“Easy, Mina,” he soothed softly. “Let me touch you and show you how good it can feel.”
He felt her relax, but only marginally.
“Part your thighs, I want to touch you. You’ll like it too, I promise.”
This time she eased them apart a tad more. It wasn’t much, though it was enough for him to reach his goal. Separating the cotton, he dipped between the halves and traced her soft lips with a fingertip. As he did, he lowered his head to her breast and latched onto a nipple, lashing it gently with his tongue. He smiled without losing hold as she arched her back, offering more of herself. He was more than willing to give it to her, suckling harder at the same time his hand spread her thighs wide apart and he slid his fingers between her wet folds.
Finding the bud at the top of her slit, he circled it lightly. As she had when he’d suckled her breast, she arched into him, her hips lifting while seeking more. Thrilled with her responsiveness, he rubbed and glided his finger over the hard peak until she was writhing beneath his hand. Then he slid lower and circled her virginal entrance. She was drenched. He pressed inside to the second knuckle, elated by her tightness.
A throaty cry burst from her lips, reminding him of their whereabouts. He moved up and reclaimed her mouth, muffling the sounds with his lips. Continuing to play, Weston slipped in another finger, probing further inside her slickness, but not enough to take her innocence, not just yet, and not this way. She wiggled and squirmed delightfully, her hips meeting his thrusts, keeping pace with the rhythm his fingers set. When his thumb found her swollen bud once again, she stiffened, moaning into his mouth as her body shivered and convulsed.
“Beautiful,” he whispered against her lips.
Knowing the path was well prepared, he tore open his breeches and moved on top of her, settling in the V of her spread thighs. Without hesitation, he slid into her drenched channel, yet not all the way, waiting—although it was torturous—and allowing her to adjust to his measure first. As her muscles gripped him and released spasmodically, he sank in deeper, until the tip of his cock nudged up against the barrier. One simple thrust and he’d break through, claiming her as his own. Still, with herculean control, he waited.
Her eyes opened. “Weston,” she breathed, trepidation in her tone.
“I’ll be easy, Mina. Stay relaxed and let me in.”
Wanting nothing more than to drive in fully, letting her heat and wetness surround him, he steeled himself for patience. Clamping his jaw fiercely, he moved slowly, burrowing into her untried passage as his lips brushed softly over hers, his hand stroking the hair at her temple. Then, with one steady thrust he felt her virginity give way, her wetness making it easier. Even so, she still flinched a bit.
“No more pain, sweetness, only pleasure from here on out.”
Her fingers curled into his shoulders, the nails digging into his skin. He ignored it, lifting his head to assess her readiness for more. He found her gazing up at him with a sultry stare.
Lips turning up in a satisfied grin, he still managed to ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her whisper came out more as a throaty groan. “It stung for a moment, but that’s gone. Now it feels…” She paused as he nudged his hips forward, his hard length sliding in the rest of the way. He felt her trembling beneath him, her body drawing upward, her back bending taut like the arch of a bow. He savored the press of her soft body against him, her breasts with their hard points pushing into his chest, her hips meeting his, and as her head canted backward, how she exposed her vulnerable throat, trusting him. He couldn’t resist claiming the soft, tender skin, stroking up the column with the tip of his tongue.
“It feels what, darlin’?” he prompted. “Talk to me.”
“Like you’re a part of me; it feels wonderful.” The throaty groan had changed into a breathless sigh, which was Weston’s cue to move, taking his bride fully and making her his own.
His barely controlled thrusts were deep and steady. After a few glides, her cries started once more, rising to a volume that would carry easily in the pre-dawn quiet. He muffled them again, his tongue claiming her mouth as thoroughly as his cock possessed her body while he brought them both to fulfillment.
Mina came first, bucking and writhing beneath him in her pleasure. He followed, driving into her wet sheath as she gripped him tight, enveloping him completely as if she were made for him. As he had smothered her cries of pleasure, her mouth captured his own, reserving the knowledge that he filled her with his seed, something only the two of them need know as he came inside her harder than he ever remembered doing before.
In the aftermath, they lay sated, their skin damp, clinging together, arms intertwined. When Mina began to stir, she made a raw sound in her throat.
“What is it?”
“I can’t believe I behaved in such a way.”
Propped over her, he brushed back dark red wet tendrils from her forehead.
“When? Yesterday?”
“No,” she replied, turning her face into his chest. “Just now when I screamed like a wanton banshee. Everyone will know.”
“Mina, everyone rightly knows anyhow, it’s our wedding night. Besides, only I heard as you screamed like a wanton banshee with my tongue in your mouth.”
“Weston!” Mina protested, sitting up. A loud thud sounded as once more, she cracked her head on the wagon bed. Moaning in pain, she collapsed back into his arms, holding her head.
“Criminy, sweetheart, be careful! Are you hurt?” His fingers searched gently through her hair.
“No, I’m rather getting used to it. Besides, I’m too mortified to feel pain. Ladies don’t act in such a way.”
Gingerly massaging her head, he snuggled her onto his shoulder. “My lady will. I loved you thoroughly and enjoyed every sweet whimper and moan of delight. Don’t think of changing a thing, Mrs. Carr.”
