Harlot at the Homestead (15 page)

“Do you remember it, Mrs Campbell?” He seemed to read her thoughts. He leaned forward. “Do you remember how it was between us?”

“Yes, oh yes, Nate.”

She stared at him as he unbuckled his gun belt and she shivered as it clinked against the buttons on the waist band of his trousers. The creak of the buttons being freed from their holes increased her heartbeat and she held her breath, wondering what Nate was about to do.

He reached into his trousers, then looked up and held her gaze. She was unable to fight the urge to look down and she gasped as he freed his magnificent erection then circled it with his hand.

“Show me your breasts, Mrs Campbell,” he whispered then moistened his lips.

She gawked at his groin, mesmerized by the long pink shaft with its purple and blue veins and shiny mushroom head. He held her attention as he moved his hand slowly but firmly up and down his impressive male flesh. How she had loved to be impaled upon it. How she would love to be impaled upon it now.

“Pull down your chemise and reveal yourself to me. I want to see your skin.”

For a moment she considered refusing but her desire was too powerful. She pushed her hair back then slid her chemise down so that it hung over her corset. Then she stood, waiting.

“Mrs Campbell,” Nate groaned as he looked at her. “You look so good. I do believe that your breasts are even bigger than before.”

Heat flooded Evelyn’s cheeks but she was pleased by his evident approval.

He wriggled in his seat then shifted his trousers lower so that his male form was totally exposed. While he fondled his shaft with one hand, he cupped his balls with the other and Evelyn struggled to stay on her feet. Her legs trembled with her growing desire.

“Now stroke your tits,” he growled. “Imagine that I’m holding them.”

She lifted her hands and cupped her heavy bosom. Nate groaned in response to her actions and it spurred her onwards. She stroked gently at first, underneath then round to the valley that lay between them. When she moved her fingertips to her nipples, she realized that her hips had begun to sway as if to a silent tune. She circled then pinched, pulling her rosy buds outwards as if offering them to Nate and when she glanced up again, she recognized the longing in his eyes for the same need burned fiercely throughout the whole of her being.

“Does it feel good, Mrs Campbell?”

She nodded, allowing a ghost of a smile to drift across her lips. She needed more now but she had to wait for his order.

He knew.

“Now show me.”

She needed no further encouragement. She knew what he meant. She lifted her skirts to her thighs with one hand then used the other to push down her bloomers. They slid to her ankles, trapping her feet but she was too lost in her need to care.

“Show me more.”

With both hands she lifted her skirts higher. A voice shouted out at the back of her mind, telling her that this was wanton, lustful, unacceptable behavior. But she shut it out and allowed the pulsing of her swollen labia to rule her conscious thought.

She began to sway again, very gently. Nate moaned as he looked at her exposed sex and Evelyn watched in wonder as he gripped his darkened member in both hands. She licked her lips as he rolled a thumb over the end, spreading the droplet of moisture that she recalled as salty yet sweet—his own delicious lubricant.

Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she felt her fingers slide between her silken folds and begin the steady movements that would lead her toward fulfilment.

Nate gasped at her actions and she felt suddenly empowered. He wanted this, to see her touch herself and she realized that she wanted him to watch her. She rubbed at the engorged lips and probed the entrance to her depths. As she lifted her hips to allow herself access, she watched as Nate’s pace increased. She slid first one finger then two into her warmth, roaming, plunging, wiggling.

Her own caress grew more insistent and she rubbed and probed faster, feeling her clit swell beneath her touch until it hardened and her whole body shuddered as she imagined Nate filling her with his throbbing organ and making her whole. The combination of her own touch and the image of Nate’s cock joined with hers was too much and she hurtled suddenly and deliciously over the edge, thrown with a cry into the abyss of ecstasy where she momentarily lost all awareness of time and place.

As her climax ebbed and her shaking subsided, she became aware that Nate had reached his own orgasm and she sighed as his cock jerked and he leaned forward, his hot sweet seed spilling out onto the floor. He slumped over his knees as if totally spent.

Evelyn stood, still exposed, frowning in concern at his lack of movement.

“Mr Hamilton?”

He pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped his hands.

“Mr Hamilton?”

He glanced at her and motioned for her to cover herself. He looked dazed, confused and even ashamed.

“So now we know, eh?” He tucked his waning erection into his trousers and buttoned them up. “You do remember how good it was between us.”

