Forever, Victoria

by Dorothy Garlock

  She awakened suddenly out of the sweet ecstasy and pulled back in alarm. “What? What…”

  Mason, kneeling beside her bed, pulled her back into his arms and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  “Every night has been torture! I had to come!” His voice was choked with the harsh sound of desire.

  “No! You can’t—”

  “I want to hold you, love you.”

  “Mason…” A sudden flood of tenderness overwhelmed her and she turned her face to him, longing to kiss his lips with sweet, lingering softness.

  His lips covered hers, murmuring between kisses. “Let me…let me love you…” His arms were the only arms in the world, his lips the only lips.

  A small voice in her head whispered, No! Stop him, tell him to go! She didn’t listen. She clutched at him with the desperation of one standing on the edge of a precipice. She would fall if he left her. The driving force of her feeling was taking her beyond reason, beyond fear, beyond herself and into a new dimension.

  His mouth was sweet, his breath as cool as mint, his cheeks pleasantly rough against her face. Warm lips, at first tentative, became more demanding and long fingers entwined her tousled hair. His tongue circled her lips, coaxing them to open, then darted inside to tickle every crevice of her mouth. Her skin tingled, the tiny hairs on her body seemed to be standing on end.

  So this is kissing, she thought. It’s wonderful! The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him. She wanted to pull him inside her and keep him there forever.

  As the kiss lengthened her fingers began to move, timidly at first. They glided over the firm muscles of his shoulders and into the silky down on his chest, wanting to touch him and instinctively knowing it was what he wanted. Her fingertips brushed a nipple buried in soft hair, passed by, but returned and fondled it.

  He drew his lips away and buried his face in her throat. Her hand made small circles on his back. His bare skin surprised her with its smoothness. His body answered the movement of her hands with a violent trembling.

  “There’s more than this, dear heart. Much more!” he groaned against her neck. “Let me show you. Let me love all of you.”

  The tug of her hands on his back was her answer, but she whispered, “What could be better than this?”

  “I’ll show you, my love,” he said against her lips.

  He pulled his arm from beneath her head and stood up.

  Oh, please! Don’t leave me, now! The thought was so tangible in her mind she didn’t know if she had voiced it. She felt movement beside the bed and the covers lifted, the featherbed billowed, and the rope springs creaked under the extra weight. Then arms reached for her, gathering her close.

  They lay face to face on the pillow; his lips nuzzled her mouth, their breath came as one. He captured one of her hands and pressed the palm to his chest. They lay thus for a long moment, mouths softly touching. Her fingertips roamed his chest, up over smooth shoulders to his neck, lightly fingered his ear and plunged into the black hair, as she had wanted to do for so long. In a wonder of discovery, her hand caressed his body, finding it hard where hers was soft, rough where hers was smooth.

  “Your hair smells like honey and spice,” he whispered huskily and pulled her heavy flaxen hair over to cover his neck. “I’ve dreamed every night of being with you like this.” He filled his hand with her breast, his thumb stroking the hard point.

  “Why…didn’t…you?” she said between nibbling kisses.

  “You weren’t ready, dear heart.” He pulled the bow at the neck of her nightgown. “Take it off,” he breathed in her ear. His hands slipped inside the gown and felt the satin smoothness of her skin. “Take it off, darling.”

  “Mason…no!” She caught his wrist and his hand stilled. He could feel the fierce pounding of her frightened heart.

  “It will be all right. Come to me, my bride, as naked as the day you were born. Just you, all warm, soft, gold.” He whispered reassuringly while his hands gently but insistently tugged the gown up and over her head. “Ah, there. Now, there’s nothing between us. You feel so good!” He cradled her to him reverently.

  His warm, passionate kisses began on her lips and traveled over the side of her face to her ears and throat. His hand caressed every curve, every soft, graceful line, over her hips and down her thigh. How tender and gentle he was, she thought. Yet he’s setting me on fire with only these light kisses and almost imperceptible movements. She wanted to speak, to tell him what she was feeling, but she felt certain he knew.

  Deftly he rolled her on her back and pinned her with the length of his long body. Her head was caught in the crook of his arm and she couldn’t move—not that she wanted to. He was pressing against her hip, firm and hard, and her eyes fluttered open in amazement. The part of him that throbbed so aggressively against her was large and strong like the rest of him.

  It was all so sweet, so right, so natural. He was unhurried, tender, the stroking of his hands on her skin sending waves of weakening pleasure up and down her spine. She found her inexperienced hands gliding across his powerful chest and down his shoulders to the rippling biceps with no thought as to what they should be doing. She hadn’t time to think, all she could do was feel.

