A Touch in Time Read online

  He pulled his hand away and placed the damp cloth he’d been wiping her brow with into a small ceramic basin of water on the nightstand beside him.

  She looked around the tiny room, taking in her surroundings. It was clearly a bedroom, but the sparseness of the décor surprised her. No television. No stereo. Not even an alarm clock. Just a double bed with a simple iron frame and a couple of small, very rustic looking tables.

  The man towering over her, shifted slightly, revealing the source of light behind him was not from an electric bulb, but by a flame wavering inside a clear globe, one a second globe filled with oil gave life to.

  She bit back a gasp. If this wasn’t a dream, and she wasn’t at the rodeo, it could only mean she really had somehow tumbled from the twentieth century into the old west.

  She tried to sit up, for the first time realizing that her wrists were bound to the iron headboard behind her.

  “Untie me,” she demanded, feeling a sense of panic sweep through her.

  “Can’t.”

  She struggled to get free, but the ropes that secured her to the bed held fast. More panic set in. She’d wished for a cowboy with a code of honor, but she’d ended up here. Tied to a bed by a man wearing a gun. An outlaw no doubt. Could things get any worse?

  He reached out to still her thrashing. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

  The feel of his large hand splayed across the bare skin of her stomach made her pulse race. She dared a glance up at the determined face of her captor. Jake Dawson was no ‘pretty boy’, GQ model type. He was, however, devastatingly handsome in a purely dark, sensual, rugged way.

  His callused hand smoothed over her stomach and she fought the urge to arch into his touch. Her body wanted more. It had been so long since a man touched her. Even longer since she wanted one to.

  “That’s better,” he said, his voice low and soothing, calming her with slow steady strokes. Strokes she wished were lower. Anything to ease the ache this man stirred in her.

  Thick, wavy black hair hung down over his brow above intense, dark brown eyes as he leaned over her. Her thoughts shifted to the five o’clock shadow that darkened his strong jaw. What would it feel like to have that course stubble rubbing against her flesh, the flesh between her thighs?

  He moved to check the ropes that bound her wrists to the headboard. He was so close she could smell him, musk and leather and all man. Her gaze was drawn to the faded scar that ran from the outer edge of his jaw to disappear beneath his shaggy mane. She wanted to trace it with her fingertips. Unfortunately, her bound hands prevented her from giving in to the temptation.

  Water dripping onto the hollow between her breasts yanked her from her thoughts. Brianna glanced down at the hand hovering scant inches above her flesh. When had his hand left her to retrieve the rag from the bowl?

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, giving the rag another squeeze.

  Tiny droplets teased her skin, making her shiver. It wasn’t from the cold water running down her flesh. It was from the erotic thoughts the sensation evoked. His tongue tracing the watery path down to her aching pussy, lapping at the moisture gathered there until she came - hard.

  “I...I don’t know,” she said, squeezing her thighs together.

  “No?” He tossed the cloth aside and slipped his hand beneath her shirt instead.

  Her breath caught.

  “Deke Johnson sent you, didn’t he?” he asked as his thumb flicked over a taut nipple.

  She closed her eyes with a groan. He was driving her crazy with his slow, sensual torment.

  “I’m waiting,” he warned.

  And I’m wanting. She arched into his touch. “No,” she muttered impatiently. “He didn’t.”

  “You’re lying, darlin’.” Grasping the hem of her shirt, he dragged it upward with a savage sneer and then froze.

  She glanced down at the leopard print, demi-cup bra peeking out from beneath her gathered shirt and realization dawned on her. It wasn’t her less than bountiful breasts that had stopped him cold. It was the sight of her twenty-first century lingerie.

  “You like?” she said with a slow smile.

  “Darlin’...” he hissed, looking down at her like she was the sexiest female he’d ever laid eyes on. Like he wanted to devour her whole. And she was so very ready to be eaten.

  Cum dripped from her cunt as his fingers skimmed the flesh spilling out over the satin cups, teasing it. Wait until he saw her matching thong.

  “Deke knew what he was doing when he chose you,” he said, his jaw clenching as if fighting the need to touch her.

  “I don’t know anyone named Deke. Why won’t you believe me?”

  He lowered his face to hers. “Because beauty can be deceiving. I know.” Reaching out, he yanked the animal print down, freeing a breast.

