Wild West Hauntings, page 6
She could handle the realistic cock and butt thingy but a spreader? What the hell is a spreader?
Thoughts of the night Damon had tied her up in the Dougan tree house came back. That night had been so sexually gratifying. The feeling of being under his control was something she’d thought about many times since that evening. It’d been the first time a man had bound her during sex.
Curiosity pushed away the fear, and she ran her fingers across the cool bars. The metal glistened like fine onyx. Her heart skipped a beat.
A wry smile stretched across Damon’s face. “Do I sense a bit of excitement for your gifts?”
Excitement? Yes. Among other things. “Yes. I’m stoked.”
Damon raised a brow in response and then slipped out of bed to get two bottles of water from the mini fridge.
When he’d returned, Bristol folded her arms across her chest. “Where did you get these things?”
Damon opened a bottle and handed it to her. “An online shop that specializes in sex toys.”
“Toys? These items are called toys?” She surveyed the goods again. Perhaps the underwear could be categorized as a toy but the other items, not so much. They promised pain. But hopefully in a good way.
“Grown up toys, darlin’.”
“Right.”
“Are you game? Would you like to play with me?”
Geez. That was a loaded question. Her beautiful, sexy, dreamboat of a man raised a brow in hopeful anticipation. A smirk danced near his mouth.
Was she game? Not at this moment. On second thought, yes she was. The boiling point below her waist had yet to simmer, but she really wasn’t in the best physical shape to indulge in any ‘sex-treme’ sports.
“I’d love to play, but—”
“No buts.”
“No seriously. Could we schedule using some of these devices for some other time? Preferably after I deliver this little guy?” She patted her stomach.
“We can leave the stimulating toys for later. They’ll come with us on our honeymoon. But these.” He held up the underwear between his thumb and index finger. “How about we try these now, little lady?”
Yes, I can live with that. Sooner than she could announce ‘put them on me,’ Damon’s phone buzzed.
With a quick “hello” and “on my way,” he jumped out of bed, dressed, put on his shoes and cleared the bedroom door. Before the door closed fully he yelled, “I’ll be back in a flash.”
So much for a romantic night with kinky playthings. She shoved the container of toys to the rear of the bed, repositioned her body for sleep, and closed her eyes.
I really want to wear the underwear. Too tired to move, though, she only glanced at the box. Tomorrow. They’ll go on me tomorrow. With that thought, sleep wasn’t far behind.
Chapter Six
Sleep eluded Rachel … again. Tossing and turning, she couldn’t stop the thoughts from tumbling in her head either. Dalton a ghost or a real man? Had she been dreaming or time traveling or both?
She flipped onto her stomach, curled her arms around a pillow, and buried her head in another. A good night’s rest was what she craved at the moment, what she needed most of all in her life. Not some complicated time-jumping or late night booty call fantasy relationship with a man who’d been alive at some point.
Counting sheep didn’t work. Slow, regulated breathing didn’t do the trick either, to send her into la-la land. So she lay there with her eyes closed, letting the chatter in her mind become white noise. Eventually, darkness consumed her, lulled her into slumber.
My star…
She reclined against Dalton, whose back was supported by the base of a tree. Above them a warm Nevada sun shone in the deep blue sky. A soft breeze drifted around them, created ripples on the unfrozen pond in front of them.
What’d happened to the chill in the air, the snow on the mountaintops?
They lay together on a blanket under the shade of a tree. Plates of half-eaten food spread out next to them.
I have to be dreaming now. All my encounters with him have either been inside or outside during the winter. But it’s definitely not the usual unpleasant cold season.
She regulated her breathing, taking in the scene around her. There was something wonderful about the untamed, rugged beauty of the west: the mountains, the forest greens of the pines swaying to and fro against the backdrop of the blue sky. Even the ground had its earthy kaleidoscope of browns, greens, grays and the bright colors of wild flowers.
So quiet, too. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever become accustomed to not hearing planes overhead or the hum of technology that prevailed in the modern world. I could get used to this. She snuggled up against Dalton. Still she wondered about the when of where she was. “Dalton?”
“Yes, sugar?” He kissed the top of her head.
“What day is today?”
“It’s a warm July day, and I thought it’d be a good one for a picnic.”
“Oh.” Definitely nowhere near December. But why am I here now?
“Oh?” He chuckled, a low rumbling happy sound that brought a slight smile to her lips. “You’re precious, my star. Tryin’ so hard not to ask what I’ve bought you for your birthday.”
“Birthday?” Her past-life-self inside her perked up with excitement.
“Yep, but you’ll have to wait some more since your gift’s down at the house.”
“You’re so good to me.” Allowing her past self to come to the fore, she let the words come without contemplation. She wrapped her arms around him. “If it is what I think it is, you’ll make me very happy.”
“And what do you think I’ve acquired for my favorite gal?”
“The dun colored Appaloosa from the Triple C.” A big grin stretched her face.
“Dang. How’d you’d find out?”
“I hear things, and it doesn’t hurt to ask your folks. And that’s not all they told me either.”
“Is that so?”
