A Touch in Time (3 page)

She clutched at the ropes that bound her, her body bucking wildly against his mouth as release came. Hot. Wet. Wild.
Perfect.

“I see I’m gonna have to fuck the truth out of you,” he said, his voice tight.

Yes!
her mind cried out.
Fuck me!

Why not?
she wanted to scream. Then she remembered her words to Marissa.
...when men were men and lived by a genuine code of honor...
Did outlaws have honor, too? Wouldn’t that be just her luck?

She’d seen the hunger in his eyes. Felt the thrust of his hard, thick cock as he’d rubbed against her. Why couldn’t he forget his damned code of honor, if only this one time, and fuck her like she knew he wanted to do? Like she wanted him to do.

Jake stepped out into the cool night air and unbuttoned his fly with a muttered curse. Shoving his jeans halfway down his hips, he curled a hand around his swollen cock and fell into a furious rhythm. Hard, relentless strokes that had his thighs quivering and his ass clenching.

His balls hitched and tightened. His breaths came in rasping pants with each measured stroke of his hand. He needed release. Needed to push the woman in his bed from his mind. Needed...

His groan filled the night as his cock pulsed, emptying onto the darkened ground below in thick, hot, raining spurts. With another curse, he shoved his still semi-erect cock back into his drawers and fastened his jeans.

Maybe now the need for his captive would be out of his system. With her perfect curves and those soft little moans. That hot, wet cunt...

“Fuck,” he murmured as the thickness returned to his cock.

He paced in front of the cabin in long, hurried strides, furious at his lack of self-control where his captive was concerned. A woman who’d shown up with some farfetched story about dropping into his corral through some hole in time. One whose body made a man act without thinking for the want of touching that sweet flesh.

And damn his weakness for sexy, long-legged females. Hadn’t he sworn never to get caught up in their lure ever again? Yet, he’d touched Brianna. Had come close to fucking her and not for revenge, but because he craved it. Craved her. A woman he knew was lying to him. Just like the whore who had nearly cost him his life had. How big of a fool was he?

His gaze shifted in the darkness to the front door. Deke, the cowardly bastard he was, had sent yet another woman to do his dirty work for him. Only this time he was gonna catch the outlaw in his own trap. He’d stop denying himself what his body craved. Instead, he’d use Brianna to sate his lust and take Deke Johnson down in the process.

With a glance off into the night, he strode back to the cabin and to the woman he held captive inside.

CHAPTER THREE

He liked her sass he thought as his gaze slid down to the sliver of silk still wedged between her wet cunt. He liked that even better. His throbbing cock agreed wholeheartedly.

Her whiskey-colored eyes dropped to his waist. “You’re wearing a gun.” She tugged again at her bound wrists. “
And
you’re holding me prisoner. That pretty much says it all.”

“I don’t know what Deke told you, but I’m no outlaw, Brianna.” His fingers skimmed the smooth expanse of her bared stomach. “But you are my prisoner.”

Her nipples pebbled in response. She wanted to be fucked. His heated gaze was drawn to the glistening nest of curls between her thighs. Grabbing her legs, he angled her until she was half on, half off the mattress. Then, hooking his fingers around the sliver of material at her waist, he dragged it down to join the bunched up jeans at her ankles.

“What are you doing?” she said, her words a wanton whisper.

“I’m going to taste you.” Her musky scent surrounded him as he knelt in front of her, parting her thighs. His fingers parted the chestnut curls, exposing the damp, swollen flesh beyond. Lowering his head, he lapped at the juices that gathered there. Hot. Sweet. Undeniably female.

“Remind me to thank Deke for sending you to me before I kill him.” He pulled her closer and then lowered his head again, circling her clit with a tongue in slow, torturous sweeps that had her shuddering beneath his questing mouth.

She opened her thighs more, writhing against his mouth.

He stopped, making her whimper protest. “Tell me it was Deke who you sent you here,” he demanded as his cock throbbed beneath the fly of his jeans. “Tell me and I’ll let you cum.”

He undid his gunbelt and hung it over the post at the foot of the bed. “Reckon we’ll just have to see about that.” He undid his jeans, shoving them down over his thrusting erection. His drawers followed. Reaching down he yanked her pants the rest of the way off and tossed them onto the floor beside her boots which he’d removed when he’d carried her into his bedroom. Her ‘thong’ followed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her gaze pinned to his pulsing cock.

