Whispers (Argent Springs) (21 page)

She entered Annabelle’s room and flipped on the
lights, trying to decide where she should start this time. During her previous
forays into all things Annabelle, Erin had discovered Annabelle’s collection of
jewelry. She hadn’t taken any of it to a jeweler yet to be valued, because
really the sentimental value meant more to her, but she was certain a good
portion of them were genuine gemstones.

A whisper of a breeze passed by her, and she was
suddenly certain she was no longer alone. She’d come to discover she didn’t
mind Rosa’s presence.

She turned in the direction she’d sensed Rosa, her
gaze falling on a large trunk in the corner of the room. The sturdy wooden box
held together by bands of worn leather looked as though it might have belonged
to the madam as well.

Erin dropped to her knees in front of it and
lifted the latch. The hinges squeaked as she opened it, allowing overhead light
to bring to life its contents.

She blinked, feeling like she’d just discovered
the most valuable treasure. She gently lifted out a gorgeous red silk corset
with black lace sewn along the edges. Beneath it laid another purple one
followed by emerald one with a short black lace skirt that had been gathered
for fullness.

Had these belonged to Rosa? God, they looked
authentic. And there were so many other things in the house that had withstood
the test of time, so why not?

She held the emerald corset up to her, running a
hand down the smooth fabric before she inspected the inside of it. Tiny,
hand-sewn stitches held together the silk, boning and lace, validating her
assumption that it was handmade.

She stood, propelled by a sudden urge to know more
about Rosa. She tugged her soft brown sweater over her head and tossed it on
the bed. A shiver ripped through her, brought on more by excitement than the
chilly air. Her nipples tingled in anticipation as she removed her bra. She
loosened the laces of the corset as much as she could and gently slipped the
garment over her head, careful not to hurt the heirloom.

When she’d shimmied it into place, she reached
behind her back and pulled on the laces, working them as much as she could to
tighten the corset around her. No wonder women helped each other dress in the
olden days. This thing was a beast. A beautiful beast, though.

She turned to look in Annabelle’s antique mirror,
her breath catching in her throat. The corset’s boning forced her breasts
upward until they nearly spilled over the lace-edged tops, enhancing her size
while slimming down her waist. Damn. Why couldn’t she look this good all the
time?

She removed her jeans because they messed with the
look, stepping out of them before she turned back to the mirror.

The short lacy skirt hinted at what lie beneath
without giving a full on view. Though the garment had been made to encourage
promiscuous and even illegal behavior, it possessed a grace and exquisiteness
beyond compare. That it had been so-well preserved from the past was
astonishing.

A strange feeling washed through her, making her
feel sexy and wanton, and she suddenly understood the incredible sexual power
Rosa must have felt while wearing this. What man could resist this kind of
package?

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. Not Rick.

She headed back to the trunk and bent down, her
hair slipping over her shoulders, caressing her already-sensitized breasts. She
carefully removed more items. A black feather boa. The red dress dear Annabelle
had worn while playing poker with her friends. She hugged it close to her,
desperately missing her aunt’s infectious smile.

A small black ornate box had been tucked to the
side. Erin lifted the lid and peered inside. It contained an elegant golden
hair comb encrusted with what looked like emeralds. Beneath that rested two
velvet chokers. Erin removed the one that had a circle of gold attached to the
middle. She fastened the clasp around her neck and took the hair comb with her.

Looking into the mirror, she pulled one side of
her hair back with the comb, exposing her neck and ear. She found emerald
earrings and a matching bracelet in Annabelle’s jewelry stash and put them on
as well. The boa finished her look.

If she didn’t know better, she could easily have
been back in the 1880s, a local prostitute preparing for an evening of wild sex
with whichever untamed cowboy entered the black-listed establishment.

She didn’t have shoes or stockings to match the
ensemble, but it made no difference. She’d been transformed into a brazen saloon
girl.

And she liked it.

“Yes.” The whisper moved through the air from
somewhere near her right shoulder. She glanced beyond her image in the mirror,
but knew she wouldn’t find anyone in the room with her. No doubt, though, Rosa
approved.

With her body tingling with anticipation and
excitement, she headed out of the room and down the stairs. In her mind, she
pictured gentlemen standing in the foyer or perhaps lounging in the small
library with a crystal glass holding the finest whiskey. Rosa might have sold
her body for money, but she had to have enjoyed at least some aspects of her
occupation.

Erin moved down the hall, stopping in the doorway
to the atrium. Rick still sat where she’d left him on the couch, his gaze
trained on his computer screen. A slow smile crept across her lips.

“Look what I found,” she said.

He turned, and the expression on his face nearly
sent her already-excited body into an orgasm.

“Damn.” His voice came out in a low whisper as his
eyes grew wide with appreciation.

She moved into the room, and he slammed his laptop
shut before he stood.

“I think it belonged to Rosa.” When she was close
to him, she turned in a circle to give him the full effect.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so sexy.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“You’re beautiful.” He reached out for her, but
she took a step back.

“Oh, no. If you want to touch, you’ll have to pay
for the privilege.” She wasn’t sure what made her say that to him, but she
enjoyed the look of surprise on his face.

His eyes sizzled with interest as he reached for
his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. “How much for the pleasure of your
company, madam?”

She ran a hand down his bicep as though sizing up
what type of man she might be encountering. “Hmm…I don’t really know the going
rate for an 1880s hooker. Two bucks? Is that where the term two-bit hooker came
from?”

“Who cares?” He pulled a bill out of his wallet
and held it out to her. “I have a twenty. Will that do?”

She snapped it from his fingers and tucked it
between her breasts. Just like that, she’d become a paid prostitute. “That will
do nicely.”

He wasted no time pulling her into his arms. Her
heart slammed against her chest as he looked down at her, spending several
seconds studying her eyes before he dropped his gaze lower.