She sat up and patted his chest. “Darlene and Keith were finally open enough to fill me in on the background of the nickname you gave me. Your childhood horse, Dalton? You chose an animal’s name for me?”
Dalton rose, too. “I’ll have to thank Ma and Pa for that.”
“Mmm… Now every time I hear the name Star, I have the joy of thinking about your horse. Wait. You’re not trying to tell me something, are you?”
“Tell you what, sugar?”
“That I’m as big as a horse.” Her former self raised a mental eyebrow at the reference to body size. The woman Dalton called Rae wasn’t that big of a girl, but she was what modern-day society considered to be chunky. Rachel didn’t feel like having an internal discussion about how a woman’s self-image was unfortunately strongly tied to her shape and size in the future. “Or that I’m a horse’s ass? Smelly… Dirty…”
He leaned forward and brushed his firm mouth over hers. Clasping her cheeks, he held onto her. His tongue rimmed her lips, then he nipped them with his teeth. Dalton was a wonderful kisser. She loved the way he moved, the way he controlled the kissing. Her muscles tightened as desire heated her blood. But it was over before it became too intense.
“Sugar, I loved that horse. I grew up with him. Star was very dear to me. When I call you Star, I’m not suggesting anything other than my love and utter devotion for you.” He brushed a lock of her hair away from her cheek.
“All right then.”
Dalton reached out and with a quick flick of his fingers released the first few clasps on the front of her dress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” her voice squeaked out the question.
“I’m spending the afternoon with my wife.” He undid the rest of the fastenings, including the ties on her chemise. Dalton pushed the folds of cloth away from her shoulders and down her arms to reveal her breasts and upper abdomen.
Air graced her bare skin, tantalizing her breasts and teasing her nipples to hard peaks. His rough fingertips stroked her, rolled over her engorged nubs. His touch coaxed her passions out, electrified her senses. She wanted to throw her arms around him, cling to him, love him and never let him go.
Her driving need surprised her and shocked her out of her thoughts and feelings. Reality crashed around her. She was half-naked in a public place. Rachel pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Stop.” Dalton pulled her arms down. “I want to look at you.”
Turned on by his request, she didn’t fight him. “That’s good and all, but what if someone comes along?”
He shook his head as he caressed a breast. “No one is around. We’re all alone on our private property. We could go into the water in our birthday suits if we wanted.”
Rachel quirked a brow. I’ve never skinny dipped before. “Naked, you say?”
Appearing puzzled, he replied, “Sure.”
Sure. Why not? Checking the area, she scrambled to her feet. In a quick move of her own, she shucked the dress and undergarment.
Dalton’s mouth dropped open. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going for a swim,” she stated with a grin.
The freedom from clothes, of being bare in nature, was an empowerment she’d never experienced before in her life. An exhilarating thrill coursed through her body. She finally understood why naturalists and exhibitionists did what they do.
Her husband—she was still trying to get used to that—leaned back, propped himself up on his forearms.
She blew him a kiss, skipped down to the water and jumped in. After immersing herself a few times, she faced the shore. “You going to join me?”
“Sure thing, sugar.”
Moments later and naked himself, he joined her in the water. She swam away from him in a playful taunt, but to her surprise, he was a good swimmer and easily caught up to her. He did what she had wanted to do just minutes earlier—took her in his arms and clung to her. His cock stretched and hardened against her, stroking her skin. Dalton caught her mouth in another searing kiss.
She adored his strength, his intelligence, the easy-going way about him. Her soul sang in happiness with just a slight touch or look from him. She loved the whole man. Rachel never knew the emotion could be so deep, so strong.
“I want to have a family with you, Star, my love.”
Family? But what about my career? She stopped the train of thought. There was no career in psychology here and deep down she knew that wasn’t the true answer anyway. Their profound connection made her want his children, to honor him with sons, to delight him with daughters. “You know I want the same,” she replied, arching her body into his, molding her curves into his chiseled planes. She contacted his mouth with hers in a full on, heavy kiss and spread her legs, wrapped them around him.
Rachel slid her hands from his slick upper back, down to his ass and then up to his waist, taking his erection into her. Dalton cradled her butt in his hands, his arms supporting her body as she milked him. He stroked in and out of her pussy, growling low in his throat. The water sloshed around them, cocooning them in a warm sensual embrace, and the pond’s small waves lapped their shoulders.
Tingles raced through her body. He pumped his steely length in her pussy faster, harder. A gratifying throb beat in her hot core. She wanted more and bore down to meet his thrusts and keep him deep within her. The increasing drumbeat of her blooming orgasm strummed every nerve ending. Rachel strained against him, quivering with release. Her body shuddered as he tensed and called out her name. Shaky from his own unleashing of passion, he held her tight, buried his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder.
“God, I love you, Rae. I’m so happy you chose to live your life with me.”
“I love you, too, my darling.” She lowered her legs allowing him to slip out and feathered the touch of her hand over his chest. His heart beat rapidly beneath her fingers.
“Come.” Dalton took her hand and led her out of the water. “It’s time to get back to the house. I need to make the rounds and check that all is well, but in a couple of hours I’d like you to come down to the stables.”
