by Brenda Williamson
U.S. Marshal Jack McCay tracks outlaws for a profession and sweet-talks women out of their clothes for pleasure. When he begins to hunt a vicious killer, he meets one beautiful woman resistan
t to his charm.
Tessa Jane Creager searches for her family’s murderer. The wanted poster says dead or alive--she'd prefer dead. While on the trail, she gains the unwanted help of a marshal-turned-bounty hunter intent on catching the killer and bedding her.
In pursuit of the renegade, Jack and Tessa Jane have to deal with the harshness of the Wild West and with their shared desires. However, can a handsome man with secrets and a beautiful woman with a violent past overcome their stubborn ways to share everlasting love? Or will an outlaw destroy them by revealing all their secrets?
Available from Amazon
TJ lifted her head and kissed him again. Her twenty-two-year-old body throbbed with the needs she’d denied in the past.
The marshal’s fingers found their way to her stockings. He rolled one down over her knee and stroked the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. It produced a dark, erotic sound from deep in her throat. This was not her, she reasoned, but she didn’t let reason keep her from experiencing more of his touch. She bent her leg up and let him finish removing the stocking. Without thought to the other silk legging, his hand traveled up to cup between her legs. His swirling palm rubbed over the silk underdrawers. He hit the responsive juncture, and she lifted into his hand. She arched and found herself helping him get closer to touching the wet, hot recess of her cunt.
TJ gave into her wanton’s lust.
Another whimper from her brought his kisses circling her face. She wiggled closer and he accommodated her neediness by shifting to allow her. He advanced on her long buried urges and kneaded them to surface. Heat radiated along her nerves. He all but devoured her lips with his urgency.
“Marshal,” she moaned.
His moist, sensuous kisses were skilled.
“Call me Jack.”
Wet with writhing desires, the apex of her femininity twitched.
He slid down, kissing her body through the cotton covering. His saliva drenched her clothing. She lifted to his tug on her underdrawers. Her agitation, her fears, and her surprise came when his breath caught her damp center.
“Just, Jack, will do, my lovely seductress.”
“Jack,” she panted.
Suckling kisses, arousing licks, and the attentive whips of his tongue around her clit, drove her mad. She bucked to the thrusts and squirmed to the caresses his lips made. The tugs of his teeth, the warmth of his panting breath, everything stimulated her into a sedated enchantment.
“You’re sweeter than a ripe peach, sugar.” He pushed her legs open more. “I want to just suck on your juices all night long.”
“Oh, God, please Marshal,” she whimpered.
His mouth slurped in all areas of her lower body. Sucking, teasing, and torturing her with exquisite sensations. At one point, he sucked on her aching center until she felt dizzy from holding her breath. Sweat beaded on her skin and every stir of the air gave her a chill. His roaming fingers tickled her flesh and rendered her defenseless against her sanity.
“Marshal,” she cried out.
His tongue shot into her and pumped through the sloshing juices oozing between the cheeks of her ass. He gripped her hips and restrained her from the jerking spasms she couldn’t control. He hummed and teased her until the welling screams of excitement rose into her throat.
TJ’s muscles froze. She strained to catch her breath. The marshal’s unmerciful ravishment left her drenched in the lethargic pleasure of an orgasm. He lifted his head and she collapsed into a puddle of euphoric bliss.
He slithered up and kissed her on the mouth. The flavor of her sex on his breath tantalized her taste buds with a uniqueness she savored.
When she had the strength to move, she nudged the marshal to roll over on his side. She wanted to explore him with the same audaciously free reign he’d been having over her. The mystery beneath his pants invited her curiosity, except she decided to start at the top and work down, building courage for the ultimate encounter.
She kissed under his jaw, down his bristly neck and along the thick muscled cord stretching beneath his collar to his shoulders. He made low, pleased sounds.
“Mmmm, that feels nice,” he moaned.
She put her fingers to the buttons inside his vest and unfastened his shirt. A mat of black hair spread like a stain over his chest and funneled down the ridges of his stomach. His hot, damp skin ensnared her awareness and lassoed her with some primitive scent she craved.
“That’s it, sweetness,” he murmured, stretching out. “I’ve never met a whore that enjoyed her business as much as you do. You’ll be worth every penny.”
TJ sat up abruptly.
She looked at him with a renewal of loathing a man. He had no right to label her a prostitute, and yet, she found her thoughts leaning more toward his comment as a compliment. The shock wore away under her further consideration. She had literally no experience with men, and for him to think she did, actually tickled her with genuine amusement.
She shrugged off his poor choice of words and let her finger travel down his stomach. Her inspection jumped over his belt and bumped over the wrinkles in his denims. She rested her hand on the largest bulge of material. With a firm decision that she wanted more from him, she sat up on the edge of the bed and rolled the other stocking off her leg. Where else would she find a man fairly decent, clean, and attractive? What harm could there be in satisfying both her need and curiosity?
“I’m not a…whore,” she told him nervously, her voice catching on the last word. “Actually, I’ve never even done this before. Therefore, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
She unlaced the chemise, giving him easier access to a part of her that wanted more attention. She’d never had a man’s fingers touch her breasts without the interference of cloth. She actually never let a man touch her, but it didn’t prevent a few outlaws from groping her by surprise.
TJ looked forward to the marshal’s kisses. The places he had already touched with his lips still burned with a sensual fire she wasn’t ready to extinguish.
“Jack,” she whispered his name finding their intimacy dictated she call him something less formal than marshal.
“Jack?” She twisted around and leaned over him.
He lay asleep, quite soundly. Putting a finger to his mouth, she curled his bottom lip down.
“Some stud you are.” Curiously fingering his moustache, she smoothed the stiff inky hairs. “Exhausted to the bone from a long day on the trail, aren’t you?”
She returned her examination to his slightly parted lips.
“And then too much to drink, didn’t help either, did it?” She caressed his unshaven jaw. “It’s unfortunate for you that you couldn’t stay awake. This is the first time I’ve been willing to be intimate with a man and it very well may be the last time. I don’t trust men and you didn’t give me much reason to trust you, but—”
He made a small snorted sound and she sat back in surprise.
TJ smiled, finding him and the situation amusing. Biting her bottom lip, she looked at his erection still throbbing beneath the denims.
“Oh well.” She sighed, and scooted off the bed.
As much as she’d like to kill him for thinking he could force her, or for falling asleep when she had given in, she saw it as a good sign. He made her feel something deep in her soul. With a past rooted in the evils men do, prior events had made her frigid. Marshal Jack McCay created a small flame from that spark of loneliness. If he weren’t a horse’s ass, she would have gone all routes to let him fan the embers.
Swiftly, TJ dressed in her riding gear. The denims were snug on her hips and layered to her legs like new skin. The vest compressed her breasts for support in fast riding. She packed up her other things in the large worn saddlebags and then placed her hat on her head.
Jack had not stirred a smidgen. She carefully went to the side of the bed where his head lay near the edge. She bowed over him and memorized his features.
“You’re a handsome man, Jack McCay, but you scare me. I’ve never been afraid of anything and yet, with you, I feel I should be terrified. You’ve made me feel things I’m not sure I’m ready to handle.”