The Gambler

THE GAMBLER

Eryn Blackwell

Wicked West:

THE GAMBLER By

Eryn Blackwell

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THE GAMBLER

Eryn Blackwell

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© copyright September 2006, Eryn Blackwell Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright September 2006 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

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Chapter One Galveston, Texas; 1887 “She’s all I have left to offer,” he said, as if talking about the weather. Gina’s heart slammed in her chest, yet she stood frozen behind his chair. Her husband was using her to cover his losses. He was practically going to sell her. Regina couldn’t get over that fact. Her heart thrummed louder and louder against her ears, beating against her chest. Inside she trembled. Outside she was calm. Sell was the wrong word. He was gambling her, but it hardly mattered. She didn’t dare look up. She could only stare at the scarred wooden table, now piled high with chips, Egan’s pocket watch that she knew his father had given him--or so he’d once told her in a letter. Then again, he’d lied about so much, perhaps that was a lie, too. Egan was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a good man. He was selfish. And cruel. She tried to take a deep, calming breath, but her corset was too tight. She’d tightened it because he wanted her to look right. Of course, it hadn’t been tight enough, and Egan had laced it even tighter. So Regina St. Martin Briggs stood silently, trying to force air into her lungs. She could smell the sea, the sweat of too many men, the liquor and the smoke. A woman’s bawdy laughter floated from upstairs. Gina glanced up and saw a man pumping into a well-dressed whore against the stairwell. As she lowered her eyes, she caught the quick glance of the man her husband played the game against. The gambler. He was the owner of The Southern Belle, a notorious saloon near the docks in Galveston. She hadn’t wanted to come here. However, since marrying Egan Briggs, she’d done a lot of things she hadn’t wanted to do. Once upon a time, she’d had a normal life, a life she took for granted. Then her parents had died in a cholera outbreak, and she and her younger sister were left in the care of Uncle Hubert and Aunt Shelia. Gina had become a mail-order bride with the hope that her husband would help her keep her sister safe from Uncle Hubert by allowing her sister to live with them. In the three months since marrying Briggs, she’d learned that wasn’t the case. Briggs had lied over and over in his letters. She now knew she’d been stupid, not only for herself, but for her sister. It had been her intention that once wed, she’d be able to help save her sister from their uncle.

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Gina shook off the thoughts and focused on the hand of cards being dealt. All the other players were out. She shifted, wishing she could sit. The gambler had offered her a chair earlier, but Briggs had declined, saying she’d stand beside him--his lucky charm, after all. Now? “You can’t be serious,” the gambler replied. What was his name? He had an even-tempered voice, calm--reminding her of the ocean. Not at all like Briggs’ voice. Egan Briggs downed another shot of whiskey and hiccoughed as he set his empty glass down. “Damn serious. Woman’s not worth much. Thought I’d at least get something out of the damn mar’age.” He shook his head. “Stupid wench could do with a stay in this place. She might learn a thing or two, eh?” Egan laughed. Chills of humiliation danced over Gina’s skin, but she didn’t move. Didn’t lower her head or turn away, like she wanted to, didn’t take a deep steadying breath, as she wished she could. A piano played a ragtime tune in the alcove beneath the stairs. “I hardly think a lady as beautiful as your wife would have any use for a place such as this,” the gambler said, drawing her gaze back to him. His eyes, green as wet spring grass, raked her in lazy appreciation. He cocked one blond brow, only a shade darker than his gilded hair. “Perhaps the problem lies--” He paused, looking away from her, back to her husband. “--elsewhere.” Shame and anger warred within her, but she did as she often had in the last year. She simply ignored them--or tried to. Let them talk about her. Let them plan. If this man won her.... Then what? Would he be better or worse than Egan Briggs, who jerked her gown up every eve and rutted over her? She hated those nights, his breath reeking of whisky, his body sour and heavy. Straightening her shoulders, she looked back at the gambler and saw his half smile. He was sprawled in the chair, the cards held loosely in his hand, his other held a chip that he rolled slowly between his fingers. Long, elegant fingers with sinewy wrists. Seated as he was, she couldn’t tell exactly how tall he was, but then, she assumed he was taller than Egan who was rather on the short side. Where Egan was balding on top, this gambler’s fair hair reflected his lazy attitude. No pomade for him. His hair lay in gentle waves over his head, a bit longer in the back than was currently fashionable. He didn’t dress like a frontiersman, but neither did he dress like the high rollers of The Strand. She knew enough to see the shirt was expensive, the material soft. His vest was of imprinted satin, black and dark gray. “Besides, I have a policy about taking another man’s wife,” the gambler said, his voice soft and even, yet she caught something ... some edge to the words.

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Gina looked again at his face, the long, almost aristocratic countenance, the straight nose, high brow and startlingly green eyes that were zeroed in on her. He didn’t so much as blink. Gina couldn’t look away even as he again slowly looked down her body. She felt as if he were undressing her, and unlike the times Egan looked at her, her nipples hardened against the fine linen of her chemise, and she felt a tingle between her legs. Gina could only stare at him. His full, lush lips tilted at one corner. “You should guard such a treasure, Mister Briggs, not toss it away on a whim.” Still those green eyes bore into her. Gina looked back down at the hand lying lazily against the side of his chair. All she could watch was his fingers. The chip, a white one from the pile in front of him, danced nimbly over his knuckles. Then, quick as a blink, he tossed it and caught it. “Treasure my ass,” Egan muttered and grasped her arm, jerking her forwards. “Look, the gal doesn’t even have tits enough to fill a hand.” He squeezed her arm so hard she couldn’t contain her wince. Against her will, she glanced at the gambler and saw something hard glint in his eyes. Then she realized he wasn’t looking at her, but at the hand on her arm. Slowly, he leaned over, dropped the chip on the table and cupped her breast. It was a shock of lightning down her spine, to her toes. She gasped and jerked back. Egan’s cruel laughter brought her harshly back to where she was and what was happening. Fool. All men were the same. All of them. They only thought about women as things, existing merely for their pleasure. This time, she didn’t keep her emotions in check when she locked eyes with the gambler. Let him win. Let Egan keep her. She really didn’t care. Egan tapped the marriage document on the edge of the table, then flicked it onto the growing pile of chips, jewelry and other belongings. “I almost hope you win, just so I don’t have to keep the bitch.” How in the world did she ever end up here, all the way down here in Galveston, Texas, practically being sold? **** Draven McCormick breathed carefully. What he really wanted to do was to kill the stupid bastard across from him. Instead, he slowly sat back, never taking his eyes from the beauty standing behind Mr. Briggs’ chair. The man was a drunken fool. And Draven didn’t feel a bit of remorse in knowing he was about to clean the man out. He still couldn’t believe the man was betting his wife. A wife, for the love of God. He didn’t let his shock show. Hell, in this place, this time of night any number of things happened, and no one did a damn thing about it.