“For my present?” Slipping on her dress as a means to dry off, Rachel smiled.
He nodded. “Yep. For your present and maybe even some more time together.” Dalton winked and kissed her forehead. “Come to me later.”
Come to me…
Nearby in the stables, the horses whinnied. Some dogs yipped as if to tell them to quiet down. The night wrapped her in a cool embrace. Chilled air graced her arms below the edges of her sleeves. Her bare feet crunched on twigs. Dried leaves scattered from the wind over the dirt path. It felt like an unseen hand held hers, that a palpable sixth sense led her along the way. The draw of the cemetery drew her closer and closer toward it. A light mist, glowing silver in the moonlight, surrounded the area and her.
Yes, come, a deep voice rolled in her mind. Come and say hello. The hand tightened, soft cold touches caressed her cheeks.
She easily navigated over rocks and around trees. The world appeared surreal, like the setting in a gothic film, where the moon was so bright it drowned out the light of the stars. Trees stretched scraggly branches up toward the sky. An animal—coyote, the voice informed—howled in the distance. The dream-like scene was eerie but not frightening.
Doesn’t seem as lucid as my others. What could Dalton be up to with me now?
The unseen force compelling her to the family plot directed her to the center of the gravesite. She knelt before the dark gray headstone that was busted in half. The words on it were worn and chipped away, undecipherable. The letters on the other stones near it were just as bad. A light gray one a few feet away, no matter how she clawed and scraped at it to see the name, wouldn’t come clean. Something deep within her had her yearning to see the name, the dates, and the phrase written underneath the main information. How could she figure out who was buried in the graves if she couldn’t read the markers?
Doesn’t matter, the voice stated with a snicker.
Doesn’t matter? Yeah, right. Quit messing with me Dalton.
She needed to know why she wanted to check out the place so bad. Why did she dream of it now? Her knees dug into the ground as, once more, she attempted to decipher the name on the tombstone. It would reveal a lot of information if she could just figure out…
A frigid touch on her shoulder startled her. She jumped to her feet and turned. “Dalton?”
He looked strange, pale, as if he suffered from being freezing cold. “What are you doing here?”
“I felt drawn to come here. I thought it was you pulling me. If not…” She glanced around. Shadows did a macabre dance over the gravesite. Her stomach roiled. “Then what are you doing here?”
“You don’t belong here.” He raised a shaky arm and pointed at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Why was he acting so weird? “Dalton? What’s going on? Are you all right?” She reached out and stepped toward him, but he backed away.
“You need to go.” His arm swung and aimed toward the way she came. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”
Puzzled, she tilted her head, tried to approach him again. “What do you mean? Talk to me, Dalton.”
He shook his head, his dark locks flapping against it, reminding her of a swimmer who’d just emerged from water and tossed their head back. “Your clothes are odd. You need to go.” He glanced over his shoulder then leveled her with an icy stare. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”
God, I’m getting nowhere with him. “Fine. I’ll go, but I expect you to explain yourself when you’re in a better mood.”
“You don’t know what you’ve done,” his tone was as frosty as his glare.
She shuffled out of the graveyard, sparing him a glance as she walked by. He didn’t move to touch her or to say a kind word. His demeanor was like the night air, arctic and biting.
Rachel blinked and the world around her shifted. For a brief moment her head swam with dizziness. Her vision cleared as if a thin, gauze-like veil had been lifted. She closed her eyes again, opened them and found herself on the path between the gravesite and the lodge, her bare feet irritated by the cold ground and craggy rocks.
What the hell? I wasn’t dreaming?
Hugging herself and rubbing her arms, she peeked over her shoulder. No one was in the cemetery. All she saw were the gnarled shadows created between the moonshine and trees—monster arms and claw-like shapes reminiscent of childhood nightmares. She bit off the urge to scream and ran toward the warmth of the building.
The slap of her feet on the hard dirt path kept time with her thoughts. Intense, lascivious dreams with a man whom she thought to be created by her imagination. Morbid curiosity with the family plot and graves. Sleepwalking.
“What the hell’s wrong with me?” She stopped and cried out. Her voice rang in the still, starless night. A puff of white air hung for a second in front of her face then dissipated. A ghost’s kiss? Startled, she breathed hard. The tiny cloud came and went. No. Not some apparition’s attempt to suck face. Just my warm breaths in the winter air.
And what was Dalton’s deal? Why’d he act like I had the plague? She thought back to his vacant stare, his gray-blue skin, his curt tone—all so different from the man who’d sung to her.
It was almost like he didn’t know me.
What did he mean when he insisted she’d done something wrong?
A cold blast of air gusted over Rachel, followed by a sinister laugh crowing in the darkness. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and a scream scrambled up her throat, but she didn’t let it out. Memories of what Miguel had told her in the truck came to the fore. Prankster. Causing trouble on the ranch. Poltergeist. Springing himself on the females. Mr. P. The trouble maker.
Her blood turned to ice. She ran again and her jog turned into a full out sprint. Forget the all consuming need to know about the dead people. She had to get inside and to the safety of her bed. Pronto.