“You’re so hot,” he whispered, trailing a finger
across the swells of her breasts. “I get you all to myself? For the whole
night?”

She nodded, her breasts threatening to escape
their barely-restrained confines with each breath she took.

With heated seduction burning in his eyes, he
wrapped his hand around her hair, tugging back her head until her face angled up
toward him. His actions weren’t gentle, but he didn’t hurt her, either. In
fact, his slight roughness sent her pulse racing. “So who am I? A local miner
come down from the hills? A man who hasn’t tasted female flesh in a while, and
I’m beyond hungry?”

“If that’s what you want,” she said, a little
breathless. The raw male expectation in his eyes promised her a night of stolen
pleasures. “I’m here to please you.”

He dipped his head, claiming her mouth with a
possessiveness that left her weak. She put a hand to his chest to steady
herself and ended up gripping his shirt.

“I like the way you think, madam,” he said when he
pulled away.

She fought to catch her breath. “What would you
like me to do?” she asked in a lowered voice.

“Stand there.” He circled behind her, his large
hands spanning her waist as he pulled her against his chest. He leaned over her
shoulder, his breath warm in her ear. “I’ve always wondered what it would be
like to pay for sex.”

She shivered.

Slowly he moved his hands upward, cupping her
breasts from beneath, running his thumbs along her bare mounds.

Heated moisture gathered between her legs. “Do you
like what you see?”

“I do.” His deep voice rumbled through her. He
turned her in his arms. With torturously slow movements, he slid a finger
beneath her corset, cruising along the edge until he crested her nipple.

She gasped, loving the way his touch shot arrows
of desire through her, making her ache for more.

“I think the lady likes that.” He tugged the edge of
the fabric downward until her breast broke free from its restraint. The boning
beneath still held her high, and her pebbled nipple jutted forward begging for
attention.

“Nice,” he whispered as he dipped his head and
sucked her into his mouth. She arched with overwhelming need.

Painful pleasure shot through her as he nipped her
before releasing her. He slid his hand to the other breast, freeing it as well,
and then moved behind her once again taking both mounds into his warm hands,
alternating between massaging her and tugging on her nipples.

Darkness behind the large windows in the room
reflected their images back to her, and she was reminded of the first night
they’d danced in the atrium together. Never in a million years would she have
pictured herself here like this.

He caught her gaze in the glass, a satisfied smile
slipping across his lips.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

She nodded, caught up in the whole seductive
experience. With him, she felt beautiful.

He released her breasts, his hands moving to the
short lace skirt attached to her corset. He lifted it, baring her to him with
the exception of the tiny lace thong that she wore. She watched as he put his
hands on the backs of her thighs and was surprised to find how sensitive her
skin had become. He moved his hands upward, digging his fingers into her ass
before he slid them around to the front.

Her breath quickened as he buried his hand beneath
the thin piece of black lace, slowly moving downward until he slipped between
her eager folds. “Oh, yeah,” he groaned.

An unexpected orgasm ripped through her, and she
gasped, her knees growing weak.

“God, you’ll make me come just watching you,” he
whispered.

He nearly ripped her thong from her body before he
shed his t-shirt and jeans. His thick member jutted toward her as he removed
his underwear before returning to his jeans to pull a condom from his wallet.

She took the latex from his hands and slid it over
him, reveling in the power pulsing beneath her shaking fingers.

He pulled her into his arms again, her naked
breasts pressing against his chest. His hard cock teased her apex as he claimed
her mouth with a rough kiss. “I want you so fucking bad right now,” he
whispered between kisses.

Without clothes, she could picture him as a silver
miner, his body hardened by work, with powerful needs that only a woman could
ease.

God knew she wanted to be the one to bring his
release.

She thought for a moment how Rosa might respond. “Fuck
me, Rick. Fuck me like the whore that I am.”

He growled in approval.

Ironclad arms wrapped around her middle as he
pulled her toward the couch and bent her over the arm. “I want you to watch me
take you.”

A tremor rocked through her as she turned her gaze
to the side, catching them in the reflective windows. He lifted the black lace
once again, the round curves of her ass showing in the soft light. He cursed
again as he caressed her skin, obviously enjoying the position he’d placed her
in. Then he moved forward, gripping her hips as his cock disappeared between
her legs.

“Oh god.” She thought she might die before he took
her.

Then he was there, pressing into her highly
sensitized folds. He angled her hips a little and then filled her with a
powerful thrust.

She tried to breathe as a fierce lust consumed
her.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned. He gripped her hard,
holding her as he slammed into her. Again. And again. Her breasts bounced with
each thrust, increasing her pleasure until she couldn’t think beyond where he
joined with her.

Time seemed to stop as he filled her over and over
with heated steel. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All she could do was feel.

An incredible pressure built inside her, and she
reached for the exquisite pleasure that seemed so close. Her legs threatened to
buckle, and then she cried out as a fierce orgasm ripped through her.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t give her a moment to collect
her shattered soul.

He appeared obsessed by his goal, and he wouldn’t
stop until he’d reached the pinnacle.

She dug her nails into the couch pillows trying to
hold onto her sanity as tremor after tremor rocked her. He gave and gave until
she thought she’d burst from pleasure.

Then suddenly he gripped her hips tighter as he
slammed into her one last time and held. His groans sounded almost painful as
he released his seed. She froze, giving him the time he needed.

A moment later, the frenzy was over, and all that
was left was their labored breathing.

He stayed inside her for a moment as though he
needed another minute to collect his bearings. Then he pulled from her, twisted
her in his arms, before laying a very possessive kiss on her lips.

When he ended it, he tilted his head, gazing into
her eyes. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” she whispered as a smile found her lips.
“You did everything but hurt me.”