Indecent Intent (16 page)

He knelt between her thighs, stroking his thickness, which grew before Gabrielle's eyes. The flickering of the fire sent shadows dancing up the painted walls of the cave and she could feel her body becoming warm again and the shivering thankfully ebbing away. From somewhere she thought she heard a chant, a drumming rhythm that seemed to grow in volume as White Eagle positioned himself between her thighs. His cock seemed so large.

He entered her powerfully, and then lay still with his weight on his forearms, and Gabrielle moaned with pleasure at his thickness, urging him to move within her by wrapping her legs around his waist.

‘Stop that,' he hissed. ‘I am your master. Have you not learned that by now?'

So she lay still beneath him, allowing him to move as and when he wanted to, to set the pace he required. Did he know about Verity? Did he know there was already another who considered himself her owner – her master?

He thrust into her repeatedly, aggressively, wrenching confused cries of pleasure and discomfort from her. The strong white teeth gnawed at the distended and erect nubs of her nipples and she writhed deliriously beneath him with newly awakened desire.

Then the domineering man pulled his erection from her and she gave a sob of loss, but he flipped her over, wrapping an arm beneath her tummy to lift and arch her body into a kneeling position on the furs.

‘Open your thighs,' he ordered, his voice deep and rasping, and Gabrielle obeyed, but not quite to his satisfaction and his palm slapped down repeated upon the tender flesh of her buttocks, making her squeal until she was kneeling and presented just as he wanted her. He pushed her arms out straight in front of her until her cheek was resting down on the furs and her position was that of a supplicant begging to a deity.

She felt his strong possessive hands smooth over her uplifted, beaten bottom, tracing the full curves and the narrow valley that divided them. His lips and tongue, in their caresses of her intimate flesh, were forceful in their domination. He sucked and licked her naked quim lips, and gently gnawed them with his teeth. He inhaled her musk and tasted it with the tip of his tongue before driving the muscle deep inside her, and only when he was completely satisfied that she had climaxed again and again did he kneel tall, hold her hips steady between his large hands, lift his face to the ancient ceiling of the cave as though kneeling at an altar, and again plunge his throbbing penis deep into her sex.

Although White Eagle took her harshly, aggressively, using his grip on her hips to ease her body back and forth and using her clutching depths to milk his cock, there was also something tender in the taking. It was somehow different to the total subjugation she normally suffered at the Verity mansion.

When he came, flooding her with his warm semen, Gabrielle felt it was a gift, and she was grateful. He slipped from her and they lay in each other's arms, kissing affectionately.

‘Thank you,' she murmured sincerely. ‘I needed to be with someone – needed to feel close to someone.'

‘If we had met earlier,' he said, looking deep into her eyes, ‘I would have taken you as my wife, but as it is…' She felt him shrug and knew what he was thinking; she came to him far from being a maiden. A son of a chief he could not marry her. Tears wet his broad muscular shoulders and her breasts shuddered as sobs wracked her body, her unhappiness returning.

‘You know all about me, don't you?' she at last managed to say.

‘I know that you are owned by a rich white man,' he told her, ‘who does not treat you as a wife, but as a slave.'

Linking her arms around his neck she looked deep into the blackness of his eyes. ‘Treat me as a slave,' she begged. ‘Use me again, as you used me just now. I'll stay with you and work for you; work for your tribe; be your family's slave. I don't care how you treat me…' She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat – her misery. ‘It could never be worse than being with Marshall Verity.'

He took her wrists in his hands and peeled her arms from around his neck. ‘I could grow to care for you in time,' he admitted, ‘but you must go back to your master. He owns you, just as he owns much land here.'

Hurt by his words Gabrielle turned away from him, lying sullenly on her side, her back facing him. ‘I wish I was dead,' she mumbled. ‘I wish I had died in the plane crash.'

‘I think that is what your master intended,' said White Eagle softly, standing and beginning to dress again.

‘Wha-what do you mean?' Gabrielle couldn't believe what he was saying. Verity wanted her to die? He had arranged for the plane to crash? No, it could not be true… it just couldn't!

‘There are rumors in the reservation casino that some men are planning something against your master.' He reached down and took her hands in his, pulling her gently to her feet. ‘I wish I could do more to help you, but your master is a very powerful man.' He reached down and picked up an animal skin from the luxurious mound of furs they'd used as a bed for their lovemaking, wrapping it around her for warmth. ‘It seems there are three of them – a black man and two white men. They seek revenge or they seek possession of you, and your master is determined to deny them both.'

Gabrielle shuddered. It had to be Tom and Robbie – didn't it? Or perhaps Marshall Verity simply had many enemies and it had nothing to do with either of them; was simply a coincidence. Yes, Gabrielle had to pull herself together; it could be anyone who had a grudge against Verity.

‘I shall return you to your master now,' said White Eagle, interrupting her fruitless attempts to fathom out what on earth was going on in her life. ‘You are very lucky and unhurt. A little bruised, but no more.'

‘But you can't take me back to him!' she pleaded desperately. ‘If you're right and he really was behind the failed plane crash attempt he'll just try again, and make sure he succeeds next time! Please, can't I just stay here with you?'

He shook his head, smiling sadly. ‘No, you cannot. Don't worry – if he was involved he will not try again. He is not a stupid man, and will know that people will be watching him now; one near fatal crash will draw unwanted attention to his activities, and any other highly suspicious “mishaps” would be closely scrutinized by the authorities. Trust me, you will be safe enough now.'

Verity held Gabrielle's hand possessively tightly and led her from White Eagle's dusty old pick-up towards the hotel entrance, his security men close around them, looking alert. She noticed a large black man hovering nearby, and Verity and his bodyguards noticed him too, but chose to ignore him and get into the hotel.

