Sam’s Creed (9 page)

A quick glance from beneath her lashes showed his amusement gone, the sharp planes of his face once again etched in harsh lines as his entire focus centered on her chest. His hair skimmed the tops of her breasts in a thick cascade as he bent, joining the stroke of his hands down the sides of her breasts. His beard roughed her delicate skin before his teeth tested her resiliency. Goose bumps sprang up in the wake of the caress, flaring outward on a shiver as he blew across the damp flesh.

Years of pent-up longing welled. She licked her lips, forcing back the response she wasn’t sure she should reveal. She thought she had a prayer until he started nibbling. Oh, why hadn’t she been born flat-chested? With curves like hers, a man had a lot of room to play. Too much for her to withstand. Especially when it was Sam. He’d learned how sensitive her breasts were and just how she liked to be touched. She gritted her teeth and clenched her thighs against his hips, reaching for the strength to endure as her pussy pulsed and flowered with every brush of his teeth, every lap of his tongue.

By the time Sam reached her aureole, she was panting, her control in shreds. She should pull away, but she could not. Not yet. Not when he was nipping a circle around the puckered flesh, shooting sparks of wicked delight outward in a brilliant shower. He sucked her aching nipple into the blistering heat of his mouth, gathering those sparks in a concentrated bundle beneath the fragile tip, torturing her with the slow drag of his tongue across the heated embers. Her nails scraped against the oilcloth, the sound blending into a hiss of the dying fire as she squirmed under the lash of his tongue, the rough surface fanning the flames of need to flash point.

Dios mío,
she could not stand this. She grabbed his head with one hand, wrapping her fingers in the cool strands of his thick hair, falling back into the palm of his hand, letting him support her as the fire raged, burning unbearably, the rasp of his tongue both a balm and a curse as it first soothed then tortured. Broken gasps of “please” poured from her soul, filling the space between them.

“Tell me what you want.”

The order, shaped around her nipple, was just more fuel to the flames. Isabella tugged, but he did not come closer, did not give her what she needed. She looked down. Sam’s head blocked most of her view, but she could see the fingers of his free hand gripping her breast, his skin so much darker than hers, his big hand encompassing only half the mound, leaving the rest plumped for his pleasure. She took a hard breath as he kissed her nipple, a gentle, totally frustrating caress. She needed more, damn it, and he had to know it.

She dug her nails into his scalp. His response to the silent demand was a pulse of laughter and a murmur of “tease.” The satisfaction in that one word made her want to scream. Sam was deliberately driving her crazy. And he would not stop until she gave him what he wanted. The surrender he asked for.

“Your mouth,” she gasped. “I want your mouth.”

He lapped at her delicately, tantalizing her unbearably with what could be. “Where?”

“On my breasts.” Oh God, her breasts.

Another of those delicate laps. “How?”

She yanked at his hair, for once hating his strength as his muscles easily vanquished hers, leaving her with no other option but to concede. With one last pull borne of total frustration, she collapsed against him, desperate sobs stealing her breath as her full breasts crushed against his mouth, for one second delivering the sensation she craved before he pulled back, once again taking control.

“Hard.” She shuddered as he nipped her breast gently, the small ensuing specter of feeling just another tease. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead against his skull, defeat conflicting with need. “Oh please, do it hard.”

As if her plea pierced his armor where her demands could not, his big body shuddered against her. His head tilted back, the stretching of her nipple a prelude to bliss as it pulled taut. She couldn’t help her moan any more than she could help her response to the sting. She wanted him. Her nipple stretched between them thinner and thinner, an insubstantial binding that could not continue, but had to. It simply had to.

But it didn’t, it never did. With a soft pop of despair, her nipple slipped free. Bella didn’t move, didn’t do anything, just let Sam’s hair slide against her skin in a silken rasp until his forehead rested on hers, waiting for what he’d do next. He didn’t do anything, just held them both there, connected yet not as desire palpitated between them in a tangible link. She opened her eyes. He was looking at her, his eyes burning with blue fire. His expression remained harsh, demanding, but there was something fascinatingly tender in the smile that creased the corners of his lips. She stared at it, wanting to understand. His left hand spread under her spine, each fingertip balancing her weight, pressing up.

His eyebrow arched up. “Enough?”

She felt completely exposed as she whispered, “I need more.”

So much more than just this physical moment.

The tenderness in his smile spread over into his touch. “All you have to do is tell me what you need, duchess, and I’ll give it to you. You have to know that.”

Not this. He might not give her this. “You should not make such rash promises.”

“Why not? I’m feeling very generous right now.”

