Daring Time (21 page)

It was really too much to take. Later on, Ryan couldn't think where he'd possibly found the reserves to endure it.

But endure it he did.

FOURTEEN

The viewing room grew uncomfortably hot.

Jack had long ago let Daire's unusual weapon drop to his side as he stood with his eye glued to the peephole. Subdued grunts, gasps and slurping sounds filled the still, stifling, windowless room. He watched, just as enthralled as the other five men in the room (for the photographer kept lowering his camera and staring slack-jawed through the largest hole in the wall) as the man who'd brought down the mighty Mario in the ring breached an even more unconquerable foe.

"I don't believe it," Mason muttered every minute or so, despite the fact that Jack and Ambrose had hissed at him to be quiet at least a half a dozen times each.

All of the men except for Jack and the photographer had whores kneeling before them.

Even Divorak, the photographer, couldn't keep his hand out of his pants, although Jack had threatened to throw him into a room with Big Mario if he missed Hope Stillwater's most photogenic moments because he was playing with himself. Every time one of the men shuddered in orgasm while his whore slurped away at his cock, Jack grated his teeth in a strange brew of lust, irritation and envy.

It'd been several years since he participated in any type of communal sex. After a few instances of furious humiliation because his cock refused to respond as usual, he'd sworn off public and private displays altogether. Jack had traveled all the way to Indianapolis the year before last in order to have a specialist tell him how to get his cock to full working order again. It wasn't that Chicago didn't have plenty of good doctors, but Jack couldn't take the risk of his secret weakness being broadcast onto his home turf. Jack ruled in the first ward. Fools believed a man who couldn't nail a tail good and hard couldn't get things accomplished, couldn't send fear into men's hearts.

But Jack had shown them. If anything, he'd become more fearsome and ruthless ever since his body had betrayed him.

The damn doctor in Indianapolis had explained to him that there was something amiss with his blood, something that would eventually make his organs and eyes fail in addition to just his cock. He told Jack to stop smoking cigars and drinking whiskey.

But Jack could tell the physician didn't
really
know what the hell was wrong with him or how to fix it. He wasn't going to allow some tottering, gray-haired fool to tell him how to run his life.

Even though he couldn't take his pleasure as he used to, Jack had become almost obsessive about watching, always looking, searching for a display that would quicken his cock as he recalled. Usually he searched in vain.

Until tonight that is.

Watching that big, muscular paddy with the thick, long dick make Hope Stillwater scream with pleasure had definitely gotten the blood flowing into his cock in a way he hadn't experienced in years. He waited and watched, but his excitement didn't diminish as it often did. It only grew exponentially as he stared—afraid to even blink—while Daire coaxed the elegant beauty to submit to the crop, the flogger and the paddle.

Now it looked as if he was preparing to sodomize her.

When both Sinclair Ambrose and Lewis Lander shuddered in orgasm as they watched the mick hold the little minx's squirming bottom still and penetrate her asshole with his fingers, Jack finally dared to speak.

"You two—Mel and Betsey. Get over here," he ordered quietly, nodding to the floor before him. Betsey tried to move back off Lander's cock but he held her in place while his body continued to convulse, his penis pressed into her deep, his eye never wavering from the peephole. He finally went limp and released her. Betsey leaned back gasping, an obvious look of distaste on her face as she still struggled to swallow Lander's cream.

"Get over here, I said," Jack hissed, furious that the whores had hesitated even for an instant given who he was and how infrequently he made such a request.

Mel reached him first and knelt before him, unfastening his pants quickly and efficiently.

"This is a treat, isn't it, Betsey? Such a big, beautiful cock," Mel cooed as she licked the head of his penis.

"Shut up and suck," Jack muttered, sick to death of whores' dramatics. They'd tell a half-rotten leper he had the cock of a god if there was a buck in it for them. These two regularly did precisely that for that drunken lush Mason, whose cock was nearly as limp and unresponsive as his brain. The young fool paid Jack enormous amounts of money every week for unlimited use of his whores. Not that it took much away from the prostitutes' time or Jack's profits because the rotter was usually too soused to do anything but pass out in one of the beds upstairs, his mouth slobbering around a bare breast.

