Sweet Trouble

by Sasha Gold

  A laugh formed deep in his chest and made his shoulders shake. “Oh, sweet Isabelle. You’ve picked the wrong person to tangle with.”

  She frowned at him. Clearly she’d expected a different response, not amusement. She rose from her seated position, straddled him and settled on his hips.

  He groaned. Maybe she wasn’t so innocent after all. Her body felt tight and hot against his cock. “You’re going to torment me aren’t you?”

  “I am. Until you answer my questions and give me your word on a few things.”

  He traced his fingers along the rope and almost snorted in disbelief. She’d tied the rope in a bow. Like shoelaces. His sweet Isabelle knew nothing about stealth and deviousness. One of the first things he needed to show her was proper knot tying methods, and he’d demonstrate the techniques on her slender wrists. Then he’d show her the meaning of slow and leisurely torment that lasted till dawn.

  She moved her hips, and the caress of her pussy against his cock made him snarl with need. “Stop wriggling,” he growled.

  She laughed softly and wriggled even more. Only a little fabric separated his eager cock from her pussy, and he gritted his teeth, steeling his self-control.

  He tugged the rope, and it gave way easily, falling from his wrists. Keeping the end firmly clasped in his fingers, he wound it around the palm of his hand.

  She set her hand on either side of his shoulders, her hair falling like a curtain around them. “Promise you won’t take the land from me and the boys, Mr. Hudson.”

  Her scent struck him, and the rustle of her gown made him want to tear it from her, but he kept his hands above his head.

  “All right, Mrs. Hudson. I won’t take the land.”

  Her hair shadowed her face, and he couldn’t see her expression, but he felt her disbelief and mistrust. He heard the hitch in her breath. He felt the stiffening of her body.

  “Truly?” she asked.

  “I’m not going to take your precious land. It’s yours.”

  She let out a small huff. “I don’t want to keep it for myself. I want it for the boys.”

  He wished she’d wriggle some more, rub that sweet heat against his cock.

  She went on, her voice soft. “Everyone tells me to put the boys in a home for foundlings or an orphanage. I won’t do that to them, and I won’t do it to myself. It would be like giving a piece of myself away. I lived in an orphanage for ten years. The boys are staying right here. With me.”

  He winced. She was so lovely and held a certain refinement to her. He’d imagined her living a life, perhaps not of privilege, but of means.

  “Your parents…died?”

  “Yes, I’ve been told. I was too small to remember the details.”

  The words hit him hard. She spoke them casually because she had no recollection of them, but he could hardly stand to hear. He clenched his fists as he tried to temper the urge to pull her close, to wrap her up in a soft embrace. He yearned to take her in his arms, press her back to the bed and demand answers. Mostly he wanted to know how a delicate girl like her ended up in a rustic cabin, guardian to two small boys.

  “Would you like me to tell you the story?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Tell me.”

  “They came to Texas to claim a parcel of land. It was part of a land grant. They left me behind with my grandmother. I was five. They never came back.”

  “They died?”

  She nodded. “Killed by claim-jumpers.”

  He closed his eyes. Something in his heart shifted and warmed. His own parents were gone three years now, his mother passing from pneumonia, and his father following her two days later. He always thought he’d had the best parents of anyone he knew and couldn’t imagine losing them as a child.

  “Your grandmother raised you?” He wanted to pull her closer, but there was something special happening right now, and he didn’t want to break the spell.

  “For three years, but then she passed away, and I went to an orphanage.”

  She was silent for a long moment, and he waited for her to say more, but when she spoke again it surprised him more than anything she’d said thus far.

  "I would like to kiss you. I know you don't really like me, but I've never kissed a man before. I think if anyone should show me what it is like to be kissed, it should be my husband."

  "That would be fine." He tried to sound indifferent about the whole thing, attempting to conceal the need he felt.

  "I thought you'd be angry with me when I tied you up."

