The Trailrider's Fortune (18 page)

Rafe didn't seem to
understand about her situation. She'd tried to tell him her brother depended on
her. And poor Jace. She'd given another man the gift she'd saved so long for
him. Would he understand and forgive her that? He was the most generous,
patient soul Sparkle had ever known. He might understand she'd become trapped
in her own lie and succumbed to Rafe's charisma. But he'd never forgive this—posing
as a doxy, deliberately luring an outlaw into a trap that could well mean his
death.

She tossed and
turned, fuming to discover she had such difficulty falling asleep without Rafe
beside her. How long did it take to have a drink and check on a horse? How long
had it taken to her to become this pathetic, wanton woman? Mooning over a
scarred gun for hire, who obviously preferred drinking with his chums or
patting his horse's rump to caressing hers. To hell with the outlaw and the
money. Tomorrow she'd either kill Rafe or head for the train depot.

* * *

She opened her eyes
and struggled to sit up. The sheets were tangled around her lower legs.
Daylight streamed through a crack in the thick curtains. Morning. Beside her
was a big empty space and an abandoned pillow.

"Damn that
man! I'll kill him," she reaffirmed, gnashing her teeth as she worked her
toes through the tangled bedclothes to the floor. "Leaving me here alone
all night. Probably found himself a skinnier Alice."

"Like
hell."

She gasped and spun
to her right. Her heart caught in her throat. Rafe was seated in the Victorian chair,
wearing a crisp white shirt, fresh denims, and his new boots. He'd obviously
just visited a barber. "You cut your hair," she noted.

"You talk to
yourself." A booted ankle crossed over to rest atop his opposite knee.
"How were you figurin' on murderin' me?" he asked in a conversational
tone. "With your little pig sticker, or you got a notion to try firin' my
peacemaker? It's on the bedside table there."

She felt her cheeks
flame. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come back last night. If it was last
night."

His grin nearly
split his face in half. "Oh, it was. Locomotive could've pulled through
here and you wouldn't have heard it. Wasn't gone but a couple hours. Came back
and you were dead asleep. By the way, you
snore
, darlin'."

"I do
not!"

He chuckled and
rubbed his stomach. She crossed to the washstand, determined to ignore him. She
began washing her face quickly, scrunching her features and groping blindly for
a towel. Intent on the burning pain of soap suddenly in her left eye, she was
oblivious to the water trickling from her arms or that a droplet had coursed
down one breast.

"Here, let me
get that," came a husky whisper directly in front of her. So close, she
started at the sound. She hadn't heard his boots on the flooring. She wasn't
sure she liked the idea of Rafe sneaking up on her that way, or as he had last
night.

She opened both eyes
to find him kneeling, the tip of his tongue almost touching a droplet poised to
fall from her stiffening right nipple. As they both watched, the nipple stood
out, brazenly begging. Rafe's hands cupped her buttocks and pulled Sparkle
closer. She thought she'd faint when his tongue finally swirled over the hot
point of her breast, aching with need. Her head dropped back and she whispered
his name.

"Damn, you're
so pert and tasty, Sparkle," he whispered, tongue laving from the nipple
all along the underside of her breast to her ribcage. "Just got to kiss
you. Sorry I didn't wake you up last night. Thought about it. Drank half a
bottle of bourbon when I came up here, lyin' beside you. Couldn't get to sleep
for an hour thinkin' about kissin' these beauties."

She moaned as his
fingers gouged into her buttocks—lifting, encouraging her to open herself as he
pulled her pelvis even closer. His tongue probed her navel and trailed lower.
She whimpered, pushing at his shoulders. She tried to back away as he neared
her feminine curls. "Rafe, this is unseemly. Please don't."

He wouldn't release
her. "It's natural, darlin'. Don't fight it."

She watched him
draw her forward, closer and closer to his smooth, freshly shaven jaw and chin.
She gasped at the contact when his tongue finally brushed her most intimate
place. His lips followed, beginning a slow suction. Sparkle's breasts instantly
went on the warpath, jealous creatures that they were. She grabbed the empty
towel bar on the washstand as a fiery battle heated up between her upper torso
and lower hemispheres. All of her wanted Rafe. Now.

