Effie

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “You already do,” Martha smiled.

  *

  Ethan sat in the parlor, holding his hat a good long while before Martha glided down the stairs. He appreciated Molly waiting with him, but he didn’t have much to talk about. They touched on the dance tomorrow night and her wedding to Angus, as well as the new cabin she and Angus were settling. Then they ran out of topics.

  Several young women found a reason to come into the room, and Molly introduced him to each one. He knew some by description, as his friends talked about their attributes in great detail, and who was hoping to marry whom. A few girls seemed to find a need to dally, looking him over thoroughly and it was a bit unnerving. The only woman he was interested in was going to give him cause to speak sternly to her.

  Finally she appeared dressed in a pretty blue dress. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face and held with twin combs. Soft curls spilled over one shoulder and she smiled nervously at him.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Jorgenson,” she said quietly.

  “Are you?” he asked as he rose to his full height. “I wonder.”

  “Of course I am,” Martha insisted. “Why would you think otherwise?”

  “It’s a feeling I have. You should know I have a sixth sense for when I’m being lied to. There is no reason for us to be less than honest with each other, Martha. I’ve made my intentions clear. I want you for my wife, no need to try to entice me with silly female tricks,” he continued as he draped her cloak around her shoulders and took her arm.

  “I’ve done no such thing,” she said nervously as she looked up.

  Ethan took her shoulders and turned her to face him. She met his serious gaze bravely, even though he knew she was probably getting a crick in her neck. He held her like that until she lowered her eyes and blushed, and then he gently placed a finger under her chin.

  “Mama works very hard in the restaurant. She sets aside a time each night so we can sit down together as a family for a meal. We are now late. Mama may not be able to sit and eat with us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Martha whispered.

  “I know. I can tell you are a good woman or I would not have offered for you despite how pretty you are. I must give you the benefit of the doubt on this issue, but you should know it will not always be so. If you are thoughtless or selfish in the future, I will call your attention to it.”

  “Would you rather go on without me? What if she is angry with me…?”

  Ethan laughed. “If and when Mama is angry with you, she will tell you. You won’t have to wonder or fear her. Do not let her small size fool you. Look at her husband and sons. All of us are giants compared to her, yet we tremble when we’ve made her angry or disappointed her, not from fear, but from shame. Do not shame me with your behavior in front of my mother, Martha,” he told her as he led her through the door.

  “Do I need to fear you?” she whispered as he lifted her onto the seat of the carriage.

  “No,” he replied. He felt the relief in her body and heard her sigh.

  “I’m so happy to hear you are not one of those men who believe it is their duty and their right to discipline their wives,” she said happily, slipping her arm through his after he climbed onto the seat beside her.

  Ethan flicked the reins and looked at her with a grin. “I didn’t exactly say that, Älskling.”

  “Well it’s one or the other, Ethan. Either you respect me as a grown woman and treat me as such, or you believe it is your right to correct my behavior. Which is it?” she asked indignantly.

  “I respect you as a grown woman and will treat you as such.”

  “Good.”

  “However, it is my experience that every now and then even grown women, for whatever reason, behave foolishly or recklessly. On occasions such as that I may feel the need to help you remember you are a grown woman.”

  “Wonderful,” Martha replied, removing her arm and scooting over on the seat.

  “Good, I am glad you agree,” Ethan smiled. Her sarcasm was not lost on him.

  Chapter Five

  Sam and Grace each checked on Effie several times throughout the afternoon and early evening, but she slept the day away. It wasn’t until Tempest and Duncan were on their way to bed that Effie appeared at the top of the stairs looking slightly disoriented.

  “Oh, ma chere, you must have been exhausted,” Tempest said kindly. “Come, I will take you downstairs and find you something to eat.”

  “I’ve got her, Mother,” Sam offered, bounding up the stairs to take Effie’s arm.