  "What makes you think I'm not angry?"

  "You haven't threatened me with anything like a spanking."

  "And you think that means you're safe?"

  She gave a breathless laugh. "I do. Indeed."

  "What's going to keep you safe from me?"

  "I'm going to make you promise to behave like a gentleman."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "Then I won't untie you, and I must say I’m enjoying having you at my mercy. If only the good citizens of Colter Canyon could see you now. Matthias Hudson. The legend. Brought down by a widow, ten years younger and half his size."

  She laughed softly at her own joke, and to torment him, she rubbed against his rock hard cock and lowered herself to brush her lips against his. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of her mouth. It took every ounce of control not to toss her down to the bed and demand a kiss that was heated and punishing, a kiss that would show her all the things he wanted to do to her. Her kiss was chaste and innocent. He let her have her way, biding his time. Letting her control things, if even for a short while, gave him a sense of pleasure. As she teased his lips with hers, he imagined her horror if she knew he held the untied rope in the palm of his hand.

  "I like having you here, Mr. Hudson.” The way she said his name was pure tease. “You're kind to the boys. You're kind to me. Almost."

  He bristled at that comment. When he discovered she had created this farce of marriage he had been furious, but when he saw her and realized her circumstances, he changed his mind. In the last two days he’d gone out of his way to be gallant and chivalrous. "What do you mean almost?"

  She ignored his question. Lying on his chest, she couldn’t know how she was driving him wild. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her soft breath fanned over his skin, and her hair tickled his chin.

  "Tell me right now what you mean by almost kind,” he growled.

  "You weren't being very kind when you spanked me, were you?"

  "I think you liked it, Mrs. Hudson."

  "Of course I didn't. What kind of woman enjoys being spanked?"

  She ran her fingers down his chest and under the hem of his shirt. He shuddered as she trailed her palms to his chest. She caressed the expanse of his shoulders. He could feel his self-control slipping.

  "I might never see you again," she said softly.

  "Maybe I don't feel like leaving." He clenched his jaw and tried to think of something other than her soft, feminine and tantalizing form draped across his chest.

  She lifted her head to gaze at him. "What would keep you here?"

  "A wife that needs her bottom spanked."

  He gritted his teeth when she lowered her head and nuzzled against his neck.

  "I don't need a spanking. I need another kiss. I like those."

  "I think you like both."

  She gave a small huff of indignation. "Promise me you won't spank me when I untie you."

  "I promise nothing."

  She laughed softly and brushed her hands over his chest. "Then I’ll keep you tied. You feel wonderful. I never knew having a husband could feel like this. Jerome was small and frail and old. He was kind and intelligent, but I could never imagine kissing him, and you make me think about kissing."

  "But that wasn't a real kiss. For a real kiss you need to untie me."

  She scoffed. "Oh, no, sir. I need you to promise a few things before I untie you. I might be desperate, but I’m not reckless."

  Her words squeezed hi
s heart, and he wanted to give her a crushing kiss more than he wanted his next breath. She was reckless, and she was desperate, and he yearned to shield her from it all.

  "What do I need to promise?" he asked quietly.

  “That you won’t punish me for tying you up.”

  “Kiss me again.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “I need to teach you how to give a real kiss.”

  She stilled, clearly surprised by his words. Her kiss was sweet, but chaste. He reveled in the idea of shocking her with a wicked kiss. Using the last of his resolve, he forced himself to keep his hands over his head.

  “Kiss me, Isabelle.” He held his breath, clenched his fists and waited.

  She lowered herself slowly, and he kissed her, stroking the seam of her mouth with his tongue. She gave a murmur of astonishment but parted her lips. Her kiss tasted sweet. Honey. Flowers. Sunshine. The feel of her tore a groan from his throat.

  “Is this better, Matthias?” she asked.

  The sweet yearning in her voice undid something inside him. “I like your kisses very much.”