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The Southern Belle, his own pride and joy, was hopping tonight. He didn’t need to look at his main man, Clarence, to know things were going perfectly. He could hear it, see it and all but taste it. Money was flowing in tonight, as smooth as the high-dollar whisky his counterpart was swilling faster than a sailor with his first whore. Unless he was mistaken, which Draven knew he rarely was, Mr. Briggs swilled his women the same way he did his drink, too quickly, too crassly and without a hint of appreciation. What a damn pity. The beauty behind the chair was breathtaking. She had garnered more than one look from the gentlemen in here. First, it was rare any woman, other than his painted pretties, graced the doors of this establishment. He’d first thought the woman was Briggs’ mistress. A wife. Draven shook his head and waited, watched as the man smiled and laid his cards down. A flush and two ladies. Draven merely quirked his lips and shook his head. He laid his own cards down. A royal flush. Briggs sat staring at the cards for a minute. He opened his mouth, his hazel eyes trying to blink. Then he slammed it shut, obviously thinking better of whatever it was he was about to utter. Draven caught Clarence’s eye and motioned him over. “Clarence, please see Mr. Briggs out and make certain he doesn’t come back.” With a muttered curse, Briggs stood, swayed and staggered to the door. Never once did he look back. This little alcove was his own, with a view of the rest of the establishment. In the low lamplight he could see the woman’s pallor. “Sit down,” he said. The dealer got up and left. Draven caught his slight raising of a brow as he gave a passing glance at the beauty who was now Draven’s for the taking. She took a deep breath and sat down across from him. Her eyes were a dark gray, her brows dark, her hair the color of mahogany and piled high atop her head. Her lashes were long as they swept down to hide her eyes. Her smooth skin seemed to catch the golden lamplight and hold it. He admired the soft, oval face, the full, wide mouth. An image of her with those lush lips wrapped around his cock lodged in his mind, and he all but hissed as blood rushed to his dick, hardening it. She sat poised and controlled on the edge of her seat, as any proper lady would. Her hands were still, though he’d caught the fidgeting of her thumb before she stopped. This was a woman of contradictions. He’d caught the flash of fire in her eyes when he’d weighed her small breast. She wet her lips and looked at him from beneath her lashes.

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For the last few months, he hadn’t touched a single woman here. There had been several women along the trails, but that was when he’d ridden for justice, when he’d been a Ranger. Since his wastrel father had died, he’d returned to Galveston and had taken over the business almost a year ago. He was used to whores. There had been several women who in love with the Ranger. The guys had given him hell over it. He couldn’t think of a single lady who would have anything to do with him now that he was the owner of The Southern Belle, though, a highly renowned brothel near the docks of Galveston Bay. “Did you want to leave with him?” he heard himself ask, not sure why he did. She slowly shook her head. “No, not really. But he is my husband, even if he wasn’t what the type of man he claimed to be.” Honesty. “Well, darlin’, I’ll tell you straight. I’m a gambler, not accepted within the hallowed parlors of the Silk Stocking District, but I don’t really give a damn. I do business with the men of this city, own this saloon, and cater to the needs of those who walk through my doors. I’ll lie if I have to, though the truth tends to get me what I want and need the most.” He carefully stacked the chips and laid aside the watch, the jewels, the marriage certificate. “What did he claim to be?” She looked right at him. “A good man. Someone to help me.” Now he was intrigued. He handed her the marriage certificate. “You want this?” Her head cocked to the side. “I never realized before, but it’s just a bit of paper isn’t it? Not worth anything other than that, not really. Not unless one wants it to be.” Her voice was soft, husky. Made him think of dark, tangled nights, the ocean breeze blowing through the windows. He looked at the paper and tapped it, then locked eyes with her. “You could keep it for blackmail.” She grinned and dimples winked at him from her cheeks. “I could, but what would be the point?” She pointed to the money chips, the jewels. “You have it all. Can’t get blood from stone, can you?” “This certificate proves you’re married.” She looked for a moment at the paper folded beneath his hand, then back into his eyes. “But you own the paper, don’t you?” So he did. He studied her again, saw the faint tremble in her hands, but also saw the straightened shoulders, the slightly jutted chin. This was a woman who faced what life dealt her. He decided he’d deal them both a pleasurable hand. Draven stood and offered the woman his hand. Pocketing the deck of cards and the certificate. He’d burn the latter and keep the former. “Come.” He waited, wondered, and watched. She looked at his hand, then up his arm to his

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face. Those lush lips parted, and he knew that he’d teach her all sorts of things tonight. And maybe the next night. And even the next. She put her small hand in his and stood. Draven leaned close, his lips brushing the small rim of her ear as he whispered, “I want to teach you things.” Her breath stopped, and she seemed to freeze. Then he felt the warmth of her breath as she exhaled and slowly nodded. Draven smiled and led her from The Southern Belle, down the street to his house not four blocks away.

