Demanding Satisfaction [Bride Train 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (35 page)

“To hell with Max,” he said. He caught her nipple with his mouth. He flicked that firm nubbin with his tongue. His cock strained painfully against his pants.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured.

He pulled back. Her eyes were half-closed in arousal.

“I am not leaving you until we’re married.” His thumb rolled around the wet nipple. “I won’t let another man get near you until you’re mine. And once you’re my wife, that won’t happen.” He tilted his head down and looked at her sternly. “Will it, wife?”

Sophie pouted, pretending to have to think it over. He moved his hand to her bottom. He patted it lightly, just with his fingertips. Her face flamed. He grinned. She knew exactly what he meant by that touch. And even better, she wanted it.

“If you misbehave, Mrs. Gibson, I’ll have to punish you.” He trailed his fingers over her back cheeks. “Maybe you’ll need a spanking so you don’t forget I’m your man.”

“I’m not Mrs. Gibson,” she replied pertly.

He liked her spark, the way she challenged him. He was a strong man, and he needed a strong woman to balance him.

“You will be soon enough,” he informed her.

His fingers were too dirty to enter her. But darn, did he want to. He could smell her arousal, beckoning him. He looked at the bed. It looked reasonably clean. He knew the two most important parts of him were clean. His tongue and his cock. And both were eager to enter her. He stood up, easily lifting her in his arms, and carried her to the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked. She was already out of breath, he noted. He set her on her back, legs spread, and hauled her to the edge. She struggled, but he held her thighs firm. He had to claim her back, to erase any thoughts of that sick bastard touching her.

“I want my woman. I’m going to lick and suck her until she screams. Then I’m going to show her what she’ll be getting from me from now on.” He watched a flush rise from her belly, to her chest, and then to her cheeks.

“And what’s that?” she demanded.

He raised himself on his fists and leaned over her. Dominating her.

“Anything I want.” He caught her breast in his mouth. He pressed her erect nipple against the top of his mouth with his tongue.

“Your breasts,” he said.

He nipped his way down her body. She squirmed, gasping and straining but not really trying to escape.

“Your pussy.”

He opened his mouth over her lips and inhaled. “God, you smell and taste like paradise.” He took his time, licking and tasting her. He grasped her ankles in one hand and lifted. She squealed and struggled, but he held her high. She hauled her knees in, which opened her little asshole to his view, just as he wanted. He placed a kiss right there.

“And your sweet little asshole.”

He wanted her. God knew he did. But he would not take her here, like this. He let her down, resting his scruffy head on her chest.

Her hands massaged his head. His cock throbbed along with his heart, pounding into his head like hammers. He wanted to run upstairs and tell the whole saloon that she was to be his wife, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had to tell Max and Sam first, in private.

“Beth will want details about the four of us.”

“Four? I hadn’t planned on sharing you for a while.”

“Don’t you think Max and Sam deserve some loving for helping to save me?”

“You don’t have to be that generous,” he replied with a scowl. “And don’t even think of thanking anyone else with more than a smile.”

She opened her mouth to complain. He gave her the look that meant business. She pouted like a child, exaggerating it on purpose.

“Or you’ll punish me?”

He saw her intent. To push him just to get him to pay attention to her. He’d pay her so much attention she wouldn’t sit down for a week!

“Baby, if you push me on purpose, you’ll discover you haven’t seen anything yet.”

She took his warning, but laughed anyway. She was going to be a lot to handle. Sam would give her the slow, gentle loving every woman wanted. Max would try to outdo everyone, filling in the gaps. And he would give her what she really craved. The domination that made such a strong woman know she was deeply loved and cared for.

They had to go upstairs, but not with his woman naked. No man, other than his brothers, would ever see her this way. He hauled off his shirt, helped her to stand, and dropped it over her head. It covered her to the knees. Not much, but better than nothing. He would not let the black rags on the floor touch her precious body.

The shuffle of a hesitant step made him turn. He put Sophie behind him.

“Queenie?” It was a female voice, though fairly deep.

Sophie peeked around his ribs. “Tess?”

A tall, scarred woman stood in the doorway. He’d seen her working upstairs. The smile on her face and brightness of her eyes made up for the angry red scars. Sophie tried to move around Josh, but he grabbed her. For all he knew the woman had a knife.

Tess hovered half in the doorway. “Your friends caught him!” she said, her voice quavering. She held out a pile of flame orange. “I brought your dress.”

Sophie shoved at his hands. He resisted for a moment to prove the point that he could hold her if he chose. When he let her go, she ran to Tess and hugged her, uncaring that her dress was getting squashed between them. After hesitating a moment, the hug was returned.

“Who is he?” asked Sophie.

“I don’t know. I needed to know you weren’t…hurt,” said Tess.

“Is that the branding iron he used on all those women?” asked Josh, pointing at the brazier.

“I think so. He took it out of his pocket and stuck it there to heat.”

In two long steps Josh was looking at the piece of metal. One end rested against the cooling coals. The other had a wooden handle. He picked it up by the handle and looked at the brand.

“It’s a letter. Either a long capital
I
or a squashed capital
H
,” said Josh. He set it away from the heat to cool.

“I want it melted down,” said Tess with quiet dignity. “I want it turned into a spike. And I want to see that spike driven right through his black heart. Only then will I know he’s dead!”

Josh rested his hand on Sophie’s back. He was careful not to touch Tess, though he tried to show her his strength through Sophie. “I’ll suggest that idea,” he said. “I think there’s enough women who agree with you that it would be seen as justice.”

“I want to know, Josh,” said Sophie. She turned large, dark, pleading eyes on him.

“I’ll help you dress,” said Tess, “if this man will leave us and give you privacy.”

