Angus shook his head. “Not at all. You better expect some ribbin’ from the men today. You had us all looking bad to our wives last night. Even Clara raised her eyebrows asking if she’d ever made noises that loudly.”
Silas smirked at the amiable wagon master. “Well… have ya made her howl?”
“Smart aleck. I’ll have you know that there have been many a night where the only thing between her and the Good Lord was a smile and a shout.”
“You still haven’t said if she’s screamed as loud as my Minnie?”
Angus readjusted his stance, his spurs jangling. “I’m not rightly sure anyone can scream as loud as your woman.”
Silas couldn’t help but laugh, and he had to agree with Angus. His Minnie squawked pretty loudly. He had always heard that women who were full of life and mischief tended to be lively in the hay, but he had no idea it would be this rewarding. He was a lucky man indeed.
“I’m sure if you work on your skills, Angus, you’ll be able to make your wife as happy as mine.” Loudly laughing, Silas darted away from Angus before he could retaliate.
“You lousy son-of-a-bitch. I’ll get you later, Silas.”
Silas shouted over his shoulder. “You certainly can try.” He walked toward their wagon, his boot clomping against the hardened clay. It’d been days since they’d had rain; his father would be struggling to keep the crops going if it was like this on the farm in Green River.
It was time to wake up his bride. His bride. It seemed odd thinking that he even had a bride—a wife to call his own. He had begun to think he would be married to his job.
He looked over the weather worn wooden lift gate at the back of the wagon at his serene, slumbering wife. Minnie looked almost angelic, but the minute she awoke, her spirit came to life ready for another day of mischief. She wasn’t a bad girl—not really. This sassy, naughty woman had a zest and curiosity for life, which led her into escapades—unintentionally for the most part—and on other days, it seemed she sought out trouble.
Sighing loudly, he climbed into the back of their covered wagon—their home for now. “Minnie.” He shook her shoulder gently. “It’s time to get up, baby.” He jostled her a bit. Nothing. No reaction.
He knew one sure-fire way to awaken her. He undid the knot on the handkerchief tied around his neck, carefully rolling it into a long thin length. Unbuttoning his pants, he pulled his already hard cock out, sliding his hand vigorously over the silky length. Once hard enough, he quickly pushed the rolled up handkerchief under her head, jamming it into her mouth, tying it tightly with some stray curls caught up in it, undoubtedly burning with the tug.
Slapping a hand over her eyes, he leaned in whispering. “Time for my captive’s morning fuck. I’m going to take you hard, girl, and don’t give a whit whether you come or not.”
Minnie’s eyes fluttered under his hand trying to see, but he had no doubt that she recognized his voice and would be dripping with arousal.
“Ass up, girl. Now.”
Awkwardly, she clambered up onto her knees; her bottom still bare from the night before.
Just as he suspected, her hot, little cunt wept with her juices. His girl loved the struggle and fight of kidnapping. Silas slid two of his fingers into her. “You wanton harlot. Your hot cunt is dripping over my fingers. What do you have to say for yourself, bitch?” He pumped his fingers vigorously while pulling the gag out of her mouth.
“Oh, God. Take me as hard and fast as you can!” The answer came from deep within her throat, rough and raspy.
“Jesus. You asked for it, remember that.” Silas gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. Lining up with her wet slit, he pounded into her up to the hilt. Stilling. Waiting. Her pussy spasmed around him, and he refused to let her move, forcing her to deal with her ravenous need and want.
“You’re mine. I do with you as I will, you have no choice… hell, you told me to ravish you, didn’t you, girl?” He pressed his fingers deeper into her hips; he had no doubt the pain was biting and sharp, but distracting her from it, he let go of her right hip, slapping the cheek hard enough that a red handprint bloomed quickly.
“Ow!” Minnie’s back stiffened, a light sheen of sweat glistened in the ray of sun now peeping through the back of the wagon.
