by Vanessa Vale
His hands moved further still so that his thumbs brushed through my damp curls and over my outer lips. “Shh,” he crooned. When he parted my folds, I sucked in my breath.
“So beautiful, Dahlia.” His tone was reverent. “Your pussy is pink and slick and swollen. You're covered in my seed.” He spread his essence around. “I love seeing it, knowing I've marked you inside and out. Soon, I'll shave you bare.”
Bare? Gently, he slid his fingers over the length of me, then circled my entrance and I forgot all about his words. I was not immune to his touch and my eyes slipped closed. The arousal that had ebbed with my climax returned.
When his hands fumbled with the buttons at my waist, my eyes opened.
“What… what are you doing?”
“Undressing you.”
I tried to shift backward, to move away from his deft fingers, but my legs were spread and caught over his thighs. “But I'm sore.”
“I'm not fucking you, sugarplum, I'm taking your clothes off.”
While I knew this moment would come, I couldn't wear clothes for the next fifty years. I hadn't expected the level of panic that set in as he tugged my skirt down my legs and tossed it on the floor.
“I don't want you to,” I countered, coming up on my elbows, which enabled me to pull my knees back and turn away from him. He let me climb from the bed. I paced the small space in only my blouse, corset and chemise. It was too hot and I had forgone a petticoat.
“Dahlia.”
I heard Garrison's voice, but I ignored it.
“No.”
When he stood, I put my hands up. “You're going to force me to undress, just like you forced me to marry you.”
His eyes widened. “I may have coerced you into marriage, but you knew it was only a matter of time. You were mine. You are mine, Dahlia. What's this about?”
I shook my head and had to brush my hair out of my face. I groaned in frustration. “I don't want you!”
“You could have fooled me. You were the one who ripped the buttons from my shirt. You were the one all but begging me to fuck you.”
His voice had gone up and his anger was beginning to brew. Good. I'd rather him be mad at me, for then he wouldn't see the truth.
Garrison took a deep breath, stepped back and then sat on the side of the bed. I tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. After bluffing men out of their money playing cards, this should have been easy, but none of them had been Garrison.
“Take off your clothes, Dahlia.”
His voice was calm once again.
I shook my head.
“Take off your clothes or I will take them off for you. Those are your choices.”
“You're a brute,” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest. My heart beat frantically and I was struggling to keep my tears at bay. I would not dissolve into weakness now, for once he saw the scars, I would be on my own, definitely cast aside. At least I knew what it was like between a man and a woman now, for surely he would be repulsed. Surely, I would be sent home to the Lenox ranch. Perhaps our marriage would even be kept a secret. We were in Carver Junction. No one would know and I could let Garrison go. He could find a different woman without flaws.
With a swiftness I hadn't expected, he reached out and hooked my arm, pulling me in front of him. He gripped both sides of my blouse and tugged, ripping it open just as I had his, the buttons flying in all directions. I gasped and tried to cover myself, but Garrison was too quick. With sure motions, he worked the hooks down the front of my corset, my body moving with each tug.
“Please, Garrison. No,” I all but begged, but he would not listen.
Pushing one chemise strap, then the other, from my shoulders, the cotton slid silently to pool at my feet. I stood before him in just my stockings.
He didn't move, didn't even breathe. It was as if he'd been turned into a statue.
I moved to cover my body, to hide the scars that marred me from hip to ribs to shoulder. Even the side of my right breast was tainted by pink and rough flesh.
“Jesus, Dahlia,” he whispered. From his seated position, he had a clear view of my body and couldn't miss the damage the fire that had taken my family had done to me.
“I… I know you think it's ugly, that I'm ugly. I don't blame you.” I hadn't realized I was crying until a tear dripped down onto my upturned breast. I swiped angrily at my cheeks, but the tears wouldn't stop. “Just give me back my shift and you won't have to look at me anymore.”
“Dahlia,” he bit out.
I refused to meet his eyes, for I was afraid of what I'd see. “No one but the sheriff knows we are married. The other men, I'm sure they were too drunk to remember anything. You can get that horse you were buying and go home, forget this ever happened. I understand, Garrison. I do. I won't—”
“Stop talking.”
