Pinch of Naughty (8 page)

“You’re enjoying this. Aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

His callous enjoyment of her ordeal made her stiffen, wiggling to get free from his embrace. Her inclination to caution him evaporated.
If the Alcotts gobble you up, so be it, Mr. Cyrus Burke.

“The way I see it,” he drawled, “you’re a respectable woman who fell from grace while doing right. Now you’re reclaiming your place in society by doing wrong with me. If you consider it that way, it all seems pretty damn laughable.” He pulled her back down, adjusting her body against his side, her head again resting on his chest. “You worry too much, Ellie.

“Eleanor,” she corrected him.

“Ellie, we’ve got six weeks to have some fun and I’m all for enjoying your stay while you’re here.” His fingers stroked her thigh, leaving a trail of heat there. His soft laughter brushed across her senses.

“Bet I can make you scream again.” He smoothed the folds of her dress, his caress lighting a torch in the flesh beneath.

“You are shameless.” Eleanor flushed with embarrassment at his reference to their coupling the previous night. She’d been unable to stifle her cries during one incredible orgasm.

“Yep,” he agreed. “Never found much use for shame. I’m more into tasting,” he murmured in her ear before he nibbled her earlobe. “And smelling,” he brushed his nose against her hair, rubbing his face in the strands, inhaling the scent, “and touching.” He shifted her slightly, covering her hand again.

Eleanor shivered, another wave of heat flushing her skin as he lifted her hand and cupped it around his engorged shaft. He made soothing noises in his throat, sounds that became a low hum of pleasure as he guided her fingers up and down, stroking the hard length she palmed.

It was so hot inside the blanket at first she didn’t realize he’d lifted her skirt. She shivered as the heat from his hand painted a blush of desire up her thigh. When his fingers brushed through her nether curls, she whimpered.

“You give in to temptation often, Eleanor?” he asked.

“Never,” she answered honestly.

“That’s too bad, Ellie,” he murmured. “Everyone needs a pinch of naughty from time to time.”

Abruptly Cyrus stood, pulling the blanket tighter around both of them, leading her toward the ranch door.

“Where are we going?”

“To bed,” he growled, moving Eleanor through the door and toward the upstairs.

Cyrus ushered her up the steps, listening to her fuss at him along the way.

“I have to prepare rolls for breakfast.” She tried to veer off to the kitchen.

“Later.”

“Do you always get your own way?”

“Yep,” he told her. “And right now my way is upstairs in bed.” His cock had already turned to stone as he hurried her along. “Eleanor, this isn’t a good time to debate my management style.”

In the bedroom, he made short work of her clothes, rendering her naked before he led her to the bed. Standing her in front of him, he sat on the edge of the mattress, ready to roll on a condom.

Cyrus prided himself on his ability to go long and hard, drawing bed sports out for hours before spilling his seed. But as he looked at Eleanor, every muscle in his body tensed. The need to shoot squeezed his nuts like a vise.

“Turn the light off—please.” The first part was a crisp demand. She added the last, softening it to a polite request as she stared at the wall above his head.

If she’d whimpered, he’d’ve let her have her way. But there she was, ready to do battle again.
So we’re going to pretend you don’t want it tonight, huh?
Cyrus relaxed inch by inch, regaining his control as his sense of humor kicked in. God in heaven, he could smell her arousal, her skin was flushed with desire and her nipples stood at attention, begging to be sucked.

“Nope.” He smiled when he refused her. “I want to watch us fucking tonight.”

“You are a sinful devil.” Apparently scandalized, her gaze unlocked from the wall and shifted to his face.

“Yep,” Cyrus said and grinned. “Now that we’re clear on my character, you can put this on.” He handed her the condom.

He pulled her closer to him until she stood between his legs. Her lips parted in astonishment as her creamy skin blossomed pink. Eleanor, of the cult of pure womanhood, held the rubber in her hand and peered down at his cock.

“I-I-I… I don’t know how,” she stuttered.

“Think of my dick as a tool you’re covering.” Swear to God, he felt as long and thick as her rolling pin when he growled his instructions.

Eleanor caught her lower lip in her teeth, biting on it as she prepared to sheathe him. He brought her hand to his engorged member, wrapping her palm around his naked length before he leaned back on the mattress, thrusting upward in her grasp. “Familiarize yourself with my equipment, Eleanor.”

