He arched his body to capture her nipple with his lips. He tugged on it until the heat flowed through her. He began to move. It was easier and easier with each stroke. Soon they were moving in sweet and beautiful counter rhythm.
Maybelle rocked her hips up toward him as he pistoned into her. His broad and powerful hands splayed across her hard buttocks. Noises of pleasure rumbled in his throat.
“You are so beautiful,” he said.
“You are the most handsomest fella on earth,” she said absently.
“The handsomest? Well now,” he said with a dark, sultry laugh.
His movement picked up. They were stronger, purposeful. He pressed his thumb on her nub and pounded into her body. Maybelle’s breath rose in her chest and head was aswirl. This part her mother hand not described. It was almost too much pleasure. Her belly coiled up with this building sensation that she was going to burst and yet had the strongest desire to keep going.
And Rafe knew. For he kept going. Non-stop. He did not let up until she did burst. First she saw stars like fireworks in Wichita. A great invisible flood overtook her and had her spasming inside and out.
Her channel undulated with sugar clenching around his steel hard erection while he was moving. It was pure bliss. Her body was flowing with wetness. Her nipples were hard and pointed. And her body was consumed with ecstasy.
Rafe’s body tense. His stroking grew rigid as though he were having a difficult time moving. His liquid strides became jerky. His head arched back as he faced the ceiling and deep guttural cries spewed out of him. Molten liquid flowed from his body into hers, intensifying her senses.
No Maybelle’s mother may have explained the mechanics of what occurred between a man and a woman but most of it had been a complete, albeit magical, surprise.
Spent, Rafe collapsed on the bed bedside her, a sweaty mess. His arms loosely draped her as he rested with a goofy smile on his face. Almost as if he were as drunk as the night she met him. Maybelle stroked his massive back while he lay. She made him shiver as he had her. She liked that.
“Now we’re married,” she whispered.
“You can’t take it back,” he murmured.
Still stroking she replied, “Neither can you.”
He lifted his head.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
Chapter Six
When Rafe regained himself, he turned to Maybelle with a faint smile.
“You weren’t so nervous as I thought you might be,” he remarked. “That pleases me.”
“My mother and I had a very long discussion about things,” she said.
She felt herself purple with a powerful blush.
“Things, hung?” he asked.
He delighted in her sudden shyness. She turned her head and giggled.
“Oh now you’re bashful,” he said, tickling her.
“Uncle!” she cried. “No tickles please and thank you.”
He backed off, stroked her lovingly.
“So how did your ma die?” he asked directly.
“She took sick,” Maybelle answered. “Got weaker and frailer. Doc could feel masses in her belly. Took a long time. Powerful.”
Grief made her turn her head again. Rafe touched her chin with his fingers and guided her back to him.
“You’re a brave woman to see your ma through all of that,” he said.
“By the time she was gone, I was old,” she said with a laugh. “Ma promised me I had the house and some savings that my father left for us. But I guess she was wrong. Never knew to have so much kin. Everyone came a running as soon as she drew her last breath.”
Rafe’s face grew uncharacteristically dark.
“That don’t sound right,” he said sternly. “Might bear some looking into.”
She shook her head.
“I past all of that now. I am the lucky one,” she remarked, looking lovingly into his eyes.
“That, Mrs. McElroy, might be a competition,” he said with a kiss.
She smiled. She felt truly happy. It had been such a long time.
“My pa died left ma with four boys. Thankfully we were of an age to work and do some good. Help her with the place,” he said.
“How did he die?” asked Maybelle.
“Rustler shot him,” he said staring blankly. “If it weren’t for Ben, he’s the marshal, I don’t know what we would have done.”
“Is Ben sweet on your ma?” asked Maybelle.
“That is the rumor. It’s been five years since, well you know. I think he’s waiting or maybe they’re good the way they are,” said Rafe.
“They look sweet together. Maybe we could do a little match making,” she said cuddling up to him.
“Serve her right for putting her foot down about us,” he said.
He probably hadn’t meant it the way it sounded but Rafe’s words cut through Maybelle like a knife. She sucked in her breath. Despite their wondrous moment of passion and vows of fidelity, he still might have reservations about their union.
“Yeah it would,” she replied, wounded.
“Maybelle McElroy,” he said with a scold in his voice. “Me saying what I said had all to do with my mother being bossy and none to do with my being married to you. I am a happily married man. Happily.”
Still she sulked. She could not help it.
“I guess I am going to have to put my foot down myself. And a few other things,” he said as he rose above her.
With her gorgeous husband positioned so, Maybelle got over her hurt feelings quickly. She could not resist and her body was already inflamed with passion for him. She was no longer a novice. She extended her legs out and snared his torso in them. She pulled him to her. With a little maneuver of his hips, he was inside of her.
Rafe filled her so exquisitely. His member was a searing rod of heat. Maybelle quickly learned that if she moved this way or that, she conjured her own pleasure. He took her hand and showed her where to put it. She copied what he did when he touched her there. She figured it out quickly. The combination of the pressure she applied and his sugared stroking brought her pleasure back to life.
