by Gordon, Rose
Sensing how close she was, he pushed just a little harder and gently added more pressure with his lips.
Then suddenly, she tensed and her inner muscles were contracting around him. He pulled his head back to watch her flushed face as she reveled in the splendor of her completion.
***
“That’s my absolute favorite part,” Wes commented a few moments later, just as she was coming back to reality.
Her face flushed slightly. “Watching me?”
“That’s part of it.” He removed his hand from between her legs and moved up the bed until he was even with her. “I like the way your breathing grows rapid and shallow and your face goes rigid right before it transforms; and I certainly like the way it feels when your body tightens around mine. But most of all, I love that it’s me who creates this reaction in you.”
“I am, too, Wes.” She rolled on her side and trailed her fingertips up and down his abdomen with a feather-light touch. “And I’m sure I’ll enjoy getting the same reaction from you.”
He groaned and his muscles leapt under her touch. “You don’t plan to torture me, do you?”
She tipped one shoulder up in a careless shrug. “Is that what you think making love is: torture?” She pushed him onto his back, then moved her fingers to the top of his trousers where she traced the top edge of the fabric along his warm skin, then undid the top button, but not the rest. She lowered her hand to boldly cup his erection. She stroked it with her thumb, then released her hold on him and walked her fingers back up to his chest.
“When you’re being deliberately slow or teasing, it qualifies as torture,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Is that what I’m being, Wes? A tease?”
Wes reached between them and cupped her bare breast. “You know it is.”
“Does it qualify as teasing when you’re not aware that you’re doing it?”
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded once as if he’d understood her question perfectly. “I have no doubt you know you’re doing it, because you’re doing it to perfection.”
She blushed at his compliment and relaxed at his assurance that she was exciting him as much as he’d excited her. Peeking up at him from under her eyelashes, she slipped her hand beneath his waistband and closed her fingers around his thick erection.
His body jerked slightly and his hand’s hold on her breast tightened a fraction. He brushed his thumb over her nipple and she mirrored the action, by moving her thumb over the velvety tip of his erection and then sliding her hand down to the base, with deliberate slowness, then back up to the top again.
His eyes locked with hers and she repeated the action, noting how he grew more rigid as she did, if such a thing were possible.
“Allison,” he rasped, rolling her nipple between his fingers.
The intent look in her eyes must have rivaled his, because before she knew what was happening, Wes had her flipped over onto her back and had himself positioned on top of her. Her hand was still wrapped around his erection and she gave him another squeeze. His grunt made her feminine pride soar and she did it again, tighter this time.
His hand flew to hers and he encircled her wrist. “That’s enough.” The look in his eyes said more than his words and she pulled her hand away.
He’d had several opportunities to embarrass her and hadn’t; for as curious and slightly proud of herself as she was for bringing him so close, she couldn’t do that to him.
She brought her hands up to his shoulders and traced his muscles, and he slid her skirt down, then peeled off her stockings and slowly kissed and rubbed his way back up her body to rest his hair-roughed thighs between hers. She didn’t know just when he’d removed his trousers, nor did she care at that moment. She loved the way his warm lips felt against her skin. So soft and gentle, yet they had the power to send sparks of lightning jolting through her with each one.
He pressed openmouthed kisses along her ribs and under her breasts, as he’d done earlier; and just as before, tension and fire pooled in her abdomen. She’d never expected him to do such a thing, nor that she’d enjoy it so.
“Wes,” she sighed.
He nuzzled the crook of her neck and said her name against her skin. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said as evenly as she could, considering how heavy her breathing had become in the last moment or two.
He murmured something else before gently nipping her neck and soothing it. Then suddenly, something thick was there. That must have been what he’d said. She tried to concentrate on the way he was kissing her, not on the discomfort down below, but instinctively gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed forward.
She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, saying a silent prayer that he didn’t have much farther to go.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” he whispered a moment later.
She blinked at him and the strained expression on his face. She could never tire of seeing the intense look in his eyes when he looked at her thus. The discomfort and stinging she’d felt a moment ago began to fade. She relaxed her grip on his shoulders and pushed a hank of his thick, brown hair from his forehead. “I’m ready to be yours.”
A wolfish grin spread his lips, then he half-groaned, half-grunted and began moving on top of her.
At first, his strokes were uneven and varied in depth and intensity, but then he found a rhythm, one that sent a new set of sparks spraying through her body and settling in her abdomen.
His face grew rigid and his eyes darker and more vibrant, keeping her held captive as the pressure in her core mounted with each thrust until she couldn’t get enough and bucked her hips to meet his.
Then with a gasp, the last thread of her sanity snapped, and a flood of fire and tension overcame her, prolonged by Wes’ continued thrusts deep within her. She fought to keep her eyes locked with his as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, until finally, Wes’ face grew rigid and a savage growl filled the air around them.