  He delved his tongue past her lips again, and this time she brushed against him. Her hair tickled him, and the hard tips of her nipples pressed through her delicate gown and against his chest. She tantalized him with soft murmurs of pleasure.

  Clasping the headboard, he pulled until it groaned.

  She giggled. “Don’t break the headboard, Beast.”

  “Are you sure you tied me tightly enough, sweet Isabelle?”

  “Quite certain you’ll never escape, Matthias. I might keep you here forever.” She trailed her hands up his chest and along his arms until she reached his unbound wrists. He waited and enjoyed how the shock hit her hard. She gasped and darted across the bed with a cry of dismay. He grabbed for her, but she was just out of reach. He rose up off the bed and stalked across the room while she retreated. Holding her hands up as if to ward him off, she backed away with a breathless laugh.

  “You look very fierce when you’re angered, Matt.”

  He crossed the room slowly. “You’d better remember that.”

  “Why should I? You’re leaving soon.”

  With a quick movement, he caught her, and she yelped as he lifted her easily into his arms.

  “Someone’s been a naughty girl,” he whispered.

  She writhed in his arms, but he subdued her easily.

  “Your spankings don’t bother me a bit,” she snapped.

  “Maybe they don’t. Maybe you like to have your bottom reddened a little and maybe I like the feel of your ass under my hand. Especially after how much trouble you’ve given me today.”

  She twisted in his arms as he sat down, but he overpowered her and eased her over his lap.

  “I despise you, Matthias Hudson. You have no idea.”

  He tugged her gown up. “I know. That’s why you wanted me to kiss you. That’s why you were rubbing that sweet pussy on my cock.”

  “Filthy mouth. I can’t believe I let you around my children.”

  She spat her words at him, and he smiled down at her wriggling form. If she thought that was filthy, she was in for a surprise. With one motion he pulled her pantalets past her knees. A small gasp came from her lips.

  He caressed the curve of her backside and let out a low growl. “All day tomorrow, I’m going to be daydreaming of the way my wife’s ass looks in the pale moonlight. And I’m going to think of the scent of her innocent pussy.”

  She shuddered at his coarse words. He let his fingers trail between her thighs, and she flinched as he got close to her sex.

  “Just five tonight, Isabelle. There’s something else I want more than to punish you.”

  He brought his hand down on her bottom, not hard but enough to give her a little sting. Twice more he spanked her in the same spot. Her pale skin bloomed a lovely pink. He gave her two final spanks on her thighs.

  He lifted her and set her on her feet. She swayed unsteadily, and he tightened his hold on her. Kissing her, gently at first and then deeper, he gathered her gown in his hand and lifted it. He broke the kiss and drew it over her head.

  “I want to see you. All of you.”

  The moonlight cast her in a silvery glow. Slender shoulders, full breasts, narrow waist. She tried to cover herself, but he coaxed her hands aside.

  “I can’t.”

  “Everything here is mine. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

  He cupped her breasts and caressed them, plucking the peaks lightly. She shuddered. Her breasts were full and tipped with rosy nipples, tightly beaded. He lowered his head and sucked the tip of one breast into his mouth. Threading her fingers through his hair, she moaned and writhed. He brushed his lips across the swell of her breast and sucked on the other nipple, drawing a whimper from her lips.

  “We’ll do this,” she whispered. “And you’ll leave, and I’ll be left alone to raise a baby who will never know his father.”

  He stroked his knuckle down her jaw. “I’m not going to leave you with a baby. Not yet. But I’m going to make you mine.”

  His words were rough. She shivered. “You’re going to kiss me?”

  “Just kiss you.” He nipped the inside of her thigh. “Maybe lick you and bite you a little. Promise.”

  She panted softly. She wanted it, too. He could hear it in her breathing and could smell the sweet fragrance of her arousal. She had called him a beast, and he knew she was right, but he couldn’t help it. Savage need clawed at him.