Her channel hummed with the promise of ecstasy again. Rafe stood up off of the bed taking hold of her legs and carrying her with him. He drove into her, drawing he legs up onto his shoulders. His powerful hands clutched her thighs, keeping them parted enough so that Maybelle could pleasure herself.
She payed close attention to his delight in watching her. She played it up, looking up to him with lowered lids. But the more she worked to please him, the more she pleased herself. Sweet, little tremors rippled through her. A powerful moan erupted from deep within. Her cries filled the bedroom.
“Shhh,” he admonished laughing. “Mmm.”
He rocketed in to her like a locomotive, pumping her through her rapture. But she saw his eyes clench. The smile on his face as though he were waiting for something to hit. And then it did. His body stiffened and he shook. His cries stuttered from his lips as his pleasure took hold.
Maybelle wiggled her legs, varying tension for him with her body. He liked that.
“Oh yes,” he exclaimed. “Yes ma’am.”
Chapter Seven
Once again when Maybelle woke up there was a lapse of events. She drifted to sleep drunk on contentment in the muscled arms of her husband. But when she awoke, he was nowhere to be found. She had no heard him when he left their bed. She succumbed to the exhaustion of the last few days and slept soundly. So soundly that Rafe was gone and she had no idea where.
Maybelle washed up and dressed. She made the bed and hurried out to the common room. Merla and Gretchen, her new sisters-in-law were setting the table for breakfast.
“Have you seen Rafe?” Maybelle asked in a panic. “He’s gone.”
She realized she should have offered to help first and then asked. But there was something not right about the situation. She couldn’t quite peg it. The answer she got did not calm her any.
“Oh well he does that from
time to time. Takes off,” said Gretchen absently.
Yes, thought Maybelle, so the marshal had said. His words about Rafe’s running off and creating messes rang in her ears. Maybelle was really upset now. She wondered if she hadn’t gone and gotten taken one more time.
The idea that he had simply seduced her after seeing her naked in the stream began to work on her. She imagined him drunk in the saloon again picking up the next mail order bride who was stood up.
“What time a day is it?” she asked the women.
“We’re setting the table for the men coming out back from chores. It be about 9 a.m. They been up since five,” replied Gretchen.
“Something on your mind?” asked Merla.
“Just like to know where my husband is,” replied Maybelle.
“The men will be here in just a bit. He’s probably gone out to do his part. He’ll probably be in in just a moment,” said Merla.
But he wasn’t. He didn’t show and the brothers had not seen him either.
“How about I go check the barn to see if his horse is gone,” said Mac.
Maybelle asked him to but she didn’t have to wait for his report to know the answer.
“Well ain’t that a mystery,” said Mac but assured her. “He will be back.”
But he wasn’t. And after the third day of Rafe being a no-show, his brothers expanded their search of him and headed into Dodge. When one more time to hunt him down and bring him back, Maybelle announced she was going with them. She made up her mind. The pain of being taken was too great a risk. And if Rafe McElroy made a habit of sneaking off to the saloons to tie one on, she wanted no part of that either.
The barkeep said that rooms at the Longbranch were reserved for employees and guests. Maybelle was clear about her future. She was going to work as a saloon girl. She would have a roof over her head and no one again would make threaten the welcome in her own home.
When it came time for the brothers to go back home, having had no success in locating Rafe, Maybelle made a flimsy excuse about staying on.
“I’ll get Ben to bring me home,” she said.
“Ben?” asked Mac. “I don’t believe I heard anyone but mama call him by his given name.”
“I got some things to discuss about my cousin and all,” lied Maybelle.
“We can wait,” said Mac.
“Well no we can’t,” said Jake. “We’re all here. Who’s going to tend to the livestock? Ma, Merla and Gretchen?”
Against their better judgment, the brothers McElroy let Maybelle remain in Dodge. As soon as they were out of sight, Maybelle pushed the barkeep.
“Give me a job,” she said.
“What?” he asked with complete shock.
“You heard me,” said Maybelle.
“Thought you was going to talk to the sheriff. He’s not in town anyway. Left on a business trip,” he said.
“Not my business,” she said.
The barkeep shook his head. “Lady I’m a dead man if I hired you. You’re married.”
“I am leaving my husband. I want a job and I am not taking no for an answer,” she insisted.
The barkeep relented. He led Maybelle up the stairs to a hallway of tiny rooms. He directed her to one of the other girls who decked her out for work. Maybelle wore a corset bodice and a satin skirt. Her fellow saloon girl sunk a peacock feather in her hair. They painted her face and she was good to go. She went downstairs for business.
Chapter Eight
Maybelle didn’t know which was worse for business: the barkeep hollering at men to stay away from her or her moping like she wanted to die. The getting made up for work was temporary distraction from her total heart ache. On her first day as a saloon girl, Maybelle McElroy sat in a dark corner and sulked.
“Where’s my wife?” asked Rafe from behind her finally.
