by Lily Reynard
He guided her hand down to the fly front of his trousers. "It would make me happy if you could start by unbuttoning me."
She caught her lower lip between her teeth and set to work. The hesitant brush of her fingers against his swollen shaft was the most delightful torture despite the stout woolen fabric of his trousers and the union suit beneath.
Dan leaned back a little so that he could watch her work.
When she finished unfastening the final button, she looked up at him expectantly.
Damn, if he didn't find her combination of innocence and bold curiosity utterly appealing. He swallowed hard.
"Your drawers have a convenient opening. So do mine."
He was so hard now that it hurt.
"Go on," he urged. "Reach in and take me in hand."
He held his breath as her warm, gentle fingers parted the fabric and finally touched the rigid shaft of his cock.
She cupped it with exquisite gentleness and drew it out into the fresh air with a soft, maddeningly light upwards stroke. "It's, um, really big," she said, sounding apprehensive.
Dan imagined her on her knees before him, her beautiful mouth stretched around him and struggling to swallow him down. He stiffened and groaned against the almost unbearable pleasure of that thought combined with her touch.
The caress stilled. "I—I'm not hurting you, am I?" she asked hesitantly.
"God, no! Don't stop," ordered Dan, thrusting into her cupped fingers. "A firm grip's the thing. You ever milk a cow?"
That made her giggle. "No. I'm a city girl, remember?"
"All right, I'll show you." He reached down and covered her hands with his own, showing her how to please him.
She was a bit hesitant at first, but willing to learn.
"I didn't think it would be so soft," she confessed, skating her thumb over the swollen head of his cock. "It's like velvet, with a core of steel."
"Oh God, do that again," Dan begged. "That feels astoundingly good."
She obliged, and he gave himself up to the sheer bliss of being touched by a willing, beautiful woman who was devoting herself to his pleasure. It was heaven, and the knowledge that she had obviously never before done this for any other man added extra savor to the experience.
He tried to hold out as long as possible, because it felt so damned good, but their previous activities had excited to him to such a degree that his own crisis quickly gathered force.
"Abby, I need you to kiss me now," he ordered. "And for God's sake, don't stop what you're doing."
She obeyed, and he plundered her mouth with ruthless sensuality, as the sweetly maddening movement of her soft hand on his cock drove him over the edge.
Thrusting vigorously against her fingers, he plunged into a torrent of ecstasy, emptying himself in a hot, spurting rush.
As he shuddered to his completion, her hand stilled on him.
"Did I do that right?" she asked, lifting her lips from his, an expression of uncertainty creasing her brow.
"You sent me straight to heaven," he told her honestly. "Thank you, Abby."
She shook her head and smiled shyly at him. "I should be thanking you. I never thought that—well, it was sublime."
He leaned in and kissed her one last time before rising from the log and helping her to her feet. As he tucked himself away and buttoned up his trousers, she stooped to rinse her hands in the stream.
"We should be getting back," he said regretfully. "Christopher's probably waking up from his nap about now, and I still got work to do."
They returned to the house in comfortable silence. Abby looked like she was deep in thought.
Dan had a lot to mull over as well. Today had been a very promising start.
Because as sweet as this brief idyll of mutual pleasuring had been, he wanted a lot more than merely bedding her.
Now he just needed to figure out how to convince her to choose him over his brother.
Chapter 10
Abby came down to supper that evening to find a jar of deep purple huckleberry jam set next to her plate, and a note addressed to her in a beautiful copperplate hand.
"Those are both from Mrs. Kottinger," Jim said, as he to pull out her chair for her. "She told me to tell you that she's so glad you wrote her."
Feeling guilty about her afternoon's unexpected idyll with Dan, Abby had a hard time meeting Jim's eyes as she settled Christopher on her lap. So she busied herself with tying a square of cloth around the baby’s neck as a bib and arranging the large square of flannel that protected her clothes.
Does he know? And if so, what must he think of me?
But Jim didn't give any indication that Dan had told him anything.
"How was your excursion to town?" she asked, hoping that her voice sounded perfectly normal.
She noticed that Dan wasn't at the table yet and breathed a small sigh of relief. What am I going to do?
She had asked herself this question over and over again during the course of the afternoon, as the aftermath of his pleasuring slowly faded away.
Even after everything that had happened in Philadelphia, Abby would never have dreamed that she would allow two different men to take liberties with her in the space of two days.
And yet it didn't feel wrong or bad. The only emotions coursing through her were confusion about the depth of her attraction to both brothers and a strong desire for more kisses and caresses from them.
Oh my. I've become utterly shameless.
"Oh, it was all right," Jim said. "I sold a couple of mules to Fritz Eberhardt and his brother Ernie, and I put in an order for fifty pounds of sugar, for when the fruit trees come ripe. And I dropped your letter off at the general store. It'll go out on the next train headed east."