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Chapter Two Regina wondered if she’d lost her mind. Then again, she’d lost it long ago. It wasn’t that she necessarily wanted to be with this man. Not in the normal scheme of things. He was handsome--and desirable. Her nipples, still distended, rubbed against her chemise. Warmth pooled between her thighs. She looked at him from the corner of her eye as they walked down the street, the lighted lamps bleaching his hair even paler than it already appeared. She decided not to think too much on her plight, the unknown, the uncertainty. The entire last couple of months had been nothing but that. She especially shoved thoughts of her little sister Holly from her mind. There was, after all, nothing she could do for her here, in Texas. Gina ignored the other people walking, the drunken louts, the carriages, the horses and the laughter of passing couples. It was late. The air off the ocean was cool against her heated skin. He led her to a large house, gated and off the street. For some reason, she had assumed he’d live above his saloon, but maybe not. Perhaps he saw it as much a business as the banker or printer. She sighed as they crossed the threshold. His hand at the small of her back made her shiver. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. His green eyes looked down at her, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He raised his hand, cupping her face, and tilted her chin up. She tensed, expecting a harsh, brutal kiss of the sort that Briggs bestowed on her. Instead, lips, feather-light, whispered against hers. “I’ll teach you all about pleasure, my lucky lady.” She smiled and relaxed, not sure why, but comfortable with him. She’d thought she’d known the man she was marrying, and that had proven wrong. Anyone was better than Egan Briggs. The gambler’s thumb crossed over her bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. Gina opened her lips and quickly licked the digit, not sure why, but drawn to do it. He stopped, his eyes locking on hers. Without a word, he closed the distance between them and kissed her. His lips were soft, gentle, yet firm. At the pressure of his thumb, she opened her mouth--and gasped, a charge zinging through her at the touch of his tongue on hers. She’d only been kissed once, and it was nothing at all like this. Nothing. He grabbed her to him, jerked her closer. Her nipples tightened more and heat swam through her blood. She was lost in the kiss, sucked under by the seductive move of his tongue. She

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kept expecting him to strike, to punish, to slam his mouth harder against hers, but he didn’t. He simply didn’t. Instead, he tasted her as if she were a sweet, delectable desert, slowly ... savoring. His tongue slowly licked between her lips, tangled with hers quickly, then retreated. Tentatively, she followed the movement with her own tongue, carefully tasting him. He sucked in a breath when her tongue touched his. The hand on the small of her back tightened, tensed, pulled her closer. He slowly trailed his hand up and down her back, sending shivers of pleasure through her. Still kissing her, he whispered, “I will teach you pleasure.” For a moment, she paused. Then she wrapped her arm around his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at his nape and pulling him back, closer to her. Against his lips, between her own kisses, she answered, the words coming from some deep place within her, “I’ve never known pleasure.” He grinned. “This is going to be fun, darlin’.” With that, he deepened the kiss. Where before it was gentle, now it was more, demanding she join him. He kissed the corner of her mouth, trailed kisses to her ear. “Are you a virgin?” She thought of her wedding night. The disappointment, the pain of that night and all the other nights since. She tensed and shook her head. “No.” “Good.” His breath was hot and warm against her ear. His wet tongue sent shivers down her spine as he twirled it in the swirls of her ear. “I will teach you things, my lady luck. Teach you pleasure, how to give it, how to demand it, how to take it into you and let it free you.” He kissed the area just beneath her ear, and she couldn’t contain the trembling. “Will you let me?” he asked. “Do I have a choice?” she asked, tilting her head to the side to give him better access. He paused and lifted his head, his hand once again cradling her jaw. “There’s always a choice. I don’t force women.” She looked into his eyes, so green, seemingly darker now than they had been. “I don’t even know your name,” she blurted out. The edge of his mouth kicked up. “Draven McCormick, at your service.” “Don’t you mean, I’m at your service?” That grin made her think of his kisses. Of wondering if tonight with him would be any different than the nights with Egan. His thumb rubbed along her jaw as his fingers scraped along the nape of her neck. “No. Tonight is about you. About pleasure. Do you trust me?” Did she? She’d trusted Egan, and look where that had landed her.

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“Never mind.” Then he stepped away and up one stair. Turning back to her, he held his long-fingered hand out. No rings, she noticed. “Come.” He waited, his hand outstretched. Gina looked at his hand, then at him. She glanced back over her shoulder to the door. If she left, would he stop her? “You have nowhere to go, do you?” he asked, bringing her attention back to him. She shook her head. “Come.” Sighing, gathering her courage, she took his hand and let him lead her up the stairs, down a short hallway and into a bedroom. She stepped just inside while she waited for him to light a candle. The room was not what she thought it would be. The bed was ornate, the hangings, silk and red. The windows were open, the lace curtains fluttering in the soft, briny breeze. “This was my father’s house,” he told her, walking to the sideboard and pouring liquid into a glass. He handed it to her, and she gulped it, not thinking. Fire burned down her throat, and she coughed. Stupid. He laughed and slapped her on the back. “You were supposed to sip it. Now what’s your name? Or should I continue to call you ‘my lady luck’?” “Regina,” she whispered. “Gina.” He nodded and took the empty glass. “Well, Gina. I didn’t know where else to take you. I couldn’t very well leave you at the brothel. Though the accommodations here might appear the same as there, I assure you, you’re much safer here.” She wasn’t certain of that, but it hardly mattered. “Your father’s house?” She wanted to distract him, to prolong what she knew was coming. Stepping away from him, she walked to the window and looked out at the garden below. The smell of jasmine and some other floral scent was heavy in the air. She felt him behind her. “Yes. He died last year. I came back and took over the business. Put money into that, instead of the house. Though I should have changed this all out long ago.” She felt him shrug more than saw the action. His hands ran up and down her back. “Just think of pleasure. You like my kisses, do you not?” She could only nod. He moved hair that had fallen down earlier in the evening aside and kissed her neck. She shivered. Draven turned her around and began to unbutton her jacket. A jacket of pale blue she’d been so proud to get, for some stupid reason. He made quick work of it. Beneath that, he unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside. Her dark blue skirt brushed the tips of his boots. He pulled her closer and kissed her. She tried to follow his hands. Up and down her back, to the tie of her skirt.