He kept her hand wrapped in his because she looked mutinous, ready to argue.

“This is unnecessary. You are an idiot.” She squeezed his shaft for emphasis.

He couldn’t control his grunt of pleasure.

Startled, she squeezed him again and said, “Your eyes look strange.”

No doubt they were crossed and about to roll back in his head. He released his grip when she tentatively began to explore on her own. Her fingers reached the liquid seeping from his slit and she jerked away, stroking down his bare length once before coming back to investigate his pre-cum. When she swirled her finger around his cock head and peered closer, his jaw locked tight and his toes curled.

“Cover. My. Tool,” he managed to say.

She did, biting her lower lip again and frowning as though performing an arduous chore. By the time she’d rolled on the rubber and smoothed it twice, he was rigid.

“There, it’s done.” She sighed and straightened between his legs.

“Straddle me.” His cock, covered and ready, waved in the air. Cyrus parted Eleanor’s thighs and pushed his knees between them.

“It looks dangerous,” she muttered, staring down at the thick rod he intended to impale her with. “I don’t want to.”

“Yes you do,” Cyrus advised her, positioning her the way he wanted in spite of her protests.

Eleanor remained stiff, parting her legs around his thighs, straining to remain above his cock, but the lips of her sex brushed against the end, teasing both of them.

“Put it in,” he growled, desperate to sink into her slick heat.

Cyrus gazed at Ellie’s breasts on level with his mouth then leisurely tasted one nipple, sucking on it before he switched to the other.

“Juicy, plump, sweet,” he told her. He rolled the peak on his tongue, biting down on the tip, enjoying her look of shocked pleasure as he cradled her rump, directing her downward descent. “Come and get me.”

“You are a wicked, wicked man,” Eleanor gasped and then moaned, clutching his ears and pulling his head up so she could smash her lips against his.

Since Eleanor didn’t have a clue about the way of kissing, Cyrus took charge, nudging through her velvet walls at the same time he tongue-danced with her above.

His breath came in labored gasps accompanying Ellie’s moans when he released her mouth. He guided her up and down on his shaft, her honey making her greased and slick.

”Swivel your hips, Ellie.” He pressed his thumb against her pearl and she ground against it, releasing more liquid, drenching her folds.

“Mr. Burke,” she whispered, eyes unfocused and smoky purple.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Ellie?” He wanted to give her as good as he got, and by damn what she had between her legs was fine and special. He took away his thumb and brought her tight against his groin.

“Rock forward.” He showed her how to thrust her pearl against his flesh, satisfying both of them.

Ellie had a way of moaning that made him want to lie back and let her fuck him all night long. Her rump clenched, her inner muscles contracted around his cock, and waves of goose bumps washed over her skin as her release jolted through her.

“Keep it going, baby,” he told her, riding her orgasm and pushing her into another. Her channel flexed, tightening her walls and creating friction as he nudged her breast in place and mouthed her nipple before sucking on the tip. A roar built in his chest, as if he were an animal trying to unleash a bellow. He stifled it, pumping her up and down on his cock, drawing her release out and doubling his pleasure.

Not ready to finish, he pulled out of her and repositioned her on her knees. Spreading her thighs wider, he rubbed his cock in her wet folds, drawing her liquid from pearl to anal rosette. She shuddered and flinched when he touched her virgin hole.

“Absolutely not,” she gasped.

“Another day,” he promised, brushing his knob against the tight pucker before moving back to her creamy folds. Leaning over her shoulder, he pressed her head down on her arms and slid his hand under her belly, lifting her rump high for him.

Her ass was rosy red and he leaned close, nipping one cheek than the other before parting the lips of her sex with his cock and sinking into her vulnerable flesh with one hard thrust.

“Goddamn that’s good,” he groaned, looking into dazed eyes as she stared over her shoulder at him. He pushed her hair aside so he could see her expression better as he fucked her. “Watch,” he ordered her.

Her emissions coated his cock, making it easy to piston hard and fast. Each thrust went deeper. He pushed her legs wider, hauling her ass higher at the same time he growled, “Don’t look away.”

