by Maggie Ryan
"Gonna measure me?" he teased, and then gasped when she shook her head, bent forward and licked his nipple. When he was stark naked, she looked up, her eyes sparkling, her lips turned up as she reached for his erection.
"It's a good thing this part of your anatomy wears no clothing of its own," she said, her hand stroking up and down his shaft. "For some reason, it can't seem to decide if it wishes to be small and soft, or long and hard. I'd have to constantly be taking measurements."
"Oh, darlin', believe me, you and you alone are the reason my cock grows." He'd fisted his hands in her hair as she took him between her lips, and groaned when one of her hands gently cupped his testicles. Her nipples were rock hard and her inner thighs were slick by the time he pulled out of her mouth, pressed her onto her back, and positioned himself between her legs. They'd made love, her arms and legs wrapped around his body as if attempting to become one person.
Afterwards, she curled up beside him, the sewing forgotten as she toyed with his nipple, smiling as he repaid the favor, his rough fingertips rolling her taut bud until she was squirming. Glancing down, she moved her hand to lift his cock into her palm, watching as it began to shift, to swell and lengthen. She turned her face up and giggled. "It really is rather amazing, isn't it?"
Wyatt pulled her to lie on top of him. "You are amazing," he said, arranging her so that she was sitting up. Putting his hands on her hips, he lifted her up, ignoring her squeal as she placed a hand on his chest to steady herself until she could get her knees underneath her, her expression showing her confusion and the color on her cheeks showing her desire.
His hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples. "Since you seem so captivated by my cock, and wish to clothe it, and my hands are busy playing with these sweet pebbles, I guess it's up to you put it inside your pussy. Take that hand that was stroking me so lovingly and guide me inside your warmth."
She'd moved to obey, gasping when she'd felt his cockhead nudge between her cheeks.
"Soon I'll be trying that pretty little pucker on for size, but not yet," he said.
"That's imp—"
"I told you, nothing is improper."
"I-I know, but I meant it's impossible. You are way too… um, you said I was small, remember?"
"Oh, darlin', I agree that it might be a tight fit, but I promise, you'll learn that all sorts of things are possible."
She felt his hand leave her breast to slide between her legs. As his other hand began to pluck her taut nipples, his fingers slid through her curls. She felt his finger brush against her hand which was curled around his throbbing shaft. "Now, put this…" he said, tapping the exposed part of his cockhead not covered by her hand, "in here." His finger moved to stroke along her slit. "After all, we both know how perfectly it fits."
"Wyatt!"
"I so love hearing you call my name," he said, his dimples deep as he smiled, his fingertip running over her clit as she blushed and began to obey.
When she'd positioned him at her opening, she'd watched his face as she slowly lowered herself down. As she continued to seat herself until she had taken his entire length, he'd closed his eyes, moaning with a sound that had gooseflesh popping out to cover every inch of her skin though she wasn't in the least bit chilled. When he opened his eyes, they were filled with a look that made her stomach flutter and her pussy gush every time.
Feeling her climax building, she began to move faster, and his hands moved from her breasts to her hips, helping her and holding her steady as he began to thrust his pelvis up to move deeper into her. She'd arched her back and screamed as her explosion ripped through her only to be instantly followed by his own. Her pussy continued to ripple as she collapsed, her cheek against his chest, his heartbeat audible beneath her ear. When she was no longer panting, she moved her head just enough to look down the length of his body, to where his sex that had been so wonderfully hard and so long as to touch the very depths of her was slowly shrinking, nestling in the thick curls, and smiled.
"Seems like you have no need of my sewing skills," she said, looking up, "your cock has found its own nest and warmth of its feathers."
"Aggy, you have a great deal of services to offer."
"Wyatt! You are impossible." His bark of laughter had her biting back a giggle. However, when he ran a hand over her backside, his finger sliding into the cleft of her bottom to caress her rosette, she felt the urge to laugh being replaced by a moan.