Gasping for breath, as she was, he separated their bodies, then rested his head on her chest.
She idly ran her fingers through his thick hair while she tried to catch her breath.
Wes moved and she shamelessly let her eyes wander over the entire length of his naked body as he repositioned himself next to her.
“I take it you like what you see,” he teased, as he propped his head up on his fisted hand next to her head.
“Indeed, I do.” She turned on her side to face him. “I do believe I just claimed your virtue.”
He laughed. “Yes, you did.”
“Both of them,” she amended.
Wes knit his brows. “Both?”
She reached her hand down to encircle his shaft and gave it a squeeze, then released it, after which, she brought her foot to his calf, then extended her leg and pointed her toes until she touched the top of his foot. “I do believe, Captain Tucker, you have exposed your handsomely scarred bare feet to my gaze, thus giving away their virtue, too.”
He grinned at her logic and ran his arch up her calf. “You are correct, my lady,” he said with a wide smile. “I do believe I have finally surrendered the virtue of my feet, but I trust that their future is safe in your care.”
“You have nothing to fear, sir. I will be here every day for the rest of your life to go to the store and be taken advantage of by Charles, in order to buy you another pair of socks if yours get misplaced in the night.”
“With a promise like that, I’d say I made the right decision by giving you my virtue, then,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.
She kissed him back. “And I made the right choice, too. There’s no other man who could love me as you do.”
“No, there’s not,” he agreed.
Then, as the final rays of the sun faded from the sky, he proceeded to show her again just how much he loved her.
~Epilogue~
Later that week
Wes sat in General Ridgely’s home staring straight out
the front window and vaguely listening to him and Colonel Lewis talk about attack procedures.
How long did it take to get ready for a ball? Like most men, it took him ten minutes to shave and get ready, but Allison had been in there with Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Ridgely for nearly an hour.
It’ll be well worth it to see her in the ball gown Mrs. Lewis made for her, Wes repeated to himself over and over again.
“Say, Wes, I wondered if you’d given anymore thought to Fayetteville, North Carolina,” Colonel Lewis asked.
Wes shrugged. “I’ll have to ask Allison what she thinks.”
Colonel Lewis nodded his head. “That’s understandable. I just thought, in case she conceived, it might be a more appropriate environment.”
Wes nodded. Colonel Lewis was right. Fayetteville was an actual city, where Allison could make friends and have a little of her old life back. Out here, that was not the case; and if Wes didn’t accept the assignment, he’d better start taking measures to ensure Allison didn’t conceive, or she wouldn’t be able to stay.
Tension knotted in his shoulders. He certainly didn’t want her to leave. He’d have to ask her what she wanted and be content with it until the situation changed. Most women did want families and to be mothers. But if she could wait two more years, his commitment to the Army would be up and they could go wherever she wanted—even to Boston or Charleston, if she so desired.
“I’ll have to let you know later this week,” he said.
“Very well,” Colonel Lewis said and then turned back to General Ridgely.
The room was overly warm and he was tired of sitting. He thought to tell them he’d be waiting outside, then dismissed it. They were smart fellows. They’d know where he was going.
He strolled over to the door, opened it, and froze. Right there at the door just across the narrow hall that separated the two cabins was Allison.
Her long auburn hair was down and in long, thick curls. The dress she wore was pale pink with a modestly-cut bodice and beads and other fripperies sewn into the fabric. She walked toward him and the fabric swished with a whisper around her ankles.
“You’re beautiful.”
She grinned at the roughness in his voice, then came up on her toes and brushed a kiss on his lips. “You’re looking rather handsome yourself, Captain.”
Not nearly handsome enough to be her escort, but he’d rather cut his own arm off than see her with another. He offered her his arm. “I thank you and I must ask if a highfalutin Bostoner such as yourself would mind having to claim me as her dance partner for the night?”
“Hmm.” She twisted her lips as if she had to give that a lot of thought. “Are you saying you’re to be my only dance partner and I’m not allowed to dance with your friends?”
He scowled. “Absolutely not. I’ve seen the way Jack looks at you and I wouldn’t trust Gray not to try to steal you from me,” he teased. They both might adore Allison and be insanely jealous of him for having married her, but they could both be trusted.
“Well, I’d hate to be stolen, so I’d better accept your generous offer.” She took his arm and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. When she spoke again, her voice held little of the humor it just had. “Thank you for the gown, Wes.”
“The gown?”
She gestured to the silk and satin gown she wore. “When I went to thank Mrs. Lewis, she told me that it had been your idea. And that—” her voice broke and she cleared her throat— “you’d asked her to make it for me last week. I didn’t realize...” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Wes. It is a very beautiful dress and an even more beautiful gesture. I expected to wear the dress Sarah made me, which is beautiful in its own way, just not as elegant as what the others are wearing.”
“I know. The dress I asked Mrs. Ridgely to make for you is for you to wear during the day, so you don’t always have to wear the shirt and skirt.”
