“He loves you so much,” she murmured, watching as Luke flipped up a cushion on the couch and settled him between the bolsters for a nap. When he twisted back around, he encircled her with one long arm. His hand splayed upon her back as the fingers of the other made a beeline for her buttons, freeing her the rest of the way.
He leaned his back against the settee and stretched out his long legs, getting comfortable before he ordered in a hushed voice so as not to wake their sleeping child, “Straddle my thighs, darlin’. I want to play with these beauties.”
“But it’s daylight,” she replied softly. “Didn’t you just say anyone could come to the door?”
“They’ll be here uninvited and will simply have to bide their time or go away.” He pinched a nipple, giving it a little tug, surprising them both when a droplet of milk leaked out. Luke groaned, pulling her closer. “Lean down here. I want a taste.”
“Luke!” she protested in a whisper, thoroughly shocked.
Undeterred, the hand at her back pressed her downward and his mouth came up enough to latch onto a tender nipple. She gasped as he drew it in, suckling near as fiercely as his son. His lips stirred a very non-maternal yearning inside of her. She arched her back, offering all of herself as his tongue circled the achy peak, at times lashing back and forth before drawing it into his mouth for more.
“Lordy mercy,” she breathed, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, “that feels divine.”
“Tastes that way too,” he said, releasing her with a loud pop. “Guide the other to my mouth.”
Impatient for more, she obediently cupped her until now neglected breast, offering it to his greedy lips. As he sucked strongly yet again, a delicious shudder heated her body. She became so aroused that she rocked back and forth, rubbing her mound along the hard ridge confined by his denim pants.
Low and husky, his next command bespoke his own eagerness. “Release me, Wisteria. I want to feel your lips around me.”
Her head came up as his meaning became clear. Hesitantly, she glanced down at his button fly that did nothing to conceal the bulge of his arousal, the same bulge she had been grinding wantonly upon only moments before. The notion seemed intriguing, but incredibly naughty and untoward.
“I want you to taste me, darlin’,” he encouraged, “the way I tasted you.”
The sensuality of his words and the underlying wickedness captivated her and made her eager to try. She scooted back, perched on her knees between his spread legs. With nervous fingers, she popped the first button. At the second, she paused, glancing up at him with uncertainty.
“I don’t know how…”
“Touch me, squeeze me, kiss, lick, or suck me. Any of it will feel good, baby. Just guard your teeth.”
Nodding, she undid the remainder of his metal buttons. Reaching inside, she withdrew his engorged length and wrapped her fingers around him. Where he was large and she was petite, her hand barely managed to encompass his girth. First, she squeezed as he suggested, feeling the warm resilience of his smooth, satiny flesh. How something could be so soft and hard at the same time fascinated her. She stroked him slowly, glancing up at his face to gauge his response. His eyes were closed and a muscle danced in his jaw.
She stopped. “Am I doing it wrong?”
One eye popped open. “No, baby. It feels almost too good. Keep going.”
Gripping him tight, she resumed pumping her hand slowly up and down his shaft. “Uh, Luke?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“I think I’d like to taste you, too.”
His tormented groan was a heady invitation. Surprised at how much she wanted to do this, she bent forward and tentatively lapped at the burgeoning head. It was salty and warm, not at all unpleasant, and being this close to him, she discovered that he smelled wonderful everywhere. Clean and spicy from his soap, with a hint of something else that was distinctly Luke, his scent was incredibly arousing and she grew hungry for more. Opening her lips, she took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip as she did so.
A tremor raced through him as a low curse escaped his lips. He let her play at this new game for only a few minutes before he sat all the way up. Slipping his hands under her arms, he hauled her up his body until she once more straddled his lap.
“I can’t bear any more of that,” he growled into her mouth, as his hands sought her bare breasts. “Mount up. Take me inside your body and ride me, while I feast on these succulent nipples.”
With frantic fingers, she bunched up her skirts with one hand and separated the seam of her cotton drawers with the other. Gripping his hardness in her fist, she couldn’t resist another squeeze as her thumb smoothed across the wet tip.
“Hurry, baby, I’m primed and won’t last long.”
Breathless with anticipation, she guided him to her entrance.
“That’s right,” he urged in a low groan around a taut nipple, his hands finding her buttocks beneath her skirts and petticoats. “Sink onto me and take me deep. Then ride us both to heaven.”
His fingers dug into her flesh as she lowered herself, so wet that she took him in one slow glide. Beyond playing, Luke showed her the rhythm that would take them both to the heaven he promised. Seating herself fully in a slow glide, she raised up almost all the way before repeating the motion, doing it over and over. Moving gradually faster until she was bobbing up and down at a frantic pace, it was wonderful, but she wanted more. He seemed to sense it as well, and released her nipple. Gathering up the yards of material, he tucked the folds into her bodice, baring the vee of her thighs where they were joined.
“Lean back,” he urged, his voice rough with passion. “Clasp your hands around your ankles.”
“Whatever for?” she panted, still frantically driving her body up and down.
“I want to watch you take my cock inside you.”
