Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride (23 page)

“It’s Katie.” She lowered her mouth and licked the head of his penis, swirling her tongue around it as though it were an ice cream cone. She tasted a drop of salty moisture on the tip and smiled. “I think you’re almost ready.” She took his shaft in her mouth and cradled his balls with one hand. He groaned and his muscles tensed. She worked her mouth up and down in a steady rhythm until she sensed he was near the edge. Then abruptly she released him and sat up.

A moan of frustration escaped his lips. ”What are you doing to me, woman?”

Taking his cock in her hand again, she straddled his hips and leaned down so she could pull it into the deep vee formed by her swollen breasts. “I told you, I want to see. I want to look at that beautiful seed that filled my breasts with milk and my belly with a baby.”

Steve let out a guttural moan and tangled his hands in her hair as she stroked him, steadily increasing both the pressure and the pace. Within moments he came, and came, and came, his release seemingly endless. “Oh yes,” she whispered, “you still want me.”

“Like I want to breathe air.” He pulled her up so her head rested on his chest, just below his chin. “You make me feel eighteen again.”

Kathryn cuddled tighter against him. “A few months ago I was resigned to living like a nun. I even thought I wanted it that way. Then you came along and made me feel like a woman again and wouldn’t let me shut you out. I know we’re about more than sex, but I’m glad the sex is so good.”

He stroked her hair. “You took care of me so well I’m not good for anything. I owe you an orgasm.”

“You sure do, bud. And I’m a ruthless businesswoman. I intend to collect in the morning, with interest. Compound interest.”

“At an illegally high rate, I hope.” A satisfied sleepiness crept into his voice. “Plenty... time... in morning...”

Yes, they had plenty of time. Time for her to be his wife and his mistress, his Madonna and his whore, to indulge her inner good girl and her inner slut. “All the time in the world,” she agreed, brushing his sleeping forehead with a kiss.

Thanks for reading
Confessions of the World’s Oldest Shotgun Bride.
I hope you enjoyed it!

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Clichés become clichés for a reason, and yes, it takes a village to raise an author. Though many people helped me make this book a reality, I owe special thanks to Kate Parker, Peggy Parsons, and Robin Kaye, my critique partners while I wrote the first draft; my agent Jill Marsal and my “sister” Jennifer L. Hart for their editorial assistance during revisions; my copy editor Alicia Street; and my cover designer Kim Killion. In addition, this book would never have happened without the emotional support of Liane Gentry Skye, Saranna DeWylde, and my family.

Before becoming a writer, 2013 Golden Heart ® finalist Gail Hart spent a few years as an Air Force JAG and then settled in as a lawyer and manager for the Federal government. Despite what opposing counsel sometimes said about her briefs, she didn’t write any fiction until later in her career. She must have been destined to be a romance writer, though, because even the law review article she wrote had “sex” in the title. She spent most of her life on the east coast but now lives in San Antonio, where she doesn’t miss the cold.
Confessions of the World’s Oldest Shotgun Bride
is her debut novel.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Gail D. Reinhart

All rights reserved.

Cover design by
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Formatted by
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