“But—”
“Don't say another word.” His jaw was clenched tightly and there was a coiled tension about him, an anger that I'd never seen before. I tried to step back, but he reached for my wrists and held them in one of his hands. He turned me easily so that my scars faced him. I tugged at my wrists wanting to be anywhere else in the world, but he would not relent. With his free hand, he ran it gently over my marred flesh. No one had touched the healed wounds since I was a little girl. Even Miss Trudy and Miss Esther had barely touched them, for I'd been adamant, even at six years old that I did not want to be touched.
“Garrison,” I pleaded.
He swatted my bare bottom with the palm of his hand and I jumped. “I told you to be silent.” He didn't look at me, but kept his eyes squarely on my side, at the skin that he touched. “Am I hurting you?”
I shook my head and bit my lip. The skin on my side was almost numb. While I couldn't feel his fingertips on my skin, I could sense the pressure of it.
“What happened?”
“Fire.” I didn't say more, for I felt the one word was plenty.
“What happened?” he repeated, stroking over my side, the good parts and the bad.
“Why Garrison? Why do you need to know?” I sniffed and wiped at my cheeks.
He tugged me around so I faced him again and pulled me close enough so I was between his open knees. While my breasts were only a few inches from his face, his eyes held mine. “Because it bothers you so much that you would rather me roughly take your virginity up against a door than to show me your body.”
“The fire was big, so big that it swept through most of the city, often from rooftop to rooftop.” I swallowed and stared at the tanned skin of his shoulder. He wasn't wearing his shirt and I never knew he had hair on his chest. He was hard and well muscled, but I hadn't even noticed until now.
“Dahlia,” he prompted.
I sighed, for he would not relent. “They were asleep. My parents, two younger sisters and a baby brother. There was smoke and screaming and it happened so fast.”
“You said 'they.' You weren't asleep?”
“I was in the outhouse. I refused to use a chamber pot because I was almost six.”
He released my hands and gripped my waist, his fingers almost forming a ring about me. “Then… if you weren't in the house, how did you get burned?”
“I tried to go back in and save them.”
I shuddered at the memory of the thick, black smoke, the yellow flames brightening the interior of my house, the sound of it so loud, almost like a train.
“I only made it a few feet inside the door of the kitchen. Burning wood fell from the ceiling and caught my nightgown on fire. My hair, too.” I tugged on my tangled strands. “I ran back outside and a neighbor put it out.”
His hands moved to cup my jaw, then to pull out the pins from my hair. He let them fall to the floor at our feet, then angled my head from side to side.
I pointed to a spot on my right side and he brushed his fingers over the spot.
“My hair was long and unbound. It didn't burn my head at all, but I did lose about a foot of hair on that side. Miss Trudy cut my hai
r to make it even the first day I met her.”
I remembered the odd feel of it, how light it felt, just brushing my shoulders.
His hands cupped my jaw once again and I had to meet his eyes. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, wiping the tears away completely. “You think I don't want you?”
“Why…would you want to?”
His eyes pierced my heart, for there I saw anguish and sorrow. “Because I love you, Dahlia Lenox Lee.”
I tried to shake my head but he held me still. “You love the woman you thought was whole.”
His eyes narrowed, his hands dropped and he stood abruptly. I stumbled backward as he toed off his boots, then pushed his opened pants down off his hips, kicking them off until he stood naked before me. What was he doing? “Garrison!”
He turned and pointed to the back of his thigh. I stared at his bottom until he spoke, then my eyes drifted lower, saw a jagged gash, long healed, that marred his seemingly perfect skin.
“A pulley rope snapped in the barn and a sharp piece of iron sliced through my leg.”
Except for the damaged area that was a mixture of pink and white flesh, his leg was peppered with dark hair. I winced at the thought of Garrison being hurt so badly. The severity of the wound should have been enough for him to die from blood loss or even from infection.
“When did this happen? How did I not know?” I wanted to reach out and touch it, but I didn't dare.