She stopped, almost bursting into flames from the erotic image of his bold words. When she had done as he bade, he urged her into motion. Going more slowly in this new rather awkward position, he re-tucked the folds of her skirts that had fallen loose back into her open bodice.
“Next time, I’ll strip you naked first.” His harsh murmur came out more as a growl as his thumbs delved between her thighs and parted her pussy lips. With his avid attention focused on her center, she could only imagine what he saw. “Damn. I could watch you take me deep all day long. You’re weeping for me, Wisteria, wettest cunt I ever did see.”
“Oh, my stars, Luke! Such language.” She stuttered on the syllables, purely shocked by his vulgar words, nearly convulsing the next second when one of his thumbs caressed the spot directly in front of where they were joined.
“Your clitty doesn’t seem offended, baby. It’s peeking out at me all hard and shiny, as though begging for my touch.” He flicked the spot again. A loud, passion-filled cry passed her lips. “Shh, you’ll wake him before we’re done.”
She was mindless to do more than groan as her body continued to writhe uncontrollably atop his.
“I’d smother your cries with my mouth, except I’m liking this ride a heck of a lot.” He pulled her ruffled petticoat from her bodice and raised it to her mouth. “Here, bite down on this if you feel the need to scream.”
“I didn’t scream,” she panted.
“You did, but I won’t argue the point at the moment. Do as I say and I’ll make you insensate with pleasure. You won’t know if you’re getting loud and will appreciate the cotton a bit more when I do.”
Recognizing she should be at least a little chagrined by her blatant display of lust, at the same time she didn’t care, desperately yearning for more of his touch. So, she did as she was told, parting her lips for him to tuck a wad of her petticoat into her mouth.
“Good girl, now lean back, keep riding, and let me send you soaring.”
As she plunged down, he arched up, his cock driving discernibly deeper. His busy hands didn’t let up as his thumb and forefinger captured the nub he’d been teasing and ro
“That’s it, baby, come for me. As you do, I’m right behind you.”
Her muted moans were nothing compared to the roar of male pleasure that came from the floor beneath her. Fully replete, she slumped forward, sprawled across his chest out of breath, her cheek coming to rest on his equally damp skin. They lay against each other, panting for air as their bodies cooled and recovered.
Before that could happen, a gurgling giggle came to their ears. Instantly, Wisteria’s head popped up, and their eyes met briefly before their heads swung as one toward the cushions where they thought Micah still slept. He was sitting up, but thankfully only the top of his head peeped over the wall of his makeshift crib. He was babbling to himself and laughing.
“Oh, my word.” Her hands flew to her clothes as she began straightening them. “We just had, uh…”
“Sex,” Luke supplied helpfully.
With a frown, she shook her head. “I was going to say relations, in front of our baby. What kind of mother does that?”
“A well-satisfied one, I should hope.”
She smacked his shoulder. “Luke, I’m serious.”
“At one, he’s certainly not going to comprehend what we were up to. Besides, he couldn’t see us over the cushion.”
“I should hope not.” She quickly closed her bodice and climbed off Luke’s body, reaching for Micah as soon as she made sure Luke was covered up. When she set him between them on the floor, he immediately climbed up his daddy’s chest, ignoring his flustered mother, blissfully unaware of what had been going on while he napped.
“Are you hungry now?” she asked, still putting herself to rights.
“I could eat,” he said with a grin as he blew bubbles into his little boy’s neck. His gaze met hers over his head. “I seemed to have worked up an appetite while simply lying about watching you do all the work. I could get used to that, wife, but it might just be the death of me.”
She rose to her feet, stepping lightly on his washboard stomach as she crossed over him. He reacted with a loud oomph, which sent Micah into squeals of laughter.
“I’m thrilled at least someone around here finds me entertaining, boy.”
Wisteria hid a smile as she strode to the kitchen. Luke was much more than entertaining; he was utterly intoxicating and every moment she spent with him, she fell more deeply in love with him.
Chapter Thirteen
Gazing out the window, she watched the wagons drive by on the busy street as she waited for Luke. The stagecoach rolled in and stopped across the way. She watched with amusement as a short, slight man struggled to get a bag out of the rear boot. When a woman, stout and strong, perhaps his wife, bumped him out the way and hefted it easily all by herself, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
It was Saturday, a day full of activity for the shops in Laramie, Luke had said. That was likely the reason he was running late. Riders and buggies, gigs and farm wagons crowded the busy main street, causing the traffic to creep by. As she scanned the faces, there wasn’t a sign of Luke.
She was turning from the window, about to move outside for a better vantage point when a man exiting the general store across the way gave her pause. Something about him was familiar, although she couldn’t see his face with his black hat angled low over his brow. As he turned in the opposite direction, someone bumped into him, knocking him back a foot and his hat askew. She saw stringy red curls reminiscent of Virgil’s untidy mop of hair. Frantic, she pressed against the glass of the dressmaker’s window, struggling for a better look, but couldn’t see around the tall wagon that pulled up and blocked her way.