Tonight young Mason appeared to be as inspired by the show as Jack, however. The young woman kneeling before him was having a hard time keeping up with his rapid thrusts and jabs into her mouth and throat. Jack noticed, however, that Mason looked far from pleased. In fact, he appeared angrier than Jack'd ever seen him as he watched his innocent, lovely Prairie Avenue neighbor scream in pleasure under Daire's knowing hands.

He watched Daire move behind Hope Stillwater's plump bottom and press a huge, swollen dick to her ass.

"His cock is every bit as big as Mario's," Ambrose said quietly, still panting from his most recent orgasm.

"Yeah, but this fellow knows what to do with his, and that makes all the difference in the world," Brett Newcomb muttered as he pulsed his cock between the clamping lips of a brown-haired whore named Martha. "You're going to have to keep him around for our pleasure, Jack."

Jack just grunted as Betsey ran her tongue around his lower shaft and Mel focused on the head of his cock. Mel might be getting on in years but she still could suck the tarnish off a doorknob. He watched intently as Daire flexed his taut, powerful muscles and slid his cock in and out of Miss Hope Stillwater's ass. He could tell by the tension in the big man's body that she resisted him, but he was firm and insistent.

"Tell that asshole Divorak to take a fucking picture," Jack whispered furiously to Ambrose, who stood closest to him.

"Are we going to be able to sample her when he's through? Can't tell you how many times I've watched that tail twitching down Prairie Avenue. Wouldn't mind having a go at it myself. You could always blindfold her, Jack," Newcomb reasoned, his eyeball screwed to the peephole so snugly Jack wondered if he'd ever be able to pop it out of the wall. Newcomb sweated profusely and made Martha groan whenever he plunged his cock into her too forcefully.

"Maybe. We'll just have to see," Jack mumbled noncommittally, too caught up in his own excitement over the fact that his cock was responding so wholeheartedly. He'd never seen anything this juicy. Something about that stoic Irishman with the unusual, large gun, big dick and a confidence to match also infuriated him, though.

But hell,
yes,
he'd keep Hope Stillwater around for a little private sport, even if it was just for a short while. She'd need to be returned to her father very soon. It had never been his desire to kill her, just to humiliate her and her father into silence. The last thing he needed was involvement in a murder investigation of the Still-water caliber.

"If anyone is going to have her, it'll be me," Mason seethed. "I knew she was nothing but a begging whore every time she looked down her nose at me. I knew it all along." Jack didn't bother to answer. He'd never give Hope Stillwater to the drunken idiot, but he happened to agree with the rest of his comment. All women were whores. His mother had been a whore who had given him to the owner of a tavern in Lynchburg, Tennessee, when he was two years old. There Jack had lived a barren slave's existence until he was twelve, never complaining about the callous, cruel treatment he received because it was all he'd ever known. He'd occasionally see his mother at the local brothel when he made de-liveries. To his dying day he'd be able to perfectly envision her hard, contemptuous, vaguely amused face whenever she looked at him. Sure, women were something
before
they were whores. He'd known Mel, for instance, the old whore who currently sucked his cock, since she was sixteen years old and her skin was as soft and dewy as a firm, ripe peach. He'd personally broken her in and even had indulged in a foolish little romance with the beauty. Jack had been young, after all, and although he'd been ruthless about clawing his way to the top and grasping for power any way he could get it, he was entitled to a few foolish moments.

He'd wised up quickly enough. Mel was nothing more than a piece of property, one of the many means by which he profited. It'd hurt him a little the first night he'd given her up for public consumption in a brothel he owned a few blocks south of the Sweet Lash called the Crimson Fortune, but the pain had been as shortlived as Mel's tears of betrayal.

Soon things had evolved into their natural order and Mel became quite comfortable in her true identity as a whore.

"Do you think he's going to get that thing all the way into her?" Ambrose speculated idly as he peered through the peephole.

"He damn well better if he doesn't want me to play target practice with his head from this hole," Jack replied.

