Runabout (40 page)

Tulsa May looked down to see herself unclothed from the waist up. Her courage failed her and she folded her arms across her nakedness.

Luther watched her lower lip tremble nervously and saw the first hint of fear in her eyes.

"It's all right, Tulsy," he said. "It's just me. It's just Luther. You've known me for a long time. And you've loved me for a long time."

She nodded mutely.

"I showed you how beautiful you were last night. I want you to let me touch that beauty. I want you to
let
me touch it, but I'll never demand that you allow me to."

"I know," she said quietly.

"It's just me, Tulsy," he repeated. "It's just Luther, the man who loves you."

Her eyes filled with tears. She threw herself into his arms and he held her close against him.

"I won't force you, Tulsy," he whispered against her hair.

"You won't have to," she answered. "I want you, Luther. I want to make love to you. It's so new and so ... so intimate. I'm a little afraid."

"I'm afraid too," he told her.

She raised her eyes to look at him. "But you've ... I mean you've ... this is not a new thing for you."

"Touching a woman I love is totally new to me," he said softly, slipping an errant lock of bright orange hair out of her eyes. "And touching the woman that I am going to marry is like a dream come true. I'm afraid I'll hurt you, or embarrass you or maybe even disgust you."

"You don't need to be afraid. I can't even imagine doing anything with you that wouldn't be wonderful."

"Of course you can't even imagine it," he said. "But Tulsa May, everybody in Prattville knows what an optimist you are."

Her own fears seemed to melt at his words. A gentle smile came to her face that nourished until it was clearly a grin.

"I can even see my own headline now," she said,
"
briggs marriage
CONSUMMATED. WIFE SURVIVES.
"

Luther threw back his head and roared with laughter. "At least I can promise you that, Tulsy. You will survive."

But as she slowly allowed him access to her body, Tulsa May became less sure of that herself. The touch of his hands on her naked breasts made her nipples tight and achy. But when he replaced his hands with his lips, she gritted her teeth against a pleasure so powerful it gave her body a life of its own.

It was she who bent her knee to press her throbbing womanhood against the thick muscles of his thigh. Without her speaking a word, he understood the meaning of the uncontrollable rocking that beset her hips.

When he grabbed the hem of her skirts and casually pushed them up to her waist, it nearly took the breath out of her. He peeled her out of her corset with very little fuss, then he sat back slightly and just gazed down at her. Her stockings and drawers, which had formerly never seen the light of day except on the clothesline, were displayed before his eyes. And he didn't hesitate in the slightest to look his fill.

With a hand that trembled slightly, Luther caressed her long slim legs. Tulsa May found it hard to breathe, to think, she could only feel his hand gently caressing her thighs. Her bosom was cold and bereft without his caress. She brought her own hands to her breasts and kneaded them herself as Luther gently, oh so gently, grazed the glowing dampness of her drawers. When his hand lightly cupped her mound, Tulsy moaned aloud and raised her hips to press him more closely to her.

"Please, oh please," she whispered.

Luther kissed her again. This time his hand was firmer between her legs. And it was wonderful.

"We need to get these drawers off," he whispered into her ear. Clearly, he thought he would have to coax her.

Tulsa May jerked at the sturdy white muslin, so eager to be rid of the annoying barrier she nearly ripped them off.210

It was Luther's turn then to pause. She lay near naked and trembling on the tarp before him. His hand shook as he brought it to rest on the springy curls at the apex of her thighs. He pressed his fingers into the silky fine hair and the curls twisted around his fingers. He swallowed.

"When I was trying to convince you that your orange hair is beautiful," he said, "this is the hair that I should have shown you."

Tulsa May's eyes widened, but before she could make a reply his touch had turned to caress and her thoughts into complete mush.

He found the secret, achy parts of her and stroked them until she begged for more. When his finger dipped into the hot, tight wetness inside her, she cried out.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked anxiously. His voice was low and ragged.

"Good," was the answer she whispered. "Feels good."

Luther resumed his exploration, his fondling, his caress. Tulsa May could not lie still or keep quiet. She moved in rhythm against the touch of his hand and murmured love words, moaned in appreciation, and pleaded for more.

Luther sat up on his knees. His breathing was quick and labored, like a man who'd just run an uphill race.

"Don't stop!" she begged him.

"I've got to get rid of my trousers," he told her. "I just can't wait any longer."

She watched as he released the buttons on his dress pants and her eyes widened in fear as she saw for the first time how differently men and women were made.

"It's so big!" she said, horrified.

