Bride Gone Bad (11 page)

Tempest sighed in Lucky's arms, snuggling against his chest.

“Was that wonderful feeling . . . normal?”

He chuckled. “You like my touch?”

She nodded, inhaling his scent of sage, leather, and citrus. “But what about you?”

“This isn't about me.”

She raised her head to look into eyes that reflected firelight as if he burned inside. “I'm not completely naive.”

“Not anymore.”

She drew circles on his chest with one fingertip, relishing being able to intimately touch him. “Your skin is so smooth.” She leaned forward and stroked the tip of her tongue across one nipple and then the other. When she felt him shudder in response, she grew bolder. She licked his nipple and felt it tighten into a taut peak, so she nipped the other and felt him move restlessly against her.

“Does that hurt?”

“Not there.”

“Do you believe what's good for the goose is good for the gander?”

“Are you volunteering?”

“I'd like to touch you, too.”

She felt him spear fingers into her hair, pulling loose her chignon and letting her long hair tumble down around them. When he crushed her lips in a hard kiss, she reached up and twined her hands in his thick hair, desperately wanting more of him. She was starved for what he had to offer. Perhaps it was the aftermath of seeing the ghost or being susceptible to his looks and charm. She didn't care. She'd waited so long for a man to love her, or at least make love to her, that she couldn't resist anything he had to offer.

When he bit her lower lip and sucked on it, she squirmed in his lap, feeling the ridge of his hard shaft excite her all over again. She reached down and pushed her hand between them so that she could feel, hold, and rub his long length through the fabric of his blue jeans.

Lucky raised his head. “You're playing with fire.”

“Can't I do for you what you did for me?”

She scooted back and fumbled with the first button. When she got it unbuttoned, she glanced up at him.

He smiled, then leaned back and braced his hands on the blanket and stretched out his legs under her. “I'm all yours.”

At his words, she felt free to pleasure him. She popped one button after another until his shaft sprang free. She looked in amazement at the long, thick, dark shape. She touched the glistening end with one fingertip.

He tensed and groaned, pushing up toward her.

She jerked back her hand. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“If you don't touch me, you hurt me.” He reached forward, took her hand, and wrapped it around his shaft. “That feels good.”

She squeezed and stroked his smooth skin. “Like that?”

“We can do better.” He patted her butt. “Move up on your knees.”

When she straddled him on her knees, she looked to him for more instruction.

“Now wet your hand between your thighs and use your moisture to stroke me.”

“Oh. I'm not sure if—”

“You can do it.”

She pulled up her drawers, reached under, and stroked her hot, moist, achy center, remembering how he had touched her there.

“That's right.”

She glanced up to see him watching her with fever in his eyes.

“Use your fingers. Go deeper.”

She felt her soft, swollen folds give way to more heat, more moisture as she held his gaze.

He smiled, flashing his dimple. “You want me?”

She nodded, withdrawing her hand and clasping his rigid shaft, spreading her moisture up and down the length of him.

“Like this.” He leaned forward, clasped her hand, and taught her the rhythm, stroking up and down, faster and harder.

When he leaned back, closing his eyes, she continued the movements, reveling in the feel of him, her power to please him, and the intimacy. He groaned, pushed hard against her, and spurted into her hand, blending their essences.

He pressed a kiss to her lips, picked up a handkerchief, and handed it to her.

She wiped off her hand, almost reluctant to lose that part of him, and set the handkerchief aside. “I had no idea there could be so much variety. I'd only heard about the missionary position and how women were simply meant to endure.”

He chuckled. “I can make that position pleasurable, too.”

“Are you going to prove it?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want very much to prove it.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

She shivered with anticipation, part fear, part excitement, part worry, but then remembered the danger of pregnancy. She couldn't risk bringing a child into the world without a husband and father to help. She sighed.

“What is it?”

“We can't risk making a baby.”

“There are ways around it.”

“Really?”

“Have you heard of a French cap?”

“No.”

“It covers a man's shaft like a glove.”

