<div class="floatleft">(http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q15/doogieporker/94uqfb7x0ihp3724e256.jpg)</div><strong>Character: Desmond King<br/><br/>Location: Lola's Saloon - Upstairs Room<br/><br/>Time of day: Night <br/><br/>Tagging: Belladonna<br/></strong><br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=300351.msg14749935#msg14749935">Quote from: Nandy on 12-03-2019, 13:53:43</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"I have no plans on being saddled, though I could be persuaded into a ride."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Desmond grinned as she swung the door inward, and peered back at him with a coy smile. Never one to pass up an opportunity, either for business or pleasure, the man followed. Once inside, he closed the door after them, and set the bottle of scotch and his empty glass on a nearby dresser. He poured himself another glass, and sipped from it slowly, before setting it back down. He removed his hat, then his coat, hanging both on a chair near the bed, and turned, moving slowly through the darkness toward Belladonna.<br/><br/>"This is your home..." he said, his hands sliding to her hips and pulling her close once more. "And I would never take it from you."<br/><br/>He kissed her then, deeply, one hand rising to the back of her neck, the other sliding to the small of her back. She was small and delicate beneath his touch, almost fragile. She could break easily, if that's what he wanted, but Desmond was never one to destroy something that could prove valuable to him. Everything, and subsequently, everyone, had a purpose, a use, and only a fool would do dispose of something that he might one day need.<br/><br/>"But I want you..." he said, though it was unclear if he meant at that moment or something else. He slid his hands up the front of her dress, feeling the satin beneath his fingertips and the soft flesh beneath. It was all he could do to stop himself from ripping the dress from her body, shredding the fabric like some beast to get to the skin beneath. Instead, he slid his hands around behind her, his fingers working at loosening the draw strings that kept the garment tight to her bosom.<br/><br/>"Tell me your name..." he said, leaning in to kiss her once more. "What do the cowboys call you, sweetheart?"