The Cowboy (Montana Men Book 2)

by Vanessa Vale

  "Thank you, that was delicious."

  "Come." I held out my hand and I watched as emotions flitted across her face: wariness, fear, arousal. Fortunately, she was not overly difficult to read.

  She stood and came around the table to take it. Her hand was so small in mine, reminding me how fragile, how breakable she was. Over the meal I'd contemplated her assets, her full breasts, lush curves, dark and very wayward curls, full mouth. I'd fantasized about what I could do with her--to her--and held myself in check when all I wanted to do was toss her across the table and sink deep into her. All of this did not take into account her petite frame in comparison to my large one. I would have to be cautious with her, at least in the near term until I'd accustomed her to my baser desires, although that would be most assuredly a difficult task.

  "Do we not need my bag?" she asked as I led her down the hall to the stairs. "I'm sure that it would be efficient if I--"

  I cut off her words. "You won't be needing anything from your bag. You won't need anything at all."

  Once in my bedroom - our bedroom, now I sat on the side of the bed and tugged her to stand between my thighs. Her breasts were in line with my face, yet they were covered by too much fabric. I watched her eyes closely as I slowly reached for the buttons that ran down the front of her traveling dress, undoing them one at a time, very slowly.

  Her eyes met and held mine; a hint of trepidation showed, but she did not stop me.

  "I did not consider this something we would do during the day."

  My mouth quirked up in a weak attempt at a smile. I was too on edge, and so eager to take her that I was using every ounce of willpower I had. The fact that she considered fucking a nighttime activity, perhaps under the cover of darkness, and blankets, was an indication of her innocence. When my knuckles brushed over the satiny soft skin that was exposed, she sucked in a breath. That small sound confirmed it.

  "I've waited long enough," I replied, my voice rough with constraint. I saw the flutter of her heartbeat against the tender skin at her neck. I wanted to lick it, feel the frantic pulse beneath my tongue. Lower and lower my hands went until the bodice of her dress was parted and her white corset was exposed.

  "But shouldn't--"

  "Shh," I murmured. I was done with talk. She opened her mouth to speak again. "Shh," I repeated, trying to soothe her.

  The full upper swell of her breasts lifted plumply from their confines, and I couldn't resist leaning forward to kiss the soft skin. It was warm beneath my lips, her scent sweet. It wasn't enough. I needed to see her nipples, to finally learn whether they were a pink or coral, big or small. Curling my fingers, I hooked the very tips into the top of her corset and pulled down so the lace edge rested on the under curve of her breasts. She was more than a handful, heavy and overflowing in my palms, yet very responsive. Emily cried out as I touched her for the first time, her eyes falling closed. Her nipples were the brightest of pinks, like raspberries, the turgid tips all but beckoning me to suck. And so I did. She was sweet and hard against my tongue, and her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging on the strands and holding me to her.

  I grinned against her soft skin, pleased with my wife's response, and then returned to licking and laving at the tender tip. Not wanting to neglect its twin, I kissed my way across her cleavage and applied the same level of attention to the other nipple.

  "Mr. Blake, please!" Emily begged.

  That was my signal to pull back, that I'd quickly abolished all of her concerns and wiped her mind clear of all inhibitions. She wanted more. Sliding my hands up, I pushed the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, tugging her hands free. I undid a few more buttons and the material slipped from where it was caught on her hips hips to pool at her feet, leaving my wife standing solely in her corset, shift and drawers. I made quick work of the line of hooks down the front of her corset and dropped it the floor. The shift I tossed unceremoniously over her head and in my haste to remove the last garment that covered her body, I ripped her drawers and they, too, fell into the pile.

  Her eyes widened at my ferocity, but she said nothing.

  "Christ, Em, you're stunning." Her breasts rose and fell with her breaths, her waist was narrow and flared to wide hips. The hair at the apex of her thighs was darker than on her head and hid her pussy well. Only the hint of moisture on the curls indicated her arousal. Her scent was stronger now and my nostrils flared as I inhaled.

  Quickly, I stood, grabbed her waist, spun her around and tossed her onto the mattress, her body bouncing once. She looked up at me wide eyed, but with a startled smile on her face. One knee was bent, the other out straight. This would not do. Grabbing both ankles, I pushed forward, bending her knees and spreading them wide so I could see my fill. She struggled against my hold for a brief moment, but I quelled the action with just a look. Her confusion was evident in the frown on her forehead.

  "Such a pretty pussy," I murmured. My cock pressed painfully against the placket of my pants. Letting go of her legs, I ripped at my shirt and had it removed, along with the rest of my clothes, in a matter of seconds. I didn't give Emily a chance to look me over, but quickly slid up her body so that we touched from toe to chest. I quieted her gasp with a kiss, reveling in the feel of her breasts pillowed against me. I could feel her nipples hardening.