“And you have such a device?”

“Always. Just in case.”

“Like your .44? Just in case.”

“A man should always be prepared to protect his ladylove.”

She felt a sudden longing in her heart. “Am I your ladylove?”

“Would you like to be?”

“Yes, I think so.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You are my ladylove. And I treasure you.”

She felt an expansive blossoming in her heart. Not love, of course. A woman would have to be a fool to fall in love with a heartbreaker like him. But she felt a great kindness and appreciation toward him. He knew the worst about her, but he still liked her. That alone was a great gift.

When he reached for the waistband of her drawers, she allowed him to untie the bow, although she shivered at the thought of being completely naked.

“Please stand up for me.”

When she stood, her drawers slipped down her legs to pool at her feet.

He simply looked at her for a long time, not saying anything.

But she knew he liked what he saw because his shaft grew hard again, and poked out of his blue jeans.

“You're completely beautiful,” he finally said. “When we find that artist, I'd like him to paint you in the nude.”

She gasped in shock.

“It'd be just for me. And you. Nobody else would ever see it.”

“What about the artist?”

“Artists are used to seeing nude bodies. It'd mean nothing more than painting a still life like a bowl of fruit.”

“I hardly think being compared to fruit is a compliment.”

He chuckled, glancing down. “You can compare me to a banana.”

She couldn't keep from laughing at him. “Fine. He can paint all the bananas and peaches he likes.”

“What if I was in the painting with you?”

“Naked?”

He stood up, shucked down his blue jeans, and stepped out of them. “Like this.”

She inhaled sharply at the beauty of him. “That's a different matter.”

“Is it?”

He stalked over to her, ran his hands up and down her back, then clasped her butt and pulled her against him, wedging his cock between her legs. He began a slow dance, in and out, as he pressed his mouth to hers and repeated the dance with his tongue.

She clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into the strong muscles of his shoulders as she rode him, clenched him, rubbed him, unable to get intimate enough to ease the burning that was building inside her. She felt him dig his fingertips into her butt. He held her tight as he pumped faster between her legs while she clung to him, writhing and straining and moaning.

He groaned louder and thrust harder as she hung on tight, struggling to reach that peak of exultation. When he called her name and shuddered, she was cast free of her earthly bonds. They reached the heights of their fiery pinnacle together.

As she plummeted back to reality, she would have fallen if he hadn't been holding her. She'd never felt so weak and yet so satisfied. When he eased her to the blanket and sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close, she sighed in contentment.

He tilted up her chin and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “And that is what it means to be a man's ladylove.”

Lucky wished he wasn't short on time. He wanted to savor Tempest. Even more, he wanted to give her the opportunity to blossom like a flower bud slowly opening to sunlight. But he didn't have that luxury.

She was more delectable and passionate than he'd dared to hope even in his wildest dreams. Now that they'd tasted each other, touched each other, and shared ecstasy together, he wanted more. She reminded him of a seductive New Orleans courtesan, only innocent of that world.

Yet he had to pace them both. Bodies had limits, no matter that minds had none unless forced into a cage. Sensibilities had limits, too. He didn't want to push Tempest too far too fast, but he would do what he had to do to keep her safe.

She shivered in his arms, so he pulled her closer. Men ran hotter than women, so he was often surprised when ladies grew cold even on a warm day. Now night had fallen and cast a chill in the air.

He picked up his shirt. “Why don't you put this on?”

She sat up, hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes sleepy. “You can keep me warm.”

He smiled as he held out the shirt, going against every instinct and desire to keep her completely naked. “Later I'll warm you again. Right now, let's get something to eat.”

When she slipped one hand into a sleeve and then the other, he tugged his shirt up onto her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She pulled his shirt around her body, making it look better than it ever had on him.

While she rummaged in her saddlebags for food, he found the crumpled napkins and set out the canteens.

“Wish we had more of Mama Lou's food, but this will have to do.” She placed jerky, cheese, and crackers on the blanket.

“Looks good to me.”