“Because I could take advantage,” she managed to gasp as he found the slick nub of her clitoris with the tip of his finger.
Madre!
He was a warlock with the darkest of magic in his hands.

He was definitely taking advantage, Sam decided, watching Bella’s face as the pleasure speared deep, feeling an echoing stab of pleasure that had nothing to do with desire snaking down his spine. Watching Bella burn could become his favorite form of recreation. There was nothing more erotic. Nothing more enjoyable. Nothing more enticing. Sweet silky cream slicked his hand as he rubbed delicately, and she arched into his hand. When she shuddered and collapsed, he followed her down, notching his cock along her pussy until the head tucked into the hot crease of her ass. She gasped and froze, but then her hips lifted, encouraging him deeper as her breath came in seductive little whimpers. “What is it you want from me, Sam?”

He nipped the tendon running up the side of her neck, a chuckle spreading as she whimpered again and subtly arched her neck, giving him better access. He obliged, running his lips over the feminine line until he reached her hairline behind her ear. Goose bumps sprang in the wake of his caress. He opened his mouth, touching a pale freckle with his tongue before sliding down along the betraying roughness, stopping when he reached the sensitive curl of her ear, letting the moist heat of his breath bring more of that roughness to her ultrasmooth skin before whispering in her ear, “Whatever you can afford to give me.”

It was two heartbeats before she summoned the breath to answer.

“Then I must have rules.”

Everything in him said she’d take him and take him on his terms. “No.”

She flattened her palm against his chest. A butterfly challenging a hawk. It made him smile almost more than the properness of her. “I insist.”

He tugged her hips up, pressed his cock deeper into the hot cradle of her ass, his irritation soothed by the completeness of her response. She was his at a touch. “Doesn’t appear to me you’re in a position to insist on anything.”

Her fingers curled in a silent plea. “Still, you will listen.”

She was too damn fond of giving orders. Brushing the hair away from her cheek, needing to see her expression, he grimaced as her buttocks squeezed him in tense rhythmic pulses that shredded his control. “You’re a bossy little thing.”

“I know my worth.”

“But you seriously overrate mine.”

“Maybe.”

He stroked her little clitoris harder, kissing her cheek as she cried out and her body stiffened. She was so close to coming. And in a minute, he’d let her. “Maybe?”

“It depends on how often you intend to satisfy me.”

“As often as you can take, duchess.”

A shiver shook her from head to toe. “I have but one rule. You cannot ask from me what you will not give.”

He traced the whorls of her ear with his tongue and savored her instant response.

“A fair exchange, yes?”

“Sí.”

“What if I can’t give what you need?”

She turned her head. Her eyes were velvet soft in the dim light. “Then you do not ask it of me.”

She was putting the responsibility for keeping it fair on him. Damn, she was clever. Rubbing his lips against the pulse throbbing in her temple, he asked, “Starting tonight?”

“If you are sure.”

He wasn’t sure of anything except she knocked him six ways to Sunday for reasons he couldn’t define, and that he couldn’t walk away from her. Not yet.

“Are you sure you want to give me your innocence?” He caught her clit between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it gently.

Her breaths came in staccato pants as he increased the speed and pressure. “Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed her cheek, the corner of her eyes and the tips of her deep brown lashes before squeezing the flange of sensitive flesh and milking it with a firm pull. “Then, come for me.”

She did, with a riveting cry of his name, her head snapping forward into his shoulder and then back as she shuddered under the lash of fulfillment. The flush on her cheeks deepened. Her face twisted with the stark expression of pleasure so intense as to be pain before gradually fading to the sultry expression of a woman satisfied.

“Sweet. So sweet, duchess.” As sweet as he’d imagined. Sam cupped her still-convulsing pussy, cradling it protectively even as he ripped her pantaloons off and lined up his cock with the pulsing entrance to her body. She bucked and cried out. He groaned and pressed. Tight. Damn, she was tight. The realization snapped him back. Shit. He couldn’t do this. Not and live with himself. Flipping her over, his own drive to climax riding him hard, Sam laid himself along her back, lubricating his cock in her cream before tucking it back into the seductive seam of her ass. A pulse of his hips and she was pushing back, arching her spine into his chest, her head tipping back, presenting her mouth for his kiss, her body to his desire.

“Ah, damn.”