"It's not," he assured her. "I'll try not to hurt you, but
—"

The words he meant to speak flew out of his head as she reached a hesitant hand to that part of him that she had never seen and stroked it hesitantly.

"It's so smooth," she said. "And so hard."

Luther made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and then moved over her. His kiss was hot and eager and earthy. He allowed one of his hands to feel her breast. But the other he used to part her thighs.

"I've got to be inside you, Tulsy," he said. "I've got to feel you around me.

Tulsa May had no thought to argue as she raised her hips to try to accommodate him. He fitted his hand under her buttocks and slowly, carefully began pushing himself inside her.

Under his breath, Luther began a mumbling discussion with himself, designed to distract him from the pleasure that he felt and to keep him in control.

"What?" Tulsa May asked distractedly to words she heard that sounded vaguely like the Gettysburg Address.

"It feels
so
good," Luther answered.

It didn't feel good yet to Tulsa May. She was still aching, still needing, and although his entrance made her feel stretched and taut, it wasn't enough.

"More," she whispered. "More Luther, more."

He ground down his passion with a growl and gritted his teeth against the need that he felt. "Oh, Tulsy, my sweet, sweet Tulsy, I can't... no longer, can long ... can long ... oh, Tulsy."

He plunged deep within her.

She cried out.

His teeth bared like an enraged animal, Luther held himself in control as he cuddled Tulsa May and comforted her.

"Sweet Tulsy, my sweet Tulsy," he whispered. "It's so unfair that it should hurt you when to me it feels so good."

He cooed and rocked and held her as he regained control. Still deep inside her, he could feel the walls surrounding him relax gradually from the pain of the onslaught.

"Tulsy, oh Tulsy," he said as mentally he continued the speech that helped him to hold the last reins of his control. "I'm so sorry I've hurt you."

"No, it's all right."

"No it's not. I hate hurting you. I never want to hurt you again."

"I know, Luther," she said as the startling pain within her waned and the driving need that she felt before began to reemerge. "Remember, Luther, I am an optimist. And I am just certain that you are going to make this hurting feel a whole lot better in just a few minutes."

And he did.

It was nearly dusk when Luther awakened. Tulsa May lay snuggled up against his arm. They were both as naked as man and woman had been in the Garden of Eden, and Luther had only managed to cover them with Tulsy's blue serge skirt before they fell asleep. Tulsa May groaned slightly as she came awake.

"We've missed the reception at the parsonage," he said.

"At least I didn't have to wear that pink dress."

Luther nodded in agreement. "What you're wearing right now is much more suited to my taste."

She glanced down at her naked body. Her bright orange hair lay all about her in a tangled curtain. She gave him a cool expression, but he laughed at it because her eyes were filled with love. Eagerly she nestled closer and then winced.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Slowly she smiled with lazy satisfaction. "I've never felt better," she said. As she tried to sit up, she winced again. "Except for a little twinge or two."

"I think next time we should really try out a bed," Luther told her.

"If we have one," she answered. "If you can't fix the car, we may just have to live here forever."

"You want to live in a deserted wood, just you and me and the Runabout?"

"Sounds like heaven to me."

Luther smiled.

"Well, I don't think that we'll have to," he said. "I can surely find a farmhouse along this road someplace. Somebody will loan me something that I can use for a belt to move this contraption down the road."

"You're sure you don't want to live here forever?" Tulsa May asked as she gestured to nature's love bower all around them.

"I've told you already, Tulsy. You're a woman that deserves a sweet-smelling marriage bed with clean sheets and fluffy pillows."

She sighed grandly. "Well, all right. I guess I'd be willing to try that."

Luther shook his head, grinning. "Besides, I still have to marry you. Have you forgotten that little detail?"

"You don't have to marry me, Luther," she said. "I'd be perfectly willing just to be your love slave."

"Only if you promise to explain that to the Rev!" he said, coaxing her up from the tarp.

Luther found his trousers and her undermuslins and they began to right themselves. The fact that there was a good deal of unnecessary nudging and occasional grasping and kissing notwithstanding, they did make progress toward getting dressed.

"Hand me my brassiere," Tulsa May asked.

Luther dutifully leaned down to retrieve the undergarment. Holding it in his hand, he stared at it for a long moment before turning to Tulsy.

"You know," he said. "If I didn't have to walk several miles to find a farmhouse, I could probably take you dancing in Guthrie tonight."

Tulsa May looked up at him curiously. His smile was hopeful, and he held her brassiere expectantly in his hand.