by Vanessa Vale
Surprisingly, my protectiveness had asserted itself and I wanted to ensure that she was not only well, but happy. Safe.
She leaned back out of reach of my touch only slightly, and shook her head. "Oh, um...no." Breaking eye contact, she looked straight at my chest. "I'm nervous."
"I admit that I am as well." I smiled down at the top of her head, all riotous curls and color, although she could see my amusement most likely solely in her periphery. "It's not every day you meet your bride and discover how lovely she is." The words were true, and meant to coax and soften her. I didn't need her on edge or afraid. With what I had planned for her, especially now that I'd seen her and anticipated what kind of fire was deep within, I needed her receptive. Open.
Her head came up.
"You blush so prettily."
"You have me...at a...um...disadvantage."
I arched a brow. "How so?"
She glanced from side to side, taking in her surroundings before looking at me. "You're from here, know people, have friends. This is all new to me. You're new to me."
I picked up her small bag from the ground, never breaking her gaze. "Then I should remedy that. I'd like to take you home, if that's acceptable. What I have in mind will have us getting to know each other very well."
When she blushed even more, I knew she didn't miss my meaning. Some women would have run away screaming from such bold words, but Eleanor didn't. Instead of bursting into tears or demurring, she nodded, sending a red curl slipping down over her cheek. I was wholly surprised, yet immensely pleased. With my free hand, I tucked it back behind her ear, stroking her soft skin as I paused a moment, ensuring that I had myself in check. I had to stay in control and not let my cock take over. I couldn't toss her over my shoulder in my haste and carry her back to the house and give her a toss-the-skirts-up fucking. That would be for another day. For now, she needed the slow seduction and gentleness required for a virgin. Eleanor needed that and I needed to give it to her. As her husband it was my right, my privilege, to make her mine in the basest of ways.
I moved my hand to her elbow, leading her into town at a modest pace. August Point was small, only a few hundred residents, although large enough for the need for a sheriff and a jail. My house was conveniently close to the jail, which made my life easy and simple. I could return to work the family ranch south of town when my role as lawman was complete, whenever I chose that day to be, but I felt settled in the role, content to let my brothers handle the operation.
We made it to the house in only a few short minutes and I enjoyed the feel of her beside me, and the opportunity to glance down at her full breasts every step of the way. My thoughts consisted solely of the color of her nipples. Would they be fair like the rest of her, a sharp contrast to her striking hair? I guessed peaches and cream and imagined them to taste just as sweet.
Once she was within the private confines of our home, I'd find out. And she'd find out all about me, and what I wanted from her. I wouldn't just take her; I'd possess her.
Ellen
We didn't speak as we walked across town. Was Mr. Graves as lost for words as I or was he the contemplative sort? Fortunately for me, August Point’s small size made a lengthy conversation impossible. There wasn’t much of a distance between the stagecoach stop and his house. But maybe that was for the best. While there was much to ask my new husband, I didn't even know where to begin. How could I have found myself married to a lawman? The sun glinting off the star on his chest had me wincing, and not from the brightness in my eyes. What would happen to me if he found out what I'd done? Would he send me back? Put me in jail? No sheriff wanted to be married to a murderer! He was on one side of the law, and I, on the other. Even though it had been Allen who had assaulted me, I was the guilty party. The only person who knew the truth besides me was dead. I could feel the heavy weight of the rock once again in my palm. Feel the sharp edges digging into my skin. I gulped down the panic that rose in my chest. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't tell him; it was out of the question.
Lost in my own thoughts, I hadn't realized we'd stopped at the door of a small, modest house. Contained in one story, it had neat wood siding painted a bright white. Two windows flanked the front door. The house was set back from the main street, with no neighbors directly beside. Only tall grass billowed between one home and the next. I could only imagine the amounts of snow that the wind piled high in the winter without the protection of other buildings or even trees. Fortunately, I had a husband now to keep me warm - so long as he never learned the truth.
