by Vanessa Vale
“I won't sleep now, love. You need your rest.”
“This happens frequently?” I asked tentatively.
He nodded. “Often enough. I was involved in bad things in the army, Hyacinth. You're married to someone who's killed. It haunts me.”
I sighed against his back, hearing the misery in his voice. I wondered if I was the first person to hold him after a nightmare. I hoped so, for a swift surge of jealousy washed over me at the thought of him being comforted by another woman.
“I'm not afraid of you. Did you do it of your own volition or were you acting on orders?”
“Orders.”
“Then you were doing your job,” I replied.
“I was a sharpshooter. My job was solely to kill.”
I remained quiet, thinking about the kind of man I married. Sharpshooters didn't command men. They didn't work in a group. They shot people and that was it. No wonder he was haunted. “It's in the past now. Your army life is behind you and I will be relieved to know that you can protect me from wild animals.”
He turned his head to look over his shoulder at me in the darkness. “As I said, I won't sleep now. Perhaps you might like a little space in bed. It is the first night you've shared one,” he countered, moving to stand up, but I tugged him back down.
“Yes, exactly. It's my first night of sharing a bed and I want you in the bed with me. You'll be cheating me otherwise.” I kept my tone soft, my voice calm and coaxing, trying to lure him away from his bad dream, his past and back to me.
“This is what you want from a husband—a bed warmer?”
“Isn't that what you wanted from a wife?” I countered.
He turned then, propping his knee up on the bed so he could look at me easier. “Absolutely. So far, it's one of the best parts of being married.”
“Oh?” I asked, stroking my finger down his corded arm. “We haven't done anything in bed yet. Only out by the creek.”
“You're too sore for me to fuck again so soon. Have I neglected you, love?”
I shrugged, my body warming to the idea of the kind of pleasure he'd given me earlier.
“You hinted at being in bed with me was only one of the best parts. What are the others?” I drew my finger over the stitching in the quilt.
“Do you want me to tell you, or show you?”
His deep tone, his authoritative, dominant voice had returned and it made goose bumps rise on my skin. It was amazing how I responded viscerally to just his voice. “Show me. Definitely show me.”
***
“Do you want to see your family?” Jackson asked. We were lying in bed, the sun high in the sky, but neither of us had done anything remotely productive since we awoke, out of habit, with the sun. It was our honeymoon, this being left alone in the small house. No chores, no cattle, no sisters. Nothing. Just Jackson waking me with his head between my thighs. While he'd put his mouth on me before, waking to have my body just shy of coming was quite new. His whiskers had abraded the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I didn't mind it at all.
In fact, two hours later, I'd woken him with my hands on his cock. He'd stirred just as I lowered my head to lick my tongue over the slit at the top, eager to taste the clear fluid that had seeped from it. He took his time after that telling me what he liked and how to take him deep into my throat. I reveled in the sounds of his pleasure, the way his hands tangled in my hair and either held me in place or guided me to what made him feel good.
While I'd been in control the day before as I rode his cock, this had been quite different. Jackson had been lost to what I was doing to him and it felt very powerful. When his cock swelled in my mouth and he thrust deep and felt his seed slide down my throat, I felt an odd sense of joy knowing I could make him feel so good. Had it been the same for him?
Now, dirty dishes rested on a tray on the floor beside the bed, our lunch eaten naked and on top of the quilt. “My family? You want to talk about my family while we're naked?” I didn't want to think about them at all.
He shrugged and the corner of his mouth tipped up. “I don't want you to be homesick.”
I didn't know how to respond to that statement, for it was true, I barely remembered a time when I wasn't with at least one of my sisters. I was never alone. I'd also never had a man all to my own before. Perhaps I'd miss them eventually, but not now. Besides, they were just a five-minute walk away.
Was he sick of me? Did he want me to leave for a time because he'd had enough of me? I looked away, afraid he might see the concern on my face. Did a husband need time away from his wife, even after less than a day? Was this normal? Had I been lacking for him?
“Jackson, if you need to go and take care of chores, or if you need some time to yourself, I understand. I mean, I've never been married before and don't know exactly how this is supposed to go, but I'm sure I can improve on whatever it is that you think—”
“Stop.” His voice was almost a bark, deep and harsh.
It had me glancing up at him in surprise.
“You're doing it once more.”
I frowned.
“You don't think you're worthy.”
“I never said—”
“Not in those words. The next time you do that I'm going to take you over my knee.”
My mouth fell open. He would spank me?
“There is nothing wrong with you,” he continued. “Quite the opposite in fact. I'm sitting over here trying to control my need to touch you again, to sink deep inside you. I don't want to overwhelm you with my eagerness, so if you need a break from me and my unending ardor, then I'd be happy to escort you to the big house.”
My mouth fell open. “You want me again?”
He pushed the sheet off his hips to expose his erect cock. It rose upright and bobbed toward his belly, the head once again dripping that clear fluid I now knew tasted salty. “I don't know if this is normal or not, love, but I don't care. I want to taste you again.”