Silky cream pooled in his palm and flowed over his fingers, bathing them in the rich scent of her arousal, tempting him toward his own release. He pushed his cock along the crack of her ass. It slid smoothly between the soft mounds. He centered his attention on the burning surge of lust, the satisfaction in her face and the residual pulses of her orgasm, riding her pleasure to his own, fucking that slick crease the way he wanted to fuck her pussy. Hard, fast and deep, imagining the spasmodic grip of her buttocks was the hard clench of her inner muscles, groaning as his cock caught on the edge of her anus, her gasp and jerk at the ensuing tug putting him over the top.

With a harsh groan his seed erupted from his balls, tearing through his cock to spill in a hot silky jet onto her back. He pushed back on his arms, watching as the next spurt landed higher than the first, blending into the creamy expanse of her skin, marking her as his over and over again until she had all he could give.

His heart thundering in his chest, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs, Sam shifted his weight to the side, retaining his hold on her pussy while covering his seed with his hand and massaging the silky fluid into her skin, like an invisible tattoo.

His. She was his.

The blanket rustled and tugged as she turned her face to his, pushing the hair out of her face, letting him see her full expression. The soft pout of her lips, the fan of red across her cheeks and the wariness in her eyes.

“You did not take me.”

He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth. With a nudge of his fingers he urged her onto her back. She followed his lead easily, only losing her balance in the last instant. He tumbled with her, keeping her head from hitting the ground with the cushion of his palms. “Don’t read too much into that.”

Even with the doubt he was throwing at her, she didn’t flinch, just studied his expression with those soft eyes, touched his throat with those soft hands and whispered. “Someday you will tell me why you hide from me.”

“Maybe.”

“Until then I will wait.”

She would wait. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to run.

He tapped his thumbs to her full lips in a parody of a kiss, guilt eating at him, desire driving him. “You should have a young man with stars in his eyes courting you. Someone to dream with.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do I get to pick a woman for you?”

“No.”

“Then you are stuck with my choice.”

Him.

Hell. She was muleheaded. And damn if he wasn’t glad of it. Feathering his fingers over her cheeks, he pulled her mouth to his. Her lips didn’t part immediately. He kissed the right corner and then the left, smiling at her stubbornness. She had a ways to go before she could hope to outmaneuver him. He shifted his left hand so his thumb cushioned her clitoris. One rub, two and her lips parted in a shuddering moan. He took full advantage of the moment, tickling the inside edges with his tongue until she squirmed before going deeper, searching for and finding the response he knew was his. Finding it, taking her gasp and moan as his own before withdrawing just far enough to drawl, “I hope the hell you know what you’re doing.”

Her arms came around his neck. “I always do.”

B
ella did know what she was doing, but Sam was messing up her plans with his misplaced sense of honor that insisted he protect her from herself. No matter how much she had tried to tempt him the last two days during which they’d “rested up,” he remained resolute. She could have used a kidnapper with less moral fortitude.

She glanced across the small clearing where Sam sat sewing on his “long johns.” She had offered to handle the task for him, but he had turned her down the way he turned down every other offer she made. It was almost as if he was afraid if she took over any of the chores, she’d start seeing him as something other than temporary.

She sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position against the fallen tree that was serving as her backrest. Being a notorious virgin was not as exciting as it sounded. The notorious part she did not mind so much, but the virgin…that was the part she resented. For the fifth time since yesterday morning she brought up the subject.

“What you are doing makes no sense.”

“So you told me before.” Sam pulled the thread through the worn red material.

That did not bode well for today’s discussion.

“You should take me like you want to. Everyone assumes you already have.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what others think.”

“It should matter to you what
I
think.”

“I always take into consideration what you think.”

She kicked a rock in front of her. “If this happened, I would still not be a virgin.”

He bit down on the thread, looking at her from under his lashes. “You think it’s inevitable that Tejala will get you.”

“He will.”

“And because you believe that,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted, “you’re throwing away your future on me.”

“They are going to blame me anyway. In the eyes of those that determine my future, I am already soiled.”

“Your husband, when you find him, will know the truth.”

She wished there was another rock close enough to kick. She wished she was close enough to kick him. “What he knows won’t be important. All that will matter in his eyes is what others say.”

“You’re smart enough to pick a better husband.”

“Women do not pick husbands in my culture.”

“But they pick their lovers?”

He did not have to mock. She pulled the too-large hat down over her eyes in the gesture she’d seen him do when he wanted to convey disdain. “If they are lucky enough to have the opportunity. Yes.”

“And you consider me your opportunity?”

“Yes. And if you did not have such stubbornness, I would not be the subject of gossip with no reward.”

“What makes you think you’re the subject of gossip?”

“Tejala has announced all over the territory that he wants me back. People will always wonder why I ran, where I am, and what he will do to me when he gets me back. I think I am the subject of much gossip.”