She glanced at him with a mischievous twinkle in her violet eyes. “Are you going to feed me?”

He chuckled, feeling pleased that she was taking the initiative. “What about me? Don't I get fed?”

“Big strong man like you?”

“I'm feeling weak after my exertions.”

“In that case, I better feed you so you can get your strength back. I'm thinking I'll need more ladylove instructions soon.”

“Happy to give those.”

She scooted near him, tore off a bit of cheese, and held it up.

He leaned toward her, opened his mouth, let her insert the cheese, but he held it between his teeth. He clasped the back of her head and pulled her face toward him. For a moment she appeared puzzled, but then she pressed her lips to his mouth and let him feed her the cheese.

As she chewed and swallowed, she smiled. “You're bad.”

“I thought you wanted me to feed you. Isn't that what you meant?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you liked it?”

She shrugged, glancing away.

“Erotic?”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “I just wonder what all you can think to do with my mouth.”

“I've got lots of ideas. Want to find out?”

She blushed, shaking her head.

“Does that mean yes?”

“Right now my mouth is doing nothing but eating supper.” She put a piece of cheese on a cracker and popped it in her mouth.

He chuckled as he bit into jerky and realized how hungry he was. It'd been a long day on the trail without much food. Muffins didn't stick to the ribs, no matter how tasty. Bed sport could take it out of a man, too.

As they ate, he listened to the fire crackle and pop, a cozy sound in a night quiet of human sounds, but loud with the singing of frogs, buzzing of insects, rustling of critters, and punctuated by an occasional chorus of coyote howls and the hoot of an owl. All the while, he kept an ear out for men. He didn't expect intruders, but he'd learned to be cautious.

When he'd finished eating, he drank the last of the water in his canteen and set it aside. He watched as she tucked the remaining food in her saddlebag, and then smiled at him.

She yawned, delicately covering her mouth with her palm, and then lay down on the blanket. She held out her hand. “Join me?”

Nothing was better than snuggling with a warm, willing woman. And she wasn't just any woman. She was his ladylove. Yet he wished again that the Moon Rattler had waited to make her intrusion into their lives.

He lay down beside Tempest, raising her hand and placing a kiss on her soft palm. She stretched like a contented kitten and regarded him with heavy-lidded violet eyes. He pushed her flaxen hair back from her face, traced the whorls of her ear, and continued down her jawline to her full lips. She pressed a kiss to his fingertip, and then drew his finger into her mouth, sucking and licking until his cock responded, growing hard, hot, and heavy. He wanted her all over again.

While she laved his finger, he pushed open the shirt with his other hand to reveal her round breasts, tawny in the firelight with rosy, taut tips. He cupped one breast, massaged the soft flesh until she moaned, and then rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. When she groaned and rolled toward him, he cupped both breasts and squeezed until she reached up to draw him down.

“No,” he said in a voice husky with desire. He quickly captured her wrists in one hand, raised them above her head, jerked up the shirt, and tied her hands together. He smiled down at her surprised look.

“Trust me?”

She nodded.

“Don't move.”

She nodded again.

He feasted his eyes on her, spread out before him like a banquet. If he'd been hungry before, now he was starving, but only for her. He kissed the tip of each breast and then moved lower, branding her as he went down her soft skin to her navel. He licked and nibbled until she moaned, wiggling her butt. He tapped her stomach with his fingertips, hard enough to remind her not to move. She stilled under his touch.

All of that was a prelude to where he really wanted to be. He placed his palm over her triangle of curls and heard her quick intake of breath. He massaged there, fingers exploring downward to her cleft, sinking into the hot, wet folds. She moaned, tossed her head, but otherwise remained still.

He parted her thighs to reveal the heart of her, glistening in the firelight, and pushed her legs up so that her feet were flat on the ground. And then he knelt before her, as if in worship, clasped her butt with both hands, and raised her so that he could feast.