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“Just feel, Gina,” he whispered against her mouth. She concentrated on his kiss, on the feelings that suddenly flooded her as she was swept up by his mouth. In no time, her skirt and petticoats pooled at her feet. She was in her chemise and corset, hose and shoes. Egan hadn’t liked pantalets, so she didn’t wear them. Draven took a deep breath and turned her again to the window. “You’re so tiny,” he whispered. She might be, but she still felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt his fingers at the laces of her corset and couldn’t hold the sigh in as he released the stays. “Why on earth did you have that laced so damned tight?” he asked, tossing it aside. She took a deep breath and merely sighed again. His hands found the spots that needed soothing. He rubbed the muscles along her back, her shoulders. His clothing brushed through her chemise as he leaned closer and kissed her neck again. His hands rubbed along her sides, up, down, around to cup her breasts. Her small breasts. She stiffened. “Just feel.” He stepped closer, and the ridge of his cock rode against her bottom. “Do you feel that? I want you,” his voice was lower, gruffer, hot against her neck. His hands weighed her breasts, softly, gently, then harder as he massaged them, twirling closer and closer to the centers. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. For the first time, she actually thought she might enjoy lying with a man. “I want to pleasure you until you scream,” he whispered to her. Then his thumbs grazed over her nipples, and she looked down, noticing for the first time that her chemise was practically translucent. He did it again, and she moaned. Without a word, he turned her around and kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t know when he picked her up, but felt when he laid her on the edge of the bed. The soft feather mattress cradled her. He moved between her legs, nudging them farther apart. “Close your eyes and feel.” “I can’t.” He grinned, untied his necktie and let the black silk dangle from his fingers. Then he leaned over and tied it loosely over her eyes. “Now you don’t have a choice.” She felt him lean down, felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. His mouth trailed kisses over her cheek, then her neck. He moved lower, and she couldn’t help but shift, even as his hands cupped her breasts again. “Perfect.” Then his warm mouth closed over her nipple and suckled. His mouth was wet and warm. His tongue swirled it against his teeth, and she moaned. He let it go, and she shifted again, the wet material stuck and pulling against the sensitive peak. She gasped when he did the same thing to her other breast, his fingers busily playing with its nipple.

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It was as if someone were pulling a string from her breasts to her core. Warmth and moisture pulled between her thighs, and all she could think about was relieving the ache building there. She shifted again. He chuckled as he continued down her body. He nudged her legs wider, and without a thought, she let him. The fabric of her chemise dangled between her spread thighs. “What...?” “Shh....” He kissed over her lower abdomen, down over her hipbone, raking his teeth on the skin. She shivered. The material tightened over her center. “Do you know what men call this?” he asked, his voice low and gruff. She heard him inhale. “Some men call it pussy, some a cunt. Though I’ve yet to hear a lady say those words. For me, with the right woman--” He inhaled again. “--this is perfection.” What was he doing? His fingers danced over her hipbones. The cool air blew over her nipples, now hardened and brushing against the wet fabric. Then those fingers trailed a line from her hipbones down the crease of her thighs. She shifted. Wanting something ... wanting.... “What do you call it?” he asked, rubbing--his chin?--against her inner thigh. The soft material of her chemise rubbed back and forth, back and forth, causing the material to move higher. With her legs spread, as they were, she felt the tug of the material as it caressed over her. “I-I don’t....” “At some point tonight, I’ll hear you say it,” he warned. Then those fingers danced closer and closer to her center. “You’re warm. I can feel your heat already.” His fingers were so close. So close. She shifted. He chuckled. “I bet you’re wet, as well.” He trailed one finger from the top of her mons down ... down ... down.... She shivered, moaned and gasped. Feelings spiraled through her, tightened some invisible cord in her. He chuckled again. “I was right. Wet.” He kissed her thigh through the material. “Hot.” His tongue licked a moist trail through the fine cotton up her thigh. “Slick.” He pulled the material taut over her mons, and she gasped again. She felt the cool, satiny bedspread beneath her. Felt the cool air on her legs as they dangled over the edge of the bed, not touching the floor. But all her senses were focused on his tongue, on its direction, on the.... His mouth closed over her, quick and fast, licking her through the material on a spot that hummed white-hot lightning through her.

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“Ohhh.” He hummed against her, then moved away from the bundle of nerves. “That’s your clitoris, Gina,” he whispered. “Did you like that?” he asked, lightly flicking his tongue over it again. She could only shiver. “I can’t hear you.” She sucked in her breath. “Yes. God, yes.” He laughed again. “Say it.” He paused. She didn’t want him to stop. “Cl-cli-clitoris.” “Good girl,” he said, licking her again. The cord inside was a spring, wound tighter and tighter. “Some believe that the entire secret of the universe is held in this one small part of a woman’s anatomy.” He flicked his tongue over it again before darting away and laving the rest of her. “But the rest of this pretty slit ... well, we like it, too.” His tongue went to work on her, his fingers joining in the erotic dance until she couldn’t think ... couldn’t reason ... couldn’t hear. His wet mouth and fingers plucked her until she writhed, thrashing her head from side to side. She wanted ... she wanted.... He stopped. “What do you want? You must tell me, Gina.” She shifted against him and reached up, jerking away the blindfold. “I want you to lick me.” He grinned at her. She panted, her heart slamming in her chest, the blood hot and fast in her veins. “Where?” he asked, his eyes locking with hers as his tongue licked his lips. “On my ... at my....” “Yes?” She thought back to what he’d said. “I want you to lick my pussy.” He smiled again. “Told you.” Then, with his eyes still locked on hers, he lowered his head and flicked his tongue out, raking it up and down her. Then his fingers danced over her, and she felt him insert one cool finger deep into her. “Oooohhhhh.” Another finger joined the first, and still he kept licking her--but not where she wanted. Not where she needed. He flicked his tongue in tempo with his fingers. “Pleassseeee,” she begged. “Draven, please....” He closed his mouth over her clitoris and suckled it hard. The coil inside her shattered, throwing pieces of her soul to the wind. She screamed. Shockwave after shockwave crashing through her. When she could think again, she realized he’d gentled his movements and then pulled away, lifting her shift as he moved up her body. “Pleasure is a wonderful thing, Lady Luck.” He smiled and kissed her.