He opened the door and let me enter first, then took the hat from his head and placed it upon a peg by the door. The interior was clean and somewhat Spartan, perhaps because it was lacking a woman's touch. A bachelor sheriff did not require any kind of ornament or frills. There was a main living area and kitchen with a stove and pump sink beneath one window, with a large stone fireplace flanking the entire side wall. A thick rug covered part of the wood floor. There was ample, comfortable seating. A rifle was perched upon two posts above the mantel, reminding me that we were civilized people encroaching on the wilds of untamed land. I shivered at the thought.
A warm hand fell upon my shoulder. "Cold?"
Mr. Graves' warm breath caressed my nape, raising goose flesh across my skin. I shook my head, as I wasn't the least bit chilled. Quite the contrary, in fact. I felt more for this man, this stranger, than I did over the weeks of courting for Allen Simmons. Just being alone with Mr. Graves in such close proximity had me overheated. There were no chaperones, no one to question any of our actions. We were married and legally allowed. All other thoughts vanished. His fingers ran up and down my neck as he spoke. "I have a bath ready for you."
I spun around at his words. A bath! It sounded like heaven on earth, but I hadn't seen a tub.
He must have seen the confusion on my face. "In the bedroom." He angled his chin toward the closed door along the back wall. "Mrs. Samuels is a woman in town who comes and cleans and cooks for me. She knew you were coming on the stage and prepared a bath. The water should still be hot."
I moved in that direction and opened the door. A large brass bed covered with a dark quilt filled the space. Mr. Graves was a big man and needed a bed of such size. Beside it was indeed a hip bath tub filled with steaming water. "Oh," I murmured longingly. I hadn't seen a bath in weeks; the journey only offered brisk bathing by basin and washcloth.
Mr. Graves nudged my back, moving me further into the room, closed the door firmly behind us. "Come, let's get you undressed."
I froze in place at his words. His intention was to stay and to help? Oh dear lord! I'd never been alone with a man unrelated to me before, let alone naked. I wasn't adverse to the idea of the...things that happened between a man and his wife, I just didn't know exactly what it entailed. The general idea was familiar to me, but I wasn't naive enough to know there was so much more than what I knew.
Taking my lack of movement as invitation, he came around and slowly undid the buttons down the front of my blue dress. The garment wasn't filthy, however it was travel worn and definitely dusty. I was dusty. His knuckles brushed the sensitive upper swells of my breasts as he went and I sucked in a breath, surprised by the tingle upon my skin in the wake of his touch. When the last button was undone, he glanced up at me through his sandy colored lashes. His gaze held equal parts question and interest. There was no doubt he wished to continue, but was pausing long enough to gauge my reactions.
When I gave the slightest of nods, he raised his hands to my shoulders, sliding wide so the fabric slipped down my arms to pool at my wrists. He worked one sleeve, then the other, free. He was ever so patient, taking his time as if unwrapping a Christmas present. Once done, the dress slipped over my hips, down my thighs to pool at my feet. My corset and drawers were all that remained.
"Undo your corset, wife. Slowly. Show me what's mine," he said, his voice dark, his gaze intense as he stepped back to watch. At this moment, I was his whole world.
There was no reason to resist, no possible diversion for hesitancy. He was my husband. It was his right. A powerful thought came to me. It was my right to show him my body. I could offer it to him freely, without repercussions. I no longer needed to protect my virtue. It belonged to him and I was going to give it to him freely. My nervous fingers moved of their own accord to the top clasp of my corset, as his eyes remained riveted to my actions. As I undid one stay, then the next, his jaw clenched tight and a ruddy flush came to his cheeks. With each bit of corset I released with the slowest of motions, the air between us heated even more, crackling with energy like just before a lightning strike.
Finally, finally, it was undone and I let the garment fall to land upon my dress. As if he couldn't resist a moment longer, he raised his hand to my breast, one blunt finger brushing over the turgid tip. I gasped at the illicit contact, my head falling back, eyes closing.
"More, Ellie. Take off the rest." His hand fell away and I felt bereft.