"Thank you," she said. "How much do I owe you for postage?"
He gave her one of his wickedly flirtatious smiles, and she felt the same jolt of reaction as before. "Give me one of your sweet-as-sugar smiles, Miss Abby, and I'll consider myself sufficiently thanked."
Dan chose this moment to stomp in through the swinging door from the kitchen, his face and hands still wet from washing. He gave his brother a disgusted look as he dropped into a chair opposite Abby.
"Hello, Abby," he said, and his smile looked positively smug. "How did your afternoon go?"
She felt betraying heat rise into her face. "Christopher didn't cry. After yesterday, I confess that Isaiah and I were both relieved to discover peace reigning under this roof. Oh, and Emma wrote me!"
Unfolding the note was a welcome distraction from having to meet the brothers' gazes.
Jim's expression remained openly flirtatious, as usual, but Dan's expression was much more intense. She could still feel the ghostly pressure of his touch against her most private parts, and the stiff, hot length of his penis pressing eagerly into her hand.
She swallowed hard, and with an effort, concentrated on her correspondence.
Dear Abigail,
I can't tell you how pleased I was to receive your note. I hope that you're settling down into your new situation, and I look forward to seeing you on Sunday. It would be my pleasure to invite you to my home for luncheon after services. Please say yes, and bring the baby! I'm dying to hear your impressions of our little frontier town, and of the ranch.
Eagerly awaiting your reply,
Your new friend, Emma
She looked up from the note. "Would it be all right if I accepted her invitation to lunch after church?"
"Sure thing," Jim said. "We have to deliver those mules to the Eberhardts after church, and then we have a meeting with some prospective clients at the hotel. We'll swing by the Kottingers' place when we're done and pick you up."
Dan spoke at the same time. "It's technically your day off—do you want us to take Chris while you visit with Mrs. Kottinger?"
"Oh, no," Abby said. "Especially if you're going to be meeting with clients. Besides, Emma asked me to bring Christopher to lunch."
Jim nodded. "She attended his birth.
I'm sure she's curious to see how he's getting on."
◆◆◆
Everyone is staring at me.
And it wasn't a figment of Abby's guilty conscience prodding her.
The church, fragrant with pine resin from the freshly laid floorboards and rows of brand-new pews, was packed with men of all ages, many of them freshly shaved, most of them wearing clean, if worn, clothes.
Given the unexpected scrutiny, Abby was glad that she had decided to wear one of her nicer shirtwaists, cream-colored and trimmed with lace, with her draped and bustled brown skirt.
On the drive from the ranch, Dan had warned her that her arrival in town had garnered a lot of interest. Until now, Abby hadn't really believed him.
"But why would anyone be interested in me? I'm just an ordinary person!" she had protested.
Jim had chuckled at that. "You're young and unmarried. That makes you prime marriage material in these parts."
He had traded smug glances with his brother over Abby's head, and once again, she wondered whether Dan had told him about their heated encounter.
She tried to concentrate on Reverend Kottinger's sermon, but it only reminded of how far short her recent behavior fell from the ideal model of Christian womanly virtue. The weight of the curious gazes burned against her skin and made her happy that Jim and Dan sat on either side of her like a pair of big bodyguards.
To avoid the winks and hopeful smiles directed her way, Abby's gaze fastened on Emmaline Kottinger. The tall, chestnut-haired woman sat in the front pew with perfect posture. She looked calm, confident, and impossibly elegant, even in her simple white shirtwaist and plain berry-colored skirt.
I want Emma to like me, Abby realized. And instantly felt ashamed of how far short she fell of being worthy of the respect and friendship of the minister's wife, the pillar of the community here in Twin Forks.
If only Abby wasn't so acutely aware of the devastatingly handsome twins squeezed in on either side of her in the church pew!
Dan had Chris on his lap, and the baby was happily playing with the buttons on his uncle's shirt. The tender expression on Dan's face as he gazed down at his nephew made her heart melt like a pat of butter on a stack of warm pancakes.
On the ride to town earlier, with Christopher held securely on her lap, she had briefly considered whether she ought to try to find another position away from the simmering pot of desire and conflicting emotions that she found herself immersed in at the ranch.
But her heart and soul had united in protest at the thought of abandoning Christopher…and leaving his two devastatingly attractive uncles.
I have to find a way out of this quandary, Abby told herself, forcing her wandering attention back to Reverend Kottinger's sermon.
But it was hopeless, when all she could think about was how good and right it had felt when they had each kissed her.
It was relief when the service finally ended with a one last hymn and Amen.
Flanked by her two employers, Abby followed the crowd out into the fresh air of a beautiful summer morning.
"Abby! I'm so glad that you came!" Emma exclaimed as Abby emerged from the church.
