Heaven Sent (29 page)

He traced the edges of the circle surrounding the peak with his tongue, before popping the distended nipple in his mouth. He suckled gently, then with more force as her breathing quickened and she strained against him. He grasped her nipple gently with his teeth and then used his tongue to lash it back and forth. Her squirming reaction threatened her precarious perch and Henry Lee immediately released her breast and lowered himself to the ground.

He was full, hard, and ready and her wiggling bottom wasn't doing anything for his control. He brought his mouth to hers and rolled her on her back. Jerking her skirt up past her knees, he ran his hand slowly up her cotton stocking, finding the tender exposed flesh between her garter and her drawers. Hesitating there, to give her time to reconcile herself to his touch, he raised his head and gazed into her partially closed eyes.

"Open your mouth, Hannah," he whispered. "I want to kiss you with my tongue."

Her eyes widened in surprise, but Henry Lee saw the glaze of desire in them, and when she eagerly complied Henry Lee roughly thrust his tongue into the depths of her sweet mouth.

She tasted good. She tasted so good. Nothing that he had ever tasted was better than her. He never wanted to taste anything else. He explored deeper and deeper, tempting her throat, fencing with her tongue. She was like his whiskey, warm and smooth.

Whiskey!
His mind screamed at him. The whiskey must be burning up, either that or spoiling.

To hell with the whiskey!
he told himself angrily. He slid his hand up to the apex of her drawers covering her aching mound. She jerked spasmodically at his touch causing him to groan into her mouth.

You never let your whiskey ruin!
His mind kept admonishing him.

Forget the whiskey!
He fought back. Hannah opened her thighs to him and he could feel the heat and wetness through her drawers.

It's the wedding whiskey.
The voice got through. If he let the wedding whiskey ruin, it might ruin the marriage.

He told himself that it was superstitious nonsense, but he knew he didn't want the wedding whiskey to ruin. It was a symbol of too much.

With a groan of pure agony, Henry Lee pulled away from her. He stared down at her, she was flushed from her cheeks to her waist, her eyes were hooded and sleepy with desire. Her breathing was quick and short. His hand still covered her feminine mound and she was pulsing and hot against him. No man could leave a woman like this. It couldn't be done. You couldn't just roll off and walk away. It was impossible.

Henry Lee thrust himself away from her and lay beside her on his back, shading his eyes with his arm as he waited to get control of his breathing.

Hannah lay beside him, shuddering in desire. What had happened? Why had he stopped? Her whole body seemed to be throbbing and the ache between her legs had turned from pleasure to pain when he had taken his hand away. Instinctively she dropped her own hand to that boiling fire, but it was not the same. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she pulled her hand away, ashamed that she had touched herself.

Henry Lee saw the gesture and whiskey or no whiskey, he would not ignore her need. Turning back to her, he loosened the tie on her drawers and allowed his hand to explore the silky skin beneath. Setting his jaw firmly he determined to ignore the pounding hardness in his trousers. He wasn't about to make her his woman here on the ground, like an animal. But he knew a bit more than most men about a woman's pleasure and he wanted to give it to her.

"Easy, darlin'," he consoled in a whisper. "I'm going to make it fine, real fine. I'm going to soothe this yearning, I promise." He accented his words with tender kisses along her throat and strong skillful strokes of his hand.

"It's like a prairie fire," he whispered against her flesh. "You get ahead of it and start your own flame. When the two fires meet up, they consume each other."

His hand found the soft down covering of her womanhood and caressed it tenderly. He heard Hannah's gasp of desire and felt her pressing eagerly against his hand.

Finding the tiny nub that focused her pleasure, he flicked it leisurely and was rewarded with her cry of delight. Cupping his face in her hands, she pulled him to her. The kiss was neither tentative nor shy and Henry Lee heard only the roaring of his own blood in his ears as he struggled for control.

Hannah's body was about to go up in smoke. She could no longer tell where her flesh stopped and Henry Lee's began. Seeking the hidden wonders of his mouth, she pressed herself against him. She was so open, so empty and he could fill her, she wanted him to fill her.

The heel of his palm pressed with such wondrous effect against the treacherous slope that led to the valley of her womanhood. When his fingers reached that unexplored cavern, she cried out his name.

"Yes! Henry Lee! Oh Yes!" She arched her back instinctively and spread her thighs for him, begging for the consolation of his questing hand.

"That's right, Hannah," he whispered against her throat. "Open up for me and I'll give you a sweet cure for what is steaming inside you."

Gently suckling her hard, pointed nipple, his fingers teased the entrance to her woman-place and explored it without hesitation.

Pushing eagerly against the pressure of his hand, Hannah incoherently whined her need.

"You are so tight, Hannah," he whispered, his hot words burning the flesh of her breast. "So soft, so tight, oh, Hannah darlin', I'm going to make it real good for you."

As proof of his words he allowed one curious digit to delve inside as his thumb came up to tease the rigid little fuse that impudently peeked out of the curl-covered slope.

