Erotic Western Romance
Heat Level: 3 Word Count: 20, 610
Combat-wounded vet, Tyson Braxton, feels like half a man since losing his leg in Afghanistan. After returning to the family ranch, he wonders what any woman would see in him now. His scars and self-doubt run deep, and while feeling desperate, he hires a prostitute to ease his sexual tension.
Dacey Morgan has lived a life of horror since the age of seventeen when her pimp lured her into a life of prostitution and depravity. She wants out, but the last girl who tried to run ended up dead in a ditch. So, Dacey tries to do what she’s told—but she has one guilty pleasure, her two nights a week she gets to see Tyson.
Dacey longs for the day she’s free to love the man she’s falling for, but she knows that freedom will come at a cost.
* * *
Tyson slowly kneeled and took her hand in his, his touch gentle. “I know that we only have a business arrangement, Dacey, and I have no claim on you. That being said, despite the fact I use your services, I don’t like your job. I don’t like the thought of other men’s hands on you, or that you have to sleep with random strangers just to pay your bills. I once offered to help take care of you if you would just give up that lifestyle. Why won’t you let me?”
“I’m not a problem for you to solve, Tyson. My life may not be perfect, but it’s mine. My trailer isn’t much, but at least I own it. And my job may not be as glamorous as it looked on Pretty Woman, but I’m careful.”
His hand tightened on hers. “I don’t like it, but I know I can’t force you to quit. One day, you’ll decide you’re ready for a respectable life, a home, and a family. What are you going to do when that happens?”
She already wanted those things, desperately, but how was she supposed to get away from Carlos? She wasn’t as popular as the other girls, but she still brought him a steady income, and he wasn’t going to let her go anytime soon. He owned her, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. If she went to the police to turn him in, they’d just arrest her as well for prostitution. And she couldn’t let Tyson go after Carlos, not with his disability. He might act all big and tough, but she knew he was still recovering.
“No one’s going to want a washed-up whore, so I guess I never have to worry about that. Besides, I don’t think I can have children. Back when I first started working, Carlos took a few months to get my birth control lined up, and he didn’t always make the customers use a condom. I think I’d have gotten pregnant if it were a possibility.”
She’d gotten frequently tested during that period of her life, and she still went every month. Of course, she also made sure her customers used condoms and refused to service the ones who wouldn’t. It had been the cause of many fights between Carlos and her, but knowing she wasn’t doubling her chances of an STD was worth the beatings.
“You can’t save me, Ty,” she said softly. “I appreciate that you want to, really I do, but it’s too late for me. I’ve been working this job since I was seventeen. I’ve seen things and done things that I’m not proud of, but I’ve done whatever was necessary for me to survive. You think someone’s going to want a woman who’s been a whore for five years? Someone who never graduated high school? What’s my marketable skill, that I can make you come in less than a minute?”
He smiled a little at that. “I’m not sure I would consider that skill. I like it when things are dragged out for a while. The anticipation and incredible sensation of feeling you wrapped around my cock are even better than coming.”
“You get my point, though.”
Tyson caressed her cheek and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I will do whatever it takes to protect you, Dacey. Anything. If it hadn’t been for you, I probably would have blown my head off months ago. Knowing I’d get to see you twice a week has been the only thing keeping me going, and yeah, I know I pay for your time, but I also know that you enjoy being with me.”
She leaned into his touch. Just thinking about him ending his life was enough to make her cry, and for once she was thankful for her job. If she hadn’t been a prostitute, they never would have met. He’d gotten Carlos’s number from a friend and she’d just been lucky to be the girl her pimp sent out that night. Ty had made her life so much better, even if she didn’t get to spend much time with him. They’d laughed and talked, and just genuinely enjoyed one another’s company. He’d been so cute that first night, unsure of himself to the point of refusing to take off his pants. It had taken her weeks to get him to undress in front of her, and when he had, she’d taken the time to kiss all of his scars, including what remained of his left leg.
“You’ve made me whole again,” he said. “You never cared that I only have one leg now, or that I’ve had more holes in me than a pin cushion. My scars don’t disgust you, and I was finally able to see myself through your eyes and come to grips with the body I have now versus the one I had before the explosion.”
* * *
About Paige Warren:
Paige Warren spends her days weaving tales about alpha male cowboys and the women who love them. There's nothing hotter than a man in tight Wranglers and a pair of well-worn boots. You have to admit, there's something sexy about a man who knows how to use a rope!
A cat lover, she has more than one furbaby running around, keeping her company in the wee hours of the morning as she tries to find just the right way to say "His skin gleamed, the early morning rays caressing his sun bronzed flesh, as he studied her from beneath the brim of his Stetson." Or, you know, something similar.
When Paige isn't dolling out tons of affection on the furbabies, or slurping down a pot of coffee (Yes! A whole pot!) so she can get in her daily word count, she enjoys reading and watching movies - romances, usually.