The Old West like you've never seen it! Ms. Missy has written this little gem with a sexy flare that give new meaning to Wild West. Let her take you on this erotic ride to the past.
by Missy Lyons
Genre: Historical, menage (f/m/f)
Taming the Wild West--Or taming wild men? Neither should be left to young virgins. After Barbara Lane inherits a gold mine, she travels to California, only to find she has an unwanted partner waiting for her. Vincent is the kind of bad boy she knew to stay away from. Instinctively, Barbara knows if she stays, she won't be innocent for long.
Vincent was no gentleman, and he had no intention of changing for any woman, let alone the spitfire who moved in and made herself at home. He wasn't about to give up his whoring, or his gambling, and definitely not his bed. If Barbara wanted to stay, she would have to learn to share.
What will Barbara do to win his heart? Or perhaps the question should be what wouldn't she do...
Barbara cleaned for hours, scrubbing the wooden floors, dusting off the worn furniture, washing down the windows, until she fell onto the bed, exhausted. The quilted down comforter enfolded her in its warm folds. She didn't mean to close her eyes, but the physical fatigue consumed her. It wasn't long before she drifted into a dreamless sleep.
Darkness settled over the new frontier and went unnoticed by Barbara as she slept on the bed. It was not until much later, she was startled awake by the sound of the door swing open and closed. Heavy footsteps broke the silence of the night. Her heart froze in fear as she realized she had forgotten to lock the door. It was pitch black in the cabin, and so quiet she could hear the stranger's breathing across the room from her. She was a woman in a strange place. A wild land, full of Indians and cowboys. Outlaws walked among everyone else freely. The law of the west was about who carried the bigger gun. It wasn't safe for her to be alone like this. What had she been thinking?
Silently she lay still frozen in place on the bed, agonizing over what to do next. She couldn't see him, but he sounded big. She imagined it was his coat that just fell to the floor. He sat down on the chair, loosening his clothing.
Good Lord! He was undressing!
Barbara hoped he didn't plan to join her in the bed. He didn't know she was there yet. Perhaps if she was quiet she could slip out unnoticed. Then she could go get the sheriff to throw the trespasser out. She moved one leg slowly to the edge of the bed, trying not to make a sound. She imagined he just took off his shirt as she stood up in the darkness. Revealing a bare chest that no lady of good society should be seeing on any man except her husband.
The soft material barely made a sound as it was tossed on the floor. He began to whistle in the dark as he worked to undress. One shoe hit the floor with a thud, and then another. What was he doing now? Working at his belt perhaps? Goodness sake, she was going to be in the room with a naked man soon. She heard another item of clothing hit the floor with a clink. There was not much left to remove but his pants, so she wasn't surprised when she could hear the sound of the material being removed as he pulled it off his legs.
Desperation hit her. She had to get out of here now! This was incredibly dangerous. Being alone with a man who was both a stranger and naked was a recipe for disaster. No one even knew she was here alone to worry about her if she went missing. There was no one she knew that could help her. Nowhere that she could go. Stealthily she crept to the door and towards safety.
The floor creaked under him as he stood up and came towards her. Panic seized her heart and suddenly in a frenzy, she threw the door open, running for her freedom.
* * * *
"What the hell?" Vincent Waverly heard the door slam and the sound of someone running out of the cabin. That wasn't the the wind. His heart pounded with a mixture of anger and fear. What was that person doing in here? Why hadn't they spoken a word to him? He didn't know who it was, but he did know he wasn't going to let that someone get away from him.
* * * *
Barbara could hear him curse before running after her. His breath came hard as he pounded the soft earth behind her. She pushed herself to run faster, lifting her skirt up out of the way of her feet. Unrelenting he refused to allow her to escape.
Suddenly he was upon her, his strong arms locking around her chest, imprisoning her arms and using his bodyweight to knock her to the ground. The soft earth and grass broke her fall, but it momentarily knocked the wind from her lungs. She struggled against his arms, pulling at him until he cursed again.
"Let go of me!" she demanded, wriggling under his body.
* * * *
"You're a girl?" his deep voice said in disbelief. His hands were on her ripe breasts, feeling the fullness of them as if to be sure of her sex.
"Not a girl." She puffed out her chest indignantly, arching away from him. "I am a woman. Now get off of me, you big oaf."
He wasn't about to argue with her there. She was most definitely a woman, with very womanly curves. However, he wasn't about to remove his body from hers until he had some answers, and even then he wasn't sure he wanted to get off her. His body was already responding to being in such close contact and she was a perfect stranger. His powerful body pinned her to the ground, and in a most ungentlemanly like manner. This was not a situation he anticipated. His conscience dictated that he should be removing his body from hers, but there was still another matter to consider. What was she doing here in the first place?
He growled out, "Not so fast. What were you doing in my house?"
She seemed indignant when she responded, her voice lined with restrained anger, "Your house? It belongs to me. I am Joseph Lane's daughter."
"Who?" He didn't recognize the name, but instinctively knew she wasn't the burglar he originally suspected. She really did think she belonged here. He turned her body over, kneeling above her. Her disheveled hair was strewn about her shoulders. His cock was hardening in response to her feminine curves, straining against the confines of his pants. Vincent always had been a sucker for a beautiful woman. There were too many women in his memories. He couldn't remember half of their names, but this one…
"Joseph Lane." Barbara paused a moment. If this stranger belonged here at all, he would recognize the name. "He owned the gold mine here and built this house, and I have come to claim it now that he died. You are the one that is trespassing," she gritted out between clenched teeth.
The man cocked his head studying her in the moonlight. It was lighter out here than in the house and he could see the resemblance now. She looked like his old friend, Buster. He stared deep into her stormy eyes. Her eyes were a prettier shade of blue than her father's, only accentuated by her anger. He let his gaze trail down her face to her heaving breasts, making her even more tempting. As if she sensed where his mind was headed, she let out a small growl.
She was a spitfire, to be sure.
"What is your name?" he asked.
Her fighting spirit captivated him. Even overpowered, she wasn't about to give up her escape. Her lips pursed in resentment of her confinement.
"Barbara Lane." Her angry voice sounded almost sexy with its raspy tone.
"You're Buster's daughter?"
"No. I just told you. I am Joseph Lane's daughter. Do you have a hearing problem?"
Apparently she never knew her father was known around these parts as Buster, not Joseph. He smirked at her comment, chuckling to himself. That snippy attitude would help him keep his cock under control. She was far too tempting under him. He could feel every curve of her, his groin nestled into hers as if it belonged there, and the way she wiggled made him loathe to make a move to get off her.
Begrudgingly, he got off her, and noticed she was suddenly aware of his near naked state. She gawked at him before turning away with a blush to stare at the ground. He stretched out his hand to help her up to a sitting position and she reluctantly took it.It was plain to him that she was an innocent. She looked at him as if she had never seen a naked man before, and Vincent didn't mind the way her gaze had drifted curiously over his body. He knew he turned most of the ladies' heads, but she was different somehow in the way she tried to keep her eyes modestly avoiding him. Though he could tell her body was reacting to his as well, and not from fear.
He pulled her close to him, but not touching her intimately. Making him acutely aware of her body.
"It's my pleasure to meet you, my dear. My name is Vincent Waverly."