago,” Tuff grumbled, dressing.

“You mean to tell me I was waiting on the two of you while you were up there mourning the dead and fucking out your sorrow?” Buck asked.

David had dreaded this moment. Poor Buck was frozen all the way to the bone by the time they made it back to the hotel. He knew this tidbit of information wouldn’t sit well.

“What would you have done if you’d been in my shoes?” David asked.

“I would’ve remembered what Tuff said. There was a winter storm on the way. Then I would’ve considered my buddy, the friend who was freezing his nuts off while you were getting yours banged!”

“Here now,” Tuff said, thumbing the air separating them from Mary Margaret.

“I’ve heard worse,” Mary Margaret assured them.

“There’s no reason for you to endure more of it from us. Besides, you’re supposed to teach us to be respectable men, remember? Wives don’t want their husbands talking about dicks and such,” Tuff said.

It was then when Mary Margaret saw the light for a final time. She was a whore. These men were only interested in one thing. They wanted her to teach them to become respectable husbands. At the same time, they wanted to enjoy her body. What double standards they possessed.

Well by golly if they wanted to become upstanding citizens, the kind who would marry a woman and make her proud, she’d see to it and perform a proper job. And she knew just what she needed to do.

* * * *

 “You can’t stay here,” Tuff told her an hour later. “It isn’t safe.”

“I’m not leaving Constance, Tara, and the others. Deal with it,” she said, picking up the splintered wood as she moved about her room.

“What don’t you understand? If we hadn’t been here today, you would’ve died.”

“You’re not the one who saved me,” Mary Margaret said, eying Creed. “He is.”

Creed winked. Undoubtedly he loved this.

Tuff snarled. “Regardless of who saved you this time, you need each and every one of us around you in the event you need to be protected in the near future.”

Mary Margaret looked at David. “And what do you think, David?”

“Do you care?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” she said, honestly. “I’d like to know your opinion but I’m staying anyway. I won’t abandon my girls. They depend on me.”

“You should’ve thought of that when you packed your bags with the intention of catching the afternoon stage a few days back,” Jared pointed out.

“Leave it to Jared,” she muttered.

“Tuff is right,” David said. “You need protection.”

“That is precisely what I wanted to hear!” she exclaimed victoriously. “Now which one of you bad asses will step up and tell me why someone wants to kill me?”

“Why would you think someone wants to kill you?” Jared asked.

“Well don’t they?” Her eyes searched the faces of the men staring back at her.

“I don’t know,” Jared said. “Have you pissed anyone off lately?”

“A whore isn’t the most popular woman in town in case you haven’t noticed,” she replied.

“I haven’t paid attention,” Jared snipped. “And if someone wants to kill you, that’s between you and them. I’m just trying to get in their way so they don’t take a clean shot. You’re making it pretty damn difficult for the new men in your life. We can’t guard you if you don’t want protection.”