He lifted the hand that gripped Daire's big gun and pushed Mel's head down on his cock while he thrust forward. The clunk of the hard metal against her skull made Mel grunt in pain, but Jack was too busy watching Jacob Stillwater's pretty daughter take it in the ass to notice.

He couldn't wait to see how that holier-than-thou son of a bitch responded when he saw the photographic commemoration of
this
special moment in his daughter's life.

The thought made him grin widely around his cigar.

***

Hope twisted her head and pressed her other hot cheek into the mattress. She burned unbearably. Everywhere. What Ryan was doing to her was absolutely outrageous, but it excited her so greatly she felt as though she'd literally combust into a white-hot, roaring conflagration.

"Steady," she heard Ryan say when she moaned and twisted her hips in pleasure as he rubbed her sex with his knowing finger and thrust his penis in and out of her with gentle, firm strokes. Pathways of sensation that she'd never before known existed throbbed to life as he stimulated her sex and penetrated such a private, intimate place.

She was far more sensitive where Ryan plunged his penis than she ever would have imagined. She could perfectly feel the rim beneath the crown of his sex pushing and probing, claiming more and more of her with each pass.

Ryan paused and rubbed her hip, the action so tender and cherishing it made Hope want to weep, especially since the caress was combined with his outlandishly bold possession of her body and mind. He continued to rub her sex, making her burn. She pressed down subtly on his hand and clamped tighter around his straining erection, unable to stop herself in her excitement.

Ryan groaned gutturally.

"You feel so damn good," Ryan gasped, the rough edge to his voice pleasing Hope immeasurably. "I'm not going to be able to take much more of this."

Hope gritted her teeth together and made tiny, desperate movements with her hips against his finger. She felt so full of Ryan, so incendiary, like the end of a matchstick about to burst into flame. She pushed her hips against his penis, seating him several inches further in her body.

Orgasm slammed into her, lighting up every nerve in her entire body.

She heard Ryan curse harshly as if from a distance. Then he pressed her head down firmly into the soft mattress and sunk into her ass completely. He gave an uneven howl of pleasure before he began to plunge his penis in and out of her, his strokes no longer gentle, but demanding .. . conquering.

Orgasm still shuddered through her as she gripped onto the velvet ropes that restrained her and Ryan fucked her with just as much raw passion as he'd taken her with the night he took her virginity. His grunts and growls of pleasure fell like blessings on her ears.

She loved when he finally lost control, when she possessed sure, inarguable knowledge that she pleased him as much as he'd pleased her again and again and again. The sharp, staccato sounds of their crashing bodies and the rocking of the headboard against the wall blended with the rapid hammer of her heartbeat in her ears.

She felt Ryan's member swell inside of her, the sensation making her cry out sharply in agonized bliss. A rough growl tore at his throat, the sound thrilling every raw, firing nerve in her body. He held her hips and plunged into her one last time.

Hope's eyes opened wide. She'd been stunned at the power of Ryan's climaxes before—all that pent-up, concentrated energy being released in a single, enormous explosion of pleasure. But this— this feeling of him coming while they were joined, hearing his anguished groans, clearly sensing the rush of his warm seed inside of her while his penis jerked in her tight channel—this was an experience that scorched her very soul.

He slumped forward, his breathing ragged and heavy. For a long moment he struggled to regain equilibrium. It made her strangely proud that loving her could make this big, fierce man so vulnerable. As if he'd read her mind he leaned down and nuzzled her cheek.

"You slay me, little witch."

"I do not mean to," she whispered.

She caught a flash of his curving lips before he gently withdrew from her, making her gasp. She stuck her head up and watched him while he released her wrists from the velvet rope. Then he came down on his back next to her and enclosed her in his arms, pulling her upper body over him so they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest. He brushed her hair back from her face and lightly kissed her parted lips.

And Hope was left wondering if this was not the best part of all of their lovemaking—quiet, sated, different than the blazing hot tempest, but no less sweet for it.

"I'm kind of having a hard time believing that you're regretful about causing me to lose control," Ryan murmured next to her lips.