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Chapter Three Draven couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying himself. He’d always enjoyed women, but he’d never taught one. Or if he had, he’d never known it. There was something incredibly arousing about knowing and sharing all the knowledge. Of knowing he was the teacher. He kissed her, smiling, when she helped him rid her of her chemise. She lay beneath him, legs spread, still in her stockings and shoes, her cheeks aglow from pleasure. His cock was as hard as the damn bedpost. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered to her, watching her eyes. The gray depths were smoky in the low light, still clouded with passion. She shifted beneath him. “Then...” She cleared her throat. “Then fuck me.” He cocked a brow at her and stood. Watching her, he took off her shoes, frowning when he noticed the hole in the side. He’d buy her another pair. He tossed her shoes to the floor and slowly untied her garters, frowning again at the patched silk stockings. Her knees were dimpled. Her body was neither slight, nor curvy, but somewhere in between. When she was laid out for him in all her naked glory, he merely stood back and admired. Her breasts, though small, were round, the tips a dusky pink. The mound between her thighs was as dark as the hair on her head. He breathed deep and could smell her on the air. She smelled of lavender, faint, but there. “There is pleasure in contrasts, did you know that?” he asked her, leaning over her to take the pins from her hair. She shook her head. “You’re soft and silky.” He ran his fingers through her hair, at the same time rubbing his fully clad body against her, his vest against her chest. Her eyes widened. Time for another lesson. He looked around the room. The chair in front of the mirror. He straightened and looked down at her. He ran a lone finger over each breast, down over her slightly rounded abdomen and lower. Kneeling, he spread her labia. Her hands came up to grab his wrists. “Uh-uh, Lady Luck. You must enjoy the pleasure I give you.” Her hands were still on his wrists, and he leaned in, looking at her. “Pretty, pink and wet. Just for me.” He grazed his finger over her, smiling when she shivered again.

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He wanted to sink balls deep into her and show her things that would make her head spin. Instead, he held out his hand. “Come.” A slight frown appeared between her brows. He pulled her up and led her over to the chair, and positioned it in front of the mirror. Then he lit more candles and set them around the mirror, the chair. He unbuttoned his shirt, tossed his vest aside and sat. Then he patted his thighs, looking up at the woman beside him. “Aren’t you going to...?” She frowned. Then she surprised him and knelt in front of him, on the floor on her knees. Her hair fell in a cascade down her back, over her shoulders. Her pink nipples peeked through the long, curling tresses. “I can pleasure you,” she whispered. He started to tell her no. Instead, he merely sat back more comfortably and said, “Really? How?” She scooted further up, her hands rubbing from his knees up his thighs and back down. Then her small hands, with a small gold band still on the finger of her left hand, started on the buttons of his breeches. He didn’t say a word as she quickly freed his cock. He hissed out a breath when she took him in her hands, her hair tickling his thighs, brushing over the tip of his dick. “Where...?” “He wanted me to pleasure him,” she answered, keeping her voice low, her eyes not meeting his. He reached out, moved her hair behind her shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of her small breasts. Draven cupped one small globe, rubbed his finger over the soft skin and then her nipple. “So your former husband wanted pleasure, but didn’t see fit to give it to you?” She didn’t answer him, didn’t look at him. He trapped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Why are you doing this?” She shrugged. “Because you gave me pleasure. And I want to give it to you, as well.” He smiled, sucked in a breath again as she started to stroke him, her nimble fingers twirling over his tip, down the hard length of his cock, to cup his balls. “Damn.” Then her eyes did meet his, stormy gray from beneath dark lashes. He watched as those plump lips parted, and her tongue darted out to lick him from base to tip before drawing just the head of his cock into her mouth. He closed his eyes, then shot them open again as her tongue swirled over the head of his cock, her hands busy beneath. Her lush mouth opened again, and she took him deeper. “Damn, baby, that’s good.” He trailed his hand up into the long tresses of her hair. Wanting to pound into her

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mouth, wanting to feel her take him deep into her throat, but not wanting to frighten her. She let him go with a pop. “Take off your breeches.” He took a deep breath and stood. She didn’t move, just sat on her heels in front of him. He took another deep breath. He wanted nothing more than to shuck the pants and let her deep throat him like Maggy, the dame at his brothel. Instead, he pulled on all his control and said, “I’ll take them off if you touch yourself.” That frown appeared between her brows. “Do it,” he said. He watched as her hands danced over her stomach. Then looking up at him, she asked, “Where?” “Your pussy. Have you never given yourself pleasure, Gina?” He watched as her fingers moved closer, then disappeared between her kneeling thighs. He watched her a moment more, breathed deep as she moaned and all but ripped his pants and boots off. He shucked off the cotton undershorts he wore, then told her to open her eyes as he got rid of his shirt and sat again in the chair. Her breath was coming faster, her fingers thrusting quicker. He reached down and grabbed her hand. “Not yet, Lady Luck.” Her chest rose and fell as she panted, and he motioned to the cock standing tall and hard between his legs. She looked at it, then at him and licked her lips. He breathed through his nose and wondered how long he’d last. Wondered who was really in control. She leaned closer and licked the tip, then blew against it. “I bet I can give you pleasure faster than you did me.” He laughed. “Don’t bet against the house, darlin’.” She cocked a brow, her dimples winking at him. Then her hot mouth closed over him and sucked him deep. “Damn.” He could only close his eyes, chills dancing down his spine, pooling at the base of his back and tightening his balls. Her mouth was wicked. Her fingers, quick and deadly. She might not know about receiving pleasure, but she sure as hell knew how to give it. He fisted his hands on the arms of the chair, lifting to pump into her mouth. He wanted to grab her head, fuck her mouth until she couldn’t take anymore, but he didn’t. Instead, he let her.... “God, Gina....” She took him deeper, sucking him harder, her hands moving fast and light, then hard. Pumping up his cock, then twisting as she went down. He groaned. “That is so good.” She pushed his legs wider and sucked him as deep as she could. He opened his eyes to see the hollowing of her cheeks as she worked him. Her nails raked down his