“But—”
“Not a thing,” he repeated against her lips.
“Fine, though I must say that you are incorrigible, Mr. Carr.”
“Only with you, Mina.” He put further conversation to an end as he rolled half on top of her and filled her mouth with his tongue, catching even more whimpers and moans of delight.
Chapter Eight
The warm, smooth pillow beneath her cheek moved and her eyes opened. Mina lay there for a moment, allowing the gray pre-dawn light entering between the spokes of the wagon wheel to slowly bring her out of her doze and back to reality. A squeeze from the heavy, muscled arm around her waist almost made her question if her reality was actually a dream.
“Mornin’.” Her pillow, which was Weston’s bare chest, rumbled beneath her ear, his husky morning voice telling her this was no dream. She shifted. “I must have fallen back off.”
“Just for a few moments.”
She tilted her head and looked up. His chin was angled down, his mouth curved into a soft smile, appearing as content as she felt. “Though I’d rather while away the morning here with you, it’s time to get up and start our day.”
Reluctant to move from her comfortable bed, made more so by his warm body next to hers, she moved when he did, rolling onto her back. Muscles she didn’t know she had screamed in protest and she groaned aloud. In an instant, his dark head loomed over her, his eyes narrowed in concern.
“Sore?” he inquired baldly.
She blinked at the intimacy of the question and looked away.
He caught her chin in his hand, however, and angled her face up to his. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about between a husband and wife, Mina. Are you sore?”
“Yes,” she whispered, still feeling mortified.
He dipped his head and kissed her, a whisper soft brushing of his lips against hers, then too soon, they were gone. Up on all fours, he backed out carefully with his head bowed, his hat in hand. “Come on, then. We’ll head down to the creek before the rest of the camp wakes.”
He was gone the next second, and she could see his legs moving around the wagon, then ju
st his feet as he sat on the end to put on his boots. Those soon disappeared. Her gaze rose to the wooden ceiling as she heard him clomping around overhead. He reappeared a moment later, crouching at the end and peering back underneath.
“Now, Mina,” he ordered as he held his hand out. “I want you to have a good soak before all and sundry head to the creek. We’ve got thirty minutes at best.”
A soak sounded good. She sat up. Unbelievably, she saw brilliant flashes of light as once again she smacked her head, in the exact spot as the previous times.
“Darlin’,” Weston soothed, “you’re going to knock yourself senseless. Roll onto your belly and back out, as I did.”
Mina groaned, as much from embarrassment as pain for being so careless. When her head had cleared the wagon’s end, his strong hands spanned her waist and helped her to her feet. His fingers searched her head again gently. When they found the tender spot, she winced.
“You’ve got a good-sized goose egg forming there, though I don’t think you’re cut or bleeding.” He looked down at her, his gaze zipping past her face and focusing much lower. She tracked his path and found her blouse was still unbuttoned and her camisole askew, her breasts on blatant display.
“Great day,” she exclaimed, hands flying up to cover herself and do up her buttons.
“Now that’s a gorgeous sight I’ll carry all day and right gladly.” He kissed her hard, then clasped her hand, his other arm collecting the towels and bar of soap he’d fetched from the wagon, and led her away while she scurried along after him.
Halfway there, she decided the tenderness between her thighs was something she’d definitely be feeling all day. She kept that to herself, along with the quivering sensation that persisted low in her belly. And she knew, like him, she’d carry both with her, and right gladly. An inane little smile graced her lips as she followed her husband happily, not caring in the least where he was taking her.
Weston stopped by the creek’s edge, a bit south of camp, behind a few sparse trees and a thicket of bushes. The water was shallow and blessedly clear, thanks to the area having plenty of rain this spring. Otherwise, he’d said, bathing wouldn’t have been possible. As she looked around at the somewhat private spot, Weston, without so much as a how do you do, stripped her down to her drawers and camisole. After pulling off her shoes and stockings, he nudged her toward the water.
“No matter how cold, up into your waist. The coolness will soothe the ache between your thighs and reduce any swelling and tenderness inside. It’ll help during the long day ahead.”
The fire that filled her cheeks was what really needed cooling after his direct and frank speech.
“Maybe I’ll dunk my whole head in and float away,” she mumbled to herself as she made her way into the water.
“Nope, you go where I go, sweetheart.” He chuckled as she shot him an aggrieved look over her shoulder. How had he heard? He winked at her before turning his head, his eyes scanning the creek banks up and down. She realized then, he was guarding her. As she dipped down in the cool water, her eyes fell to the pistols at his hips. They were a part of him, his guns worn that way since the very first day. She hurried, grasping the fact that even though she was married now and had spent a bliss-filled night in her new husband’s arms, nothing had changed all that much. She was still in the wilderness where dangers abounded, looking at another four months of grueling wagon train travel ahead of her.