  His hands moved down below her belly and found the velvet lips. Involuntarily she stiffened. “Easy now, dear heart. Easy.”

  “Oh, Mason,” she sighed.

  He moved his hand and lightly stroked the curve of her hip, then slid it up to her breast. His prowling fingers squeezed her nipple until it hurt. She hurt in a different way, too-deep, deep inside of her. “We won’t rush the fence, sweetheart. We’ll wait ’til you’re sure.”

  Victoria had wanted him this way, never knowing she’d feel such exquisite delight. She relaxed, moved uninhibitedly under his touch. So many new sensations crashed through her body and mind she was unable to distinguish one from another. It was all too pleasurable, too wonderful. If this was the coupling men and women did together, dear God, how beautiful!

  His probing fingers moved down and down on her body and suddenly they were touching the throbbing portion of her. Her body arched, seeking, wanting. His hands gently held her legs apart. She became aware of a hard pressure against her, a slow, gradual filling of that aching emptiness. A sudden movement of his hips brought a pain-pleasure so intense that she cried out.

  “Sh—sh—I’m sorry, darling, I had to!” he whispered in her ear and lay still for a long moment.

  She couldn’t speak, but she kissed his face with quick, passionate kisses and clutched at his buttocks to keep his throbbing warmth inside her. He began to move gently. She lay still until she sensed his rhythm and then began to move, imitating him, finding her reward in the way his kiss deepened and his body trembled. She clung to him, aware only of that thrusting, pulsating rhythm that was pushing her toward a bursting, shivering height where there was nothing but Mason within her.

  At the summit she heard him cry out, as if from a distance. “Darling…darling…”

  When she came back into reality where sensations were again possible, Mason’s weight was pressing her into the featherbed. She pressed her mouth to his shoulders, tasting the salty tang of his skin. He moved his head to kiss her lips, his mouth so tender on hers, so reverent, that it almost brought tears. She wrapped her arms around him in a wave of protective love and her lips sought the puckered scar on his cheek and kissed it desperately as if to take away the pain he had suffered when she stitched it. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder like a child seeking comfort, and she held him there.

  Presently he moved his face a fraction so he could whisper, “It was wonderful!”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  He rolled, taking her with him, and they lay side by side. He ran his mouth over her face, his lips paused to tease her lashes.

  “If I’d’ve known what it was like to feel your breasts against me I wouldn’t have been able to wait so long. How have I lived all this time without you?”
<
br />   Their bodies came together perfectly and Victoria blocked out everything but this moment, this night.

  “I had wondered how it would be.”

  “I thought I knew.”

  “I feel so grand!”

  His smile was joyous. “Me, too.”

  “How do people ever manage to sleep?”

  “They don’t have you in their arms,” he teased. A large hand cupped her buttocks and pulled them tightly against him.

  She moved sensuously and straightened her legs so she could move closer. “I could have you again,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Why don’t you?”

  Her words made the heart he pressed so tightly to hers soar. “It was your first time—you may be sore.”

  She caught his wrist and brought his hand down to press against the tight curls below her belly. “I have an ache here,” she whispered. “Take it away.”

  His arms crushed her and she could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart. “I’ll never get enough of you!” he said in a voice trembling with emotion.

  “I’m glad! You’ll keep trying,” she said very softly.

  From then on nothing mattered except satisfying their desperate need for each other. They swirled in a mindless vortex of pleasure created by caressing fingertips, biting teeth, and closely entwined limbs. It was long and rapturous, and when they finally came together, it was forceful, ecstatic and more endearing than the first time.

  Time and again he drew her to him, murmuring softly of the hunger that gnawed at him and the thirst for the mouth she offered so willingly.

  They made love deep into the night, until sheer exhaustion sent Mason into a deep sleep and Victoria into that void between sleep and awareness. She lay molded to his naked body, her cheek nestled in the warm hollow of his shoulder. Although she hated the reason that had brought Mason to the Double M, she realized she was glad he was here. She loved him and wanted to be with him forever.

  CHAPTER

  * 14 *

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Mason spoke softly in her ear. She opened one eye. Light from the lamp on the table filled the room. She opened the other eye and found his face just inches from hers. She ran her fingertips lightly over his face to make sure he was real. He was. She smiled.

  “Why is the lamp on?”

  “I wanted to look at you. I’ve been waiting for half an hour for you to wake up.” He sounded like a small boy and she laughed.

  “I was tired.” She let her fingers move across his chest to a nipple. It had been a long, delicious night.

  “Was it worth it?”

  “You bet!”

  His eyes held hers tenderly, and there was something in his face she hadn’t seen before—love that was unfettered.