She obeyed, her lips falling open, her panted breaths mingling with his groans. Jesus God, he couldn’t get enough of her. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and growled, “Now give it to me again. Come for me, baby, while I ride you home.”

She pressed her face into the covers, stifling her cries as he pumped into her from behind, rubbing the nubbin of nerves at her apex until she shattered. When he ran his thumb down her crack and stroked her rosebud, her channel clenched tighter, her orgasm pulsing and milking his dick.

Cyrus released, spilling into the tight material gloving him, only regretting that he wasn’t shooting his seed into the sweet woman he rode.

“Damned if you don’t pull it out of a man, Ellie.” His hips moved in short, hard, jarring thrusts before he collapsed sideways and groaned.

Eventually he stripped off the rubber, threw it in the can by the bed, pulled a sheet over Eleanor, doused the light and curled around her ready to sleep. He was almost under when he felt her inching toward the edge of the mattress. His hand snaked out and caught her arm.

“Stay put,” he told her. “I’ll want seconds soon.”

“Impossible,” she groaned. “I have to rest.”

“Guess your old man wasn’t good for more than one a night, huh?” Cyrus could think of a lot more things he wanted to do before he slept.

“Fifty-four,” she mumbled.

“Fifty-four what?” The number hung there in the air between them until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “What kind of marathon are you claiming?”

“We had marital relations fifty-four times.”

“Must have been a hell of a party.”

“During our marriage, over the five years we were wed, we had relations fifty-four times—once a month, until the last six months—when we had none.” She suddenly wasn’t too tired to set him straight as she clarified using precise words.

He rolled over, fumbled with the light, and stared at her. Eleanor’s hands were plucking the sheet nervously.

Cyrus remained silent, trying to figure out why in the hell Eleanor’s man hadn’t been fucking her senseless three times a day—morning, noon and all night—like he planned to. When he said nothing, she went on.

“We slept in separate bedrooms. I never saw him unclothed. Never. Decent men and women don’t comport themselves in carnal behavior.”

“Is that right?” he drawled. “What if a man isn’t decently inclined?”

“It is a married woman’s duty to keep her husband on a righteous path. I failed.” Prim and proper to the last, she repeated what she knew as fact.

“If that be the case, I’m glad I’ve escaped the noose.” Cyrus blew out the light and curled around her again. “I can assure you, your man didn’t find anything better than you. Now go to sleep.” Her breathing became less agitated, gradually matching his as he rubbed his face against her hair and spooned around her.

He’d already figured out that his widowed housekeeper had less experience than most second-day brides. His uneasy feelings were tempered with smug satisfaction.
Guess I’ll have to teach her how to please a man.

The second time they coupled during the night left them both panting and exhausted. Under cover of darkness, Eleanor lost the rest of her inhibitions, writhing under him, matching her rhythm to his and holding on when the going got rough.

When Cyrus came, collapsing with a groan, he patted her hip and rolled to his side of the bed.

“Good night, Mr. Burke.” Eleanor turned her back and pulled the sheet over her.

He woke to find the sun creeping into view, turning dark to morning light. He had Eleanor’s head cradled on his chest, her hand splayed open on his thigh two inches from his dick. Lazily he contemplated waking her for thirds, but before he could, her eyes popped open, meeting his gaze alertly.

“It’s late,” she said, scrambling to leave the bed. “I’ve got dough I didn’t punch down last night.” She grabbed her nightgown and hurried on her way. “Breakfast can’t be late.”

He groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head. As usual, Eleanor had the last word. She’d left him sporting a morning hard-on with no place to put it.

He was hungry for more than breakfast when the men filed into the dining hall. Apparently oblivious to him, Eleanor moved quietly around the table, filling the men’s coffee cups, switching out platters of food, and generally tending her business and ignoring his. His morning cock stand re-engorged when Eleanor stretched over the table, refilling a plate of toast. He savored the sausage drenched in syrup at the same time he savagely forked flapjacks, contemplating firing his cook for dereliction of duty.

Eleanor left and his cock had just begun to settle down when Henley finished off the last pancake.