I smiled at him. “You can kiss me, Jackson, anytime you want.”
“Not your mouth. Your pussy.” With those words, he tipped me onto my back, spread my legs and buried his face between.
Oh was all I could reply.
CHAPTER NINE
HYACINTH
Jackson didn't allow me out of the small house for two days. In that time we'd done more naked things than I could have ever imagined. The only reason he was helping don my dress—the dress I’d wore to the wedding—was because someone had knocked on the door. We'd ignored it, but it was the signal that we would have to return to the world outside of his bedroom. It must have been Iris or Dahlia, even Poppy. We'd surprised them all with the wedding, and then quickly left them afterward, so they were likely itching to corner me for details. Two days of silence was actually impressive considering their complete lack of patience. I could only assume Miss Trudy had ordered them to remain away, but her word only held for so long.
“I should torture them all by going to see Rose first,” I told Jackson. I sat on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes. He was shaving at the washstand and looked at me through the mirror. I knew what those whiskers felt like and I would miss them, although I knew new ones would return quickly enough. “But I won't.”
“Do you want me to ride with you to see her later?”
I looked up. “Rose? I'd like that. Perhaps you can come with me to the big house, too.”
He paused, the straight razor beside his soapy chin. “I don't think it's safe for me there.”
I laughed. “You think my sisters will beat you up?”
He grinned and returned to his ministrations. “They are going to interrogate me and perhaps cry that I am no longer eligible for their attentions.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are very, very full of yourself.”
He slowly shook his head and his eyes darkened. I knew that look. “You were very full of me a short time ago.”
I pursed my lips, but I could offer no witty reply, for he was correct. I was tender and still a litt
“I will make a concession,” he said, wiping his face with a clean towel. “I will go see if my father needs any help while you visit, but I will come after an hour's time and rescue you.”
I stood and smoothed out my dress. “That should work well, for I will need to pack some clothes and I will need your help.”
Twenty minutes later, I entered the kitchen at the big house alone. Breakfast had been hours before but Miss Esther stood at the stove stirring something in the pot for lunch. It smelled very much like stew. She turned at the creak in the door.
“The girls come to visit?” She was the younger of the two sisters who'd adopted all of us girls. Where Miss Trudy was mild and quiet, Miss Esther shared her opinions and kept everyone in line. Miss Trudy wasn't a pushover by any means, but her ways of persuasion were much more subtle. Miss Esther spoke her mind.
“They did, but we ignored the knock.”
She pursed her lips and turned back to her pot. “I knew that man of yours was smart.”
It was probably the only compliment I'd get from her.
“It's awfully quiet,” I added, looking through the doorway and into the dining room, which was empty.
“Hyacinth's here!” Miss Esther shouted, startling me.
A clatter of feet came from upstairs. Shrieks and calls of my name was the reply. I eyed Miss Esther narrowly. “It's not quiet now,” I whispered to myself. In less than a minute I was surrounded and being peppered with questions.
Why didn't you tell us you were marrying him? Where did you go? Did you do things together like Miss Trudy said? Did it hurt? Is he as handsome out of his clothes?
I had no idea they knew of what went on between a man and woman, but they certainly knew the questions to ask. Three days ago I wouldn't have asked whether it hurt when first fucked. Three days ago I wouldn't have even considered thinking about the word 'fuck.' Jackson had changed me, and I didn't mean just relieving me of my maidenhead.
Once they lost some of their steam, I replied. “I didn't know he was going to ask me. We are staying in the house Jackson shared with Big Ed until we can build our own and the rest of the questions you will have to find out for yourselves when you each have your own husband.”
Miss Trudy came into the kitchen then, gave me an assessing look followed by a soft smile. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.” I retrieved two cups and met her at the coffeepot that was always on the stove. She poured and I went to sit at the table.
Marigold and Poppy had left the room while the others either sat down at the table or stood and watched me. Did I look differently? Surely I didn't have any marks that could be seen. I had a bit of whisker burn on the inside of my left thigh and a red mark on my breast where Jackson had sucked. He'd been very pleased by seeing that mark, but it was in a place where only the two of us knew about it.
Surely there wasn't one on my neck. I put my hand up, but knew it wasn't something I could feel.
“I hope Mrs. Morne didn't miss me at the lunch after church,” I said.
Miss Trudy smiled. “You had a very good excuse.”
I reached for the sugar bowl.
“Big Ed says you intend to build a house of your own,” Miss Esther said, glancing over her shoulder.
“We've talked about it. I just have to choose a spot.”
“You've always liked on the bluff,” Miss Trudy commented, then took a sip of her coffee.
There was a small hill that faced the mountains I'd always liked, perhaps because it was far from the creek. I'd have to take Jackson there to see what he thought, for it was fairly remote.
“I heard a military man came to visit yesterday.”
“Oh?” This was news to me.
“You're not going to tell us anything about being married, Hyacinth?” Iris asked, interrupting.
Iris, Dahlia and Lily were sitting at the far end of the table expectantly.
“I like it very much,” I replied.
“That's it?” Dahlia replied, her voice disappointed.