“Well, at least you’re giving folk something to do.”

He shook out the long johns and came over. “These should protect your legs better.”

She took the garment from his hand. The material was clean and soft from frequent washing. He’d sewn a drawstring at the waist. She stood up and held the pants to her waist. They were almost the perfect length. Just a touch too long. She glanced up. A long way up. She forgot how tall Sam was. “You have a good eye.”

“I spent the last two days studying up on the subject.”

She supposed he had. For all he tried to keep distance between them, he spent an awful lot of time making sure she was comfortable. It could be he was that way with everyone, but she didn’t think so. A man did not insist on sewing clothes for someone that he was eager to be rid of.

He handed her another bundle of material. “This might come in handy too.”

She looked at the band with the two pieces of material attached. He waved toward her chest.

“It should keep the ladies from hurting.”

The ladies. Her lips twitched. “Thank you for making these for me.”

“Don’t go reading anything into it. If those legs of yours get worse, it’ll slow us down.”

She sighed. He always made a point to say something mean when he thought she was looking on him too favorably.

“We are leaving today?”

“If you’re feeling up to it.”

It was questions like that that ruined his cold killer image. She thought they were ready to go yesterday, but he’d taken one look at her thighs and declared they needed one more day. “I am not sure.”

He glanced at her suspiciously. “You were ready enough to go yesterday.”

She shrugged and ran her hands down her thighs, being careful to delineate the width of her hips as she did. He very much liked her hips. “I was, but after last night’s loving I am feeling a little—” she shrugged “—raw.”

She wasn’t actually. Sam had been very considerate as he had pleasured her. He was very sensitive to the fact that she suffered anything and he saw himself as some sort of debaucher of innocence. Even when she kept throwing herself and her innocence at his head.

“Damn it. I knew I should have shaved.”

She leaned back against the rock wall, and started pulling her skirt up. One inch at a time. “Perhaps you should check and see how much damage was done.”

He was halfway bending down and she had her skirt almost up to her hips, when he paused. Darn it. She thought she had him.

As quick as lightning he spun her around to face the rock. The warm stone pressed against her breasts. Hard to her soft. He pinned her arms behind her back. His cock pressed into her buttocks. More hard. Her pussy moistened. More soft.

His lips grazed her cheek. Both hard and soft at once. “Playing with fire, duchess?”

She pressed back into his groin. “I am doing my best.”

The swat on her rear caught her by surprise. “You’re going to get burned.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what happens to little innocents trying to run before they can walk.”

“What makes you so sure I am not ready?”

“What makes you so sure I’m the one?”

She bit the hand trying to push her away from him. His gloves kept her teeth from doing any damage. “Instinct.”

She twisted her head and found his wrist. No leather blunted her teeth. He didn’t flinch or pull away, which just annoyed her more. She was so tired of no one paying attention to her. She bit harder. He caught her chin, freeing her teeth, turning her face to his.

She couldn’t look away from his eyes. So cold. So hot. So bone-meltingly sexy. “I bite back.”

The low drawl sent a shiver down her spine. Heat suffused her body. Her breasts swelled and ached. She reached for the buttons on the shirt, imagining how his teeth would feel there. “Is this where I must scream with virginal fear?”

His eyes searched hers. “Yes.”

“I am sorry. There are no screams in me.”

“Why?”

“I want your mouth. Any way you want to give it to me.”

He shook his head, his hat brim shadowing his expression. He turned her around. She placed her arms above her head the way he’d taught her, the way he liked, offering him with one gesture whatever he wanted from her.

The weight of his torso pressed against her chest. Her nipples ached with a sharp pain as they were pressed back into the fullness of her breasts.

“I told you I won’t take you.”

“And I told you I would change your mind.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Sam?”

“What?”

“If you would just make love to me I would stop hurting.”

“I told you, I don’t make love.”

“It is the only word I know. You won’t teach me the others.”

“Uh-huh.”

His lips moved to the corner of her mouth. She tipped her head back giving him better access. “Teach me the words and I will use them.”

“You’d be irresistible if you used the words.”

His honesty in the face of his resistance was confusing. “So do not resist me.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s still part of me wanting to be able to look in the mirror when I shave.”

She cupped his cheek in her hand. “I like your beard.”

“It’s too rough for your skin.”

She rasped her nail down his jawline. He only said that because he thought
he
was too rough for her. “Your beard excites me.” She hated the blush heating her cheeks. The blush that made her look naive when she was trying for worldly.

A sound that closely resembled a growl rumbled from his throat. “How the hell did you stay a virgin this long?”