She only rose up partially onto her hands before Silas savagely pressed between her shoulder blades, keeping her head down. “Bitch, when I say head down, you don’t move until I say. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Jesus, her submission to him—to this game—made him want to roar. It wasn’t the chase for either of them, it was the capture, seizing what was his, making her submit to his will and control. As a US Marshal, he liked arresting and putting bad guys in handcuffs, paying the penalty of their sins, but he had no idea that the need to subjugate and harness another’s will went as deep as this with Minnie.
And although not surprising since he’d always been this way, his need to protect went above and beyond even his expectations. If anyone were to watch their games, they would no doubt say otherwise, but he cherished Minnie. He elevated her needs and desires above his own, daily. The urge to serve and care for his wife surprised him many days.
Silas wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer; he slammed his cock into her, his balls slapping against her wet sheath. His eyes rolled back, his ass clenching tightly with each thrust, pressing deeper and harder until that familiar tingle in the base of his spine signaled his release. He moaned through gritted teeth, his cum spurting in steady streams into her pulsing and quivering pussy. He exhaled loudly, his hips thrusting harshly one last time before collapsing over her back, leaving soft kisses down her cool, damp spine.
Minnie’s hips swiveled, pushing back onto his semi-erect cock, her need still gnawing at her. He slipped out of her, and her whine at the loss of him inside her caused him to smile.
“C’mon, bad girl, let’s give that pretty little quim its release before you start your day. Can’t have my Minnie rubbing up against wagon wheels.” Silas rolled her onto her back, situating himself between her legs.
Slapping him on the shoulder, Minnie shouted. “Silas! I would never… my God, my mother… to say such a thing!”
Silas laughed, putting his forefinger to her lips. “Quiet. I was teasing. Besides, I have more important things to take care of now than worrying about what your mother would say about your salacious behavior on the prairie.”
“Oh, Lord.” Minnie rolled her eyes, so only the whites were showing.
Silas slapped her outer thigh hard enough for breaking the rule on eye rolling that she pulled her bottom lip between her small, white teeth.
“I’m sorry, Silas.”
“That’s better. I hate eye rolling and you know it.” He slid down her body, drawing each of her legs over his shoulders, cupping each plump buttock in each hand. Her spicy scent filling his nostrils, Silas breathed deep before slipping his tongue through the puffy, pink lips of her sex. The intermingled juices of their lovemaking slid over his tongue. Her hard clit twitched, releasing from under the hood, so responsive to the press of his tongue. Poking into her channel, she shouted, her hips elevating and thrusting. Silas pushed deeper, gliding it over all the right places as her mewls indicated.
Her small hands slid into his hair, gripping it tightly, causing a slight burn to his scalp, which increased with every pant on her climb to her release. Knowing her like he did in their brief relationship, he covered her mouth with one hand to muffle her shouts of ecstasy. Minnie’s legs snapped tightly around his head, muffling his hearing.
Silas continued to lap at her juices—sweet as honey. Once her body slackened, sated from the activities, he crawled up the bed, pulling her into his embrace. “Just a few more minutes and then we have to get outside. Everyone will be teasing us again this morning.”
“I don’t even care today. It was incredible; they can talk all they want. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”
But he kn
ew the truth; it was he who was the luckiest.
Chapter 3
“Nellie, stop fiddling with that food and eat it.” Clara nudged the plate sitting on the young girl’s lap, wishing just one morning there wouldn’t be a fight with getting dressed or eating. Just one morning.
“I’m just not hungry, Ma.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be walking in the sun all morning, you won’t last an hour without some food. Eat.” She gave Nellie a glare that she hoped would convince her to take at least a handful of bites.
“Are you feeling sickly, girl?” Angus’s soft voice questioned Nellie.
“No. I’m just not very hungry.”
Something wasn’t right with her daughter, but she couldn’t place the cause. In time, it would surface, but until then, she just didn’t seem her bubbly, playful self. It would take delicate investigating to find the root of the sober mood she seemed to be in now.
“Your mother’s right. You need to have more grub or you’ll fall over.”