She and Reverend Kottinger stood near the door, exchanging greetings with their parishioners. The reverend was at least twenty years older than his young wife, with a substantial paunch and a pink scalp shining through thinning gray hair.
But he had a warm smile and twinkling blue eyes that lit up with genuine delight for each person he spoke to. Emma stood at his side, holding his hand, her fingers laced through his with obvious affection.
"I've really been looking forward to seeing you," Abby replied, and found herself caught up in an impulsive hug.
Emma smelled of clean air and sunshine with a hint of cologne.
"I can't wait to whisk you away for luncheon and a nice long chat," her new friend continued as she stepped back and stretched her arms out for the baby. "May I?"
"Of course." Abby handed her charge over without a qualm.
Emma cradled Christopher against the breast and gazed affectionately down at him. "And you're growing into such a big boy!"
He grinned up at her, showing off his three new teeth.
"He's able to sit up by himself now, and he wants to feed himself," Abby said, adding wryly, "I let him try, but even with a bib, he and I end up wearing most of the meal."
Emma laughed and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sure it's a sight to behold." Her expression sobered, and her voice dropped to a soft murmur. "I hope to have the joy of experiencing that for myself, one day."
Jim exchanged a handshake with the minister and lifted his hat to Emma. "Ma'am, if you'll excuse us, Dan and I have a couple of mules we need to deliver to Fritz and Ernie."
Dan, who stood on Abby's other side, added with a friendly nod, "We'll be back in a couple of hours to collect Miss Rose."
"Take all the time you need," Emma assured them. "I'm looking forward to a nice long chat with Abby."
Reverend Kottinger smiled benignly down at his wife. "My dear, why don't you and Miss Rose go on without me? When I'm done here, I'll go on over to the hotel for my lunch and leave you ladies to gossip in peace."
Emma leaned over to kiss her husband's cheek. "Albert, you are a treasure," she declared. "I'll save you a slice of cake for later."
He beamed at her. "I'll hold you to that promise. Now, go! Enjoy yourselves!"
Emma shifted Chris to her hip with ease and slipped her free arm through Abby's.
Together they strolled across the narrow strip of grass and line of rose bushes that separated the church from a simple two-story wooden house.
"Thanks to you, our Sunday service was overflowing," Emma commented as she ushered Abby inside the house. "Normally, all of the miners would be out hunting or fishing or seeking other amusements on a beautiful summer morning,".
"I'm sorry—" Abby began, though she wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for.
"No, no," Emma protested. Her smile was wry. "Believe me, I remember what it's like to be the new female arrival in town. Two years ago, right after my wedding, men would ride for miles just to ask me for a cup of coffee and a bit of conversation. Please, follow me."
She led the way into the house.
"They hadn't heard you were married?" Abby asked, as they walked by a small, neat parlor that opened off the entrance hallway.
She glimpsed a worn but still serviceable horsehair sofa with faded green upholstery as well as a comfortable-looking leather armchair and a number of framed photographic portraits.
"Oh, they didn’t have romantic intentions," Emma assured her. "They were starved for female company outside of the, ah, dance hall and saloon. Not that there were many women at all in town back then. The men treated us all like princesses, no matter whether we were respectable wives or soiled doves."
They arrived at the rear of the house. Emma began to usher Abby into her kitchen, but stopped with a frown.
"Oh, I do hope you don’t mind eating in here," she said, sounding uncertain. "I was hoping we could continue our conversation while I heated up our soup and baked up the shepherd's pie I prepared this morning. But if you'd feel more comfortable eating in the dining room—"
"Oh no," Abby hastened to reassure her. "I don’t mind at all, and you were right. I'd much rather talk to you in here than sit in your dining room like a stranger. Please let me know if I can help with anything."
Emma beamed, and Abby felt that she had passed a test of some kind. "Don't worry, I'll put you to work slicing bread and chopping a bit of parsley to garnish the soup."
Emma's kitchen was small, perhaps a third of the size of the ranch's kitchen, but it was impeccably clean and cozy, with a table and a pair of chairs standing under a window, and a blanket placed on the floor nearby with a couple of painted wooden toys for Christopher.
The table was set with plain china and glasses on a checked gingham cloth, and a small vase filled with freshly cut pink and yellow roses that lo
oked like they'd come from Emma's garden.
Abby put Christopher down on the blanket. He immediately grabbed the closest toy, a chunky carved horse, and began chewing on it with a happy grin.
Satisfied that he was going to stay put for a little while, Abby tied on the apron that Emma offered her and began slicing a loaf of freshly baked bread and dicing parsley as directed.
"You mentioned the soiled doves earlier on," Abby began hesitantly. "When I arrived, I noticed several signs advertising, ah…" She trailed off, unsure of how to politely finish her question.