He buried his face
and attacked her like a ripe watermelon. He mumbled words of encouragement as
she ground her hips against his chin. He lapped and slowly sucked at the gush
of feminine moisture, driving her into a frenzy. Her breasts ached, screamed
for his soft, masterful mouth and those callused fingers. Ached, needing him,
but there was only so much of Rafe to go around. Just then he was busy
elsewhere…

"Rafe, please!
Stop this. I can't stand it."

He rose and drew
her with him to the bed. "Sorry, but I'm just startin', honey. You don't
know what you taste like. Heaven, I swear." His hands moved at last to cup
her swollen breasts as he bent to kiss her mouth again. She detected an unfamiliar
saltiness on his tongue. Herself? Truly, she'd gone straight to Hell.

His clean clothes
were soon lying in a forgotten heap on the floor. Rafe stretched out on his
side. Sparkle lay beside him, savoring the smell of the barber's soap on his
skin. She started to wrap her arms around Rafe's neck, but he stopped her.

"Want to go at
somethin' else first. Other way round." He twirled his index finger in
mid-air.

Sparkle blinked. He
repeated the gesture. "There's still plenty left to teach you, darlin'.
Reckon you'll want all the love lessons before you kill me. I would. Lie back
this way."

"Rafe, I
promise I won't try to murder you. Just kiss me and—"

"I'll kiss you
senseless, and I promise you'll thank me later. Come on, now." He pressed
her shoulders back, twisting her around so her head was near his hips on the
mattress. "Dawnin' on you how it works?"

Something was
beginning to, Sparkle realized with utter dismay. She must have had a prurient
mind all along, for Rafe wasn't having much trouble getting her imagination
going. Still, she was certain he couldn't mean what he seemed to be implying. He
couldn't be suggesting
that
.

She glanced at his
face with an unspoken question in her eyes. He nodded and slowly licked his
lips.

Oh, God!
Both
their mouths pleasuring at the same time?

"Rafe, what
you want must be a sin to Moses," she gasped.

"Moses can
have any sins he wants, mine or anybody else's," Rafe scoffed good
naturedly. "Learned a long time ago never to argue with whores about what
feels good." He bent to kiss the button of pink flesh peeping through her
dark curls, letting his tongue flick over the stiff nub. Sparkle nearly came
off the mattress at the jolt of sheer ecstasy. "And it
does
feel
good, huh?"

"So good, it's
probably illegal," Sparkle confessed.

He laughed and
arranged her thighs on either side of his neck. "I like wearin' a thigh
collar every once in awhile. You can just lay back and watch, but I'd be a
damned sight happier if you found another way to keep yourself entertained
while I'm kissin' you down here."

"Don't say
things like that!" Sparkle clamped her legs together, desperate to shut
him up. Big mistake. Seconds later she was gasping and cursing, so wet and out
of control she forgot everything but the wave of pleasure he sent spilling over
her.

Rafe paused,
wringing a sobbing cry from her. "Tarnation, but you're lazy," he
admonished lightly. "Remember the cactus juice? You kiss me, I'll kiss
you."

She brought the
head of his shaft to her lips, kissed and licked. Rafe reciprocated. She tried
again. Cause and effect established, she took him fully into her mouth and
suckled. Rafe suckled, too. Lord, but it would be something to go at this
exercise with real determination.

The pure
ecstasy…The man had debauched her, ignored her, sneaked up on her, debased her
further by teaching her this absolutely fabulous and thoroughly lewd act.
Forget his Colt or her knife. He'd given her the ultimate weapon. She'd love
him to death. Kill him with kindness.

Determined to
ignore the havoc he created from within his "thigh collar," she
attacked his engorged manhood with a vengeance. Before she was finished, he'd
be praying for his own death. She'd show him he wasn't the only one who could
use pleasure to devastating effect.

"I can't
believe I lived through that," she murmured some two hours later.
"I'm sure women aren't meant to crest so many times."

"Yes, you are.
You gals got us fellas beat about ten to one. Make you feel powerful?"

Powerful? Try
limp. Mentally considering a pilgrimage in search of eternal salvation.