It was somewhere around ten o’clock. Just as she was about to nod off at the table, Maybelle was revived. Her heart beat like crazy. Her breathing picked up. But she did not turn around to look.
“I did my best to steer customers away from her,” said the barkeep.
“I thank you for that,” said Rafe.
Maybelle could hear he was sober as a judge. He pulled up a chair directly behind her. She still didn’t face him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.
He was trying to contain his temper, it was evident in his voice.
“I didn’t think you and I kept tabs on where the other was. Like for instance, I had no idea where you have been this past week,” she said icily.
Rafe slammed down a stack of cash in front of her.
“There’s where I’ve been, Mrs. McElroy,” he said sternly.
“I said don’t call me that,” she insisted, tears biting her eyes. “What’s that anyway?”
“It’s the money I got back from your kin,” he answered.
“I am surprised he still had any,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
Though she knew at that moment, she had been way too hasty, Maybelle was still wounded.
“It wasn’t easy. Ben turned him upside down by the ankles and shook him. It was a sight worth every penny,” he said.
“Ben went with you?” she asked.
He extended a forefinger and stroked her bare shoulder. She shrank from him.
“How much for this one?” Rafe called to the barkeep.
He flicked the corners of his cash.
“That’ll work,” said the barkeep.
“Well there you go,” said Rafe, softly. “You’re mine.
“You went all the way to Wichita to get my money back?” she asked, her lip quivering involuntarily.
“I did,” he said.
“Why didn’t you say?” she asked.
“Because I am thoughtless, conceited man, full of myself but I sure am in love with you. And I done paid up so let’s get to it,” he said. “Where’s your room?”
Maybelle stood and offered her hand. Rafe took it.
“You’re my first customer,” she said in a burst of boldness.
“Oh baby, I am your last and only customer,” he said. “I aim to wear that bed out.”
The End
Adored By The Rancher
BY
BRITTANY DREAMS
All characters in this book or publication are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental.
Copyright 2015 by Brittany Dreams
Introduction
Ron Kranson moved from New York to a ranch in the west expecting excitement and a simpler way of life. What he found instead were the same old social games, the same old manipulation of women to get at his estate. In the insane world, he takes the sanest option and orders his bride from a catalogue. What he gets is a woman in every sense of the word, one so perfect it made him wonder if he was good enough, one so right he felt it made him wrong. As he battles with his own inner demons she throws more curveballs at him as he tries to earn the woman he thought he had ordered.
Dust and heat, Ron had secretly wished that once he made enough money he would be able to escape these two harsh truths but here he was. His bungalow stood in the centre of the large estate he had bought a couple of years ago but though he preferred the Texan sun to the bitter winters of New York, there was no escaping the dust. It hung to everything, covered his carefully acquired antique furniture in a monotonous dullness. He kept the windows closed and the curtains drawn during the day but it still found its way in like it was telling him that it knew the house better than he did, that it had been around longer. As he looked around the house though, his foremost thought was that the house needed a woman’s touch almost as badly as he did.
There was a knock on the door as the clicking sound of heeled boots and stirrups came from the front porch. It was Nathan, a young boy who was one of his finest workers. Nathan had come to inform him that the work day had drawn to a close, that they were done tending to the cattle and that they would all be leaving. As he nodded his head he s
aw Mr. Golba, his trusted help, in the distance. He was limping around, recovering from a fall a few days earlier.
“How’s the old man doing?” he asked Nathan. Nathan turned around to look at Mr Golba as he made his way into his modest accommodation. A family of five lived in the small thatched abode, less than a tenth the size of the main bungalow. “He’ll be fine”, Nathan said without much conviction, “but he’s not going to survive many more falls like that.”
Ron just nodded as Nathan walked away with a little salute. As he closed the door he couldn’t help but notice all the dust that had settled in during the little talk of his. As he went and made his way to the elegant bar to get himself a drink he started to think more purposefully about his lack of companionship. It’s not like he hadn’t tried to find someone. He made sure his presence was felt in the fairs and balls that sprang up like weeds from time to time. Though he detested the awkward social rituals he wanted to make sure everyone around knew that there was a big fish in town. He had worked hard to become one of those; he wasn’t going to idle away that stature in isolation.
Ultimately, that is what it came down to. He wanted someone to share this with, someone to walk the ranch with, and someone who would give her tender hands to the needs of the ranch, the house and her husband. Yet, he saw no one like that amongst all the women he met. The problem lay in the capitalistic nature of the transaction. With the money flowing in to the west as a result of all the gold people were still finding, marriage had become a stepping stone. He was a boulder and all the women knew he was available. There was no way he would get to see the true face of one of them, and the ones that would really be honest and pure would be scared away by the crowd.
He had often pondered disguising himself as a man of lower means to see if he would bump into the woman who was meant to be his. The odds were slim though, and the heat and dust were a lot easier to brave in the luxury of his house. He picked up a magazine from the table, it had come in the morning as part of the weekly mail and offered a much needed respite from the daily monotony that surrounded him.
A Fall From Grace. Mail Order Bride Western Page 23