He pushed against the back of her head, forcing her face down against the desk. He then came in from behind a little harder, rubbing the head of his cock against what must’ve been her sensitive spot. With each gentle stroke, she moaned something fierce. She bucked against him and just carried on like a wild woman in the middle of the prairie.
The new angle sent prickling sensations through his shaft. He whimpered like a newborn calf. Her pussy sucked at his dick as if that part of her body was deliberately trying to draw out his release drip by drip.
“Yep, sireee! After this, you’ll polish the pearl whenever you think of me.” He picked up speed and pounded inside her over and over again. “Hmm yeah. Here we go, honey. Hang on to the desk. An explosion is comin’!”
His release shot through his slit. He thumped inside her with recklessness, hammering with firm, solid thrusts. His body trembled and his cock jerked as he emptied a year’s worth of stored reserves into her quivering pussy.
Their ragged breaths found a matched tempo as beads of sweat dripped off his brow. Unable to help himself, Grant pushed one last time, hoping he could stay buried inside her until her pussy’s continual pulsing subsided.
“Don’t mind us, Marshal,” a raspy—and familiar—voice said.
“I ain’t minding ya a’tall, but if ya had any decency to ya, you’d turn tail and…” A recognizable woodsy scent filled the air. At the same time, he realized why the voice sounded so familiar. And that’s when another thought hit him, too. He only knew of one man who called prostitutes Calico Queens. “Jock Corrigan.”
His body slumped against Daisy’s. He scanned the area in front of him, on a frantic search for the fellow behind the voice.
“Hello, Grant.” A gun was cocked. “Frank Smith. Remember me?” Before Grant could reach for his weapon—not that he would’ve been able to secure a grip, since his hips were bare—a pistol’s muzzle mashed against his temple.
The jangle of spurs matching the slow gait of one recognizable cowboy alerted Grant to Jock’s whereabouts. He approached from the left. “Do the lady a favor and let her go ahead and leave, Grant.”
“We can’t do that, Jock,” Frank said. “We’ve got a few plans for this one. Remember?” A second later, he leaned close to Grant’s ear. “Pull on out, Grant. Keep the girl covered up so we don’t see anything we shouldn’t.”
Grant scanned the jail again, hoping he might spot a gun nearby. Nothing caught his attention. He backed away from Daisy and yanked her skirts over her hips, trying to keep her somewhat respectable. He owed her that much, since she’d given him a good bit of pleasure.
If it was a man’s time to pass in his chips, going out with a last fuck seemed right nice. At least he could go to the grave knowing he’d left a woman with a few lasting memories.
Twitching violently, Daisy nervously ran her flattened hands across her stomach. “You’re gonna kill me, too?”
“Lady, if I wanted you dead, there’d already be a couple of holes dug behind the jail.”
“Holes? You mean graves?” Grant perked right up. Straightening his spine, he glared at Jock. “Suppose you came here to finish the job ya didn’t get done right the first time?”
“Yep, siree,” Frank drawled, mimicking Grant. “We’ve already selected a tombstone and everything.”
“I didn’t once ask ya a question, Frank. I was a-lookin’ at Jock.”
“We share thoughts,” Frank said, taking a jab, since it was obvious Grant was still bitter over the joining of packs.
Jock held his arm out to Daisy. “Follow me, ma’am. You don’t need to see this.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms over her bosom.
“Hear that, Jock? The lady ain’t gonna leave.” Grant shimmied his shoulders. “I reckon I gave ya one of them there memorable experiences, huh, Daisy?” He sniffed as he buttoned his breeches. “I knew I had it in me. When my casket is open for a-viewin’ in the town’s center, ya tell all them whores about me. Will ya? Ya tell ’em, you hit pay dirt when ya spent a few hours with me.” He took a minute to decide between right and wrong. As much as he’d like for Daisy to stick around, he hated for the little thing to have to stand as a witness. It was hard to say how brutal his death might be, but knowing Frank Smith, it wouldn’t be a clean death. After some consideration, he added “Ya go on, woman. I don’t want these two bad men to splatter blood on your nice dress.”
Frank and Jock snorted at his comment. Jock rolled his eyes.
Daisy tilted her head and wagged her slender finger at Grant’s desk.
Grant stood a little taller and forced his shoulders back. He might have been a marked man, but he wasn’t going to meet his maker with his head down. No, siree. He’d leave this earth with his head held high.
Daisy’s lips twitched and her nostrils flared. She waved her hand at his desk once more.
Grant took a deep breath. Bless poor Daisy’s heart. God love her soul. She’d obviously fallen just head over heels in love with him after he’d given her the whole kit and caboodle. “I know, doll. If I had another day to live,
tomorrow I’d come back here and ogle that desk with the fondest of memories, too.” He forced a feigned smile. “You are welcome to come back here and re-miss anytime you—”
“Reminisce?” Jock asked, laughing.
“Ya shut your trap, Jock Corrigan! We ain’t friends no more. Ya done lost your right to correct my way of talkin’.” Grant turned to Daisy and took her hand in his. He took a calming breath and placed Daisy’s palm on his chest. “I leave ya with the sweetest of memories.”