He shrugged, the muscles in his back shifting. “When I was seventeen. You were still a girl.”
“The scar, it doesn't matter, Garrison.” I shook my head as if saying the words wasn't enough.
He faced me and I saw him fully naked for the first time. His cock, while I'd touched it and only seen it for the briefest of moments, was long and thick and jutted out from a dark nest of hair. “Why not? You don't find my body repulsive?”
His question stirred me from my staring, my blatant ogling. That had fit inside me? His obvious male virility made my core clench, as if craving to be filled once again. “Of course not.”
“Your nipples are hard,” he observed, with a tilt of his chin. “Are you wet for me? Do you want me, sugarplum? Scars and all?”
He used his ridiculous endearment to lighten the mood. I couldn't help the small smile. “Yes,” I whispered.
Gripping his cock in his fist, he began to stroke the long length of it. “Your scars, Dahlia, they tell me how brave you are, how strong you are. They make you who you are and that person is who I love, who I married.”
A drop of clear fluid beaded at the tip of the broad crown and I licked my lips, wondering what he tasted like. I remembered he'd licked my essence from his fingers in the stage and now I understood why.
“You're who makes my cock hard.”
The scent of our first time filled the air, musky and redolent. The combined fluids from our union slid down my legs. His body showed the evidence of his continued arousal, his cock bobbing from its heavy weight and curled long and thick to almost touch his navel. I ached for more.
“Garrison,” I murmured. This time it wasn't shame or sadness I heard in my voice, but hope. “You… you really still want me?”
He grinned and crooked a finger. “You'll learn that a cock stand is a sure sign of that, but come here and I'll prove it to you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
GARRISON
She didn't hesitate. Dahlia took the few steps between us and I pulled her into my arms. Placing a hand at the back of her head, I tucked her into my chest so that I could rest my chin on top of her head. Her hands gripped my back, holding on as if she'd never let go. It felt good to have her in my arms—naked, of course—but more importantly, because she wanted me, wanted the comfort and reassurance I could give her.
I, too, was comforted by the feel of her, knowing she was in my grasp once and for all. I hadn't been able to be her shelter, her protector before now. I'd had no claim on her.
But this was the day I'd gone from letting her run rough shod over me to taking charge. For years, I'd kept a safe and reasonable distance from her, allowing her to turn into the beautiful woman before me. She was also a spitfire who did not hesitate to give me grief, or a serious tongue lashing, as the situation warranted. We'd gone back and forth enough. The banter had been foreplay. For years. No longer. The card game had been a means to an end. A way to get her to be mine while maintaining her pride. I'd give her that… and so much more.
“I envisioned getting you naked for years, sugarplum. It did not include arguing.”
“Garrison—”
“Shh,” I soothed. “This time, when I take you, it's going to be slow. I'm going to look at that delectable body of yours, taste it, learn every spot that makes you hot. Makes you wet for me. The only words that are going to come from your lips are 'Yes, Garrison' and 'More.'”
I pushed her back far enough so I could lower my head and kiss her. This time, while the kiss lacked the intensity and urgency of the ones we shared earlier, it was no less potent. Her mouth opened without any direction from me and I slid my tongue over hers and then nipped at her plump lower lip. Her breathing was ragged and she was soft and pliant in my arms. I couldn't remember any other time when Dahlia was soft and pliant. While kissing her was something I could do for hours, I wanted more. The soft feel of her skin, so plush and silky, was distracting me. It was one thing to linger when she was clothed—and prior to her being Mrs. Lee—but now I wanted more. I wanted it all.
Did she think to hide her scars from me forever? She was my wife and I would see her naked. She'd expected me to see the marks of that one night and reject her, to abandon her for surviving. Either she didn't know me as well as I'd thought or her fears were very deeply set. I assumed the latter. Words would work to ease her mind, but would take time to do so. Action would be much faster.
With deft hands, I picked her up and lowered her to the bed, shifting so I was above her, our bodies remaining aligned, our mouths still fused. I kept my weight off of her with my forearm, but I felt the full length of her beneath me. I kissed the corner of her mouth, then along her jaw to her ear, then the soft spot directly behind it.
