She was so far gone that it took a moment for her to realize that he'd stopped. Still bent over, her back arched, pushing her backside out almost lasciviously, she stared at the thick, coarse blanket on the cot… and waited.
Chapter Six
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hard—if ever. Sapphire remained completely still; bent over the bed, the curtain of her hair hiding her face from view. Her formerly pale, upthrust rear end was covered with scarlet welts, several of which also crisscrossed her slender thighs. Crawford hadn't been holding back, especially towards the end, but she had taken the whipping with an almost mutinous stoicism.
He didn't blame her.
Something about the girl brought out the beast within him, the very demon he was so desperate to protect her—any woman—from. The part of him that wanted to force her into submission; physically, emotionally… using whatever it took to bend her to his will.
Desperately trying to control that urge, he'd been unspeakably rude about her profession, something he genuinely regretted. The words had left his lips before he'd even really considered them—his statements were certainly nothing to do with his real feelings about women who chose to sell their bodies. He had no idea why he'd made those snide remarks.
It was as though her mere presence made him insensible.
And when she'd pulled off that nightgown, allowing him to see her completely unclothed for the very first time, his throat had gone dry with an almost primal lust.
Crawford Slade had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Sapphire. It didn't even have anything to do with the fact that it had been a long, long time since he'd lain with a woman. It was her. The way she looked at him. The way she smelled. Her impulsiveness, her outspoken demeanor. Her fucking beautiful body, he thought wryly, allowing his gaze to travel to the dark apex between her legs.
It would be easy… so easy to unfasten his pants and just take her. Maybe that would get her out of his system. Maybe that release would be all it took to get him thinking clearly again, to make it so that he could stop thinking about her every damn minute of every damn day…
No.
Sure, she was a soiled dove—and a criminal one, at that—but alongside his inner beast, Crawford had an inner gentleman. And the latter always won when it mattered.
Realizing she must be waiting for him to say something, he cleared his throat. "Have you had enough?"
What she said next shocked him to the core.
"No, sir."
Reaching out, he ran a gentle hand over her right cheek, feeling the raised weals, the heat rising from her flesh. She flinched but made no move to stop him.
"And what makes you say that?"
She let out a choked sob. "You were right, sir. I am a thief. I took that horse. I never should have done it. I just wanted to—never mind. But it's no excuse. After what happened before, I swore I'd never…"
"You'd never what?"
"I'd never steal again," she said at length, so quietly he had to strain to hear her.
He froze. "So this wasn't the first time? What else have you taken?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. Please don't make me. It was… it was a long time ago."
"So aside from the horse, you haven't been thieving here, in these parts?" He needed confirmation. He needed to continue their conversation, because the mere sight of her, the tremor in her voice as she spoke—her blatant submission—were all feeding the beast, and he was dangerously close to losing himself in his lust for her.
"No, sir, absolutely not. I would never do that." Her voice broke. "I do so love Madame Jewel and my friends at the Petticoat. I like it here in Culpepper. I would never do anything to endanger my permission to remain in town."
"Then how do you explain what happened this morning?"
There was a long pause. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry for doing that but I can't tell you why. Just know that I promise I'll never do it again. And I'll gladly accept any more punishment you choose to give me. I know I did wrong by taking that horse, and I deserve it."
"How about if I give you a choice?" he said. "Either you tell me about what drove you to steal, or the switching continues."
"The switching," she said without hesitation.
Crawford raised an eyebrow. "Is what you're hiding from me so very bad? It must be… the only other reason why you might ask for your punishment to continue would be because you were enjoying it."
Sapphire remained silent but he noticed a tiny tremor run through her.
Surely not. No sonofabitch could be that lucky.
Unable to stop himself, Crawford allowed the hand still resting on her buttock to slide lower until he was cupping her sex in his palm.
It was soaking wet. She was soaking wet.
"Oh, Christ, darlin'," he groaned even as she let out a low moan. He could feel the rigid nubbin of her most sensitive spot beneath his fingertip.
"You'd better tell me to stop right now. Otherwise I won't be able to help myself," he said, hoarsely. Holding his breath, he wasn't sure which thought terrified him more: that she'd ask him to stop, or that she wouldn't.
She didn't. Instead, she ground her slippery womanhood hard against his palm, riding his hand in wanton invitation.
"Please," she whispered.
"You like it rough?" he asked. "You liked it when I striped your ass just now?"
The slight gush between her thighs was her only reply.
"Say it. Say you like it when I hurt you."
Sapphire shook her head, her blue-black curls rippling around her face.
The last thread of self-control holding Crawford back snapped and he reached out, grasping her hair with his free hand, yanking her head up. "Tell me you fucking like this," he growled. "Ask me for it, Sapphire."
His intention wasn't really to frighten her, but he wanted to make it abundantly clear what she should expect if she allowed him to take her. He was too far gone to be gentle.
Her next words almost made him explode in his pants.
"Make me."
His retaliation was instant. Taking that swollen, rigid little bud between his finger and thumb, he pinched it savagely. Sapphire let out a howl and convulsed, spasming hard, leaking into his palm.