“Nobody would care if I did, so what does it matter?” Nellie abruptly stood, tossing her plate to the ground and stomping off.
“Young lady, you better get your tail back over here!” Clara hiked her skirts up, starting after the recalcitrant child.
“Leave her be, Clara. She’s obviously dealing with something we’re unaware of. Give her time, she’ll be back and then you can scold her.” Angus bent down picking up the plate and fork, whistling for the dog that belonged to another family so it could eat the scraps in the dirt.
“She knows better than this. I just don’t know what’s going on with her. If she thinks I’m going to tolerate throwing of food, she has another thing coming.” Clara yanked the plate from his hand, loudly tossing it into the bucket of water and suds. The last thing she needed on this infernal trip across this God-forsaken land was a defiant brat. She’d be nipping this behavior in the bud today.
“Patience, Clara. She needs your understanding, not your anger. The right words may have her opening up so we can help her deal with whatever is going on.” Angus came up behind her whispering in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist. “As you know, sometimes women need words of kindness and support.”
“She ain’t a woman yet, and as a child, sometimes they need a good spanking, Angus.”
“That may be so—sometimes. But in most cases, softness works better than angry words. Trust me on this.” He kissed her on the cheek leaving her to think on his words.
She knew his words were right, no matter how hard she rankled against them this morning. Her daughter was like her in many ways—keeping things to herself until she exploded, for instance.
“Where ya goin’, Mr. Angus? Can I go?”
Clara corrected her youngest daughter’s grammar, “May I go?”
“Sure, Ma, you wanna come too?” Rose blinked at her innocently. Before she could respond, Angus laughed and it echoed off the rocks in the quiet morning. She turned, hands on her hips staring at him. She really didn’t need him laughing when they did things like this. It just infuriated her.
“Come along, Rose. Yes, you may come with me. You wanna come too, Ma?” His lip quirked up into a half smile, and it made her want to throw something.
Angus arched an eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t do whatever your thinking, girl. Wouldn’t be prudent.”
She woke up wrong today, and if she didn’t fix her attitude, Angus wouldn’t hesitate to fix it for her.
“Yes, Sir. And, no, thank you, I’m not coming along. I have things to do. See if you can find that child for me.”
Grabbing Rose’s hand in his large one, Angus called over his shoulder. “That’s what I’m doing, dear.”
Clara went to work washing the dirty dishes. She and Angus had fallen into a steady rhythm as a family, like they’d been together for years—not just weeks. Both of them having been married with children before helped, no doubt, but they understood each other and had the same ideas for rules and structure for the children.
As always, Angus, exhibited a calm patience, but even the girls knew not to push him too far. He had clearly defined boundaries and the repercussions were unpleasant enough that no one—including the grown women of the Widow Wagon—crossed that line without fear and trepidation.
The muffled cries of Minnie wafted over the quiet morning. Clara lifted her head looking over at their wagon, watching the white cloth covering it shaking and flapping from the activity within.
Sighing loudly, Clara found herself wishing that she and Angus had been able to have a real honeymoon without children two feet away. Just the thought of having him all to herself made her twitch, and Minnie moaning in the background didn’t help. No use thinking about that now—it would be a while before they arrived in Oregon and had their own room. It would only frustrate her to think on it any longer.
She picked up Nellie’s plate, shaking her head. Her girl knew better than to throw a dish, especially one with food, and this is where Angus’s words rang clear, ‘she needs your understanding.’ It was just so unlike her; Rose was usually the impetuous one, not Nellie.
“Clara, someone has an apology and something we need to talk about. Rose, sweetie, can you go play over at Tiny’s wagon for a bit, please.” Angus had his arm wrapped around Nellie’s shoulder, her little nose and eyes red from crying.
Rose yelled, “Sure, Mr. Angus.” She skipped off happily.
“We really need to get them to call you ‘Pa’, it’s been long enough.” Clara wiped her hands on a towel before tossing it onto the stool next to her.