My name had never been shortened; no one had ever taken a fancy to calling me Ellie until now. The sound was more endearment than nickname and fortunately, I'd chosen a false name that shortened in a similar fashion. When he called me Ellie, I felt like myself, not an interloper as I stood before him in just drawers. Face heating at the thought of Mr. Graves seeing my breasts, I kept my gaze averted as I undid the drawstring, then let the only remaining covering join the pile at my feet.
"Oh, Ellie," Mr. Graves murmured, just before his head lowered for his mouth to close over one nipple.
I almost fell backward with my surprise, having not expected his action. One arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place as his raspy tongue licked, just before he sucked. Hard. I cried out at the intensity of the pleasure coming from just my nipple. I had no idea such intense pleasure could be found there. And with his tongue, no less! Mr. Graves growled in the back of his throat just before releasing me.
"Into the tub with you." His voice was rough like tumbled rocks, his jaw clenched. If I hadn't heard the pleasure in his voice at the sight of my nakedness, I'd have thought him angry with me.
I carefully climbed into the tub, the water hot. It was my turn to make sounds of pleasure, although I was just pleased to be enveloped in such warmth. Submerged to my neck, I felt covered, however the bath water did nothing to hide my body from his view. But in this moment, reveling in the feel of the scented bath water, I would never take for granted the idea of getting clean, completely so, ever again.
Mr. Graves knelt beside the tub, cloth in one hand, a white block of soap in the other. "Let's get you washed because I want to make you all dirty again."
Instead of the look of hard intensity there moments before, now I saw desire.
"Mr. Graves, I--"
"Ryder. My name is Ryder." He lathered the soap onto the cloth, then started to wash first my shoulders, then lower to my breasts, cleaning me with a little more thoroughness than perhaps necessary. But I wasn't complaining. The feel of the cloth was so sensitive, the scent of the soap citrusy and fresh. "Considering the things I plan to do to you, I think we can eliminate formalities."
What did he plan to do to me? I could only imagine what he had in mind.
"I have many plans," he replied, and I realized I'd asked the question aloud. "For today, I plan on learning every inch of your body, discovering what makes you whimper, what makes you scream. By then, I won't have to take your maidenhead, Ellie. You'll be begging to give it to me." His hand at this point had moved between my thighs, the cloth sliding over every fold, again and again. I lifted my hips, arching into his ministrations. It felt so good! Sadly, he stopped, and shifted around the tub to kneel at the very back so he could wash my hair, his long fingers massaging my scalp as he worked the tangles free from my long tresses.
The water heated, or perhaps it was my skin, but it was becoming too much. I relaxed my muscles and reveled in his touch.
"Oh no," he murmured, tugging me up none too gently beneath my arms to pull me to my feet. "We can't have you drown." Grabbing a towel, he dried me, ever so slowly, being thorough to get the most water from my long hair. "Peaches and cream," he murmured.
My mind felt like it was lost in a fog, my thoughts unclear, muddled, my focus solely on Mr. Graves – Ryder - his words, his hands. I didn't even mind that I was unclothed while he was still fully dressed. "What?"
"Your skin. It's like peaches and cream. Let's see if you taste the same."
The room spun as I found myself on my back, the cool yet soft quilt beneath me, the hard body of Ryder above me. His head lowered to my breast once again, licking, swirling, sucking. His mouth was doing wicked things that had me arching my back and threading my fingers through his hair. Was I holding him in place or pushing him away? The feelings he brought about were so intense they made me burn. How did his mouth upon my nipple make the place between my thighs tingle, pulse even? Whatever he was doing, I didn't want him to stop.
Moving his head from one nipple to the other, he persisted. His hand came up to mold, shape the breast being neglected, and he took the tip between his finger and thumb, tugging it. When he gave it a slight pinch, I cried out.
He lifted his head and looked down at me. One sandy lock fell over his forehead to add to his rogue-like, wicked look. He grinned. "Like that, do you?"