  He was angry. But it was more than anger driving him to touch her. It was hunger. There was no missing the passion that burned in those dark eyes.

  She moaned as he captured a taut pink nipple between his teeth, nipping at it. Desire sizzled through her, zapping her senses.

  “I know how to make a woman talk,” he warned, his breath a hot, moist caress against her over-sensitized flesh.

  She arched into the heat of his mouth, ready to do more than just talk. “I don’t know how I got here,” she panted.

  “No?” He undid her jeans. A second later, they were down around her ankles, binding her legs. “Mmm...” he grumbled in approval as his finger eased beneath the strip of material covering her wet pussy.

  Her gaze settled on the impressive bulge threatening to burst through the fly of his jeans. “I see you like my thong.”

  He gave it a tug, pulling the cum-dampened silk up between her nether lips which had her writhing. “It appears I’m not the only one who likes it,” he added with a cocky grin as he pulled again, sinking the thong deeper between her slick feminine folds.

  “No,” she argued with a breathy gasp even as her body betrayed her. Cum dripped from her cunt to fill the crack of her ass.

  His finger dipped beneath her thong, into the welcoming heat of her pussy. Then he pulled his hand free. “This tells me otherwise.” He wiped the glistening fingertip across her lips.

  His boldness shocked her, but there was something wickedly arousing about tasting her own juices. She ran the tip of her tongue over her parted lips, the husky growl she elicited from her captor arousing her even more.

  He crushed her mouth with his own. “Mmmm...” he murmured as he licked away every bit of her cream.

  She squirmed, needing release. The movement had her thong brushing over her aching clit. Pushing her to the edge.

  “Not yet,” he said as he moved to the foot of the bed and parted her thighs. Cool air rushed over her heated flesh. “When you cum, you cum for me.”

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out, from letting him know how desperately she wanted the release he promised. Moisture seeped from her pussy as his dark head moved between her thighs, his tongue running slowly over the swollen folds.

  “Oh,” she groaned, her head digging back into the pillow, her hips lifting.

  “Tell me what I want to hear, Brianna,” he ordered as his fingers parted her. His tongue delved inside, sweeping past the nub of her desire in hard, angry thrusts.

  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!

  He moved up over her, his cock straining against the denim of his jeans as he rubbed against her.

  Her hips rocked back, her legs parting in silent pleading.

  He withdrew with a curse and pushed off her to stand beside the bed.

  Why had he stopped?

  He shoved a hand back through his hair. “I won’t do this.”

  Why not? she wanted to scream. Then she remembered her word
s 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?

  He turned and started for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  He pivoted to glare at her. “Leaving before I give in to the urge to plant my cock between those sweet thighs of yours.”

  Desire rippled through her stomach. Outlaw or not, no man had ever aroused her the way Jake Dawson did with just words alone.

  “Jake, please...”

  “When you give me what I want, I’ll do the same,” he told her, slamming the door shut behind his retreating form.

  She squirmed in protest. “You’re nothing but a cunt-tease!”

  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

  Brianna looked up from where she lay tied to his bed when he entered the room.

  Her gold-flecked eyes locked with his, drawing him deeper into the room.

  “Back for seconds?” she taunted.

  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.

  “Missing my touch?” he countered with a grin.

  “Of all the arrogant...” She jerked on the ropes that bound her. “For your information, outlaws are not my type!”

  It wasn’t her anger that threw him, but her words. “Outlaw?”

  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.”

  “It wasn’t,” she snapped impatiently, her ass squirming as her body hungered for release.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to talk,” he said, moving away.

  “Fuck you, Jake! I don’t need your help to get off. I prefer my own hand to anything you have to offer.”

  He stopped and turned. “Is that right?”

  Her eyes widened as he kicked off his boots.

  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.

  “Whose fucking you, Brianna?” he ground out as he pumped into her.

  “You,” she groaned.

  “My name.” He moved faster, losing himself to the hunger.

  “Jake.” Her body shuddered its release beneath him.

  Jake followed her over, coming long and hard into her clenching womb.

  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 i
t 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.

  “Yes,” she panted, her body tensing.

  His thrusts quickened as did her breathing.

  Then it came, the orgasm of all orgasms, one that left her shuddering and gasping as she rode it out.

  Hands grasping her ass, Jake gave one final thrust and then threw back his head with growl as he came hard inside 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?”