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thighs, then she stroked his dick again, with her other hand raking her nails over his balls just as she twirled her tongue over the tip and lightly twisted the base. “I’m coming, Gina, I’m....” She tightened her hold on him. He couldn’t stop the orgasm. Cum jettisoned out of his cock, as he pumped harder into her hot, torturous mouth. He growled and kept thrusting as she sucked him all down, milking him dry. His heart hammered against chest. When he opened his eyes, it was to see her sitting primly on her knees, her hands folded on her naked lap. He wondered if she knew she looked like the perfect submissive woman. Fine for games sometimes, but he’d rather have a bedroom partner than a slave. Pulling a large breath into his lungs, he strangled out, “Come here.” She climbed up onto his lap, and he jerked her down for a kiss that told him the passion in her was just beginning. What a damn fool Briggs had been. No one had ever claimed Draven McCormick was a fool. “Now, it’s my turn,” he told her, turning her around on his lap so that she sat facing away from him, facing the mirror. Her skin glowed with the candlelight. He placed her legs on either side of his and spread his own thighs, in turn spreading hers open wide, then wider. At this angle and with the candles as he placed them, she was completely open and visible to him. He pulled her back against his chest, brushing her hair aside to give him access to her neck. “Will you look at that,” he whispered against her ear. Her eyes met his in the mirror. “You’re wet, Gina.” The candles flickered off the moisture between her thighs. “Tell me what you want,” he said, licking the swirls of her ear. “I want you to pleasure me.” He shook his head. “I’ve already done that.” She shifted on him. “Please.” He continued to nibble on her neck, then reached around and played with her breasts. Her skin felt like the costliest silk just there, on the sides of her breasts. “Touch yourself. Bring pleasure to yourself.” He tweaked her nipples, then tugged on them, pulling on them harder. She moaned. “Do it, Gina. Remember, you agreed to come with me.” He tugged harder, knew just the pressure to bring a mixture of pleasure and pain. “No, no, I didn’t.” He smiled at her, took her right hand in his and led both their hands to her pussy. “You know you want to. You won’t receive any more pleasure from me until you give some to yourself.” Her eyes clashed with his in the mirror. He tangled their fingers together, tempting her, as their fingers touched her clit,

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and she jumped against him. He banded his arm around her, locking her to him, and continued to play with her nipple. Her fingers moved with his, dancing lightly and tentatively at first, then harder, more sure. He kissed the side of her neck, nuzzled it. He laid his hand on top of hers and pressed her finger into her tight sheath. “Feel how wet you are? By the time we join, there will be no pain.” Her head lay back on his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. “Open your eyes and watch, Gina.” He nudged her chin, pinched her nipple. She groaned and thrust her finger deeper. He grinned when she added another, pumping them in and out of her. He grazed his thumb over her clit, still holding her to him. “Ohhh....” “That’s it, baby, let it go. Come for me.” Her fingers moved faster, and he kept the tempo with the pressure and movements on the nubbin, which was standing up, begging for more attention. She trembled against him, and he pressed her clit hard, in a circle. She flew apart, convulsing in his arms. He couldn’t stop himself from pumping against her soft, rounded bottom nestled in his groin. Her eyes locked with his in the mirror, and he smiled, gently biting her neck. “Are you ready for more, Lady Luck?” He took her hand away from her pussy, not wanting her to play too long. He was ready to sink balls deep into her and put them both out of their waiting. Slowly, she nodded. He kissed her cheek and told her, “Get on the bed, and wait for me.”

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Chapter Four Gina obeyed, without thought. Her body felt ... alive, as if a never-before-known energy prickled along her skin, charging her. Without shame, she walked to the bed and lay atop it. She rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hand and watching Draven. Draven McCormick. What would happen to her after this? She threw the thought away. She’d worry about that tomorrow. He promised to teach her pleasure, and that was just what he was doing. He stood and slowly walked to the end of the bed. He braced his arms on the end posts and watched her. “You’re worrying, and I don’t think a woman of your luck should do that.” She smiled and rolled onto her back. “Perhaps not.” His green eyes raked her, and she felt that look as if he’d touched her with his hands. “Tell me, Lady Luck. Are you ready for me?” She held his gaze and couldn’t contain her shiver. “What have we done thus far that has excited you most?” He set one knee on the bed, and she couldn’t help but admire his body. The firm torso and muscled shoulders. Unlike the sailors she’d seen, Draven was thinner, trimmer, all sinew and muscle, lean hips, and a cock that stood proud and straight from a thatch of light brown hair. Not that she’d actually seen a sailor’s cock. Shoulders and torsos yes, cocks, no. Draven was much larger than Egan. She’d known that when she’d sucked him off. Gina swallowed. “It’ll work, trust me.” He took her foot in his hand and rubbed her arch. Gina couldn’t hold in the sighing moan. “Like that do you?” He ran a hand slowly up her calf, massaging the muscles, relaxing and exciting her all at the same time. “You are so passionate,” he whispered, kissing the inside of her knee, making her shiver. “No, I’m not,” she answered. He tsked. “You shouldn’t argue with your pleasure master. I’ll have to teach you about consequences sometime.” She wiggled as he trailed his tongue in circles around her knee, which she’d never known was so sensitive. “I know all about consequences.” His chuckle vibrated against her skin as he slid further up her, laying his head just at the top of her spread thighs. “There’s consequences, darlin’, and then there’s consequences.” She opened her eyes, looked at him lying there and couldn’t help but run her