  “What time is it? Where are Amelia and Grace?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Hugh and Amelia went home hours ago and Grace and Jonah retired early,” he replied. Carefully he led her down the steps, slipping an arm around her waist when she faltered.

  “I can’t believe it’s so late; why it’s dark outside,” Effie cried hoarsely, looking out the window of the massive front door. “What’s wrong with me?” Her eyes searched Sam’s face as her hand flew to her throat.

  “Nothing some rest won’t cure, Euphemia,” Sam assured her as he led her to the kitchen. “Let’s see if we can find you something to eat.” Seating her on a stool at the large worktable, Sam opened the ice box and foraged while keeping an eye on her.

  “I’ve seen it hundreds of times. For some reason after going through a frightening experience or crisis, the body needs an inordinate amount of rest.”

  “Even if the injury is not critical?” Effie asked, yawning.

  “Yes, Dr. Martin says it has something to do with a large surge of adrenalin in a life or death situation. After the crisis is over, exhaustion seems to set in. It happens often when there is an accident on the mountain.”

  “Hmm.”

  Turning to look at her, Sam shook his head and put the leftovers back in the ice box. Her chin was propped on her hand and her eyes were closed. Curly blonde hair escaped from her haphazard bun to hang over her shoulder nearly to her waist. Upon closer inspection he saw that the buttons on her dress were buttoned wrong, causing the material to gape revealingly. As he continued to study her he noticed bare toes peeking out from the hem of her dress.

  Well, a meal was out of the question. He doubted she could stay awake long enough to eat it. Instead he sliced a nice sized wedge from a chocolate cake and poured her a glass of milk. Carrying them to the table, he set them down and gently shook her awake.

  “Come on, Effie. Eat a little something and then you can go back to bed.”

  “I don’t want to go back to bed.” Sighing in delight she tucked into her cake with a smile, closing her eyes. “This is dewishous,” she mumbled as she tore into it.

  “Take it easy honey, there’s more,” he admonished. She certainly was cute when her mouth was too full to talk. Grinning, he watched as she gulped her milk, leaving a white mustache on her upper lip. Then she licked it off, her small pink tongue sliding sensuously along her plump lip.

  Damn, he wanted to be that lip. He wanted to be the lock of golden hair nestled against the bare skin of her creamy breast. He wanted to be the chocolate frosting she scooped up with her finger and sucked off with a groan of delight. What the hell!

  When there was not a crumb left and she’d done everything but lick the plate, she looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.

  “Thank you, Sam,” she whispered.

  Even her throaty purr aroused him, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. Sam swallowed painfully and reached for her, forcing himself to stop at the last moment and pick up her plate.

  “Do you want some more?” he asked, praying he wouldn’t have to watch her savor another piece with that enticing little mouth.

  “No, thank you.”

  Carrying it to the sink he barely managed to set it down before she tried to slide off the tall stool and lost her balance with a giggle. He caught her. He didn’t know how but he did and suddenly she was in his arms, crushed against his chest. Her feet dangled somewher
e around his kneecaps, her hands clutched his shoulders and her breasts, so warm and full were flush against him, spilling over the top of her bodice.

  It was the frosting that did it. Suddenly he spied a tiny fleck on her lip and he was lost. Without thought he lowered his lips to hers and licked it off. Her head dropped back as she whimpered, exposing the soft skin of her neck.

  Sam was on her like a madman, burying his face in the curve she offered and kissing from her shell like ear to the arch of her shoulder where he sucked, hard, marking her. For some reason he felt a strong need to replace those bruises she gotten at the hands of another man with some of his own.

  “Effie, Effie,” he moaned as he slid a hand to her bottom and lifted her higher, pressing her tightly to him. She was so light, and delicate. He was handling her roughly and knew it, yet he couldn’t seem to stop. He was possessed by the need to claim her in some elemental way.

