Southern Seduction [Bride Train 8] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (20 page)

She dug into the dirt with her bare toes, avoiding him. Her shoulders hunched. He tilted his head, and saw she was worrying her lip again. He wanted those lips and teeth on him!

“What if I get a baby?”

A baby? A rush of pure lust roared through him. Pure as in untainted. A caring, loving, fatherhood-wanting lust to show her how much she meant to him. But he had to be gentle. He moved toward her slowly in case she bolted. He took her chilled hand and placed it on her flat belly. Keeping his large hand over hers, he tried to show with every ounce of his being that he spoke the truth.

“Casey, if we are lucky enough for you to have our child, you’ll make me so happy that, well, I can’t even imagine it.”

“Our child?” She squeaked the words.

He couldn’t read her blank expression but the pulse on her wrist raced.

“Ours. Yours, mine, Marshall’s, and Byron’s. Our home, our ranch, our children.”

Her face crumpled. More tears erupted. His heart stopped.

“Casey, if you don’t want—”

She shook her head, tears streaming, and pulled from his hand. His world rocked. If she didn’t want him…

“But I do want!” She threw herself against him, both crying and laughing.

“Oh, God!” His heart started again. He gasped for air. “Casey, I was so scared I’d lost you. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

It had taken an eternity, but it finally hit him. He and Casey, and Byron and Marshall, were a family. And if they did what he could barely wait to do, they’d have children. God willing. He lifted her chin, tilting it until he could see her. He growled low in his throat.

“Come here, Mrs. Taylor, and pucker up for your husband.” She still looked hesitant. He pointed to the stars which now blanketed the sky. “That’s nothing to what you’ll see when I kiss you.”

He started slow, touching just enough so it wouldn’t tickle. Then he nibbled. At the middle of her full bottom lip. At one corner, then the other. He switched to light kisses. Forehead, cheek, nose—anywhere and everywhere.

A pair of hands grabbed his ears. She held her face almost nose to nose with him. “I want a real kiss, husband.”

He laughed at her demand. “Not yet. We’re going into town and celebrating our wedding night. Sophie will set up a hot bath. This time I’m going to wash you myself. Every curve of you.”

“This time?” She gripped his ears harder. Her eyes widened. “You
did
see me taking that bath!”

“Yes, ma’am, I did,” he said. He ran his hands from her hips, past her waist, to her breasts. He thumbed her nipples. She released his ears, sighing. “May I take you to town and finally have my wicked way with my eager wife?”

“Yes! Race you!” She danced away and was gone, Zeus chasing after her.

“Maybe having a wild wife won’t be so bad.” He took a step, winced, and shook out a leg. “Best if we take the wagon. I don’t think I can sit a horse tonight.”

Casey eyed the steaming bath. She’d never seen anything like it. Unlike the small tin tub she used at the ranch, this was made for bathing. One end of the smooth copper surface curved up high enough to hold her back. Sophie had set it behind a screen. To keep out drafts, or to hide behind? They’d both taken off their boots because of the carpet, but nothing else.

Cole leaned one wide shoulder against the wall while she looked around the room. Though his posture might seem relaxed at a quick glance, every muscle radiated tension. Like a hungry mountain lion, he waited to pounce. His hooded eyes took all of her in, seeming to look through her clothes to the bare skin beneath. Heat flashed over her in a wave.

He was ten inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier. Thick arms corded with muscle lay beneath that patched shirt. He hadn’t tried to hide the way his pants tented out below his belt. She’d arched her back to grind her pussy against the saddle during their eager ride into town. She’d been swollen and wet when they entered the hotel.

Somewhere between walking into the room, having a bath brought, and the door shutting out everything but the two of them, she’d become unsure. It was one thing to have Byron kiss her, or to tend to Marshall’s wounds and let things progress. Quite another to deliberately take a hotel room so her husband could consummate their marriage. A husband who hadn’t wanted her.