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fingers through his hair. Such soft hair. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. He trailed a finger over her hipbone, moving down in circles, nearer and nearer, but never touching her slick center. He petted the hair at the top of her mons, but never delved deeper. He was driving her to distraction. “Why did you marry Mr. Briggs?” he asked, then he blew against her mons. She shifted, but his weight kept her in place. Gina sighed. “I needed to get away from the home I was in, and thought being a mail-order bride would be the answer. He promised to help me.” His fingers paused their light grazing over her lower abdomen. “You mentioned that before. Help you with what?” She closed her eyes and thought of who she’d left behind. “My sister. We were orphaned and went to live with our aunt and uncle....” She stopped, tried to ease the tension she could feel building. “Things became complicated. I just wanted to get us both out. After the wedding, I sent a letter to my banker and to my sister, but then we left New Orleans and came here. I don’t know if she received the telegram or not. I need to send her another letting her know where I am.” “Why were things complicated?” He would zero in on that. She took a deep breath and only said, “Kiss me, please.” His eyes narrowed and held hers. “Why were things complicated?” She frowned. “I told you--my uncle.” Those wicked green eyes didn’t look away from her. Gina hated talking about her uncle, her stomach twisted and every muscle in her body tightened. He huffed out a breath. “One day you’ll tell me your secrets. I’ll help you if I can. If you want, tomorrow you can send a telegram to your sister, or to New Orleans if you think she’s there.” Gina rubbed her forehead. He again began his slow perusal of her body. Touching lightly, hardly at all, yet still she felt the soft caress all the way to the deepest part of her. “You’re tense now. We’ll have to work on that,” he muttered and turned his head, kissing her hipbone. She squirmed, but a hand on her waist kept her pinned beneath him on the bed. “Na-uh ... pleasure, darlin’, pleasure. Remember?” His warm mouth calmed her, focused her from frightened memories to the present. To the gentle ocean breeze, the smell of jasmine and clementine, to the man with her. “You’re a treasure,” he whispered, while his fingers moved from her hipbones to her mons, then back up, each time getting closer and closer, until finally, his fingers trailed between her springy curls to part her slick folds. She moaned at the first glance of his fingers across her clitoris. He chuckled and moved lower, swirling his tongue around and around, laving her

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slit. His fingers spread her wide, and she hissed as the cooler air touched her exposed skin. “Draven,” she begged. He kept up the torture, his hands and mouth slowly bringing her closer and closer. His tongue swirled and danced, laved and licked, but never did he more than whisper over her clit. She moaned. “Please.” “Please what?” he asked, kissing his way back up her torso. Her pussy, so sensitive, begged for him to touch her, for her to touch herself, to be filled.... “I want you,” she whispered, arching against him. “I know.” Still he took his time, licked and kissed her up to her breasts. Again he was in no hurry. She could feel the hardened length of his cock. She wiggled, her body seeking what he could give her. “Consequences. One day...,” he muttered as he licked around one areole. Around and around and around. Finally, he drew her nipple into his hot mouth. She moaned. He suckled lightly at first, twirled the peak with his tongue, then he sucked her hard and deep, his fingers working the other breast. He pinched her nipple just shy of pain. Lightning shot from her breasts to her pussy. Even now, she could feel her own wetness. Just as patiently, he eased his torment and released her nipple from his mouth. He kissed his way across her and tortured the other nipple, as well. Between kisses, he muttered, “We wouldn’t want to ignore this beauty, now, would we?” Her body was on fire. That was the only way to describe it. His hot mouth worked her breast relentlessly, then just as suddenly, he stopped, kissing his way up her neck. “There is pleasure in the waiting as well, did you know that?” In the waiting? Gina didn’t want to wait. She wanted him. Inside her now. He leaned up on his elbows. “There is so much I want to teach you,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “You are.” She shifted, trying to bring her pussy into contact with his cock. “Draven,” she pleaded. He smiled his rascal’s smile, as he stared down at her. “You’re a treasure. And I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” He brushed his body along hers and she hissed. “At this point, I don’t care what you do with me. I just want....” She almost wanted to cry. She needed ... she wanted.... “Yes?” he asked, slowly licking her lips. “What do you want, Lady Luck?” “You.” She arched her lower body against him. “This. I want you.” He kissed her again.

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“In me.” He pulled in a breath and kissed her hard and deep, but there was still no bruising pain. His hands fisted in her hair, and he again moved against her. Once. Twice. She was going to go insane. He pulled away from her, kneeling between her spread thighs. He breathed deep, and she could see the stain of color high on his cheek bones. He trailed a finger over her, down her stomach, where the muscles jumped beneath his touch, to her pussy. “So pretty. So pink.” He circled her opening. “Wider,” he said. Without a thought, she opened her legs wider. “So wet.” His eyes rose to hers. “So mine.” The words trembled through her, but she couldn’t argue that fact. Gina could only hold his intense stare, wondering what he meant. “This pussy is mine, and I should warn you now. I don’t share. Never have. Never will.” He inched closer, his cock nudging her opening. Draven pulled her legs to straddle his and gripped her bottom, spreading the cheeks of her bottom. Gina couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t utter a word. He slipped just the head of his cock into her, and she sighed. He withdrew. “Understand?” Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she could feel the pulse lower in her pussy. “Understand?” Gina nodded. “Y-yes.” “Put your legs around my waist.” She locked her ankles in the small of his back. He rose up on his knees at the same time, slowly filling her. “God,” she hissed. “Yes.” He growled, looking down where their bodies joined. He was thick and long, but she was so wet, so ready, he slid in painlessly. Yet, he stretched her wide. Her slit felt tight, full, bursting. “Draven,” she whimpered. “Darlin’...,” he trailed off. Her body welcomed his, swallowed him, slowly and a bit resisting at first, but then more easily. He groaned and thrust home, stroking deeper. She moaned and arched, bringing him even deeper. She wanted him to move. To stroke ... to something. Gina panted. “Draven, please....” He looked up at her from under his lashes, from where he’d been watching his cock slide into her. “Gina, the best things come to those who wait.” “But the determined get there first.” He laughed and she felt the vibration against her naked chest, over her skin, to pool against her womb.