Before she even had time to fully recover, he'd torn open his pants and flipped her onto her back on the cot, positioning himself between her splayed thighs.
Her eyes were cloudy with desire, her cheeks stained pink from her release. She gazed up at him as if she were drugged, the tiniest hint of a smile playing around her full lips.
Crawford drank in the sight of her; her slender throat, her cloud of black hair, the sharp indentations of her collarbone. Her breasts were magnificent; full and creamy, tipped with taut nipples the same dark pink hue as her lips. His fingertips found those peaks seemingly of their own accord and he twisted them cruelly, relishing her cry of pain.
"You want more?" he asked, kneading the full mounds, massaging her flesh before slapping each of her breasts in turn.
"Yes!"
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir! More, please, sir!"
The beast had taken over. Crawford was acting on sheer instinct, pure, primal lust, without conscious thought. He spanked her breasts without mercy, watching his handprints appear on her milky skin and loving her little mews of agony.
"I'm going to fuck you," he said, positioning the head of his cock at the entrance to her pink, slick hole. "Would you like that?"
"Yes… please…"
He was inside her with a single thrust, seating himself to the hilt. She was so tight, velvety and wet that he almost came undone immediately. Her scent was intoxicating.
Fighting to maintain control, he pulled back out and began to stroke that most sensitive place of hers again, suddenly desperate to feel her spend around him. Up and down, around and around his fingertip moved across that delicate, rigid spot even as his other hand reached once more for her nipple, twisting and tuggin
g it with savage cruelty.
Sapphire howled as she climaxed, and he clapped his hand over her mouth to smother her cries as she shuddered beneath him, her eyes wide, her pussy milking him with each rippling convulsion.
Only when he had forced her to ride every last wave did he replace the hand over her mouth with his lips, kissing her with all the hunger that had been building ever since that first time he'd laid eyes on her. She tasted cool and sweet and kissed him back with equal fervor, allowing him to caress her tongue with his own as his hips began to thrust, driving his aching cock ever deeper inside her.
His hand found her throat as he reared up to fuck her harder, drawing closer and closer to the point of no return. Instead of pulling away, she allowed him to grip her there, her beautiful eyes closing as she let out a breathy gasp and reached up to stroke his shoulders.
That single act of acquiescence was too much and Crawford came with a roar, driving himself into her with all the urgency he felt. Only when he was completely spent did he slump, panting, on top of her.
As soon as he was able to speak, he said the first thing that came to mind. "I shouldn't have done that."
There was a pause. "Why not?"
How could he possibly explain what he was thinking? Besides, there were so many thoughts whirling around in his head that it would have taken him hours to unravel and list them all. Reasons why she shouldn't want him, reasons why he shouldn't want her… not to mention how what they had just done complicated things.
"It wasn't part of your discipline," he said gruffly, rolling off her and straightening his clothes. Spying her nightgown in the corner, he picked it up and threw it at her. "Put that on."
Clutching the sheer material, she stared at him, wide-eyed, the confusion evident on her exquisite face. "You didn't enjoy it?" Her tone was surprisingly calm.
"That's beside the point. We just shouldn't have done that."
"Why? You wanted it… I wanted it. We're both consenting adults. Or is it because of something else?" She blinked. "Are you married?"
Crawford was unable to suppress a mirthless bark of laughter. "No, darlin', I'm not married. Why, are you?" There it was again, that snide, biting tone he so regretted the moment the words left his lips. As he watched the flush slowly spread across her face, he felt a pang of regret. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."
Sapphire remained utterly still for a few moments, apparently struggling with something. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, she pulled on her nightgown and jumped off the cot, glaring at him. "You look down on me," she said, her fists clenching at her sides. "You keep making that perfectly clear, with your mean, unnecessary remarks about my occupation. I guess you think wearing that tin star on your shirt means you're important, that you're somehow above the rest of us. But you know what? You're wrong." Her dark eyes flashing, she took a step closer to him and jabbed her index finger into his chest. "Sure, the men who visit The Red Petticoat might sometimes be a little crude, or lewd, or drunk. But at least they're honest. They don't hide the fact that they like to spend time with the gems. They don't pretend to be better than us. And, most important of all, they don't judge us for what we do. In fact, they appreciate it."
Crawford remained where he was, unable to speak, frozen to the spot, every single one of her words like needles in his heart.
"Whereas you, you hide your feelings all the time, you hide behind that surly stare and that poky little star, and you seem to be so damn conflicted about wanting a soiled dove," she almost snarled the last two words, "that you take it out on her, treating her like crap before, during, and after you bed her. I should have known never to trust a damn lawman. Y'all are the biggest hypocrites of all. Now, if I'm free to go, I will return to the saloon, where I'm treated with courtesy, and I hope never to lay eyes on you again!"
He couldn't be sure, but he thought he could see tears glittering in her eyes. Everything inside him was screaming for him to take her in his arms, tell her she was wrong, that she had completely misunderstood how he felt—but he didn't. After all, it didn't matter why she thought he wasn't interested. He couldn't—shouldn't—have her. Which meant that any excuse was fine, so long as the outcome was that she stayed away from him. Crawford remained silent.