“You need to marry someone like that, boss. It would be a nice thing to have good eats like this year-round,” he muttered, his mouth full.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cyrus snarled. “She’s fed you three days and you’re ready to sell my freedom for a goddamned flapjack. Henley, ride drag today and eat dust.”

The men didn’t linger over coffee after that and Cyrus followed them toward the door, irritated at Eleanor for being a good cook.

“Mr. Burke, might I have a moment of your time?” Before he could escape, she stopped him.

“Not now.” He tried to brush past her and keep moving. Slapping his hat against his leg as much to hide his erection as to vent irritation, he headed for the door. Walking was already painful and riding the ridge of his hard-on all day was going to be pure torture.

“Mr. Burke, I need a word with you.” She put her hand on his arm, tugging him to a stop. It was impossible for her to look down her nose at him, since he was a foot and a half taller, but she sure as hell tried.

“I said I’d haul your tomfoolery into town. We don’t have anything else to say. I’ll deduct the cost from your wages.” He shrugged his arm, trying to shake her hand free.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, hanging on.

“Eleanor,” he warned her. “You need to step away.” She was so close the sweet perfume of her musk swamped him and his nuts turned to stone.

“I heard what that ranch hand suggested and I knew immediately that, arrogant as you are, you would decide I’m attempting to trap you into a marriage.” Her chin elevated and her eyes flashed scorn when she said, “I just want to make it perfectly clear that is not the case. You are safe from my wiles. I will never marry again.”

“Of course you will.” Cyrus snorted and shook his arm, trying to shed her touch.

“Want us to go on without you, Cyrus?” His foreman took that moment to ride up to the porch and shout.

“I’m on my way,” he yelled back, scowling at Eleanor.

“Whether you think I’m plotting to snare you or not, lovely as they are, your continued attentions hold no allure for me. Kindly remember in your pin-brain that I am working to earn money for my pastry shop.” Eleanor’s words were tart and for his ears alone.

Cyrus’ cock jumped as he watched her nibble her bottom lip as if tasting him again and he backed toward the door before he lost control and pounced on her. She followed.

“Eleanor, me and my pin-brain have work to do. The boys are waiting.” All the blood in his body surged south, his breath constricting so tightly the words came out in a rough parody of his usual voice.

“Of course. I’m sorry for keeping you, Mr. Burke.” She backed up, putting distance between them, her expressive eyes snapping fire.

He was halfway down the steps and another surge of lust stopped him in his tracks. Turning around, he went back inside. She’d moved to the table, clearing up the remnants of the morning meal. He crossed the room, stepping behind her as she reached for a platter.

“What now?” She looked over her shoulder irritably.

Fitting his groin against her rump, he reached around her, pressing his hand to her flat stomach, urging her backward against his denim-covered arousal.

“If it’s collecting wages you’re after, it’s not going to happen if you keep calling me names and I fire you.” Then he leaned over her shoulder and murmured in her ear. “Leave off the drawers this afternoon. I might have time to sample some of your fine dessert when I come through.”

His cock still ached and his belly burned, but irritation had changed to humor and he had to tamp down the laughter rumbling in his chest.
Might have time, my ass…

He spent the morning stringing wire around a fouled waterhole, his mood undimmed by the extra work. Images of his thick knob working its way through her snug sheath flitted through his head.
No wonder she’s tight. Hell, she’s barely broke to ride.
More than once, he had to suppress a groan.

The thought of her bare-assed naked under her dress and ready for him made him clench the barbed wire so tight, he had to take off his leather glove and untangle it. His scruples about bedding a respectable woman were disappearing as fast as Eleanor’s desserts at mealtime.

She called me a pin-brain for thinking she’d want marriage.
Her “I’ll never marry again” left him more disgruntled than it should have.
Of course she’ll marry again.
Hell, I’m doing her a service letting her see how good it could be—with someone else,
he amended.

His grim expression changed to a satisfied grin.
She said it was lovely.
Then he thought of Henley’s ill-timed words at breakfast
. “It would be a nice thing to have good eats like this year-round.”

“Yep,” Cyrus muttered aloud.

* * * * *

“Oh my,” Eleanor whispered, giggling nervously like she never had when she was a schoolgirl. Feeling decadent and sinful, she crept to the bedroom and removed her pantalettes. When she returned downstairs, thinking about the tepid couplings she’d experienced with her late husband, Eleanor picked up a scone, buttered it and took a bite.