He sighed, kissed Sophie’s head, and left the room. He didn’t go far, leaning his shoulder against the wall just past the door.

“Did he hurt you?” asked Tess.

She was so quiet Josh could barely hear her over the rustling of fabric.

“No. I got him with the poker first, and then he ran away.”

“What about the other one?”

“Who, Josh?” Sophie’s giggle was muffled. Josh figured she had the dress over her head. “If you’d come in a few minutes earlier…”

He strained his ears but couldn’t hear their whispers. What the heck were they laughing at? He looked down. His ragged beard hit his breastbone. Ugh. He hauled out his knife and began sawing away at it. Then he went after his shoulder-length hair. He’d need a shave and a haircut before he next put his mouth between Sophie’s pillow-soft thighs.

“Well?” asked Tess.

He looked over. The lamp she held over Sophie made his woman look so alive. He could have lost her. That was something that would never happen as long as he had breath in his body. Wearing that flame-colored dress, though buttoned to her chin and wrists, she was too beautiful to be shared. He couldn’t help that other men would see her, but he could do something about her unbound hair.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Her expression was somewhere between a pout and a glare. “No. I want to see who Isaac is.”

She tried to push past. He caught her by the hair at the base of her neck. She stopped because he gave her no choice. Tess looked worried, but he winked.

“Baby, you’re not going anywhere until you look like my woman. And my woman does not wear her hair down for anyone but me and my brothers. Do you understand?”

“Or what?” Though she snapped at him and pulled away, she began braiding. Tess moved quickly to take over.

“Or I guess you’ve got some learning to do tonight.”

A quick swat on her ass made her jump and squeal. She turned to him with fire in her eyes. He chuckled, low and deep. Her nostrils flared in response. Sophie was safe, Isaac was caught, and he had a hot woman to bed.

Sam chased the man in the mask. A rage such as he’d never known consumed him. He was going to rip that mask off and punch whatever was underneath into a pulp. For all he knew the bastard had harmed his woman.

He burst into the saloon. Isaac had charged forward, but Jed and Ross had been waiting. They held the struggling, screaming man a foot above the floor. Sin pulled out his handkerchief and stuffed it in Isaac’s mouth to stop the noise. Ranger and Zach, both battered, looked ready to jump Isaac rather than each other. So did every man from Tanner’s Ford.

The quiet brought Max to the top of the stairs. He looked over, chest heaving, thoroughly battered. Sam wondered if he’d shoved a shoulder or boot through every locked door. There must have been a lot of them.

“Who’s taking that mask off?” called Max.

His voice, coming from so far up, made every neck crane. Isaac struggled, grunting, but neither Ross nor Jed moved a muscle.

“I say the honor goes to Luke,” said Trace. He looked around at his fellow ranchers. They all nodded. Luke’s scar seemed almost alive as he grimaced. He stepped forward. Sam caught the eye flicker between Luke and the men holding Isaac. Luke pulled back his fist and let fly. Isaac brought his knees up too late. He choked and gasped behind the gag.

“Thought you’d hit a few inches lower,” said Ross.

“Figured I’d put a boot there later,” replied Luke, equally calm.

Ross twisted his free hand. The handle of a knife appeared at his wrist. Luke nodded his appreciation and let the handle slip into his hand. The men lowered Isaac so Luke could more easily reach the mask’s ties.

Sam didn’t think a saloon could be so quiet. The only sound was that of baited breath. One slice, then another. Luke reached up and hauled the mask off.

“You!”

The crowd only saw Isaac’s back and the shocked faces of those staring at him. Sam saw his face, and cursed.

The folks in Tanner’s Ford had known Mayor Orville Rivers was a crook. They weren’t that surprised when he was found guilty of far worse than suspected. They also distrusted Hugh Jennet, the banker who always sided with Rivers. But this snake had been living in their town, smiling at their women, eyeing their daughters and sons. Who would have expected a man who took pains to be friendly and outgoing?

He no longer looked friendly. His bulging eyes were bloodshot. There was a gaping wound in his right cheek, right below where the mask had been. It was a perfect circle of blackened, crisp skin with red edges. The lack of blood suggested a burn. He also had blisters in a wide stripe on both his palms.

It looked like Sophie had jabbed him with something red-hot, which he’d then grabbed. If true, Sam was even more proud of her.

“Who is it?” demanded someone in the crowd.

“Buford Hames,” said Max loudly.

“Who?” asked someone in the crowd.

“He’s that newspaperman,” said another. “Always sticking his nose into other people’s business.” He had to raise his voice over the growled curses coming from the ranchers.

The door to the street opened. A man with a polished star on his coat pushed inside. He looked around at the crowd, the two battered fighters, and the broken furniture.

“What the hell is going on?”

“We caught the bastard who was killing and torturing women,” said Max.

“I’m Sheriff Keene. Who the hell are you?”

“Maxwell Gibson from the Pinkerton Detective Agency.” Max moved slowly as he came down the stairs. He nodded to show he was willing to share jurisdiction. “We’ve been tracking this man for months.”

“You got proof before you hang him?”

“Yes, sir, we do. But we won’t be hanging him.” A chorus of yells and demands erupted. Max waited for them to fade. “We’ll be hauling him East to stand trial.”

“If ye got proof, why don’t ye do it right now?” demanded someone from the back corner. “Them Vigilantes hung lots of men without it.”

Max turned toward the complainer. “That’s exactly why the Pinkertons follow the law.”

“What’s your proof?” asked Keene, eyeing Hames with distaste.

“A woman volunteered to pose as someone Mr. Isaac would discipline. He came running out of the kitchen just now wearing this mask, injured. We pulled his mask off in front of all these witnesses. The evidence that he tried to attack the woman is on his face.”