Promises Linger (Promise Series) (14 page)

He sucked harder. She screamed again and the spasms began again, throwing her cunt against his mouth before she tried to jerk away, but he wasn’t letting her get away. He clamped his lips down and followed the bucking of her hips. He would never let her leave him. She was his.

It was her sobs that got his attention. And her pleas for mercy. He came back to himself to find her jerking under his mouth.

“Shhh, darlin’,” he murmured, reluctantly releasing her clit. It made a little popping sound as it sprang into the air.

She groaned and shuddered.

He pulled back and assessed the damage. Her beautiful cunt was swollen and red. Her entire pussy looked well loved. Her scent enveloped him. A combination of satisfied woman and vanilla.

He stood. She curled onto her side. Her ribs heaved with her efforts to breathe. It was almost a rejection. He pulled her dress down and leaned over the table to see her face.

“You okay?” he asked, stroking her wild tangle of hair.

She groaned again, and then grabbed his thigh. Before he could figure out what she had planned, she dragged herself around until her mouth was lined up with his groin. His knees buckled when she took his softening cock into the heat of her mouth.

He froze, not knowing what to do. She seemed content to hold him in her mouth, suckling him gently while her breathing slowly returned to normal. He stroked her hair and murmured soothing nonsense, until with a soft sigh, she released him. His cock waved enthusiastically in the air, clearly up for another round. She stroked him lazily with her hand.

“When you put him in my mouth, what’s that called?”

Of all the things he expected her to say, that hadn’t been it. “You’re sucking my cock.”

She frowned, squeezing him lightly and smiling when his cock jerked in reaction. “No. What’s it called when you do it to me?”

He cleared his throat. “Fucking your face.”

She looked him straight in the eye, her gaze slumberous and heavy lidded. She tugged his eager cock toward her and said, “Fuck my face, Asa.”

Chapter Six

The one bad thing about having a husband who could handle things was that it left no excuse for avoiding housework. Dipping her white rag in water, Elizabeth swatted at a few drifting dust motes before going back to wiping down the parlor lamp’s milk glass dome. She tried very hard to keep her eyes on the job, but the late summer sunshine kept taunting her through the lace curtains. Every now and then, a rose scented breeze would waft in, fluttering the curtains and stirring up all kinds of longings. She scrubbed at a soot mark and tried not to imagine how good it would feel to be riding into the mountains, maybe stopping at the swimming hole for a dip.

She paused, sighed and then took herself to task. There’d been a time when her impulses had ruled her life, but not anymore. Being impulsive could cost a person their home, family and everything they thought true about themselves. She wasn’t an immature child, incapable of understanding the consequences of her actions or the depth of her responsibilities. She was a lady and a ranch owner. Ladies didn’t cavort around the countryside unescorted, let alone take dips in swimming holes. They tended to the house, pretended they didn’t sweat, and smiled, even if they were melting in the heat faster than a candle on a stove.

She sighed again and used the end of her apron to wipe the sweat from her brow. She looked at the smudge and winced. Being a lady was going to be the death of her. Unfortunately, it was part of the deal she’d struck with her husband. Since the man was willing to borrow the kind of life-threatening troubles that came with the Rocking C, she was locked into the role of lady. It was a matter of honor to give him what he wanted. At least for her.

Dipping her rag in saleratus, she rubbed anew at the last vestige of the smudge. When it came off, she breathed a sigh of relief, put her hands in the small of her back and massaged her aching muscles. She would have loved to stretch her whole back but the darned corset negated any such pleasure.

She stepped over to the window and inhaled the fresh breeze, letting it sweep the boredom away along with the scent of beeswax and saleratus. Glancing over her shoulder, she decided it wasn’t all for nothing. The parlor looked good. Warm, inviting, subtly gleaming. Now, if she could keep folks to the parlor and the kitchen, she could call it quits for the day. She smiled wryly and shook her head. Like that was going to happen. Asa was definitely going to want to take over the study. With all the work that had waited since her father died, she’d never gotten around to keeping it clean. Dust piled every corner along with three months of neglected bookkeeping.

A whinny outside returned her attention to the outdoors. A rider came through the arch over the gate. Even if she hadn’t recognized the blood bay gelding, she’d never forget the man riding in. Aaron! She straightened her hair, whipped off her apron and stuffed it into the umbrella stand. By the time she heard the porch step creak under his foot, she had her hand on the doorknob. She counted to three, and then swung it open, smiling at his misstep when the door wasn’t there to stop his hand from knocking.

“Hi.”

His response was a laugh. “One of these days, you’re not going to catch me with that.”

His laughter warmed her. “I’ve been catching you for fifteen years. If you were going to wise up, I think you would have done it by now.”

His “you would think” made her smile. For the fifteen years she’d been catching him, he’d been giving her the same answer. It was like an anchor for her soul. The rest of her world might be in chaos, but this part was the same. Aaron was always there. They fought more often than they agreed due to his tendency to think he was always right, but, as they’d grown up as close as brother and sister, somehow it seemed right.

She stepped back to usher him into the relative coolness of the foyer. “What brings you here?”

“Heard in town you married up a couple times this week.”

She winced. “Once was a mistake I corrected. The second time was for real.”

He removed his hat and tossed it onto the hat rack. His brown hair was ruthlessly smoothed back from his square face. There was no mistaking the concern in his blue eyes as he swept her from head to toe.
 
“Well, I guess you could say I’m here to check whether wedding number two was a mistake.”

