Taming The Temptress

By Shawna Moore

When a saloon siren, Lorelei Pettigrew, crosses paths with the latest handsome man to arrive in Tombstone, her passion knows no boundaries. James Melton, a newspaperman from New York, ventures to this sinful silver town looking for a story but finds romance and redemption instead. When Lorelei's life is threatened, James vows to protect the spirited temptress and deliver her from harm. He's always preferred dalliances to husbandly duty, but after a short time in Lorelei's company, James's mind and life change forever. He proposes marriage, but her former lover proposes death for any man who steals his woman. The two men square off. When the dust clears, one is heading to the gallows while the other is heading to the altar. Filled with unbridled trysts, bawdy brothel characters, and more grit than could be culled from the streets of any boomtown, TAMING THE TEMPTRESS keeps tensions high and drawers down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: Jun 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781682999738

Book preview

Chapter 1

Tombstone, 1882

James Melton’s eyes burned and watered, and the sights unfolding before him made them even sorer. After a couple days in this godforsaken hellhole, his tiny hovel in Manhattan would seem like a palace. All the silver in the mines couldn’t persuade him to stay here in Tombstone, but the lovely lady in the lacy drawers could make him reconsider.

That vixen would make the perfect Valentine come two weeks from now.

There were gamblers and gaiety seekers everywhere the eyes glanced. The sharp crack of the wooden cue meeting the billiard ball rose above the lusty guffaws of the saloon crowd.

No wonder no one in Manhattan believed what his colleague Maynard had written. Even in the ten years he’d served as a reporter for The New York Times, never had such a spectacle gripped his gut and in such a manner. Maynard lasted two days, but he’d last longer, especially if there were wild women around like the one dead ahead.

A buxom woman, honey hair falling over her face in wild waves, leaned over the table to measure her next move. From behind, a grinning outlaw angled his cue stick above her backside. So lush and rounded. Meant for a man’s touch and attention. More tempting than a hot buttered muffin on the breakfast table.

The shooting end of the stranger’s stick slipped along her lower spine and dipped at reaching the delightful cleft. A cleft into which any lucky man’s fingers would love to poke. Slowly, the unshaven rogue drew back his arm and nudged the tip further into the forbidden crevice.

Unflinching at this invasion of her private spot, the lovely woman continued her play. Her left thumb played along the top of the slender polished stick, while her right elbow poked into the air.

Seven, she said, and a thrust of her arm sent the stick forward.

Wood met with ivory. The cue ball struck her intended target, then wobbled and veered off path, rolling along the left rail. A stream of profanities harsh enough to peel the felt from the table poured from her pink lips. With a soft click, white met black. She tilted her head, her mouth forming a delightful O. The ebony ball meandered along the rail, caressing the wood before sinking into the tray beneath the table.

Her right foot impacted with the floor. Who would she pleasure next? What man would share her bed and rest his weary head against her full breasts?

From behind, the Colt-wearing lout cupped her right buttock. A becoming flush tinged her chiseled cheeks, but she didn’t bother to straighten her stance. Instead, she jerked the stick back and jabbed the blunt end into the gut of her attacker. His breath rushed out, along with several choice words for the woman he clearly wanted.

You filthy bitch. I’ll beat you bloody and tie you to my horse for such a trick.

The golden-haired woman wheeled on the bearded bully, her blue eyes blazing. You’re a horse’s ass, Buck Latimer. A man not fit to share the company of civil folk.

Carious teeth clenched beneath his bushy black moustache. And you’re civil? Nothing but a big titted bedwarmer. He swiped a meaty fist across the midnight whiskers on his cheek. You climb into that op’ry box. I’ll tend to you in a bit. Either that, or I’ll take you here and now on this table. Your ass won’t bruise, lessen I want it to.

You can stick your own self tonight. Her breasts rose and fell faster with each word spoken. Better yet, why don’t you have a go at that horse of yours you talk about all the time?

A snarl snaked across Buck’s thin lips. He fitted his hand over her right breast and squeezed. Pink skin peeked from above the white cotton lace that capped the black corset. Underneath the man’s dirty hand, an interesting curly pattern in gold floss trailed toward her belly. Despite her slender waist, whalebone stays hugged along her sides. Buck laughed and bounced the heaving breast as though trying to determine its weight. James trained his gaze above the brawler’s hairy forefinger. Was that a nipple?

Another man of similar ilk, and broad as a pickle barrel, sidled over to the pair and fondled her crotch. Spittle tracked into the corner of the man’s mouth as he licked his lips.

A slight pivot of her tiny bare feet allowed the desert beauty more space between herself and the aroused men. When her knee met with the bulging crotch of the bigger man, his body toppled and thumped against the dirt flooring.