The sweet nutty mixture erased the memory of William, reminding her of Cyrus instead. He’d carried the flavor of her pecan sandy on his lips when she’d kissed him the night before. It had been a spontaneous action. She’d…

Eleanor closed her eyes and rolled the honey mixture on her tongue.
He tasted like ambrosia.
Then she snorted at her own thoughts.

“He tasted like coffee, cookies and, and…” Her words stuttered to a stop. He’d licked the walls of her mouth, his teeth biting her tongue as he’d sucked on it.

Remembering, her nipples pebbled, her womb clenched, her breath caught and ripples of desire coursed through her. Carefully Eleanor laid the half-eaten scone on the counter, brushing her hands free of crumbs and picking up a basket of darning before going outside.

She sat in the porch swing, cool air stirring against her bare legs hidden under her dress. The motion of the swing vaguely reminded her of their rhythmic coupling. He’d been insatiable and unrelenting.

“That’s it, Ellie,” he’d growled. “Play with me a little bit. I’ve got a ways to go yet.”

Play with me…
In her world devoted to duty, there had been very little play. She’d married a man who furthered her grandfather’s business interests, she’d been ignored in her husband’s home and cast aside and hidden by both families when her use was at end.

There seemed little reason to deny herself this pleasure. She’d had more fun in two days than in the rest of her life. The work was challenging but appreciated. Her boss was arrogant and completely mesmerizing. It also appeared that night duty was his dessert for each day.
I have six weeks during which to enjoy this pinch of naughty Cyrus prescribed.

She frowned. Night duty
had seemed manageable when he’d included it in the job description. But Cyrus Burke wasn’t manageable.

The swing rocked back and forth as Eleanor concentrated on finding a button to match the others on his shirt.

”He owns a bank.” Unease filled her. He’d said he’d hired Uncle Henry away from the bank in Paris, Texas. Eleanor knew perfectly well that Henry Alcott didn’t go anywhere Grandfather didn’t send him. So if Uncle Henry worked for Cyrus, it was because the Alcott Banking Company was interested in his bank.

Cyrus had been smugly confident that he could control his employee. Eleanor wasn’t nearly as certain. Minus her pantalettes and waiting for his return, her thoughts flitted between stewing over whether she should warn the arrogant fool and savoring the previous night’s astonishing events.

When Cyrus and two other men rode into the ranch yard, Eleanor took her mending inside and watched the barn from the kitchen window. Her sex clenched in panicked anticipation as he strode through the back door.

“Stay right where you are and hang on.” He was moving fast and giving orders as he joined her in front of the sink, placing her hands on the counter.

“You want me to stare out the window?” She looked at him over her shoulder, following his directive to grasp the ledge.

“Nope,” he answered, pulling one of the gold devices from his back pocket and deftly rolling it over his member. “You hold on to the counter and steady yourself. I’ll watch for cowboys who might take a mind to roust me out.”

Before she understood his intentions, he stepped behind her, flipping her skirts up to her waist, holding them in place between their bodies.

“Mr. Burke,” she squeaked, once again shocked by his actions.

He ignored her protest, sliding a hand to the juncture of her legs, parting the lips of her sex. She shuddered and he grunted a monosyllabic sound that might have been “Good.”

Eleanor’s breath huffed out in excited pants as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Are you ready, Ellie?”

“The pantry.” She was mortified and aroused at the same time. As he teased her pearl, she moaned, “Oh God.”

“Told the boys I wouldn’t be long. Better enjoy yourself while you can,” he whispered in her ear, making her insides quiver.

“Have you lost your mind? This is barbaric, we could be discovered, it’s totally decadent…” Heat flooded her body and liquid flowed from her core.

“Eleanor, hush.” He shushed her words by covering her lips with his. Pressing his groin against her buttocks, he tilted her hips enough to match their sexes. She winced when he thrust through her tight passage, still tender from the night before. He stopped.

Eleanor tightened the walls of her channel, demanding he continue. He growled, a low rumble escaping his chest. Reaching around to find her nubbin of pleasure, he stroked it with skill. His touch sent intoxicating pleasure rippling through her.