Jack Marston is at a low point in his life. His family is dead, Beecher's Hope is in ruins, and he has nothing left to live for. Most days he spends so drunk he can barely remember anything, he kills and robs people at will, and there isn't an ounce...
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When Eva awoke the next morning, she had difficulty remembering where she was. Waking up in silent darkness was a welcome change, and she snuggled beneath the blankets of the bed she lay in, warm and alone for the first time in months.
Usually, she slept in the same bed as Mario. He claimed it made her less likely to run away, not that she'd have tried that. He'd likely have killed her if she ever ran away. As it was, he liked to beat her even when he was in a good mood. So where was she today?
Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the previous day's events, and that she was now the property of a man named Jack Marston, who seemed barely older than her nineteen years, but whose presence commanded respect, and who scared her more than Mario in some ways.
Her eyes faced the wall, and so she rolled over quietly to face him. He slept on the floor, his eyes shut gently and his mouth slightly askew as he dreamed.
Eva knew of his father, John. All of Mexico did. He was legendary to them, after all, for his deeds during the war and for how the Americans had killed him after. Was that why Jack Marston looked so sad and angry when his face was not relaxed in the pleasant embrace of sleep?
She could barely remember her own parents. They had been poor peasants from the Yucatan who had fallen on hard times when she was very small. Eva had a great many brothers and sisters, and when a great famine swept through the land, her mother had taken her to the local market and sold her to the highest bidder in order to buy food for her remaining children. It was so long ago Eva could not even remember her parents' faces or the names of her siblings, but she remembered the men who'd bought her and what they'd done to her after.
She'd changed hands many times throughout the years. Some men she remembered more than others, and sadly enough, Mario was not the worst of them. Her bondage had taught her two things: to lie and to fuck. Lying, especially, was a skill she honed until it was a sharp blade she could use to get her way.
Yes, Señor. This is the largest and most exquisite cock I've ever seen in my entire life! No, Señor, no one has ever touched me quite as nicely as you.
The lies helped her survive. Helped her earn money for men like Mario, who rented her out like livestock. The knowledge of how to lie and how to fuck had kept her alive this time. They might just help her escape this Jack Marston man when he grew tired of playing the roll of her savior and decided he'd rather fuck her instead.
She continued to watch him sleep, his tired eyes fluttering as he dreamed. "Mom," he said in a voice so loud and clear she wondered if he was awake until she saw his chest rise and fall deeply. He was dreaming, then. "Mom," he repeated, breathing deeply once, twice, three times, and then his eyes flitted open.
Eva closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, but she kept one just open enough to watch him, too afraid to let him out of her sight.
"I know you aren't asleep," he said at last, turning his head to look at her. "Your snoring kept me awake last night. Did you know you snore?"