There wasn't one
inch of her body that didn't tingle still. Correction. There were precisely two
square inches—her nipples. They'd finally gone numb. She slowly sat up and
pulled loose from the gnarled sheets. Rafe reclined against the pillows, arms
folded behind his head, not a shred of bedclothes covering his nude
magnificence. His expression was solemn, thoughtful. A reprieve. Then she saw
the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. She crushed her eyelids shut.
Too late. She'd seen that damned, wicked grin.

She was learning
too quickly and too well. Her training had taught her that when she glimpsed
Rafe's slow grin, his lazy drawl was coming next. When Rafe chewed out words in
that measured way, she could too easily imagine those sensual lips and his
tongue chewing on her body in that same slow, meandering way. Her breasts
tightened then, and she got damp in a most unladylike fashion.

"Don't start
up again," she warned. "Don't lie there grinning at me, thinking what
you're obviously thinking. It must be past noon, and I haven't left this bed—well,
not really," she stammered, the washstand episode still too vivid in her
mind.

"So? We got
all day to spend in bed." Rafe's smile was decidedly evil now. "You
got somethin' better to do?" His arms unfolded and he shot up, reaching to
capture her in a blur of movement. Sparkle found herself sprawled against his
chest. His lips and tongue thoroughly ravished her mouth as his hands massaged
her bare buttocks and ground her pelvis against his. She couldn't believe she
detected stirrings of life in his manhood. "I got nothin' more important
to do for the next couple hours."

"Really?"
Sparkle grabbed her cloak of haughtiness in hear desperation. "Don't you
have a horse to check on, or something you need to discuss with Driscoll and
Parker?"

His hands went
still. "Now I'm tryin' to decide if you're funnin' me. You want me out of here?
Can't still be mad about last night. If you are, there must be an itch
someplace I forgot to scratch. That's tough to figure, since I'm pretty sure I
scratched everywhere."

"Well, I was
pretty itchy all over last night," she informed him. "But you didn't
even bother to kiss me before you skedaddled."

"So you
figured I didn't want to?"

"Of course
not. If you want to do something, you just do it, Rafe. You pulled me back into
bed just now, didn't you?"

"Yeah."
His expression changed and he cocked his head, his gaze changing from warm and
teasing to something she couldn't label.

"You're wrong,
Sparkle. I wanted to kiss you, but I also wanted to break your neck." His
tone suggested he wasn't teasing in the slightest now. "Felt sick,
watchin' you smile at every goddamned pair of work denims in town. Didn't
appreciate bein' tied up in knots, feelin' sick in my gut."

"Rafe, I did
just what you told me. You can't mean you—"

He pushed her away.
"Can't. What, you been readin' my cards again, so you can tell me what I
mean? Left last night because I reckoned I'd only get upset if I stayed. Like
I'm gettin' now." She gaped at him as he sat up and continued to rant.
"Don't see no friggin' cards. Guess I'll have to say it for you,
then."

"Say what?
What's come over you?"

"I didn't want
to make a horse's ass of myself by tellin' you I hate watchin' you work in
saloons. I always hated it. Hate you readin' those damned cards too, even mine.
I was sorry I got your damned job back for you in Wichita, because you're too
fine for saloons and men like Frazer or madams with perverted notions. I'm glad
you ain't got your job in Wichita now. If I had my way, I'd never let you out
of this bed. I'd just keep you here with me in it, and never have to feel so
damned pissed again." He stood up and stepped into his jeans, jerking them
up over his hips.

"You sure say
'damned' a lot when you get mad," Sparkle teased. He ignored her. Not a
good sign. She knew then he was genuinely upset. "Using me as bait was
your idea," she reminded softly.

"Yeah,
brilliant, too, ain't it?" he all but shouted. "Just cause I thought
of it doesn't mean I'm proud of the notion. Doesn't keep it from stickin' in my
craw, seein' it carried out." He had his fly half buttoned. He paused to
glare at her, and Sparkle was absurdly elated. His eyes burned with a greenish
fire that could only mean one thing. He was jealous. Insanely, wonderfully
jealous.