My Darling Gunslinger by Lynne Barron

Author:Lynne Barron [Barron, Lynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Lynne Barron
Published: 2016-06-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

In the circle of life endings and beginnings are one and the same.

Ken Chang

Dawn on the Zeppelin Ranch came early.

A fact Charlotte appreciated as she sat in Uncle Jasper’s rocking chair, muted lavender light washing the hills to the east, slowly crawling along the long dirt drive.

Tyler Morgan had disappeared down that dusty lane only minutes after he’d turned on his heel and left her spluttering in indignant shock in the study.

As she’d watched him ride away, shock had given way to rage.

Rage had seen her through most of the night as she’d paced through the empty first floor of the house, her mind fruitlessly calling forth the words she should have hurled at his retreating back, five and six and seven syllable words he wouldn’t have understood, all strung together to put the arrogant lout in his place.

She’d welcomed the rage, taken refuge in the fury that heated her blood, and found an odd sort of satisfaction as anger shielded her from delving too deeply into her heart.

Perhaps if she hadn’t sought the fresh air and wide starlit sky in the waning hours of the night, her rage might have kept her company until the sun was high overhead.

Alas, she had sought the open sky, the solace to be found in the sight of the mountains, little more than a tall shadow soaring in the distance.

Her anger had slowly diminished until it was as vague as the blurry line between mountain and sky. In its place Charlotte had known shame, piercing and sharp.

She’d bartered her body and what little remained of her virtue against a gun.

All she’d gotten was fucked.

She would do it again if given the chance.

Had Ty agreed to the bargain, she would have taken him into her mouth and into her body whenever and however he wanted. She would have bought his gun and his loyalty flat on her back, on her hands and knees, up against walls from Montana to Moscow

For Sebastian. To guard and protect her son she would trade more than her body. She would happily give away her last dollar, damn her soul to hell, place her mind into the hands of the most demented of doctors in the worst asylum, offer up her last breath.

Her shame was born of the desire that had lanced through her as she’d taken his hard shaft into her hand, as she’d sucked the fat head into her mouth and pulled him deep into her throat. Her hunger had grown with each gasping breath he drew, each raspy groan that fell from his lips, each jerk of his hips, until she’d been unraveled by dark need.

And when he’d ordered her onto her hands and knees, when he’d held her hips in his hard hands and thrust into her, filling her with his hard length, she’d had to fight to hold back a cry of pure carnal bliss.

Tyler Morgan thought her a whore. He hadn’t wanted to look upon her, to give her pleasure, to give her so much as one kiss, one gentle touch.

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