“Darlin’, I’m about to show you the difference between a real man and your hand.” He shoved her back into the middle of the bed and climbed over her. Shoving her bra up the rest of the way, he freed her other breast and lowered his mouth to it as he settled between her restless legs.

“Jake...”

“That’s it, darlin’. I want you to know whose cock it is bringing you pleasure tonight. Not Deke’s. Mine.” That said, he thrust into her. Deep. Hard. Demanding.

She didn’t fight him. Instead, she moaned softly and wrapped her long legs around his waist, drawing him in even deeper. The tight sheath of her body milked him mercilessly, made him struggle to keep from spending himself inside her like some untried youth.

She studied Jake Dawson as he slept. The shaggy mane hanging down over his dark brows. Those thick black lashes. Their feathery softness a contradiction to the rest of him – rock hard and very male.

She flexed her fingers, grateful that he had loosened the rope that bound her to his bed before falling asleep. Not that she could go anywhere with his arm and leg draped so possessively over her nearly naked form.

As if sensing her staring at him, Jake Dawson’s dark eyes opened and a slow smile spread across his handsome face. “Ready to confess?”

“And men say women are frustrating,” she muttered.

His hand moved down her hip and around to cup her ass, dragging her up against him. His cock moved between her thighs, seeking entrance and finding it with one firm thrust. “Still wet, I see.”

She longed to slap that arrogant smirk off his face and at the same time kiss him senseless for giving her the best sex she’d ever had. And the perfect orgasm. Not once, but three times that night. Maybe it was the whole bondage thing. She had to admit it was a turn on being at a man like Jake Dawson’s mercy.

“Tell me how you got here,” he said, his quest for the truth unrelenting. He pulled out until only the thick head of his cock remained joined to her body.

“Fine,” she said, needing him, every rock hard inch of him, inside her. “My best friend, Marissa, and I were at the rodeo and we were arguing over my sex life-”

He pushed into her with a groan. “Sex life?”

“Actually my lack of one, but that’s beside the point,” she replied, her hips grinding against his. “All I know is that I told her I wish I had lived a hundred years earlier. And then I woke up here.”

“You really expect me to believe you dropped into my corral from some time in the future?” He reached between them to caress her clit as his cock pounded into her.

He sank down onto the mattress facing her, stroking her hair. “Lord, Brianna, what you do to me. You’re not like any whore I’ve ever known.”

“Whore!”

Air whooshed from Jake’s lungs as Brianna’s knee smashed into his balls. He rolled away, letting out a muttered string of curses as pain radiated through every inch of his body. “What the hell was that for?”

“For calling me a whore,” she said, her eyes misting over with tears.

He dropped his head back onto the pillow, waiting for the pain to ease. “If you so much as flinch,” he warned, his breathing ragged, “I’ll drag your pretty little ass outside and tie you to the fence – naked!”

Thankfully, she obeyed. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk much less carry out his threat if she hadn’t. Shoving a hand back through his hair, he tried to make some sort of sense out of her reaction. She was a whore. Why would his calling her one send her into a tearful rage?

Before he could ask, a loud buzzing filled the room. Jake clamored to the foot of the bed to grab his gun.

“Don’t you dare shoot my purse!” his captive exclaimed as he swung his gun toward the nightstand. “I saved for months to buy that bag.”

His gaze narrowed as the teeth-grating noise continued. “What the hell?”

“If you’ll untie me,” she said, “I’ll make it stop.”

She’d done enough damage while tied to his bed. He’d be damned if he was letting the little hellcat loose to do more. Instead, he emptied the bag on the nightstand and grabbed for the small, vibrating pink box.

Shoving it into her bound hands, he said, “Make it stop or I will.”

Ass and bastard were just two of several curses she flung his way as she worked the box open. A second later, the infernal racket ceased.

“I can prove that I’m from the future.” She flipped the box open again tapped on the piece of glass inside. Then she turned it in her bound hand for him to see.

There was a picture of Brianna with another female. Both were wearing silver crowns with the words HAPPY NEW YEAR! written across them.

“Hell,” he muttered as he moved to untie her hands. He wasn’t sure how to react to the truth now that he had it. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry for being an ass would be a good place to start,” she suggested as the ropes fell away.