She stuck her hands in her pockets, curling her shoulders as she looked at the floor. The carpet was soft under her feet but cool. The stove hadn’t yet heated the room sufficiently to take the chill off. Across the room the bed waited. She turned away, her face heating. She’d been the one to touch Marshall, eagerly wanting. But he’d been no threat to her.

Cole’s power wasn’t just in his size. The muscles that filled out his work clothes would make it easy for him to do whatever he wanted to her. But it was his intensity that both frightened and drew her in. He dominated the room, merely by being there. A husband was a wife’s master under law, but wed or not, Cole radiated a force that drew her in.

She felt like a moth fluttering around a flame, desperate to be near the light even as the flames singed her.

She took a quick glance at him. His face was blank, expressionless, yet he commanded her without words. She shivered even as another jolt of heat consumed her. All her life she’d been strong. Had to be, to survive. Though small in size, she’d grown into a far better hunter than her brothers. She’d shot a man dead, knifed others, and killed for food almost daily.

Casey had never known security. Had never put her trust in a man.

Cole wanted that trust. He wanted to protect her, to keep her safe under his wing. She automatically fought it, needing to be free and therefore safe. But the kernel of femininity that she’d always denied demanded otherwise. It made her want to curl up beside him, his strong arms around her.

She didn’t have to look to feel his presence. His power radiated through the room. It stripped away her illusions, reminding her just how small and vulnerable she really was. Her nerves vibrated like a banjo string. Tonight would change her forever. It had little to do with the physical act that would take place, and everything to do with giving herself to Cole.

If she stayed, she would be consenting to his power over her. She would be choosing to give up the authority she’d held over herself. She could refuse and walk out the door. Cole would let her go. He didn’t want a woman who felt forced to be with him. Knowing this allowed her to trust him to care about her, not just his own needs.

By submitting to him she would put her life in his hands. The feminine part of her wanted those hands to hold her, caress her, and protect her. Giving herself to Cole did not mean she would lose herself in his power. Instead, she’d be adding his strength to her own. And she needed his strength. She was so tired of being alone. Of being responsible.

A wave of exhaustion hit her. So many years of having to stand alone against the world. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself in the only comfort she’d known. Until now. As Cole’s wife, she could ask for, and receive, many types of comfort. She wanted to be his wife, in all ways.

Yes, she would submit to him, allowing him to have power over her. But she would not give up herself. He would have her, but on her terms. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and turned to face her husband.

The power of him struck her anew. He kept it leashed, like a mountain lion calmly licking its paw while watching the game trail. Any second it could extend lethal claws and destroy its prey in one deadly swipe. She trembled in a sudden attack of nervousness.

“Shy all of a sudden?”

She lifted her chin and shrugged as if nothing was the matter. “I just never seen a bath like this.” She wiped her hands on the seams of her pants. The familiar comfort of her knife soothed her.

“I’ll take that for now,” Cole said dryly. He held out his hand.

“Why? You think I’ll stab you with it?”

“The first time often hurts a woman.” He wiggled his fingers and gave her an expectant look. She walked forward and slapped her knife down on his palm.

“I’m used to getting hurt. This won’t be anything new.”

Cole shoved his shoulder against the wall and stood straight. He set her knife on the table beside his gun belt.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again, Casey. Not if I can help it.” His stern expression faded. A twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was fighting a smirk. “Unless you disobey me, wife. Then you might get my hand on your bare bottom. But that won’t hurt for long. Just until I kiss it better.”

An image of his hand coming down on her bare bottom jolted her. She coughed, choking when she swallowed wrong. Why did the thought of him swatting her arse make her pussy ache?

“Your face is turning pink. You’re thinking about me dropping your pants, putting you over my lap, and spanking you. And you like it.”

She shook her head, fast, and backed up. “No, sir. You’re never gonna do that to me.”

He removed his hat, setting it beside their weapons. “We’ll see. But now I’m going to undress you. Then I’m going to wash every part of your body.” Everywhere his eyes went a tingle followed. “If you like, you can wash me. After we’re dry I’m going to kiss every part of you. You’ll be begging me to let you come. And when I do, I’m going to slide my cock in that hot, wet, pussy of yours. You’ll scream my name as you come for a second time. Or maybe it’ll be your third.”