  “Isabelle,” he murmured. “You’re going to need to hold on to my shoulders.”

  She set her hands down and pressed her fingers into his shoulders. He kissed her stomach and her thighs and clasped her calf, lifting her foot off the ground. She tightened her hold and gasped when he draped her leg over his shoulder. She had to pull her hand away and swayed precariously for an instant. He held her firmly so she wouldn’t topple over. She let out a murmur of alarm when he kissed her between her legs.

  His tongue flicked against her intimate flesh. She was swollen, slick, and her taste was making him wild. She was sweet honey, and no man had ever tasted her. She was his, all his. He’d never let her go.

  His short beard probably prickled against her tender thighs, but it was a small punishment for tying him up. She writhed and bucked. He pressed her against the wall with one hand splayed across her stomach. Each lazy stroke of his tongue made her whimper.

  “Matthias, please. I can’t take this.”

  He ignored her and stroked her with his fingers. Gently, he pressed his fingertip against her. She was impossibly tight. Untouched. Virginal. Primitive satisfaction burned through him. He was the first to taste her, and he’d be her first lover.

  She trembled and was unsteady on her feet. Tightening his hold, he pinned her to the wall and sucked her clit between his lips. She twisted as her release took her, and he teased every last bit of ecstasy from her body. Small keening cries came from her lips.

  “You’re beautiful, Isabelle.” He kissed her neck and stood up.

  “I didn’t know that was possible,” she whispered. “You make me feel beautiful.”

  She swayed, and he swept her up into his arms before she toppled over. The slight weight of her in his arms felt soft, warm and inviting. He nuzzled her neck and inhaled the perfume of her skin, resisting the urge to nip her.

  “Everything’s spinning, Matthias. What on earth did you do to me? I feel like honey on a summer afternoon.” She giggled. “I didn’t know husbands and wives did that sort of thing.”

  “According to the marriage license, we’ve been married a month, so I waited to debauch you.”

  “I should do something for you,” she said shyly. “But you’ll need to tell me how.”

  Every part of him yearned for release. He wanted to feel her lips around his cock or to sink into her and claim her. She’d claimed him already when she wrote his name next to hers on the marriage license, but he wouldn’t ask for a si
ngle thing from her. Not now. She was fragile and delicate, in spite of her bravado, and deep down all he wanted was to shield her from the world. From everything. Even his own fierce desire.

  He shook his head and tucked her into his arms. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabelle awoke to sounds coming from the kitchen, pots clanging and water splashing into the basin. She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and padded down the hall to find Matt in the kitchen, dressed and clearly in a dark mood.

  “I’m going into town,” he said.

  It took her breath to see him there. He was dressed just as he had been yesterday, trousers, a linen shirt, chaps and spurs.

  “You have no tub,” he groused. “There’s no stove for your room. I don’t like it.”

  It was true. The house lacked many comforts. It was worse than what she’d known as an orphan.

  “Jerome was a simple man.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I have a little money in the bank. Jerome didn’t leave me penniless, and I’ve made money leasing the land for grazing, but…” Her words trailed off.

  “But?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, his irritation becoming more pronounced by the minute.

  “I don’t feel the money belongs to me.”

  He laughed, crossed the kitchen, and tugged her into his arms. Nuzzling her neck, he nipped her and kissed her skin.

  “That money doesn’t belong to you anymore does it? It belongs to me, just like everything that’s wrapped in this blanket. It’s all mine.”

  He slid his hands beneath the folds of the blanket and slid them down her back. She shuddered and leaned into him.

  “I’m not going to take your money to buy what I want. I have plenty of my own. I just want you to remember that I’m in charge here.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “I think you’re forgetting about last night. When I get back from town, I’ll take you down to the woodshed and remind you of a few things.”

  His voice was gruff, and she could feel his chest rumbling as she ran her fingers along the muscular expanse.

  “Remind me of what?” she teased.