  She didn’t fight him, didn’t struggle in any way except maybe to pull herself closer as her fingers threaded into his dark hair. In one long stride he had her at the work table, setting her down and spreading her legs wide. Pushing up her skirts he swept her bottom to the edge of the table as he stepped into the cradle of her thighs. He could feel her heat through his trousers and groaned in frustration at the material keeping them apart.

  Both of his huge hands grasped her bodice and ripped it open, baring her to her waist and sending tiny buttons flying in all directions. He was being an ass, a bastard, a brute and he could not stop. Seeing her naked flesh only added fuel to the fire consuming him. The sight of her pink nipples pushed him one step farther from salvation, but he lowered his head anyway, taking the pouting tip into his mouth.

  Her hiss of shocked pain fanned a faint spark of humanity and he gentled, but only until her cry changed to one of pleasure, transformed into a breathy sigh of wonder. Raising his head he looked at her, saw her rapidly rising and falling chest, the flushed cheeks and returned to his nearly single minded purpose. Her hands were behind her now, stiff on the table as she arched her body up for him. Her legs were around his waist, holding him tight as she rocked her hips instinctively. Good Lord, he was going to die right here in the kitchen, he thought as he stood and ripped off his shirt.

  Yanking her forward he pressed his naked chest against hers, marveling at how good even that simple contact felt as he gathered her close and drowned in the scent of her hair. It struck him that this woman who’d driven him crazy with her words from her very first letter was now quiet, and he grinned before cupping her head in his hand and claiming her lips in a completely dominant manner. The thought flitted away as he marveled at her wonderful mouth, soft and damp. He tried to push away images of those sweet lips wrapped around his cock. On some level it galled him that this imp of a girl with her annoying bratty ways was able to reduce him to the lowest form of a man, a lust filled, out of control beast, ready, willing and certainly able to devour her. He was a man who prided himself on his self-control and she’d stripped it away from him with a lick of her lips and a drop of frosting.

  It didn’t matter, not a bit. In a haze of red hot need he made the decision. He was having her. Right here in his parent’s kitchen he was taking and taking until he had his fill. He’d have to marry her, of course, but at the moment that seemed a small price to pay. She was pliant, pliant for Christ’s sake. Euphemia Lane, the bane of his existence, was hot and wet in his arms, her legs spread and she was moaning with a need of her own.

  Reaching down he opened his trousers. The fragile material of her pantalets split easily under his strong fingers. Laying her back on the table he grabbed her hips and pulled her to the very edge lifting her legs over his shoulders before lowering his lips to her core and licking her sweet nub.

  Effie screamed out in shock and he took her hand and placed it over her own mouth. Watching her, he smiled and growled in approval when she kept it there. Returning to his pursuits, he rejoiced in her slick center, gently sliding his finger in to test the strength of her protective covering. It felt fragile, just like her.

  She had a distinctive fragrance and a delicate taste, and he knew this would be one of the things he subjected her to on a regular basis. Of course, he would eventually take her in every way it was possible for a man to take a woman, but it was nice to know she had a weakness and this was obviously going to soon become one of them. Her body was nearly vibrating with pleasure, flooding his hand. He could feel her clamping around his digit in a most pleasurable way.

  He licked and suckled, all the while inching in and out of her snug little pussy. When he felt the first real contraction and she raised her hips, her eyes pleading for some kind of relief, he straightened.

  In a moment of sanity he asked one question, still stroking her clit yet not letting her tumble over the edge. He knew it was unfair, but he truly couldn’t force himself to give a shit. He was having her. If she said no, he would continue to tease her until she caved or he totally lost his mind and took her anyway.

  “Yes or no, Effie?” he ground out.

  Frantically she shook her head in the affirmative.

  He loomed over her, his little virgin sacrifice, sprawled out on the table before him. Her long hair lay around her like a silken web. Her breasts rose and fell as she struggled to breathe and still he wanted her, wanted her with a fierce need that would not be denied.

  Gently he smoothed her brow, slid his hands down and worried her nipples and then grasped her hips in both hands.