By the time they got out of bed, she'd had to prepare dinner and then, of course, they'd had a bath. The red cloth had been set aside for another day.
* * * * *
Snipping the last thread as she remembered that incredible afternoon, she smiled. The garments whose beginning had been interrupted were finally finished. As she threaded the red ribbon through the casing and then tied it off in a pretty bow, she thought about how it strange it was that something so common, so innocent, could cause different feelings. Whenever she needed to lower her bloomers, she'd just tug on the end of the ribbon, her only thought being the hope that it didn't get tangled into a knot. However, when her husband pulled her to him, reaching for that same ribbon, his fingers, though large and calloused, were gentle and skilled as he slowly pulled until the bow came undone and her heart was racing. It didn't seem to matter if he was doing so in order to bare her bottom for a spanking or if he was undressing her before making love. Every single time, her body heated and her skin suffused with color, and yet she never wished for it to stop.
Folding her new chemise after tying each of the six bows she'd added to hold the halves closed, she could feel her nipples tightening beneath her dress as she imagined Wyatt untying each one. Good lord, the man was turning her into some sort of har—no! She wouldn't allow herself to go backwards. If he was turning her into anything, it was a woman who felt love as she'd never felt before. A woman who felt tenderness and was able to laugh, to speak, andto simply find a sense of security for the first time since her Pa had died. A woman who would not allow shame to consume her.
Chapter Thirteen
"I must admit, these are really quite sexy," Wyatt said as he tied the last ribbon of her chemise.
"I don't know about that, but they are certainly thicker and warmer than muslin," Agatha stated, reaching for her blouse.
Wyatt chuckled when she buttoned the last button and picked up her petticoat. "Darlin', you might be able to hide the fact that you've got those bloomers on, but it doesn't appear possible to hide your new chemise."
She looked down, half expecting to see her nipples pushing against the front of her bodice as they had a tendency to do whenever her husband was close. Instead, she instantly understood what he'd meant. The white of her blouse looked pink as it was covering the deep red of the flannel.
She hesitated for a moment, vacillating between hiding her new underwear and enjoying its warmth. He tilted her head up and grinned. "I've always liked the color pink, whether it be beneath your blouse..." he paused to move a hand to stroke down her front, "or covering your backside…" he paused again to move his hand to pat her bottom, "or to watch it bloom across your beautiful face." He bent and kissed her and by the time he released her, she could feel that, despite the warmth of her chemise, the flannel wasn't quite thick enough to hide the fact that his touch had once again caused her nipples to harden and push against her clothing.
"You don't think the others will find it strange?" she asked.
Wyatt shook his head. "I'm betting you'll be sharing your pattern with at least two other ladies, and I'm betting there will be two other husbands who favor both the color and the pretty little ribbons."
Before they left the house, he added another item to her clothing. She'd learned the reasoning for his inaccurate measuring the night he'd presented her with the gift he'd been working on out in the barn. The moment he'd allowed her to open her eyes to see what he had put around her waist, she'd been speechless and then had spread her feet apart, put her hands at her sides,
her fingers flexing and growled, "Reach for the sky, mister. This is a hold-up!"
He'd chuckled and instead of obeying, he'd tugged her to him, tickling her until she was giggling and squealing. "You aren't a very convincing outlaw, little lady." When he'd let her go, he'd gotten her gun from its rack and showed her how to put it into the holster he'd made. He'd made her practice drawing it and when she complained that she couldn't do it very well, he reminded her that just as learning to shoot had taken practice, she'd become more comfortable as time went on.
Now, with her gun tucked securely in its place, he helped her into her cloak, tied the ribbon of her bonnet beneath her chin, and led her out to the wagon. Though it was barely past dawn, he'd already loaded her pail of lye water and the wicks she'd spent several hours braiding together for the candles. He'd made her molds for the soap and she'd smiled to see that they resembled the butter molds, but these had small rosebuds instead of full blooms carved into them.