That answer was easy. “I was not given temptation.”

His eyes were almost black. “Bella?”

“What?”

His head came down, blocking the morning sun. Just before his lips met hers, he growled, “Shut up.”

The man had the control of a saint and if she ever got back to her hometown, Isabella was going to have the priest look into nominating him for sainthood. Right now, she just needed a way to get around it. Sighing loudly, Isabella shifted in the saddle. Sam didn’t turn, just rode ahead, the smoke from his cigarette drifting back to tease her with the scent of the tobacco he used. A sweet, spicy scent she associated only with him.

The tingle began between her thighs. Not wholly unwelcome. He was a fine-looking man with a good heart. And a penchant for testing himself. Something she intended to take full advantage of. No man was made of steel and eventually he would either underestimate her or lose his control.

“Where are we going?”

“The next town over.”

“Is that not dangerous?”

“For whom?”

He was in a snit. “For me. Someone will tell Tejala that I am here.”

“By the time the news gets back to him, we’ll be long gone.”

“But he will track us.” She did not want to be tracked. She hated the feeling of having someone on her trail, always looking over her shoulder. Never knowing how close they were, never knowing when they were going to strike, just living with the terror that it was coming.

“I have no doubt he’ll try.”

She tightened her grip on the reins. “He will succeed. You do not know him.”

Leather creaked as he looked over his shoulder. “I’ve never met the man personally, but I’ve met a hundred just like him.”

She shook her head. There had never been another like Tejala. He was intelligent, cunning and obsessive about some things. One of them being her. “I cannot go into town.”

“I’m sure not leaving you out here, a sitting duck for anybody that comes along.”

“Someone will tell. Tejala will come and he will kill them if they do not tell them what he needs to know—what he thinks they should know. Just like he killed the men at the wagon train.” Just like he had killed others before. Like he had killed her father.

Sam slowed his horse, waiting for her to catch up. “We don’t have any choice.”

“Why?”

“I’m looking for someone. I got a lead she might be in this town.”

She.
The pronoun hit her like a punch in the gut. Of course, the woman he searched for. She was probably beautiful. Experienced. A woman he did not feel he had to protect.

“I suppose she is very experienced?”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“Experience is not everything.”

“I’m sure she’d agree with you. So maybe you could send a prayer up to your God that I find her here.”

“What does she have that I do not that makes you so determined to get her?”

“A sister that wants her home.”

He was watching her carefully. Bella knew better than to reveal that her mother wanted her home too. If only to give her to Tejala. As long as Sam thought her family did not want her, she had a chance of escaping Tejala.

“Did she run away?”

“She was stolen.” So not a lover, but a job. She felt better.

In the distance she could make out rooftops. They were almost to town. “How old is she?”

“Twenty.”

An adult woman stolen would only have one destination. “Have you been searching for long?”

“About three months.” She wished he would look at her.

“Are you in love with her?” she asked again.

That did get him to look at her. “No, but I’m very close to her sister.”

She couldn’t hold back. “How close?”

“Desi’s married to my best friend.”

There was a warmth in his voice when he said Desi’s name that made her uncomfortable. He would not be the first man to be in love with his best friend’s wife. If he was, it would explain a lot.

“How long has she been missing?”

“Over a year.”

A year was a long time. The things that could happen to a woman in a year could be life-altering. “And no one has seen her?”

Sam tipped his hat down the way he did when he was angry. “No.”

His horse pulled ahead of hers. Obviously, he did not want her to see his expression when he thought of this woman. She kicked her heels against Sweet Pea’s side and reined him over until she could touch Sam’s thigh. His muscles jumped under her fingers in a silent rejection.

She didn’t take her hand away. It hurt her to see him in pain. “You think she is going to be in the next town?”

“I’ve got word there’s a blond whore working in the cantina.” It was a calm statement of facts, but it still made her wince.

Eyeing the tension in his shoulders, she sighed. “You do not think she is there willingly.”

“I never knew a woman who was.”

That made her blink. Most men she had met liked to think women worked in the saloon because they wanted to, not because there was no other choice. “Have you thought that maybe she does not want to be found?”

“The subject has been brought up.”

“What will you do if that’s the case?”

“Bring her back to her sister anyway.”

“That may be more than you can do.”

There was no way Bella could go back to her life, if many men had used her. Sam’s hand caught hers before she could take it from his thigh.

His fingers wrapped around hers. “If you were in her position, what would you do?”

“I would find a place of forgiveness and I would stay there.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

She shrugged. The “what” was pretty obvious. “For breaking the rules.”