  “Be quiet,” he warned darkly and lining his member up he coated the tip in her wetness. Then he took it home. One strong thrust. All the way.

  After throwing his head back in a gesture of satisfaction as old as time, he watched her. She struggled to get away, but he held her tightly to him, buried to the hilt and not letting her achieve any distance. Two tears trickled down into her hair as she looked at him with accusing eyes. He brushed them away. The hand that had been covering her mouth was now being bitten between her white teeth and he let one hip go long enough to reach up and take her hand out of her mouth. Pulling it to him, he kissed the marks softly and placed it back over her lips as he shook his head no.

  She watched him warily and he met her eyes as he trailed his fingers over her breasts, pulling her nipples back to prominence, even as she scowled. When his hand moved between her legs she frowned, but only until he plucked her clit, pinching it lightly.

  “You’re mine now,” he told her matter-of-factly as he gave a short thrust. “Behave.”

  Effie shook her head no and Sam laughed and began to move. It was exquisite and he never wanted it to end. He wanted to be here, fucking her at this table tomorrow, next week, next year.

  He wanted everyone in the house to disappear so he could hear her screaming his name as he brought her to climax after climax until she passed out. He wanted to keep her here, on this table, naked and spread open for him as he ate his meals, so he could see her and touch her whenever he wanted. God, he’d never thought of himself as a sick bastard, but apparently he was because he would tie her here if necessary. Hell, he wanted her to be his meal, licking and sucking at her sweet nipples and pussy until she begged him to take her.

  Slowly he increased his speed while fighting the urge to pound into her soft body until he came undone. She was so warm, he felt like he might burst into flames, just from being inside her. It had never been like this, never. Yes, he found relief, even great pleasure with other women, but no one ever moved him like this annoying, mouthy little baggage from back east. He felt anger sweep over him, surprising in its fierceness and worried it would take something away from the experience. Surprisingly it didn’t, in fact, it increased his pleasure. There was definitely something fucking wrong with him. Something that felt so satisfying he couldn’t ignore it. She was at his mercy, her pleasure under his control and it was exhilarating. Miss Effie Lane, suffragette and champion of women’s rights would come when he brought her to it and not a moment before. More than lik
ely she didn’t even know what a climax was, but she would after tonight.

  Feeling his cock expand, Sam almost sighed. It was much too perfect to last. For the first time ever he didn’t want to come but the tightening in his balls let him know it was inevitable. He stopped teasing her clit, no longer holding her at bay and circled the nub in a firm manner as she tried to smother her pleas. He knew she was frightened, not sure where this was going or how it would end, but he didn’t feel very merciful at the moment. She’d reduced him to a mindless object of muscle and sinew, striving for an orgasm that would bind them together permanently.

  Effie came, gripping him in a rhythmic pattern of rocking hips and clenching pussy. Grasping her hips, he let her clit be and pounded into her, holding her so tightly to him as he filled her with his seed that she squirmed, increasing his pleasure immeasurably. His body throbbed in time with each jet, yet he watched her in silence. Finally, when he was spent, he returned to her clit and rubbed gently, bringing her to another orgasm in less than five strokes. Gasping she lay on the table with her eyes closed. Every few seconds she would quiver and he stroked her flanks as much for the pleasure of touching her as in an effort to calm her.

  Pulling up his trousers, Sam gripped her wrists, pulled her upright and gathered her up in his arms. Neither spoke as he carried her upstairs. In her room, he stood her on shaking legs and stripped the remnants of her torn clothes away. When she swayed, he took her hands and placed them on one of the tall posts at the foot of the bed. Going into the bathing room he returned with a wet cloth and washed her carefully, noting the trace of blood that proved he was a bastard.

  Her white nightdress was lying across the foot of the bed and Sam slipped it over her head, buttoning the front.

  “Do you want me to brush your hair?” he asked, stroking it back from her forehead.

  Effie shook her head no.

  “Do you have to use the toilet?”