This was where it had all begun, Gabrielle thought bitterly, where Tom had done the unthinkable and sold her for gambling money.

After a much needed and very relaxing hot bath in Verity's suite Gabrielle felt a little more human again, although she was not happy to be back in his clutches. Feeling uninspired and lacking motivation she dressed simply, the dress nevertheless skimming her shapely figure and making her look lovely.

As they left his suite, Verity smoothed a hand over the curve of her hip and seductive swell of her buttocks, delighting in the shudder this elicited. The pair walked through the lush green ferns, which decorated the foyer of the hotel, through to the casino. Verity's men followed as usual, their faces impassive, they eyes watching everything.

Weaving their way through the crowds, Gabrielle wondered what awaited her. Had Verity really meant to eliminate her as a ploy to head off any plan Tom, or Robbie, or Sonny Campbell may have devised against him? The way the plane crashed certainly pointed to that as a terrifying possibility.

‘It promises to be a very big night, my dear,' he said to her, cutting into her thoughts and slipping his arm around her waist. He held her close and smiled. ‘Are you looking forward to it?'

‘As much as always,' she said. Her voice was flat, emotionless, and just for a moment she allowed her eyes to close, shutting out the world. She had to take each moment as it came, and look no further ahead than that.

‘And are you looking forward to seeing your husband again, my dear?' Verity was leading her quickly through the banks of slot machines, not even giving the small-time players a second glance; not even appearing to notice them, so insignificant were they to someone like him.

So Tom was definitely there, which probably meant Robbie was too. Gabrielle said nothing in reply for some moments, believing more and more that what White Eagle had said was really true. She shuddered again and tried to dismiss such thoughts from her head. It would be better and safer to keep positive and keep alert – not dwell on what might have been.

Was she looking forward to seeing Tom again? No, she wasn't. She often looked back to her life with Tom – but never any longer forward. Tomorrow was the anniversary of her husband selling her to Verity – that's as much, and as little, as she thought about Tom.

‘I asked you a question, my dear,' Verity pressed, just as they stopped and paused in the plush corridor outside a privately booked room.

‘I don't really feel anything about the prospect, sir,' she said quietly, and he smiled with satisfaction as one of his men opened the door, and the small entourage strolled confidently into the room.

Verity took a seat at the gambling table, indicating that she should stand behind him – his chattel, his possession.

She raised her eyes from the carpet and was not at all surprised to see who was amongst the other players sitting around the table. Tom was there, looking a little too cocky and relaxed, very probably having drunk too much to gain some confidence. He winked at her and raised his bottle of beer. ‘Hi, Gabby,' he said. ‘Long time no see…' and she had no idea what to say back, so she lowered her eyes again and said nothing.

Verity noticed her reaction and briefly nodded his approval.

And Robbie was there too, contrasting with Tom by looking very edgy and out of place. He cast her a sheepish smile, and she noticed his hand shaking as he nervously sipped at a glass of water, and realised she felt absolutely nothing for him either. Their few days together in the brief sanctuary of his old boat had been fun, but she now knew, had been no more than that. He was exciting to be with in the surroundings of Key West, but now he looked like a nobody – just a beach bum out of his patch and out of his league.

There were other men sitting around the table, some she recognized as Verity's friends and cronies, some she did not.

But what did shock her incredibly, and she only just managed to suppress a gasp of shock that would have blown whatever plan the blonde was embroiled in, was seeing Gail sitting there too, clearly about to deal the opening hand. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, but Gabrielle was able to glean no useful information from the glance whatsoever.

‘Good evening, gentlemen,' said Verity. ‘Let's play, shall we?'

The cards were dealt, and Gabrielle was stunned at just how professionally they were dealt. Gail was clearly a girl of many hidden – and some not so hidden – talents.

Each player picked their hand up and a tense silence fell over the room as the cards were studied. Gabrielle looked at what Verity held, but it meant nothing to her. In actual fact the fan of five cards was poor and a lesser man would have thrown in his hand, but Verity did not. He bet high.

The game went on around the table, and on around Gabrielle. She had no idea what was occurring, having spent years building a wall against anything to do with gambling to try to protect herself from her husband's obsession with it. Chips were thrown into the middle of the table. Some players sat inscrutably – some smoking, some drinking – and others were more animated, picking cards up and throwing cards down, cursing when they ditched their hand in disgust.

‘I'll see you,' she heard Verity say, the heavy smoke from his cigar drifting around his head.

‘A royal flush,' Robbie said to the accompaniment of murmurs, and then reached across to gather the pile of chips from the middle of the table.

‘I said I'd see you,' said Verity, looking dangerously calm. ‘Where are your cards?'

Robbie turned his hand face up. ‘Ace, king, queen, jack and ten of hearts,' he said. ‘Good enough for you?'

With a flurry Gail dealt again, and Gabrielle froze as Verity said, ‘Where's the girl who normally works this room?'

‘Sick, sir,' came the prompt reply, and Gabrielle stared at the blonde with real admiration; far more than she felt for the three pathetic men who were ostensibly continuing their squabble by playing cards for her. And then she realised; Gail was there to help Robbie win, and she was clearly off to a good start. Gabrielle smiled with amusement, unnoticed by anyone else in the tense and smoky atmosphere of the room.

Again Verity bet high, and quickly there were thousands of dollars thrown in a pile in the middle of the table. The game went on, and again it was Verity who challenged with another huge gamble.

And again it was Verity who lost.

Only this time he lost to Tom.

‘What the fuck is going on here?' he swore uncharacteristically, as he watched the money being scooped in across the table.