"So, are you done punishing me, or can I go?" Raising her chin in that defiant, adorable way she had, she crossed her arms.
"You can go," he said. "I don't think you'll be stealing any more horses, will you?"
Sapphire was already halfway to the door. "Fuck you, Deputy!" she snarled. "Seth was right. Never trust any man, especially one with an emblem." Without waiting for a reply, she wrenched the key in the lock and flounced out, slamming the heavy wood behind her so hard the whole building shook.
Crawford stared after her, his heart pounding. One niggling question kept surfacing amidst the regret, shame, and loss he was feeling. Who the fuck is Seth?
* * *
Sapphire ran, blinded by tears, her bare feet splashing in the muck as she headed to the only place she could think of. The blazing sun surprised her; the jail cell had been so dark, and it felt like she'd been there for hours. She'd expected it to be evening.
Ignoring the stares of the townspeople going about their morning business, she flew down the dirt road and straight through the batwing doors of The Red Petticoat.
She felt Mr. Gabe before she saw him, running straight into the man's broad chest with a thump.
"Oof," he said. "My God, Sapphire? Where on earth have you been? Are you all right?"
She shook her head, pushing him away. His height and build reminded her too much of Crawford. Men couldn't be trusted. None of them.
"Let me go," she whimpered, "please, Mr. Gabe. I just want to get to my room."
"You're wearing nothing but a torn, muddy nightgown, chica," he said softly. "And you've obviously just been outside wearing nothing but that. Without an escort, I assume, and without letting us know you were going. Everyone here thought you were just sleeping in."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. He was blurry through her tears. "Please, Mr. Gabe," she said again, as calmly as she could. "I really need to be alone right now. I promise I'm all right, and in a little while, when I've recovered myself, I will explain everything and accept the consequences."
Not giving him a moment to respond, she pushed past him and ran up the stairs. Once in her room, she slammed the door and threw herself, facedown, onto her bed, allowing the sobs and tears to overwhelm her.
How could she have been so stupid? She should never have taken Opal's advice—matter of fact, she should never have taken that dumb horse thinking it would somehow make Crawford discover real feelings for her. And then she'd gone and let her passion overcome her, allowed him to do those things he'd done after the switching…
She had wanted it. Oh, God, how she had wanted it, and it had been better than she ever, ever would have imagined. For the first time in her life, she had been able to fully understand what drove the men to visit the saloon day after day, and why some women were able to enjoy being a gem.
If only Crawford had felt the same way. Instead, he hadn't been able to get rid of her fast enough. At least the customers here pay, she thought bitterly, renewed tears flowing down her face and soaking her quilt.
There was a knock at the door.
"Go away!" she snarled.
"No," Madame Jewel said, entering the room without requesting permission, and closing the door behind her. "I'm not going anywhere until you and I have had a little chat."
Sapphire glared at her through streaming eyes. Jewel looked her usual elegant, composed self, her blonde hair pinned up neatly, her beautiful face kind. Perching gracefully on the edge of the mattress, she began to stroke Sapphire's back.
"I'm not here as your employer," she began softly. "I'm here as your friend. I—we—care about you, and it hasn't escaped my notice that you've been all out of sorts lately. Please talk to me. Perhaps I can help?"
Sapphire rolled o
ver to face the madam. "You can't help me," she whimpered. "No-one can help me. I just need to be alone to deal with this."
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Jewel's eyes, as blue and concerned as they were, also held a look of determination.
Sapphire realized she had no choice; Jewel wouldn't let the matter drop until she'd heard the whole story.
Haltingly, she began to explain the events that had resulted in her being caught outside in her nightgown in the middle of the day.
Madame Jewel watched her with calm compassion. To her credit, she didn't interrupt Sapphire once, not to make any snide remarks, nor to ask for further detail. Sapphire was careful to omit any and all references to her passionate feelings for Deputy Slade, and she was glad of Jewel's restraint. She described how she had taken the horse, and that the deputy had caught up with her, taken her back to the sheriff's office, and asked her to choose between a switching on the spot, or an appointment with Judge Johnson.
"I chose the switching," Sapphire said. "So he punished me right then and there. Once it was done, I asked whether I could go, and he said I could."
There was a long, long pause. Sapphire held her breath, hoping against hope that Jewel would let the matter rest. To her horror, she realized that the blonde woman was shaking her head.
"But why, Sapphire? Why did you take the horse? Where were you trying to go?"
"Oh please, Madame Jewel, please don't make me explain! It's just too embarrassing!" Sapphire gazed at her hands, unable to look her employer in the eye.
"Honey, there's no-one here but us." Jewel adjusted her position until she was sitting more comfortably, then she took both Sapphire's hands in her own and held them, gently. "Did I ever tell you how I came to be here, in Culpepper, with Mr. Gabe?"
"Yes, ma'am. You told us how you came over on the boat from England, and met Opal and Amy on the ship and Miss Nettie in New Orleans… and then Della and Dottie in San Francisco… and then came here to open the Petticoat," Sapphire said.
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