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“Pleasure isn’t only about the destination, but also the journey.” She shifted again, rocking against him, then squeezed her lower muscles, trying to keep him inside her when he withdrew. He inhaled through his nose, a muscle bunching in his jaw. Sweat beaded on her skin. “If you believe slow pleasure is the only way to go, I’m surprised your brothel is still in business.” He laughed, the grin splitting his face. He leaned up and cupped her cheeks. “You are a true gem.” Then he was moving in her, slowly at first. Long, measured strokes that built her up. Just as she began to reach, he changed the movement, thrusting shallow and quick. Gina couldn’t think, could only feel. All her senses were centered on where he thrust his thick cock into her pussy. “Please, please, please,” she begged, thrashing her head from side to side, her hands fisting in the sheets. He tilted his hips, rolling them, never withdrawing. His cock brushed and jumped within her against her womb. Draven closed his eyes, straining for control. She was so damn tight, so fucking wet, so responsive. He hadn’t enjoyed a woman this much in too damned long. Her pussy gripped him in a silken fist, tight and rippling with her straining pleasure. He knew she wouldn’t last much longer. Her body was slick with sweat. Heated, her lavender scent was even stronger. She arched against him, her legs tight around his waist. Carefully, he reached behind him and unhooked her ankles. “Shhh...,” he said to her. Her legs still gripped his flanks. She was so tiny, he thought. “I want to fuck you hard and deep, make you scream when you come and beg for more.” “Yes. Yes. Please,” she whimpered. He hooked her legs in his elbows. First one, then the other. Like this, she was spread wide for his taking. Not wanting to hurt her, he slid in slowly, carefully, watching her to see if she could take him this way. Her eyes opened wide, wider, and her mouth, those kissable lips, parted in wonder. “Oh, God, Draven!” “All right?” “Fuck me. Please, please, fuck me!” she begged, trying to lean up and kiss him. Draven thrust further, then further until he was seated to the hilt, balls deep inside her. He stroked, slowly at first, then harder as she arched into him. “Draven! Draven! Draven!” He changed the angle of his strokes so that he brushed over her clit, straining and full.

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Gina screamed long and loud, her body clamping down on him so tightly he hissed a breath out and stroked. Once. Twice. Three times. Her nails raked across his shoulders, and he came, shooting a long, hot stream of come into her tight sheath. He growled, continued to thrust and knew she’d ripped a piece of his soul from him. His heart slamming in his chest, Draven rolled to the side, bringing her with him, still joined. Her body belonged to him. He had no intention of leaving it anytime soon.

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Chapter Five The gulls lulled their song in the pre-dawn air. Draven looked to his side where Gina lay on her stomach, her hair spread across the white pillow like mahogany silk. She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. He had no idea what about this woman pulled at him, other than she’d been a damsel in distress, and if he was a sucker for anything, it had always been a woman in need. He shuffled the deck of cards he’d gotten earlier from his coat pocket. Who knew this deck would lead him to winning a man’s wife? What a fool. What an undeserving ass. He’d have to ask Judge Rosenburg if the woman’s marriage was even legal, which he doubted. Texas was rife with men ordering one bride after another, only to put them to work in brothels after the ink dried. The documents were worth no more than the paper they were printed on. So where did that leave him and Gina? What of her sister? He’d have someone look into it. Maybe she’d want to come here. God knew there was enough room. And if the sister needed help, then he’d help her or call on his old friends to help out. He’d worked long enough with the law that he knew many who would help him. His days of Rangering might be over, but some things lasted. He shuffled the deck again and glanced at her. His Lady Luck. She opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily. Then again, she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. “You’re awake,” she whispered, not moving. “So are you,” he answered just as quietly. Neither said a word for a moment, then he bent the cards and let them go, raining down in a splatter around them. She frowned and looked from the cards that now lay on and around them, back to him. “Another sex game?” He smiled. “I haven’t even begun to teach you sex games.” He rolled over and kissed her nape. “These are my lucky cards.” She shivered as he brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. “Uh-huh.” “Why lucky?” He kissed down the spine of her neck, across one shoulder, nibbling as he went. “Because with them, I won you.”

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She wiggled her shoulders. “I’m no prize.” He ran his hand down her spine, rubbed her ass through the sheet and said between nibbles, “You are to me. My win. My prize. My Lady Luck.” “Yours,” she muttered, and tried to roll over. “Mine,” he answered and slowly pulled the sheet down to expose the length of her back, the soft cheeks of her ass. “I’m not fool enough to bet you in any game, let alone to any man.” He kissed his way down her back. “A fool’s loss is another man’s gain.” She sighed. “You didn’t really have a choice in the matter, did you? When he bet me?” He kissed his way back up to her neck, laying atop her and nudging her thighs apart. He grabbed a pillow and lifted her hips to put the pillow beneath her. She glanced at him over her shoulder as he trailed his hand lower and found her wet and ready. He sighed as he slid into her hot warmth. Draven thrust slow and easy in the wakening dawn. In no time, she was pressing back against him, welcoming his strokes, moaning and panting. Against her neck, he admitted, “I saw you.” He thrust hard and deep, reaching around to find her clit and stroke it. “I fantasized about you.” He withdrew and thrust back in, pressing her clit down against his cock. “And when I saw the way the game was going, I made no move to stop it. I’m a gambler, Lady Luck, I don’t lose.” She flew apart, her body convulsing beneath his, jerking him into an orgasm with her. Against her neck, he said, “And last night, I won just what I wanted to.”

The End