“Has Rose shared more than that with you?” I countered.
All three shook their heads.
“Then why would you expect me to offer more?”
“Because you're you,” Iris replied.
“Exactly,” Lily added, nodding her head.
I didn't know what they meant, so I didn't say anything.
“If you're not going to share, can you sew a button on my dress?”
I was surprised by the question. No, the question wasn't surprising, but my reaction to it was. In the past, I'd just done whatever help they'd asked for without thinking twice. Now, I could choose. I didn't want to sew on a button. I knew perfectly well Dahlia could do it all by herself. She, along with the others, had been using me—and I'd let them.
“No, I'm sorry. Jackson will be here soon to help me carry my things. I'm sure you can make do without me.”
Dahlia looked stunned, then stood from the table and stomped off. She acted more like a five year old than a woman of twenty. Iris and Lily gave small smiles and followed. Clearly, I wasn't very interesting after all. Had I ever been?
“They are eager for gossip,” Miss Trudy said. “You are happy?”
I blushed at her question and gave a small nod. She wasn't prodding for details, just concerned for my well being just as a mother should. “What of the visitor? He was from the army?”
Miss Trudy slid a pile of cut potatoes into the pot, gave it another stir before coming to sit with us. “I didn't see him, but Big Ed waylaid him before he came to your house. I think he was here for Jackson.”
“To take him away?” I asked, slightly panicking. I'd been married two days. I didn't need my husband sent away.
She shrugged. “I just know he didn't stay long and went back to town.” She grabbed one of the cloth napkins piled on the table and began to fold them.
I stood and put my cup by the pump sink. “I will go and collect some things.”
Jackson found me in my room fifteen minutes later. He took in the pale yellow walls, the light curtains and my lavender quilt on my bed. He was so big, so tall, that my room seemed very small. I had made a pile of clothing and it sat beside me.
“What's this?” he asked, picking up my drawers. I grabbed them from his hand and stuck it behind my back.
“You know good and well what they are,” I countered, my cheeks heating.
He grinned down at me and only picked up another from the small pile. These he held aloft so I couldn't snatch them back. “Why are you packing them?”
“Because they are my drawers and I need them.” I grabbed the remainder of the pile and put them on my lap.
Jackson slowly shook his head. “You don't need drawers, love.”
“But—”
“Are you wearing some now?”
With the window open, the breeze blew his clean scent toward me.
“Of course.”
He continued to shake his head. “Take them off.”
“I will not.”
He arched a brow, then went over to the door and closed it. I knew Daisy and Marigold were cleaning the washroom as one of their chores. Dahlia had gone into her room and shut her door in a huff after my button response. The others were around somewhere, and that meant while we were alone in the room, we were not completely alone.
Turning back to me, he took my hand and tugged me to my feet, the pile on my lap falling to the floor. With less gentleness than I was used to, he pushed me up against the wall. My hands pressed against the cool plaster beside my cheek.
“Jackson,” I gasped.
His hands crept up my legs beneath my dress, lifting the material on the way until he was able to tug at the ribbon of my drawers and let them slide to the ground.
He leaned in close, his body holding mine in place. I could feel every hard inch of him against my back, his hard cock pressing into my bottom.
“No drawers, love,” he whispered into my ear, his warm breath fanning my neck. He nipped at the lobe before kissing me in that very sensitive spot directly behind. This wasn't the same Jackson I was used to. He was rougher, more intent. I liked it.
“Why?” I asked, feeling the cooler air between my legs.
“Because I want access to this.” His fingers slid over my pussy and I moaned. He gently placed his other hand over my mouth to silence me. “Shh,” he crooned as he discovered how wet I was. “You don't want your sisters to hear you being fucked by your husband.”
His voice was a low growl. I could only nod, so he lowered his hand and I felt him opening the placket of his pants. A finger slipped inside of me soon after, fucking me just as his cock would soon enough.
Pressing my lips together, I held in my sounds of pleasure his touch elicited.
“You're usually such a noisy little thing. It's going to be so hard for you to be silent.” Jackson's voice wasn't much more than a whisper. He slipped his hand from my pussy and moved it to my hip and tugged me toward him so I was bent slightly at the waist, my hands pressing into the wall. I felt empty and ached for him to put his cock inside me. He'd trained my body to be eager for him and I was not going to complain. Whatever was driving him, drove me as well.
Glancing over my shoulder, I loved what I saw. Jackson's face was tight with eager passion, his lips red, color in his cheeks. His jaw was tense, his neck corded. He was perfectly dressed except for his ruddy cock jutting out from his body. In this moment, I'd never seen a more virile or manly sight. It was instantly hot in the room and I relaxed and softened in readiness for whatever he was going to do.
He grabbed the base of his cock and stroked, once, then twice, before lining himself up with my opening. I was used to him taking his time, sliding in slowly so that I had time to adjust, to stretch to his huge size. Not now. He plunged in to the hilt in one long stroke. I moaned and he put his hand back over my mouth to muffle the sounds I couldn't keep in.
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