Like it? I couldn't describe how I felt about it, so I just nodded. He winked at me and did it again, giving the nipple a strong tug, then a sharp pinch.
My head fell back, eyes closing. I was surprised my damp hair didn't steam from the heat that surrounded us.
"My wife likes it a little rough," he murmured, his hot breath fanning my skin.
I didn't like it, I loved it. Why did I like it from the very first hint of rough with Ryder and when Allen had touched me -
Ryder lifted his head, gazed up at me with his light eyes. "Where'd you go, baby?"
I stiffened in his hold as the thoughts of how Allen had touched me came flooding back. He hadn't gotten me naked, only ripped the bodice of my dress a little. His hands had roamed over my body, fondling my breasts. One hand had been sliding up my calf, but hitting him had stopped that and whatever else he'd planned.
"Sorry, I...you frightened me for a moment." I licked my lips, which had suddenly gone dry.
He moved his head from side to side very, very slowly. "Being a little frightened is good. Makes you anticipate what might come next. But remember this, I will never hurt you." His gaze became as serious as his words. "Do you believe me?"
"I barely know you." I looked down at him, the soft mounds of my breasts framing his face.
"Then let me prove it to you." He grinned wickedly, as he shifted back on the bed to rain kisses down my belly, lower and lower as his large hands pushed my thighs wide. "Right now." His breath fanned over my woman's core, his fingers slipping through my curls that hid it. "I wondered the color here." He gave my hairs a little tug, and with it came a slight hint of pain.
"Ryder, I've never--" My fingers tangled in his hair once again.
"I know, baby, and that makes me very happy." His tongue darted out, licked at the spot that I'd played with, alone and in the cover of darkness. Right now he could see me there, see it all. The feelings I'd felt when I'd touched myself back in Minneapolis had been wonderful, luring me to do it again and again, night after night as if addicted, but this.... This was something else entirely. "I love that the first place I'm kissing you is your pussy."
My...?
As Ryder settled in--and that's what he did, placing his broad shoulders against my thighs keeping me wide open as
he put his mouth on me in wicked, scandalous ways I'd never dreamed. His mouth! All the while, he murmured to me. So beautiful. You taste so sweet. I love seeing you spread so wide. You're almost there, aren't you? Come for me.
I was lost, completely and totally lost. I wasn't nervous; he didn't give me another chance to feel that way. His mouth was getting me to that familiar brink so quickly, yet when he slipped a finger inside me, I went right over the edge, like hurtling off a cliff. Soaring, flying like a bird, before tumbling back to earth. I came. I didn't know that was the word for it, but it happened so hard that my inner muscles clenched down on his finger greedily. I cried out his name, my hips shifting, lifting trying to eek out every last bit of pleasure he wrought.
He continued to lick, to work his finger within me until the last tremors left my body. Then, and only then, did he lift himself up. I couldn't move, my body felt as if it were boneless, as if I'd melted into the bed.
Levering over me, he kissed me, his tongue prodding my mouth to open. This wasn't a simple peck on the lips, but an outright assault on my senses. His lips were demanding, his tongue plundering and taking. I had no doubt this was the way it would be with him, using me to get what he wanted, all the while giving me exactly what I needed. I might have come, but I wasn't done. I wasn't the least bit sated; he'd ensured that. I tasted myself on him, surprised by the blatant carnality of the action. It seemed there would be nothing between us. This would not be a marriage of fumbling beneath the covers.
"See? So sweet." His hand brushed a wayward curl from my face, then skimmed over my heated flesh and back between my thighs, slipping not one, but two fingers within me. I arched up to meet him, my head pressing into the pillow. "You're so wet. Dripping."
I blinked. "Is that...is that a good thing?"
"Oh baby, it's your body telling me it's ready. My cock is going to slide right in." He was still dressed, his clothing was rough and abraded my sensitized skin. Pressing deeper, he worked my swollen tissues with expert precision. "I can feel it, baby. Your maidenhead. Right there. Are you ready to give it to me?" His lips pressed into a very sensitive spot behind my ear.