Who says you can’t turn fantasy into reality? Probably the same people who think the mother of the bride should be modest and demure…
Stand-up comedian Eliza Webber has been nurturing a forbidden fantasy she’s never mentioned to anyone. Good thing, too, since it would make her appear even more eccentric than her family already thinks she is. Her naughty daydreams involve frilly skirts, a decided lack of undergarments, and an Old West jailhouse. Oh yeah, and delectable Jacob Clarke, owner of Cowboy’s Hideaway, an Old West tourist attraction complete with a saloon, a brothel, and to Eliza’s delight, an authentic jailhouse.
When Eliza’s daughter announces she’s getting married at Cowboy’s Hideaway, Eliza is elated. She’s now closer than she’s ever been to making her dreams a reality, but how will she convince Jacob, the groom’s best man who also happens to be twelve years Eliza’s junior, to play big bad sheriff to her lawless madam?
And just how far is she willing to take the game when she learns “Sheriff Clarke” isn’t going to show “Madam Eliza” the slightest bit of mercy for her passionate crimes?
Read an Excerpt
…The safety of the inn fell away as soon as they stepped onto the dusty road. Tiny rocks grazed Eliza’s bare soles and lodged between her toes. She quickened her step, hoping to reach the sanctuary of the shadowed buildings before anyone spotted them.
They were halfway across when Jacob yanked her wrists, bringing her to an abrupt stop. His fingers delved into her hair. He gripped a handful, tilting her head back.
The sudden restraint sent a sharp jab of pain into Eliza’s scalp, but Jacob made no move to press his advantage. He was bigger, stronger. He could hurt her, but didn’t.
Excitement mingled with apprehension, pummeling Eliza’s ribcage with every rapid thump of her heart. Her gaze flew across the windows of the twin inns. Most were dark, but the weak glow of oil lamps spilled from within two of them into the dark Texas night. Anyone could be watching. One peek from behind the velvet curtains and she’d be spotted.
What would Marissa think? Or Gavin, or even Gemma, if they were to see her, naked and held captive in a younger man’s unforgiving grip?
She should have been embarrassed. She knew that logically, yet she couldn’t muster the emotion. She felt…wild. Incredibly, insanely wild. And horny beyond belief.
“Sheriff?” she asked in a small, breathless voice. “What do you plan to do with me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, the fingers of his free hand drifted from her neck down her chest. The caress was so light and soft that for a moment she wondered whether he touched her at all. She glanced down, saw her chest heave, her breasts tremble. Moonlight painted them a glimmering silver color, but the tips of her stiff nipples stood out in dark contrast.
“You’re mine, Eliza. Mine. And if I have to take you right here to prove it, then that’s what I’ll do.”
He’d dropped the accent. That was the first thing she noticed. The next were his fingertips, squeezing first one nipple, then the other.
She cleared her throat. “Madam Eliza, please.”
The game was fun. And she wasn’t ready to relinquish the persona yet. Madam Eliza was bold enough to fuck the lusty sheriff in the middle of the damn road if she pleased. Eliza Webber? Not so much.
“Ah, yes.” He scraped his cheek against hers, and the rough feel of his stubble shot a stream of wanton pleasure to her clit.
She wondered what it would feel like to have his face buried between her legs, his stubble scraping the inside of her thighs.
“Madam Eliza.” He pinched her left nipple, hard enough to make her cry out. “You can call me Master.”
“But Sheriff—”
She couldn’t have anticipated the smack. It came fast and hard, causing a sharp stinging sensation to blossom in her right breast. She glanced down, startled. He’d slapped her breast! And God, her pussy had unleashed another pulse of cream, quivering in wanton surrender.
“Master, though sir will do, too.” He grazed her earlobe with his teeth before whispering, “Because for tonight, that’s who I am. Y’er Master. I reckon you’ve given yourself to me to do with as I please, no?”
She nodded, her gaze still darting between the windows. “Yes, Master.”
He cupped her breast, letting the weight rest in his hand. “Will you run when I release you?”
She eyed the door to the inn, which stood less than ten feet away. She shook her head, boldly determined to tell the truth. “Not a chance.”
“Good.”
He loosened his grip. She brought her arms to the front of her body and rubbed aimlessly at one wrist, soothing the sore flesh where his fingers had dug into her skin.
“Now touch yourself for me.”
Eliza trembled. Her tongue snaked out to wet her suddenly parched lips. “Here?”
“Right here, madam.” She didn’t miss the way he uttered the false title, with a mixture of arousal and surly contempt. Right in character, just like she wanted.
She could have said no. Could have bolted for the inn door anyway, despite what she’d told him. But if she did that, Eliza had a feeling she’d never get a second chance with Jacob. And she’d wanted him too much for far too long to let something as silly as pride get in the way of being with the man of her dreams.
His arms came around her waist and he pulled her close, palms cupping both breasts. I’m here, his touch seemed to say. Now do it…