Determined to find out if it was indeed him, she started toward the front door. As she rounded a display of parasols and handbags, she stopped short, finding two young women staring at her and blocking her exit.
“See! As plain as dry toast,” the nondescript blonde said to the dumpy brunette by her side. Although she acted like she was whispering in confidence to her friends, she hadn’t lowered her voice a notch, clearly intending for Wisteria to hear every word.
“Surely you meant plain as milk toast,” the brunette sneered. “She’s so pale, rather pasty, in fact.”
“True. I don’t for the life of me understand what he sees in her.”
Too startled by their disparaging remarks to offer a response at first, Wisteria could only stare. Who were these women and why were they maliciously attacking her? She bristled, as she scanned them both from head to toe, promptly deciding that neither girl had anything to crow about when it came to their appearance.
The dark-haired girl stood only an inch or two taller than her own diminutive frame, but she carried at least thirty extra pounds, not well, either. She wasn’t unattractive, except for her manner, which was ugly, as was her drab, reddish-brown dress, which was far too tight, bulging in places where it shouldn’t and had her resembling an overstuffed sausage.
Her gaze cut back to the other girl, who appeared to be around her own age. She was tall, at least eight inches more than her friend, but her shape was straight as a stick, and she was flat-chested. At this point, Wisteria smirked. She couldn’t help it. If she was plain toast, this girl was moldy bread and about as appealing. The only thing in her favor was her long, blond curls, because her skin was blemished, she had a mass of freckles on her face, and her cheeks were blood red from the summer heat. With eyes an unremarkable gray, and lashes and brows so light they were almost nonexistent, the washed-out blonde paled in comparison to her own vivid coloring, notwithstanding her chubby friend’s comment.
“I think she’s pretty,” a third girl said as she walked up and joined them. The cute, blue-eyed redhead blinked at Wisteria in a rather inane way, evidently having missed her role in the game. “Your eyes are purple!” she gushed. Turning to the blonde, she asked, “Frannie, have you ever seen the like?”
Frannie? Wisteria stared at the blonde in surprise. This is Luke’s Frannie? Well, not quite Luke’s, but she wanted to be, as the note and the cake had clearly conveyed. The reason for Frannie’s animosity now clear, Wisteria distantly listened to the nattering of the women around her while meeting Frannie’s scathing glare.
“And she’s not much shorter than you, Lucy,” the newcomer went on, “except she’s slender.”
“Marcy!” the brunette exclaimed, drawing an indignant breath at her empty-headed friend’s insult.
Marcy went on, however, as though oblivious to the slight. “She’s like one of the china dolls from my collection. Can you imagine, Frannie?”
“Hush, Marcy Jean! You’re not helping.”
She blinked mindlessly at the other girls and asked, “Helping what?”
“She stole Luke Jackson from Frannie, Marcy,” Lucy hissed.
The girl turned to look at Wisteria anew.
“You remember,” Frannie explained, her catty smile aimed Wisteria’s way. “She’s the one who trapped him.” She looked around as though making sure she wouldn’t be heard before she continued, although it was obvious she didn’t care. “She got in the family way so he would have to marry her.”
Marcy’s mouth went round, then she frowned, plainly puzzled. “But I remember you said Luke broke it off with you long before she came to town and they married. And, if she was tricking him, why did she wait so long to come to Laramie with her baby?” She looked back at Wisteria and smiled. “I saw you with him and Luke at Ivinson’s General Store a while back. He’s very cute. I love babies.”
Frannie choked with frustration at her dim-witted friend poking holes in her story, and Lucy hadn’t stopped pouting over her friend’s offhand remarks. Finding the entire interaction with Marcy Jean nothing short of hilarious, Wisteria burst into laughter.
Her nemesis apparently did not find it amusing and took a step forward. Towering above her by well over half a foot, Frannie looked down her nose at her in an expressly intimidating fashion.
“What are you laughing at?” she demanded in a harsh, grating tone. “The whole town is talking about how you acted the whore, spreading your legs in order to catch yourself a Jackson. And, that when you were caught in the family way, you wasted no time weaseling your way back into his bed with your sluttish ways, all the while holding his bastard son over his head.”
That sobered her instantly and was the final straw for Wisteria. She moved forward until she was face to chin with the wretched jealous shrew. Coming up on her toes, she addressed her in a cold, lethal tone. “Say what you want about me, I don’t care, but don’t you dare utter so much as a whisper about my son.”
“Or what?”
Without saying more, Wisteria took a step back. She reached down and raised her skirt hem high enough for her Colt Peacemaker to do all the talking. Staring down at the polished nickel and pearl-handled six-shooter strapped to her ankle, the three of them gasped at the same time a new voice entered the mix.
“Not another word, Frannie Winthrop.”
Wisteria dropped her skirt and whirled around to find Heath had come up behind her. His voice lashed out harshly, his eyes snapping with undisguised anger as they zeroed in on the leader of the group.
“This is my sister-in-law you are harassing; she is also my nephew’s mother and I won’t stand for any more of your harsh words or malicious gossip about either of them.”
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