“You asked Sarah to make that, too? She never said anything.”
“Yes, I asked her,” he said slowly. “But to be fair, she’d already seen that you had a need and had started making it on her own.”
Her face pinkened and she groaned.
He chuckled at her reaction. “It’s all right, Allison. We can’t all be good at everything. You’ll get better at sewing. The same way you got better at cooking and making coffee.” He didn’t know if it was his imagination, pure love altering his thoughts, or what, but her coffee had been far better tasting the past few days than it had been the first few times she’d tried it.
“That’s because Sarah taught me how to cure the meat.”
“And the coffee?” he prompted.
Color rose in her cheeks, confirming his suspicion that Mrs. Ridgely had helped her on that score, too. “Apparently you’re supposed to roast the bean.”
A sharp bark of laughter rent the air. “I could have told you that.”
“No, you should have told me that,” she corrected with a grin.
Yes, he probably should have if only to have spared himself from any further tongue-torture, but by the time she’d made coffee for him again, he’d seen her roast the bean and had assumed Mrs. Ridgely had informed her of the step. “Well, then I suppose I got my rightful punishment for not,” he said simply. A group of Indians carrying crates toward the barracks caught his eye and reminded him what he needed to say to her. “Can we sit a moment?”
Allison shot him a curious glance, then allowed him to help her sit on the bench Colonel Lewis had built for Mrs. Lewis so that she could sit outside on clear days. “Allison, the reason I asked Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Ridgely to help you with your wardrobe wasn’t just because I thought you’d need something decent to wear besides the dress you wore when you arrived and the skirt and shirt you seem so fond of.” He flashed her a smile and squeezed her hand, because he loved seeing her wear that.
“Yes?” she prompted
His grin faded and he swallowed past the lump in his throat at the memories that were stirring in his head. “Do you remember the day that I told you I’d join you for lunch, and then I wasn’t able to?” At her nod, he continued. “Colonel Lewis had received information that there had been an attack that day.” Her gasp allowed him the perfect opportunity to clear his throat and better compose himself. “The stage you came in on—” He shook his head, hoping she’d understand his meaning.
She did and her hand flew to her mouth. “Did they... All of them?”
Wes nodded. “I’m very sorry, Allison. I hope you weren’t overly close to your chaperone.”
“No,” she murmured. “I wasn’t close to any of them. But, are you sure all of them. Even the—”
“Yes, even him.”
“But he was a child,” she argued in an uneven voice.
Wes reached his hand up and wrapped a tendril of her fallen hair around his index finger. “It’s better that way. His life would have been miserable if he’d been captured.”
She nodded solemnly, then something lit her eye. “That’s how you ended up with my letters, isn’t it? You found them there...on the ground.”
He grinned at the way she’d used his exact words, then nodded. “I did.” His face turned a pale pink. “Then like a besotted fool, I hung onto them for a while, hoping to change your mind before giving them back.”
Allison reached up and ran the knuckle of her slender finger along his jaw. “Did you think to write me a love letter, too?”
“No,” he said on a chuckle. “I’m not skilled in that department, I’m afraid.” He grimaced remembering the opening line to the one he’d read and wondered what she’d done with those...
As if she could read his mind, she said, “Good. Like you, I often had a stomachache after reading his notes.”
“Ah so you found them just as useless as they did?” He flickered a glance to the Indian men and women carrying goods toward the barracks.
“Pardon?”
Wes squeezed her hand again and took a deep breath to steady his ner
ves. “They normally sell the goods they claim during those attacks. They clearly knew those silly things wouldn’t have sold or they would have taken them, too.”
She laughed, and he did, too.
“Actually, I doubt they’d found them,” he said. “If they had, they’d at least taken the leather to sell or use. And who knows, they might have tried to sell the soldiers the prose for whatever reason.” Then he sighed and became serious. “Allison, I have little doubt that you’ll find your clothes over there in their heaps. I could have tried to go to their camp to buy them back when I knew they had them, but—” he shrugged— “it’s generally not a good idea. It’s not that they hate us, and us them, but it’s better for keeping the peace if we stay in our own camps unless invited into the other.” Not that he minded buying them back for her; he would if she asked him to. She needed the items and deserved to have them back; he just hoped he wouldn’t see the images of that day every time he glimpsed her in one of her dresses or using her hairbrush.
She reached across and laid her hand on his arm, the gesture more reassuring than any words she could have spoken. “Wes, I don’t need you to buy back my clothing.”
He studied her face. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t mind. But I don’t need all of those fancy clothes—and I don’t want them, either.” She took a deep breath, a smile on her face. “I’m perfectly content with the wardrobe I have now. It suits me far better than the one I wore before.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“Are you saying you like living here?”
“Yes, I do.”
“So you wouldn’t mind staying a few more years?”
She shook her head in a way that made her curls sway. “Wes, as long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go.”