  “You got under my skin right from the start!” His words melted on her lips and when she tried to speak, her words were swept away by his kisses.

  “Mason…”

  “Don’t say anything.” His lips covered hers before she could speak. “Was I too rough with you, darling? Are you very sore?” he whispered when they finally broke the kiss. She was curled up in his arms, one leg sandwiched between his.

  “I don’t know, I haven’t moved. Mason?”

  “Mm-hmm…”

  “Nellie and the twins—”

  “You want me to go before they see me coming out of your room?” He pulled back his face and his eyes teased her.

  “I don’t want you to go, but I don’t want them to see you, either.”

  “You can’t have it both ways. Which one do you want the most?”

  “Mason, don’t tease me,” she pleaded and caressed him with her eyes. He looked as happy as a small boy with a new slingshot.

  “Why do you think I woke you so early? I’ll go, but I’ll be back!” He pressed his forehead against hers so that their noses were side by side. “As soon as this drive is over and the money’s in the bank, we’re going to find us a preacher. Then I’ll snatch you up whenever I want to and bring you here!” He punctuated his words with hard kisses. “There’ll be no more talk about who owns the Double M. It will be ours, our home. Our children will be born here. I’ll teach the boys to be cowmen and you’ll teach the girls to play the spinet. We’ll grow old here, die here, be buried in that graveyard out there, and I don’t want any argument out of you, my only love.”

  His kisses were deep and satisfying and thoughts of protest never entered her mind.

  Victoria could hardly contain her bubbling spirit as she washed and dressed. The cold wet cloth felt good against her aching femininity. In the dim light of the morning she looked down at her body. It looked the same, but it would be forever different. It had known the sharp thrusts of a man’s body; a man had loved it, caressed every inch of it, possessed it. She was now a woman in every sense of the word. Automatically she slipped into her clothes. Nothing in her life up to now had prepared her for the emotions that churned inside of her. Her heart hammered and there was a fluttering in the pit of her stomach that refused to go away, even as she pressed her hands tightly to it.

  Sure that her hair was smooth and her dress properly buttoned she left her bedroom, agonizingly aware of Mason’s voice coming from the lighted kitchen. She paused in the doorway to look at him. Their eyes caught and held, and Victoria thought she would stop breathing.

  “Mornin’.” His eyes teased her.

  “Mornin’,” she murmured. She nodded to Pete and Clay.

  At the cookstove she lifted the lid on the simmering coffeepot and moved it to a cooler spot on the range so it wouldn’t boil over. The sound made by the iron kettle when she fitted it into the hole over the fire box seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to pour water into the kettle for mush. She could feel Mason’s eyes and couldn’t prevent her own from seeking them. He smiled at her with amused tenderness and the smile reached all the way into her heart. She caught her breath in joyful recognition. He was the other part of herself—her heart, her soul—and she would never be content until they were united. It was a highly emotional moment and she and Mason could have been alone in the room. Everything else hung in suspension.

  “Yore goin’ to have to do without my company, Victoria,” Pete’s voice broke the spell. “I won the toss and I’ll go with Mason on the drive. Old Clay’s got to stay and play watchdog.”

  Her shyness suddenly vanished and happiness sang like a bird in her heart. She threw the golden rope of her braid back over her shoulder and her amber eyes sparkled.

  “Never mind, Clay. Let them go on their old drive and eat dust, hardtack and beans. I’ll make you a berry pie.”

  Victoria saw the tender look in Mason’s eyes. How could I ever have thought he was cold and unfeeling, she mused, as she watched the smile lines fan out from the corners of his eyes. This relaxed, smiling man in no way resembled the stern-faced man she had met at the station in South Pass City.

  Mason watched her with appreciation. There was a depth to her and a quicker mind than most men he knew, and yet she was more of a woman than any he had ever met. He felt a surge of pride. She was his; life with her would never be dull.

  After breakfast Victoria wrapped the heavy wool shawl tightly about her shoulders and walked quickly toward the corral. A blanket of thick white frost covered the ground. Mason hadn’t asked her to come out, but the look they exchanged when he left the kitchen told her plainly he wanted her to. Nellie had come to help with the breakfast and the four of them had talked and teased, their laughter warming the room. It seemed as if a heavy weight had been lifted from Victoria’s heart. Mason filled every corner of it now and she couldn’t and wouldn’t stop him from doing so. The world was suddenly bright and shining and she was free from many of her old, almost cherished inhibitions. She felt laughter bubbling inside her and a smile of pure delight curved her mouth. She even pushed to the back of her mind the thought she wouldn’t see Mason for a week or ten days. There was no room for anything inside her now but
the anticipation of a few minutes alone with him.