No longer able to embrace him, Hannah flung her hands to the ground, digging her nails deeply into the grass as if to anchor herself to the earth. Her head flailed back and forth as mindless, primitive whimpering escaped her lips.

She was trembling on the edge as he nipped the creamy flesh of her bosom and kissed the sting away.

A tremor began growing within her and Henry Lee, feeling it inside her, lavished his attention with renewed fervor.

"Feel me inside you, Hannah," he whispered hoarsely. "Feel me touching you, stroking you. Touch me back, Hannah. Squeeze my hand, yes, Hannah darlin', let me know you like it."

She exploded screaming his name as the muscles that surrounded his fingers contracted in ecstasy.

Henry Lee was watching her as she strained against him, her head thrown back in wanton pleasure. His own body ached with unassuaged need, but a smile of satisfaction spread across his face. He had never felt more a man.

As her passion eased, Henry Lee released her from his intimate caress. Clutching her damp womanly pelt possessively, he was hesitant to relinquish his claim. He pulled her tenderly into his embrace, nuzzling her neck, as he ignored the rock-hard evidence of his own lack of fulfillment.

"Oh, Henry Lee," Hannah's voice was breathless with wonder. "What have you done to me? I never knew anything could be like that."

Pulling back a little so that he could look into her eyes, Henry Lee couldn't keep from smiling in pride.

"There's more, Hannah, so much more." His eyes were alight with mischief. "And I'm willing to teach you everything that I know."

She giggled at his teasing and he pulled her into his arms, pressing his aching manhood against her.

The
whiskey.
His memory floated back unerringly. He was right to give her pleasure, but his own could wait. His whiskey was going to burn or his still explode if he allowed himself to make his decisions from his trousers instead of his brain.

He pulled away from her before he had time to talk himself out of it.

"I've got a lot of things to do this afternoon, Hannah," he explained feebly. Planting a hasty kiss on her forehead he stood and gave her one last longing look. "I'll see you at supper," he said as calmly as if he'd just chanced to pass her.

Hannah glanced down at her condition and quickly pulled up her chemise covering her naked bosom and thrust down her skirt that was bunched up all the way to her waist, not daring to stop to readjust her untied drawers.

"Henry Lee?" she asked tentatively, feeling both a sense of closeness at what they had shared and estrangement at his sudden erratic behavior.

He heard her confusion and desire in his name and he could not face her. He couldn't look her in the eye.

Turning away from her, he answered simply, "I've got to get back to work."

Hannah sat up stunned and watched him walk away. Her confusion turned to dismay as she realized that she must have injured him somehow. He was walking strangely, partially bent over, as if he couldn't straighten up.

 
CHAPTER
 
13

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T
he clatter of the rails and the intermittent, rhythmic motion of the rail car could not lull Hannah out of her anxious excitement. Dressed in her new blue calico and fancy bonnet, she sat next to a dashing, well-dressed man in a brown suede coat and string tie, who just happened to be her husband. Their mood was light and carefree, as if the last few difficult days had not happened.

Not that Hannah had forgot the incident under the catalpa tree. It had hung between them like an inflexible barrier for the last two days. Then this morning when she had awakened just a little before dawn, she found Henry Lee in the kitchen, coffee already made, and in a talkative, friendly mood. A sharp contrast from his previous constant absence and few mumbled words. He'd had the wagon hitched, loaded and ready and his excitement and enthusiasm for the trip was contagious.

She had been somewhat surprised to find a coffin loaded in the back of the wagon. She had been unaware that Henry Lee did that kind of work on the side, but she was very proud. She remembered how pleased the Hensley family had been with the coffin he'd made, and although this one did not seem as nice, she knew his work must be good for him to get requests all the way from
Muskogee
.

Henry Lee had laughed and joked all the way to Ingalls. He smiled and teased and made outrageous compliments about her new dress and bonnet. It was almost as if, in his time away from her, he had thought up stories and jokes to entertain her. He was well-known for his charm, and this morning every scrap of it was directed toward his wife. Considering the strange situation that existed between them, Hannah couldn't imagine why, but she was not such a fool as to question her good fortune.

Henry Lee's effervescent behavior was partly in response to what had happened under the catalpa tree, but also stemmed from nervous excitement. Never before had he smuggled whiskey so deep into the territory and he found the fear of discovery to be very heady stuff. The stationmaster had looked askance when he had brought in the coffin. Unlike Hannah, who accepted his lame excuse without question, the stationmaster found Henry Lee's story of shipping a friend's body to
Muskogee
unusual.

Henry Lee insisted that the coffin be shipped on a later freight, rather than in the baggage car of the train that would carry himself and Hannah. If someone did decide to open it, or if it fell and burst open accidentally, he wanted a running start on the law.

He just hoped that Harjo's brother-in-law could be trusted to read between the lines of the telegram that he had just dictated.