Turning her back, knowing he would keep her safe, she lowered her drawers beneath the water and bathed her intimate flesh. She was tender as well as swollen, a lingering reminder of his possession of her last night. As she washed the sensitive area, a tingling started, spreading quickly until, despite the coolness of the creek, it heated her body, such that she relived his touch that had teased her, making her fly apart into nigh on a million pieces. As her fingers ran over the hard little point in front, her insides clenched. While her body hummed with renewed arousal, she stifled the groan that welled up in her throat. She wanted to experience again how his lips, hands, and body had made her feel, whether by suckling at her breasts, or with his fingers circling that nub that seemed the very source of her pleasure, or with his hard length driving inside her.
“Hurry, Mina.”
Startled, she jumped, pulling her hands from between her thighs. Though no longer touching herself, it was as if his taking of her had flipped a lever inside her, or opened a spout, and years of pent-up desire and carnality had come pouring out. He said he wanted an uninhibited wife; well, maybe not in so many words, but he’d enjoyed her whimpers and sounds of passion.
Great heavenly day. Much to her mortification, she believed his wish had come true.
Trying to ignore the sensations that felt like a hunger that needed assuaging, or a thirst that desperately wanted quenching, she finished washing and made her way back to the bank. Wondering if he could see the heat blazing in her cheeks in the semi-darkness, she glanced at him. He didn’t seem to notice, welcoming her with an outstretched towel that he wrapped around her.
“I brought a clean pair of drawers. Change quickly so we can get back.”
Fumbling with the towel as she stripped off her wet things, she couldn’t fathom how she’d get through the day in her heightened state.
As she predicted, it wasn’t easy.
After a hastily put together breakfast, with Weston preparing the coffee and Mina unpacking leftovers from their wedding supper, they ate. He didn’t seem to mind in the least when she hogged almost all of the apple dumplings, smiling as she moaned while noting what a yummy morning dish they made. Before long, they broke camp and were on their way as the sun rose at their backs.
Weston drove his wagon, with their combined team of eight oxen. As they took the slight grade easily, she noticed he’d left off his chaps today and that his chestnut Morgan was unsaddled and tied in the back. She saw Jeremy, the hand who worked the train with him and was the usual drover for his team while he rode up front, was in his place, leading the train.
“Are you driving today because of me? I could ride with Jeremy.”
Right then, their wagon crested a rise, and up ahead she saw a pair of large bluffs rising hundreds of feet up from the earth. Stunned at the enormity of the massive rock, she gripped his forearm.
“How in heaven’s name are we going over that? Are we going around?”
“No. You can’t see it, but Mitchell’s Pass runs between the two ridges. Although the army came through and graded the road, it’s still hazardous at times and is the reason I’m driving this stretch.” His eyes slid her way as he smiled. “Precious cargo can’t be trusted to anyone else.”
He chuckled as her cheeks flamed. Mina looked away shyly. It would take time—months, years, maybe forever—to get used to his bold speech, often frank and outrageous, yet sometimes sweet, like just now. Thankfully, he didn’t dwell on the topic, or mention her easy blushes, the curse of being a redhead as much as it was for a new bride.
“Once we get a week or so out from Fort Laramie, there are several long stretches of flat trail. When we reach that, we’ll work on your drover skills.”
“But Mr. Carr, you heard Mr. Jacobs. I’m hopeless.”
“You called me Weston yesterday, Mina. I prefer that, or Wes. We are wed, after all.”
“Right,” she said, nodding hesitantly.
Her mother had always referred to her father formally as Mr. Franks, or called him husband, as did his other wives. It was all that she knew. Her new husband was as far removed from Burton Franks as black was from white, light was from dark, and hot was from cold. She hoped her marriage to Weston would be as different as her parents as well and how she addressed him was an excellent start.
“I think I like Wes.”
“I do too.” He gathered the reins in one hand, encircled her shoulders with his free arm, and curled her against him. “We’re going to be just fine, you and I, Mina. Oregon is a beautiful place and growing lickety-split. I had planned to build
a house and start a horse ranch on a small spread my granddad left me. Still, eight hundred acres might be hard to pass up. We’ll survey both and see which suits us better.”
“A horse ranch… I do love horses. They’re so graceful and beautiful. But I don’t know a thing about ranching.”
“Do you know how to ride?”
“No. We didn’t keep a stable in Boston. Papa hired a cab or used a livery service. If we went out, it was by carriage or we walked.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m afraid you made a bad deal, Wes. I’ll probably be the worst helpmate and horse rancher’s wife in history.”
“Nonsense, you’re not lacking intelligence, Mina. What you don’t know, you can learn. I’m good at lessons, last night proved that.” When she inhaled sharply, he grinned. Before she had recovered from her shock, he wrapped his hand around the bun that sat low at the back of her head. Giving it a steady tug, he tipped his chin down as her mouth came up and planted his lips on hers in a warm, immensely passionate kiss, right there in the middle of the day for anyone to see. Once he released her, having made her mind muddled and her lungs short of breath, he went right on talking of his plans as if that sort of thing happened every day.
By mid-morning, as they neared the bluffs, the pass became visible. To her, it didn’t look like much of a road, full of ruts, rocks, and narrow passages. It amazed her that Wes had claimed this was an improved road. She’d hate to have seen it before the work had been done.
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