It wasn’t going to be a pleasant visit, Elizabeth decided. He was obviously on one of his protective I-know-better-than-you missions. She motioned him into the parlor. “I have no complaints and I’m not expecting any.”

He glanced up after settling himself into her father’s chair. “Right.”

The one word came out so scathingly patronizing, for a second, the image of her father imposed itself over Aaron’s face. She blinked to dispel it. “I’m satisfied with my marriage.”

“So you’re happy?”

“For goodness sake, Aaron!” she protested as she reminded herself to sink decorously into the wing-backed chair across from him. “I’ve only known the man twenty-four hours. I can’t tell you what he likes for breakfast, let alone whether we’re going to suit!”

“But you married him.”

There was censure in the statement, as if her decision had been anything but the only choice available. It was also in his blue eyes and his posture, making her realize why he reminded her of her father. His big, stocky build was a fair image of Coyote Bill’s. Combined with him sitting in her father’s chair, delivering condemnation in a quiet, polite tone of voice, the situation was enough to resurrect the dead.

“Of course I married him.” She arranged her skirt into straight folds. “If you remember correctly, it was your suggestion that I marry.”

“I suggested you marry one of the local boys. I didn’t say to pick a man with a reputation dangerous enough in itself to be a threat.” He said it as if she’d failed to follow his directions.

 
“Your suggestion that I marry was perfectly valid, and I considered it fully before making my decision.”

He sat back in his seat and regarded her coolly. “So, why didn’t you consult me when you went husband-hunting?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I could have guided you past the most obvious bad choices?”

She brushed a piece of lint from her skirt and grabbed hold of her patience. “Who would you have suggested I pick that I haven’t already thought of?”

“Willy Samuel?”

“Willy Samuel is sweet on Jane Hendricks.”

“He’d throw her over in a heartbeat for this ranch.”

That said about all she needed to know about his honor. “And spend the rest of his life comparing me with the love of his life? I don’t think so.”

“Jason Miller?”

“He’s fonder of whining than of working.”

“But you could control him.”

“So could anyone else with enough wits and a big enough bribe.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I guess you’d never be able to trust him. He’s also a bit of a mamma’s boy.”

“Between the two of them, I’d spend my marriage sleeping with my eyes open.” He opened his mouth to trot out another suggestion, and she forestalled him by holding up her hand. “We’ve already eliminated half the eligible bachelors in the vicinity, but just let me go through the remaining two. Jeremiah Palmer drinks when he’s not working and I will not take up with a drinking man. Brian Pallante hates the territory and has every intention of going back East as soon as he gets his sister married to someone who’ll take that puny spread of his. Offering him the Rocking C would only be an incentive for him to sell more of this territory.”

“Can I speak now?”

“Of course.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest either of those men.”

“Well, if you were going to suggest one of the hands, I have to say it’s a poor choice. Most of the men couldn’t stand a tie if it came with whiskey and saloon girls attached.”

“Elizabeth!”

Damn! She’ forgotten in the ease of long companionship that ladies didn’t know of saloon girls, let alone mention them. Especially with Aaron, who had rigid ideas about women and their roles. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” He gave her one of those I-expected-better-of-you looks and then sighed. He waved his hand. “Sometimes, I forget who your mother was.”

So did she. She glanced at her hands in her lap. Her grip on her fingers was so tight, her knuckles were white. She hoped her mother had attained some fun out of life before she died. She counted to ten and eased her grasp. “My mother was from a respectable family back East.”

“My pa said she was beautiful, but wild as a March hare.”

“She wasn’t crazy!”

“You know the stories as well as I do. What would you call her?”

Desperate. She’d call her mother desperate. Living with her father had a way of provoking that reaction in a woman.

“My mother, for all her supposed faults, was my mother.” She met the pity and censure in his gaze without flinching. “I prefer to think of her as a good woman who made some bad choices.”

The first one was thinking her father was lovable. The second was thinking she could save him. The third one had killed her—thinking she could escape him.

“I’m sure you would, but people around here have long memories.” Aaron reached over and placed his hand on hers. His palm was rough and hard. “You’ve got to be careful, Elly, or your reputation will go the way of hers.”

She freed her hand under the guise of smoothing her skirt. “I prefer to think people will accept me as I am. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Marrying two men in the space of two days has set a few tongues wagging.”

She was sure it had. “No matter who I married, people were going to gossip.”

“They’d gossip a lot less if you hadn’t plucked your latest from that cesspool Dell’s!”

“At the time, I didn’t have any choice.”

“You could have come to me.”

“It was a situation that required my personal attention.”

“Any situation that requires entering a saloon requires a man to solve it.” He sat forward in the chair, his hands digging into the upholstered arm. “Dammit, Elly!
 
If you don’t want to end up like your mother, you need help.
 
You’re running wilder than she ever did!”

His anger, his opinion, hit her like a fist in the gut. “Is that what you think of me?” she asked in a whisper.

“Ah, hell, runt.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Of course not. You just get me so mad, I forget what I’m saying.”

She didn’t think he forgot a thing. She wondered if Asa shared Aaron’s opinion of her character. She wondered if he was just waiting for the moment when she dropped her ladylike demeanor and shamed him. She’d have to be careful, she decided. Very careful not to mess up. Asa had bargained for a lady. If she saw to it that’s what he got, he’d be satisfied. He wouldn’t leave.

 
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Aaron apologized.

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

He sank back into the upholstery. “I shouldn’t have brought up your mother at all. I know how much it upsets you.”

It didn’t upset her, it infuriated her, but no one seemed to recognize that. She made her “thank you” properly polite.