With each nudge of my nose or gentle flick of my tongue, I gauged her reactions; a slight intake of breath, her fingers clenching my waist, her eyes slipping shut. It was when I felt the thrum of her heart beating in her neck did I know she was right there with me.
“Garrison,” she murmured as she tilted her head to the side to expose the long length of her nape.
Every part of her was perfect, the fresh scent of her skin, the softness of it beneath my lips, the taste of her on my tongue. I didn't linger in one place for long, for I wished to learn every bit of her.
While I'd seen her body as we argued, I hadn't been able to focus on it. I knew her breasts were full and round, teardrop shaped with dusky pink nipples. Her waist was narrow above her flared hips. Even her legs were perfect, long and shapely and I ached to feel them wrapped around my waist. But we'd been caught up—yet again—in a verbal battle. Often, Dahlia would try to prove her dominance over me with words; she'd certainly seduced me into fucking her roughly just a short time ago.
Now… now I was the one in control. Now, I could see her body, learn it, love it, just as I'd longed to do for, well, forever. Her scars were ugly. They marred her skin, the flesh taut and pink. But they were a part of her. I cupped a breast, the size of it the perfect handful. I groaned, the sound rumbling up from my chest as I felt her nipple harden. When I brushed my thumb over it, she arched her back, pushing it even further into my hand.
“So sensitive,” I whispered, lowering my head to take the turgid tip into my mouth.
She gasped and her hands tangled in my hair, tugging almost painfully. “Garrison!”
While I kept my attentions gentle, I wasn't easy on her. I worked her body well, building her arousal to the point where when I took her she'd be begging for it. With one knee, I pushed her thighs apart and settled into the cradle of her
hips. There, my cock rested against her hot flesh, slick and wet from her arousal and my seed. My cock pulsed in eagerness and I reveled in the feeling of my mark upon her.
I didn't focus all my attention on one breast, but kissed my way across the valley between them to the other, and I took over playing with the wet tip with my fingers.
“Think you can come from just my mouth on your breasts?” I asked, licking and laving her pink flesh. My whiskers surely abraded her delicate skin on the lower curves, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she didn't seem to mind anything I did to her. Soft and gentle, rough and wild, she wanted it all.
I wanted all of Dahlia. Smoothing my hand over her belly, I crooned to her when my fingers brushed over her scarred flesh, then kissed the tender skin, letting her know I loved every part of her. I didn't linger there, but let my fingers drift lower still, through the silky curls at the apex of her thighs. With my knee, I nudged her legs even wider so she couldn't hide. Even with the soft flame of the lantern beside the bed, I could see her swollen folds, slick with my seed. The scent of her arousal was thick and heady. I lowered my head and licked the hard pearl, pink and unprotected by its hood.
“Garrison!” she cried, pushing herself up onto her elbows to look down at me. “What… what are you doing?” She licked her dry lips and I growled.
“Making you come.”
“Are you supposed to do that… there?” she murmured.
“Absolutely.”
“But I'm all wet. Your… wetness slipped from me.”
“Mmm,” I crooned, slipping a finger through that wetness and sliding into her. “I love feeling my seed inside of you, to know you're mine. Everywhere.”
Her eyes went blurry when I found a place inside that she liked. I curled my finger and her eyes slipped shut. Once more and she pulled her knees back to ensure I could continue.
“Ah, sugarplum, you're such an eager little thing. You're squeezing my finger. I can't wait to feel you doing that to my cock. First though, you'll come.”
She nodded her head and licked her lips. Having her come was more important than my next breath. I was her husband and I was the only one to do it. No one else would see it. My balls drew up at the slick feel of her, my cock aching to get inside of her. But I would do it right this time. I would see to her first. I lowered my head and flicked my tongue over her clit as I slid my finger in and out. With little licks and gentle strokes over the tight bud I coaxed the climax from her. She couldn't remain still and I used my free hand to hook around her thigh and hold her in place. Her hands cupped her breasts, tugging and pulling on her nipples as I'd done.