They rode through the soft light towards Richard's cabin to pick up his family and they'd then go to James's, where the women would spend the day sharing the rather onerous but necessary chore of making soap and candles.
"Come in," Charity said when they arrived. I've got coffee and biscuits and gravy ready." Agatha pulled off her cloak and was turning to offer to help when she saw both the women looking at each other and then back to her.
"No, I didn't wash my blouse with Wyatt's union suit," she said with a smile. "I just was tired of being so cold, so—"
"You made your own! Oh, what a great idea!" Anna said.
"Never mind that, I bet it's a lot warmer, especially when you go to the privy," Charity said, before tilting her head to one side. "I've always wondered, is it hard to unbutton the drop seat?"
Agatha heard her husband chuckle and felt her face flush, but her growing self-confidence had her shaking her head. "Hmm, I don't know. Wyatt, would you come over here and pull down…"
"Not on your life," Wyatt said. "If Charity wants to get that question answered, she can follow James out to the privy."
"Ew," Charity said, causing chuckles and giggles to fill the room. When Agatha picked up the coffee pot to take it to the table, she told the others how she'd made bloomers and a chemise. As her husband had predicted, the other two immediately began to plan their next sewing project.
They heard a wagon pull up and Harriet was already demanding a baby to hold by the time her husband came through the door. While Robert accepted a cup of coffee, his wife accepted not one but two little ones, cradling Grace in one arm, Johnny in the other, and was intently listening to Hope chatter about her doll as if the child's words were actually perfectly intelligible instead of the prattle that only her parents truly understood.
The women cleaned up after breakfast as the men added more firewood beneath the two huge iron kettles that hung from tripods out in the yard. James had collected the fat from the animals they'd butchered over the past few weeks. He'd then set the fat to boil the night before. After it had boiled, he'd extinguished the fire beneath the kettle to allow the fat to render, which took several hours. Though not absolutely necessary, taking the time to do this ensured that the resulting soap would not have the rancid smell of spoiled meat. It wasn't a pleasant job but one he'd stated he didn't mind doing, seeing as how the rest of the process would be handled by the women.
Richard placed the bucket of collected lye water next to the kettle. The women would carefully add the proper amount to the fat. Wyatt set up a line between the house and the barn so it would be ready when the women finished the soap and started on the candles. They'd hang the candles over to it to set. Afterwards, they'd cut the long wick separating the two candles created by dipping both ends of the long wick. Molds for the soap had been lined up on the rail of the porch and there was plenty of firewood stacked to one side to keep the fires going.
As the women walked out onto the porch, Anna caused smiles as she gave Harriett instructions on child care. She might have continued for hours if Charity hadn't reminded her that the woman had raised seven children of her own. James smiled as he reminded his wife how hesitant she had been to leave Hope for a few hours with that same experienced mother. Harriet just rolled her eyes, winked, and shut the door in their face.
"Well, I guess she told me," Anna said.
"Gotta love a woman of little words," Richard quipped, causing more smiles. It was soon clear that the women considered the men's work done as they organized their supplies and began discussing how much of the lye solution to add to the fat. When Richard made a suggestion, they all three turned to him and Anna suggested he remember the men had their own plans for the day. He'd held up both hands and backed away to the accompaniment of the other men's chuckles. Robert, pleased to be spending the day with old friends, was more than ready to head into the woods. The men hoped to find some game to add to their larders. It was important to stock up before the snows settled on the valley.
A half-hour later, Charity returned from feeding Grace. "Wait until you hear what Harriet told me," she said, the excitement on her face letting them know the news was good.
"Wait a minute, it's time to test the solution. Here, you do the honors," Anna said, handing a potato to Agatha.
"Okay," Agatha said, moving towards the boiling pot.
"Be careful," Anna said. "You don't want any lye on you."
