No matter how beautiful she was, she was a whore. Loralee’s new addition to the glamourless settlement of Gold Town. Loralee had been right. All the tempest, anger, and passion in him was now directed on one object—this girl. He unbuckled his belt and his trousers. Released his swollen sex. There was no time for play. He caught her ankles, drew her down. Caught her knees, parted them. Her eyes opened wide…
Energy and need pulsed through him wildly. He lay on top of her, his weight and length keeping her legs spread when she tightened them around him.
“Wh—” she began to say.
He barely heard her. He threaded the fingers of his left hand through her hair, pinning her head to the pillow as he hungrily found her mouth, his tongue thrusting into it. His other hand slid along the length of her thigh, into the soft auburn down. He parted her with his touch, plowed into her with the full force of his body. The fever of his hunger had seized him with such startling force and fury that he swept into her again and again before he realized what he was encountering.
She didn’t scream, whimper, or cry out. She didn’t move.
The most merciful thing about the entire fiasco was that he’d been at such an all-consuming stage of desire that once he’d realized her total inexperience, he’d quickly allowed himself to climax, constricting, shuddering into her again and again—butthen withdrawing immediately to rise above her and stare down at her. Her eyes were closed. Her face was white.
He felt…
Duped. Used. Betrayed. Angry. With her. With himself. He’d been drinking, yes, hell yes, but was that any excuse for this?
Excuse? She’d come over as a whore. He was the one who had been taken…
She was the one trembling, biting into her lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes.
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Look at me!” he snapped.
Her eyes opened, glittering with tears and fury.
“Was Loralee aware that you hadn’t the faintest idea of what you were doing?”
“What?”
He started to rise. “I don’t like surprises. You were one hell of a surprise when you arrived, and you were one hell of a surprise just now. I don’t know what she thought she was doing, sending you over here, but it sure as hell is time for you to go back?—”
“God, no, not now!” she gasped out. Her lashes fluttered over her eyes. “Not…now.” Her voice trembled, quivered. She sounded as if she could slip into hysterical laughter at any given second. He gritted down hard on his teeth. She was probably afraid Loralee would fire her. Maybe she had lied to Loralee. But damn…
She was shaking. Her eyes remained closed. “Sweet Jesus, don’t throw me out of here now after—after that!” she gasped.
He raised an eyebrow. After that. Her attitude was going to have to improve quite a bit if she thought she was going to make a living out here.
“Please, I can’t go now!”
Sighing, he rose, shed his clothing, and lay down beside her. She jumped when he touched her, drawing her against his naked body.
“What is it about your English I’m not understanding?” he demanded irritably. “Didn’t you just ask to stay?”
She nodded. “Yes!”
Her hair smelled delicious. Her body was hot, so perfectly curved, flushed against his. He was tempted to touch her. Explore. She shuddered as if with a sob. He shook his head, willing himself to dampen his growing ardor. He knew enough about women to be damned aware she’d be hurting right now. He made do with holding her and letting her sleep.
But he could make do no longer when the morning came.
She had tossed and turned. So had he. Her breasts—those which he considered to be so incredibly perfect, high, rounded, and beautiful—were directly in front of his face. Too tempting to be ignored. Every whore had to start somewhere—he’d just never had one start with him before—and he felt both the temptation and the obligation to make her realize that her chosen profession could be damned enjoyable. He meant to wake her slowly. Very slowly. He set out to do so.
He touched her lightly with his fingers, his lips, his teeth, his tongue. As he moved against her, he shook his head, incredulous. By morning’s light, she was more stunning still. Her flesh was erotically soft, her breasts so firm, her nipples large and pink, swelling, hardening to his elusive touch. Her belly was flat, her throat was long, her legs were wickedly long, curved, beautiful, the down between them was a dark and tempting fire.
She whimpered slightly, rousing. Slowly. Her body arched and writhed, easily manipulated to his desire, each supple rock and undulation arousing new hungers within him. She moaned,twisted. Writhed to the intrusive stroke of his tongue, dug her fingers into his shoulders, his hair.
She woke fully with a shuddering gasp, just as he rose over her. Her blue eyes were wide open. “Oh, God—no! I’ve got to go?—”
“No, I don’t think so. All through the night, and you’re going to leave now?”
“Not on your life!” he promised her softly.