Buck’s sneer trembled, and he pinned her against the pool table. I’m going to make you eat those words now, Lorelei Pettigrew. You can have my cock later. Prepare to kiss every one of my five fingers as they hit your lying lips. Just don’t choke on your teeth. He glanced around the room, his grin widening. Now you won’t be able to bite me again.

She slapped at his face, changing his smile into a grimace. Stay away from me...tonight and forever.

Oh, that’s what you want? Well forget it, whore. I’ll take you whenever and wherever I please. For nothing. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you live to see another day. But you’ve never been lucky in your life.

Together, they tumbled onto the billiards table. The remaining balls rolled in every direction. With a howl, the man named Buck yanked her corset and pink nipples peeped above the bodice.

Open up those legs, Lorelei.

James clenched and unclenched his fingers. He narrowed the distance between himself and the tussling pair. Stay calm. Keep your wits about you. Such treacherous territory. He’d parlay a story out of this somehow. No. Forget the damned story for now. A woman’s life was in danger from that drunkard.

Less than a foot from the table’s edge, James stopped. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

An old-timer’s knife paused mid-whittle. A fiery-haired whore’s mouth popped as she pried it from her lover’s hardness.

The moment of questionable passion interrupted, Buck raised his head and upper body. Care to say that again, bastard?

With Buck’s weight lifted from her body, Lorelei scudded backwards across the table like a crab in the sand. James pushed the pool cue in her direction, and she snatched it up, brandishing the stick in front of herself.

Let her alone. James moved closer, and the stench of stale whiskey and tobacco swirled underneath his nostrils. She doesn’t want your attentions.

Buck heaved his half drunken body from the table and squared off with him. Who in the hell are you, and what are you doing at The Whippoorwill?

Why should he provide a proper introduction or bestow any courtesies? Lorelei canted her head in his direction. Well, at least he could do it for her sake.

James Melton. I’m here from New York on newspaper business.

So, story-tellin’s your game? Latimer spat. To Hell with that. We’ll play one of mine right about now.

One of Buck’s gang whistled, and the shrillness ricocheted off the walls. Whores streamed from several rooms, their naked bodies drawing hungry stares. Today, he wouldn’t waste time staring at their filthiness. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to regard the woman named Lorelei. Like a child, she gnawed one knuckle while clutching the cue stick. Only the beauty with the hair appearing soft as corn silk attracted his attention this evening. He had to get her out of Tombstone, or at least out of this saloon, before Buck made good on his threat.

* * * *

One leg followed the other as Lorelei climbed down from the table. Warmth pooled between her legs. Another reporter all the way from New York. What did he want? A hot hole to warm his cold cock? A pair of lips to tease the pouch between his legs? Or just another story like the last one?

She combed a few curls away from her cheek. Damn that no good Tom for deserting her almost two years ago. She was stuck here, whoring to make enough for a lousy room and bit of food. Couldn’t go back to Texas. The Laredo sheriff and Mrs. Bealls made sure of that.

From the pocket of his duster coat, Buck’s greasy hand pulled a faded bandanna. Lorelei trailed her toe over a patch of dirt flooring near the wall. Last week, Muley Hawkins was shot dead on this very spot. A slight burgundy stain remained, and she scuffed it away.

Buck approached the reporter. Let’s see how fast you can draw.

Not today. Another day, I might be tempted. James Melton shot her a sideways glance.

He looked more like a dandy than a dueler. Could he really shoot that well, or was he bluffing? Hopefully not, because Buck’s draw was quicker than a lash of lightening across the summer sky. Lucky for this stranger, his aim was sometimes off. Lorelei closed her eyes and said a prayer. For a night in James’ arms, she’d do most anything. It was only fitting to go all out for the man who’d defended her honor.

Lorelei, get Tyler’s revolver. It’s as straight shootin’ as any. Buck licked his lips and swiped the bandanna over his whiskers. Was jealousy, or plain craziness at the root of his game? We’ll see if fancy pants here can shoot as fast as he talks. I’ll whip his ass and tend to yours later. Takin’ up for a dirty whore. Some men aren’t fit to live.

Some men need to be taught how to treat a lady. James’s brown eyes narrowed.

And you’re fit to do the teachin’?

That’s what we’re about to find out, hmmm?

An uncommon shroud of silence settled over the room. Might as well give him something for good luck. Lorelei retrieved Tyler’s gun and placed a kiss upon James’s smooth cheek. His gaze remained fixed on Buck. His right fist opened and his fingers brushed against hers. After only a moment’s contact with his flesh, her fingers tingled like never before. Her loins ached, and she squeezed her legs together. From all appearances, James was a man who’d treat a woman right in bed.

How would he touch a woman? Would he stroke her until she screamed, or plunge his entire fist or cock into her heat?

He reached into his coat and pulled out his own weapon. "Not necessary. I