She trembled at his erotic words. Slowly and steadily, he stalked toward her. She couldn’t move.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured when he reached her. His palm brushed her shirt, right over her nipple. She gasped. “You will remember this night.” His hand grasped her hair and gently tugged. She bent her head back, exposing her neck. She looked into his brown eyes for just a moment. When his lips descended, her mouth opened and her eyes shut.

Byron and Marshall had kissed her, but Cole devoured her. She’d barely opened her lips when his tongue entered, tangling with hers. He tightened his grip on her hair. He held her bottom with his other hand, pressing his arousal against her belly. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, taking possession of her. Her pussy spasmed. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, giving as good as she got. He stilled for a moment. Then he growled deep in his throat and pressed his lips hard against hers as if trying to meld them into his own.

He pulled back just before she ran out of breath. He looked down at her with glazed eyes. He panted, as did she.

“How bad do you want that hot bath?” He looked over her face as if memorizing it. “We could keep going and take our time washing later.”

Instead of answering she put her arms around his waist and pulled him into her tilted pelvis.

“Good answer,” he croaked. He gathered her shirt in his fists and yanked. Buttons pinged around the room. He stared at her breasts, now free. They quivered as she breathed.

“You are one fine-lookin’ woman.”

She did the same to his shirt, or tried to. He laughed and hauled it over his head while she dropped her own to the floor. She attacked his belt buckle, making him laugh again. She slid her hand inside his pants and found his cock. He hissed, inhaling when she grasped it. She couldn’t close her fingers around it.

“You’re even bigger than Marshall,” she blurted.

“I’ll make sure it’s not a problem.” He smiled wickedly and reached for her.

He lifted her breasts, one in each hand. His rough calluses lightly scratched her. She shivered at the sensation and arched, silently begging for more. He dipped his head and took a nipple in his hot mouth. He closed his teeth, scraping just enough. His cock twitched in her hand.

“Oh, my,” she groaned, closing her eyes to concentrate.

A chuckle, then he released her, pulling away. She opened her eyes, about to complain, when he reached for her pants. A moment later they were around her ankles. He lifted her, and she kicked them off. He got rid of his own pants after setting her down.

They stared at each other in the lamplight. She looked at his cock for the first time. It was huge, thick and long. A drop of liquid sparkled at the tip. She licked her lips, and he groaned. She reached for him with both hands. She needed both to hold him. He jerked in her grasp. She used a finger and took the drop off his tip. He groaned even louder when she put her finger in her mouth and sucked it.

“Two can play at that,” he said.

She trembled as his fingers slid over her belly. Down they went, into her brown curls.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered.

She obeyed, and was rewarded when one finger parted her lips. She tightened her hold on his cock when it jerked. Then his finger went inside her body and everything else disappeared. She tried to think only of his finger, but his other hand had found her nipple again. She groaned, twitching and thrusting against him.

“Bed,” he whispered. He picked her up as easily as if she was a sack of flour and tossed her. She landed spread-eagled on her back. “Don’t move.”

Once more she followed his order. He brought a lamp closer, setting it on the table by the bed. It shone between her legs. Right where he was staring. Before she could move to hide herself he grasped her knees. He pulled until her bottom was at the edge of the bed. He set her feet beside her hips and held them there with a silent order not to move.

Then he took his time exploring her folds with his fingers. He drew his finger around and around the spot she wanted touched. She bit her lip to hold back a cry of need. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and she’d be damned if she’d beg him to touch it.

Then he did. A bolt of white-hot need hit and she arched with a cry. She barely felt his cock nudge her pussy before he pressed into her. A slight jolt of pain and he was through. She clenched him, demanding more, and he began moving. Slowly he pressed forward.

“God, you’re so tight and hot,” he murmured.

He eased his thick cock inside her an inch at a time. Forward and back, as she stretched to accommodate him. The whole time his finger played with her clit, circling but never touching. She clutched the sheet, grasping it instead of the man standing beside the bed entering her.