“We’ve discussed this before. Besides, we have something more important to discuss.” He pointed to the stool, nodding at Clara to sit. “What do you have to say to your mother, young lady?”
Nellie’s eyes filled with tears again. “I’m sorry I threw my plate and food.”
“You know better than to act like that. You probably deserve a good spanking for that, but I’m not going to do it.” Clara dropped her hands from her hips, softening her voice. “What’s going on, Nellie?” She tipped the small girls head up.
Nellie’s lip quivered, she gasped trying to hold back a sob. “The kids… they’re making fun of me. They’re saying that I’m a bastard and that I ain’t like them. They all have fathers, and they say Mr. Angus don’t matter cuz he’s just the wagon master.”
Angus raised both eyebrows at her. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t give her the spanking you wanted to?”
Angus blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” She pulled Nellie into her chest. “Nellie. Nellie.” She swayed with her for a long time, just letting the girl cry it out.
Nellie broke the embrace, looking up at her mother. “Th-they make fun of me, and all I want to do is p-play.”
“Oh, baby.” Pleading silently with her eyes, Clara felt her own lip quivering.
“I’ll be taking care of this. Don’t you worry.”
Nellie flung herself at Angus, tugging on his shirtsleeves. “No! Oh, Mister Angus, you can’t!”
He quirked an eyebrow at the small girl. “Excuse me? Last I knew, I’m the only one here who says what someone can and can’t do. Did someone put you in charge, Miss Nellie?” He stood toe-to-toe with her.
“No, Sir.” She dropped her gaze to their shoes, her tears leaving wet marks in the dry, dusty dirt.
Tipping her chin up, Angus asked, “Why don’t you want me talking to their fathers?”
Nellie wrung her hands in her light brown calico dress. “Because it always makes it worse, it doesn’t make things better. They just get meaner.”
Angus narrowed his gaze at her, regarding her closely. “I’ll give it a couple more days.”
Nellie brightened, clapping her hands.
He interrupted her cheering, wagging his finger in her face. “Maybe. If it gets worse before then or doesn’t improve, I’m taking care of it my way. Deal?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Now, go on to Tiny�
�s wagon and play for a bit while I talk to your ma.” He patted her back lightly.
“Thank you, Mister Angus.” Nellie ran off to play with her sister.
Clara stood with Angus watching her go. “I hate that they aren’t calling you ‘Pa’. Maybe the other children would treat them different if they did.”
Angus held her hand in his. “Clara, we’ve talked about this. I want them to call me that on their own—when they’re ready, and only when they feel comfortable, if that ever happens. I’ll take care of them and love them regardless. Their father is first and foremost in their mind, as it should be. It’s how I’d want my girls to react to someone new too. It takes time. Don’t rush it or it won’t be as special.”
“I know you’re right.” She exhaled loudly, wishing this trouble hadn’t arisen and was over already. Children could be so cruel. “Do you think delaying talking to their fathers is the right thing to do?”
“She can’t control what’s happening to her right now; I figure this is the closest she can get to control the situation. I gave her some different things to hopefully get them to stop, but if it doesn’t, I’ll make sure it gets taken care of quick.”
“I’ll hold ya to it, Angus.”
“What else are you going to hold me to, girl? I can think of a few things I’d like pressed up against me.” Angus squeezed her tight, kissing her deeply.
“Angus!” Clara looked around first then whispered. “Did you hear Minnie and Silas? Not just last night but today too?”
“I did,” Angus answered. “Makes a warm-blooded man want to take his wife the same way and make her scream and shout. We’ve had our nights of that too, girl.”
“It’s just… scandalous. A grown woman should not be caterwauling like a cat in heat. Honestly, Angus. You need to have a conversation with that man on how to conduct himself in a public setting.” Clara tucked her hair behind her ears and turned to clean the area for departure.
Angus grabbed her elbow. “I seem to recall a woman making quite a bit of noise when I dribbled wax on her and brought her to release.”
The Renegade's Captive (The Widow Wagon Book 4) Page 2