“Yes, Nate,” she whispered and she reached out toward him, her heart beginning to open as the memories flooded in. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. She wanted to feel safe again, that the future held some promise of happiness. She wanted, no needed, to fall into his arms and to be held against his chest, to be loved until the sun set and she knew that he would never let her go.

When he rose and moved toward her she opened her arms, expecting to feel his strong hug enveloping her, his face pressed against her hair, his renewed erection rock hard against her groin.

Instead, there was a draft as he walked past her and stood at the door.

“Our time is up.” His voice was low, soft, dangerous. “Get dressed. I’ll see you here at the same time tomorrow.”

The door banged against the frame as he pulled it behind him and Evelyn stood alone.

Walking down the wooden staircase and into the bar of the Gem, Nate combed a hand through his hair then pressed his hat onto his head. He needed a drink.

“What’ll it be, Mr Hamilton?” Dan Doherty stood behind the bar polishing a glass.

“Whiskey.”

Nate took the glass and swigged, savoring the sting as it flooded through his mouth and down his throat. Though he didn’t drink much, he could understand why some men did. Sometimes life was so darned hard a man needed to drown it out and escape the pain.

“Another?”

Nate nodded.

“So how was she?” Dan pushed his hat back on his head and leaned over the bar, exposing yellow teeth in a crooked grin.

Nate glared at him. “What?”

“That Mrs Campbell. She look as good with ’er clothes off?”

Nate balled his fists at his sides and ground his teeth together but his reply was controlled and assured. “Mind your business, Doherty. I’m paying for the use of that room and what goes on in there is none of your business. Al promised me discretion and you a beating if you fail to keep your flapper shut.”

Dan shrugged then turned to a rowdy group of men who’d just come in, muttering as he did so, “Ye get the mitten then did ye, Mr Big Bug.” Then he hawked and spat on the floor, missing the spittoon.

Nate rested his elbows on the bar, moving his empty glass between his hands. When Doherty moved to refill it he put his hand over the top and shook his head. It wouldn’t do to get drunk—he couldn’t afford to lose control right then. Who knew what he’d do with Evelyn around and his mind in turmoil. Sober, he could just about cope but inebriated he might well surrender to the ache in his heart.

He turned his head to the side as one of the newcomers stood a bit too close and his sour sweat stung Nate’s nostrils. Goddamn these miners stank.

“So you guys here for the show or the pussy?” Dan questioned the miners as he filled their glasses.

“I was hopin’ to enjoy the show then get meself a bit o’ that fine pussy out back,” a recently arrived Irish immigrant replied.

“Well you’re in the right place fellas,” Dan slammed the whiskey bottle down on the bar. “Now where are them damned whores?”

Nate watched as Doherty walked away, hollering female names. As if by magic, half-naked young women began to appear around the bar, their clothes soiled and torn, their sullen faces heavily painted. They plastered on smiles as they approached the men and wrapped themselves around them, acting as if they’d found their future husbands and wanted to give them a wedding night preview. It turned his stomach to see the men pawing at breasts and thighs and treating the women like prize cuts of meat.

He plonked his money on the bar next to the glass then walked out into the hot and dusty Deadwood evening, shaking his head at the sorry state of affairs that was the Gem Saloon.

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About the Author

Molly Ann Wishlade has always been an avid reader and writer of stories. Her lifetime of reading has taken her from the magical worlds of The Faraway Tree and The Borrowers, to the Greek myths and legends, to Sweet Valley High and Judy Blume’s Forever, to Asimov’s science fiction, Jane Eyre’s torment and Stephen King’s masterpieces. More recently she has wandered through the vivid historicals of Philippa Gregory; the bubbly, gritty delights of Adele Parks and the fast paced thrillers of James Patterson. She loves getting lost in a novel and often regrets finishing one as the characters are usually missed like old friends. She regularly indulges her insatiable hunger for romance and passion in the delicious worlds created by romantic novelists and is working on several of her own!

What precious spare time she has is spent with her family (one gorgeous husband and two bright and beautiful children), taking long walks around the beautiful Welsh countryside (although she’s still waiting for the rescue greyhound she wants to accompany her), cooking her own secret recipe curries, drinking Earl Grey (in copious amounts) and discovering delicious wines. Oh, and she also loves to ski and can’t wait to go again! And buying shoes!

She wants to take readers on the rollercoaster that is life through the creation of her own characters, relationships and worlds.

She appreciates feedback, recipes and wine recommendations.

Email:
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Molly Ann
loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
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Also by Molly Ann Wishlade

Desire in Deadwood

Totally Bound Publishing