With his first lick, she shivered and moaned, and he felt like joining her. She tasted like intoxicating wine, the type that went straight to a man's head. He wanted to bury his cock in her, but instead he used his tongue. He plied her sensitive flesh and taut nub with a finesse born of experience, teasing and tormenting until she writhed up against him.

“Lucky, please . . . I can't take much more.”

He quickly brought her to the edge, held her there a moment, and then pushed her over so that she cried out his name in pleasure.

He untied her hands, tossed the shirt aside, and drew her into his arms. He held her tightly against his chest, feeling her heart beat fast and strong as she snuggled to him. He pushed back her damp hair and kissed her forehead.

She looked up at his face. “Ladylove sounds so prim and proper.”

He nodded.

“What you're doing to me is anything but that. If you hadn't driven me so far out of my mind, I might be shocked.”

He watched her glance down at his rigid prick, then back up at his face. If he'd been in need before, now he was so hard he wasn't sure if he could ever walk again.

“And women do that to men?”

“Yes.”

“Not all women?”

“No.”

“Do you think I'm that kind of woman?”

He was hoping like hell she was exactly that kind of woman, but he didn't say it. “In time, perhaps.”

When she clasped his shaft, he covered her hand and squeezed, stroking up and down. “That'll do, too.”

“I'm not so sure.” She pushed his hand away.

He watched her lean over, covering his lap with her long, flaxen hair. When he felt her tongue touch his prick, he groaned. She sucked the tip into her mouth, clasped his shaft, stroked up and down several times, and he was already there. He clasped her head as he pushed hard into her mouth and spurted his seed, giving her everything he had to give.

She raised her head, looking at him in astonishment with wide violet eyes. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

He caught his breath. How would she react? Too much too soon? Too crude for a lady. Or just right?

She smiled, holding his gaze, and swallowed.

A vast sense of relief washed over him. She hadn't rejected him, or his actions. Even more, his seed was inside her. As part of a binding, it was powerful and potent. She'd done exactly what she'd needed to do. But he was also mindful of her delicate sensibilities.

“I wish I could offer you wine or whiskey. But water will have to do.” He picked up his canteen, but it felt light enough to be empty. He shook the container. Nothing sloshed inside.

“Mine's empty, too.” She held up her canteen.

“I'll go down to the creek and refill them.” When he took her canteen, their fingers touched and he felt a powerful jolt of awareness.

“Thanks.”

He headed for the stream, but he wouldn't hurry. They ought to have a little time apart. She needed to adjust to her new experiences. For his part, he needed to figure out how to explain the unexplainable. At least she saw ghosts, so she already had one foot in his camp.

When he reached the creek, he refilled the canteens, and then he stepped into cool water. It helped to clear his head. He walked to the pool and sat down. He wasn't concerned about snakes or other critters. He figured nothing would've stayed around long after Moon Rattler's visitation, but he didn't much care anyway. As he set the canteens aside, he noticed Tempest's soap was still on the blanket. He could use a bath. He quickly lathered and washed all over, wondering how she'd like his new violet scent.

He didn't want to be separated from her too long. She'd wonder and she'd worry. He wasn't done, either. He needed to complete the initiation. He owed it to her. But he wanted her, too. His cock wouldn't be satisfied until buried deep inside her. At least the cool water gave him some momentary relief.

When it was about time to leave, he heard the jingle of harness and the sound of male voices. He froze. What was somebody doing out here? This was way off the beaten track.

He leaped out of the pool, grabbed the canteens and the blanket, and knelt behind the woodpile. He kept hold of the bar of soap, not about to leave a dead giveaway like it or the blanket behind where anybody could find them. He cursed himself for not being more cautious. He didn't even have his six-shooter. But Tempest had clouded his mind.

If he moved, he might be seen, but Tempest was defenseless. She wouldn't know they had intruders. He wished he'd already taught her how to use her revolver. Worst of all, she was by the campfire. It had burned low, but its light might still give away her position.

As the strangers came closer, Lucky heard the rumble of a wagon, probably drawn by mules. That was odder than men on horseback. But it'd also cover any sound he made.

He sprinted for their camp.