  Emily was as eager as I, not timid or nervous about what we were about to do. Her tongue met mine readily enough and her hands slid up and down my back in a way that had me on the edge. Moving lower, I nibbled my way across her collarbone to sup once again at each of her breasts before making a trail of kisses down and around her navel. Slipping to my knees on the floor, I took a firm hold of her legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed so her pussy was right in line with my mouth.

  Emily came up on her elbows in question, her hair a wild tangle, her eyes half lidded. "What...?"

  "Baby, it's my turn to eat."

  Using my fingers, I traced over her outer lips, spreading them wide to find delicate pink inner folds and a little pink pearl, hard and glistening, ready to be stroked. Lowering my head, I licked from her entrance up to her clit, tasting her. "Like I said, so sweet."

  "Mr. Blake, oh my word!" she gasped.

  I lifted my eyes to meet hers, keeping my mouth just above her delectable pussy. "I think we can forgo such formality, don't you? I do have my head between your thighs. Wyatt will do nicely."

  Her lids were droopy, her eyes darker now with her desire. Cheeks flushed, nipples furled, she was an incredible sight. And she was mine. My cock bobbed and thrust out toward her, ready and desperate to sink into her virgin hole. Rising again, I nudged one knee to spread her legs even further, lowering to my forearms on either side of her head. Our breaths mingled, my forehead brushing hers.

  Shifting my hips, I aligned my cock with her untried opening. "You're mine, Emily. You belong to me."

  She nodded, her hair a wild tangle about her, her breasts rising and falling to brush against my chest with her deep breaths. "Yes, Wyatt."

  Hearing my name from her lips in such a soft, breathy way had me giving up all pretense of patience. I couldn't wait any longer. There was no question of her readiness. I tasted her arousal, saw the wetness on her thighs. I shifted up and over her, my hips aligning with hers, and I easily aligned the blunt head of my cock with her wet opening. Just the heat of her entrance was searing. I could no longer think clearly; my base needs were now in control. I moved into her - all the way - in one long slide, easily and with the slick sound of her desire. She was so tight! So hot, so wet. Her inner walls clamped down on me and she lifted her hips up so I filled her all the way, my balls bumping against her ass. Air escaped my lungs in one burst at the unbelievable, searing pleasure. Settling there, fully seated, I savored the moment, the feel, which dulled my mind to the one thing that had been missing.

  There had been no barrier, no swath of skin to bar my entry, or at least make it difficult the first time. Instead, I'd breached her with the swiftest of ease. It came to m
e with sudden clarity and I stiffened, lifted my head. Emily's eyes were closed, but I moved my palm to cup her face, tilt her head to meet mine.

  "Look at me," I murmured. Anger coursed through me at the most intimate of discoveries. She wasn't a virgin! A man had claimed her before me.

  Her eyes slowly met mine, bright and glittering with unshed tears. In that moment, I knew with certainty her omission. "Who have you been with?" I couldn't help it, my hips shifted of their own volition, my cock uncaring that my wife was used goods. It just knew she was hot and wet and tight.

  She moaned as I moved, but I held her chin with my thumb, not allowing her to turn away. "No one," she replied.

  I pulled back, thrust deep, no longer gentle. If she'd been with a man, she'd know the truth of what happened, knew that rough was better than gentle, that being fucked and used hard made a woman scream.

  I'd make Emily scream her pleasure, make her forget whomever fucked her last. I’d fill her mind along with her body with just my cock and erase her memories of her former lover with the pleasure I'd give her. Hips pumping, I filled her so completely I bumped against her womb each time. It was my new goal - not only to make her come - but obliterate her past.

  "Who?" I commanded, my voice rough with arousal and bitterness. Unfortunately, I had to know. She felt so good, her walls clenching down on me, almost strangling my cock. I pulled out almost all the way, to the point where the blunt head flowered open her inner lips.

  "Wyatt, please!" Her hips shifted to try to get me back in, but I'd have none of it.

  "That's Mr. Blake to you." My voice was harsh and I saw her wince. She'd fooled me, tricked me with her innocent ways. Later, when I wasn't ready to empty my seed in her, I'd applaud her on her excellent acting ability. But a missing maidenhead couldn't be faked.

  "Who fucked you first?" I growled. Sweat dripped down my forehead to sting my eyes.

  "No one! I'm a virgin!" Her eyes pleaded with me, her hands coming up to grab me about the waist then sliding over my back. Tears slipped down her cheeks, even as pleasure coursed through body.

  I glanced down to where we were joined, where her juices coated my cock. "There's no virgin blood." I pushed all the way in, then back out. "Hear that? You're soaking wet. If that's not a virgin pussy, then is it a whore's pussy?"

  I couldn't think clearly; what man could when buried in a willing, wet pussy? I didn't want to hurt her physically; I'd never hurt a woman regardless of the reason. But I wanted her to feel the same as I: betrayed, tortured and lost. I'd thought Emily was mine and mine alone, but that was not the case.