"I know," Agatha said. Instead of being gently lowered into the solution, the potato splashed into the pot as her hand opened, and her heart skipped a beat when she heard Charity squeal, "There's going to be a huge revival!"
"Isn't that great? Anna, the children can finally be baptized! I was so scared when Gracie was born and we almost lost her. I know she's now healthy but I will still feel so much better once she's been christened."
"Yes, that's wonderful," Anna agreed, and then added, "Agatha, are you okay? Did it splash you?"
Agatha stood with her back to the others, her eyes closed and her hands clutching her skirts as she attempted to get herself until control. Just because there was a revival, that didn't mean…
"Honey, what's wrong?" Charity asked, her hand reaching to touch Agatha's arm.
"Nothing," Agatha said. Her past was no reason to destroy the obvious happiness of her friend. She'd known exactly how close Grace had come to dying and had prayed every night for her safety. She understood Charity's joy in learning that she'd have an opportunity to see her children baptized. Shaking off her fear and squaring her shoulders, she managed to give Charity a smile. "That's wonderful news. Um, did Harriet say who was doing the preaching?"
"No, that's the thing. The town is growing, as we all know, and the townspeople are looking for a minister. Harriet said that the revival will last a week, with a different preacher each day. She said they'd been invited a long time ago and they'd all finally agreed on a time. After it's over, I suppose everyone will get to vote on who to ask to take the job."
Agatha felt a wave of relief flow over her, which allowed her to draw a deep breath. Invitations being sent meant time had passed and addresses had to have been known. Only those preachers who lived within a reasonable distance of the town would bother attending. Besides, Wallace had said he had been called by God to convert the Indians to the faith. He'd said nothing about setting up a church in any town.
"Oh, look, I think we made the right guess," Anna said, looking into the pot. The others saw the potato was floating on top of the solution, mostly submerged but with enough skin visible to show that the lye, fat, and soap had reached the right mixture. When froth began to appear, they looked at each other.
"Who wants to test it?" Agatha asked.
"I vote for Charity," Anna said with a grin. "After all, she's the one who has been cussing."
Charity slapped her friend's arm. "Hey, I got my butt spanked for that already."
Anna rolled her eyes. "Yes, and we all know how much that so called spanking bothered you, don't we?" She grinned and nodded to Agatha who offered
Charity a spoon.
Mumbling but smiling, she accepted it and carefully leaned over the kettle and gathered a small amount of the froth. "Here goes nothing." She put the end of the spoon in her mouth and allowed the bubbles to slide off and onto her tongue. The other two held their breath until she grinned and smacked her lips.
"No bite, so I'd say it's done."
"You must have been born under a lucky star," Anna said. "First you get your entire journal cleared with that one spanking, and now you don't even have to hold horrible soap in your mouth." Her words were met with a shrug and a giggle, the three friends knowing that none of them would wish anything but luck to the others.
After extinguishing the fire to allow the soap to cool, they took a break for cups of coffee as they discussed the next chore.
"Actually, let Harriet tell you," Charity suggested. "She's the one who showed me her candles and they smell so much better than the ones I make."
"The secret is to add bayberry leaves," Harriet said. "They are waxy and give the candles a much better scent, as well as make them burn slower."
"And the good news is that I've found a patch of bushes. Evidently, people here know the benefits but instead of bayberry, they are called candleberry bushes. How appropriate is that? After lunch we can pick some and then add them to the rest of the tallow. We can also drop some into the soap to scent it, as well."
The women chatted as they enjoyed the lunch Charity had prepared early that morning in order to be able to pack food for the men to eat on their hunting trip. When they were done, the children were all put down for naps, Harriet took out her knitting, and the three younger women put on their cloaks and bonnets again. Anna tucked her gun into her apron pocket, informing Agatha that she was going to have Richard make her a belt like the one around her waist. They went back outside to get the bushel basket they'd take to hold the candleberry leaves.