Free Desire in Deadwood by Molly Ann Wishlade

His eyes were glued to her loose breasts. She took a deep breath and watched his face tighten at the movement.
    He grabbed for her left breast, squeezing hard enough that she cried out, looking down at his dark hand on her pale skin. She watched as he released his grip, only to pinch the tip between his work-roughened fingers. She caught her breath and tried to pull back but he didn’t loosen his hold. She cried out again as her nipple stretched, and he let go, only to switch to her other breast and start all over. He reached for her peak, and her stomach clenched in anticipation. When he rolled the sensitive skin she felt dampness between her thighs and drew in a shaky breath. She needed to keep her mind clear if she was going to get that gold for herself, but the sensations and sight of his strong fingers on her sensitive skin were driving her to distraction.
    She dropped to her knees at his feet and he released his hold on her upper arm to set a hand over the butt of the pistol. He didn’t trust her. That’s all right , she thought, since she wasn’t trustworthy. She ran a hand lightly over the bulge in his heavy, denim pants and he hissed and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it loose from the braid. She unbuttoned his pants then reached inside, closing her fingers around his cock. He moaned and she looked up, disappointed that she couldn’t see his face in the darkness. She tugged gently until his erection sprang free, then slid her hand slowly over the tip. He tightened his hand on the back of her head and pushed her forward, leaving no doubt what he wanted from her. She breathed out, making sure he would feel her warm breath before she extended her tongue and ran it up the bottom of his shaft, making him moan again. She closed her mouth over the head and began to suck, teasing his tip with her tongue, pumping one hand up and down the shaft, bracing the other against his thigh.
    He panted above her, and she could feel how tense his muscles were under her hand. Maybe this would be all it would take, if she could get him to come. She leant forwards, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, until the tip of his cock touched the back of her throat. She swallowed, once, twice, and he grabbed her hair with both hands, holding her head still and pounding down her throat once more as streams of semen shot against the back of her throat, making her gag. She blinked her watering eyes as he pulled free of her mouth, his ragged breathing loud.
    “You know how to suck a cock, Miss Bank Teller,” he said, still out of breath. “I wonder where you learnt such skills?”
    She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m a woman of many talents.” She got to her feet and tried to pull the tatters of the dress across her breasts, only to jump when he reached out and snagged her wrist.
    “Not so fast,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “What makes you think we’re finished here?”
    She raised an eyebrow and dropped her chin to look down at his cock, limp against his trousers.
    He laughed and pulled the fabric back to expose her breasts again. “Don’t you worry about that.” He cupped both her breasts in his hands, flicking his thumbs over the nipples, and she struggled not to lean into him. “You like that,” he said, his husky voice barely louder than a whisper. “Don’t you?”
    She took a deep breath to calm herself, which had the unintended side effect of pressing her breasts more firmly into his hands. Her teeth dug into her lip as she fought to stifle a moan. He leant down and ran his tongue over first one nipple, then the other.
    “It seems you’ve got some skills of your own,” she said, and, even to her own ears, her voice sounded breathy.
    He chuckled, a warm sound that went straight to her core, his breath cooling her hot skin. Instead of answering, he closed his teeth over the nipple and she gasped, winding her hands into his hair and knocking his hat to the ground. He sucked