  "It's both!" she shouted, half arousal and half blunt response.

  Virgin and whore? Her words made me pause, yet only for a moment, because there could be no truth to them. My orgasm built at the base of my spine. I felt my balls tighten up, the load of cum boiling. There was nothing I could do to stop now; my baser needs were forcing me to completion.

  "Both?" I shook my head. A drop of sweat fell onto her breasts, which swayed with every deep thrust of my cock. "Impossible. If you're a whore," I breathed. "Then you'll get a whore's fuck."

  Her eyes widened, but she pursed her lips into a thin line. She had no more to say.

  I sat back on my heels and grabbed her knees, pushing them wide and forward so they were to the sides of her delectable breasts. She couldn't be any more open to me. It was then, only then, that I let go completely of my control. I'd held onto it all afternoon ever since the first glimpse of her on the stage. But with her words, with her obvious lie, the control snapped and let loose the inner beast, the angry soul that just wanted to fuck and find oblivion, if only for a short duration, in a release.

  There was no question I took her hard, but her body's own arousal made her slick and incredibly easy to fuck. Since there was no maidenhead, I didn't have to worry she'd be sore. I also didn't have to worry about scaring her as to how I liked to fuck. She exhaled each time I bottomed out within her, her hands gripping tightly to the quilt beneath her. Her head thrashed from side to side, lost in what I was doing to her. She liked it. No, she loved it.

  She couldn't move, couldn't shift her hips or do anything except take what I gave her. Even then, even without touching her clit, she came. Her chin tilted back and her eyes opened wide in stunned surprise, screaming her own violent pleasure. It took only a few additional deep strokes and I came with her, the milking her inner muscles provided finishing me off. I groaned as I came, my cock swelling as seed pumped from me, filling Emily's pussy to overflowing.

  When I caught my breath, but still blinded by the intensity of my orgasm, I loosened the grip on Emily's knees and let them go entirely. I pulled out and fell onto the bed beside her, hearing her breathing begin to calm, my body replete now that my balls were empty, and succumbed to sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  EMILY

  Wyatt – no, Mr. Blake - lay beside me sound asleep. On his stomach as he was, his face was turned toward me, his mouth open. His cheeks were ruddy from his exertions. Dark whiskers covered his jaw I remembered scraping across my inner thighs. I lifted myself up on my elbows and saw the broad expanse of his back, all tanned skin and toned muscle. His bottom was well formed and I had a hankering to run my palm over it, then squeeze it. The man was quite different in his sleep, all quiet and peaceful. No surprise or anger to mar his brow. No strong grip to show off his domination. No swollen cock to drive himself - and me - beyond reason.

  Quietly sliding from bed, I felt his seed slip out of me and down my thighs. It was so plentiful I grabbed a clean cloth by the ewer and basin to remove it. Retrieving my shift from the floor, I slipped it on and felt a little better with the cotton barrier, not as vulnerable as I would be when he awoke. From secondhand talk of the girls at the brothel, I knew his little nap could take anywhere from a few minutes to much longer.

  Sitting in the chair positioned in the corner of the room, I watched my new husband as I considered the muddle that I was now in. He hated me, for he did not get the bride of his imaginings. He'd been rough, but hadn't hurt me. In fact, the more he'd taken from me, the more aroused I'd become. He'd said he'd fuck me like a whore and I had little doubt that he had. And I'd loved every spine tingling second of it. My shoulders drooped and I felt a gnawing sense of guilt in my stomach that washed away every trace of pleasure that remained of the memory.

  I was no longer a virgin, that was for certain now, but I most definitely was a whore. What cowboy's wife loved being fucked like one? What wife achieved her orgasm when her husband used her for his own pleasure, roughly and without consideration?

  Me.

  And so I debated the merits of running away, fleeing a man that clearly didn't want me. He most certainly wanted my body, if the copious seed still seeping from me was any indication, but not a whore for a wife. I was in Lewistown, Montana Territory. That's the extent of what I knew about my location. It was an hour's journey by horse to town; on foot, at least twice that across open prairie. I knew August Point, where Eleanor had alighted the stage and met her own mail order husband earlier in the day. Both towns, however, were small enough that I couldn't hide in plain sight as possible in Minneapolis. I had no money. No way to ride the stage somewhere else. I didn't even know when the stage would come by next.

  I was in the misery of my contemplations when Mr. Blake stirred, lifted up on his elbow to turn and look at me. Wiping a hand over his face, he sighed. If there wasn't the glint of disappointment in his eyes, the sight before me would be my perfect fantasy. He was perfect. From the bottoms of his large feet, to his muscled thighs with short hairs that had tickled my skin, his firm bottom, his strong back and the most handsome of faces. Mrs. Bidwell was certainly skilled in choosing the most appealing of husbands for me. Except....

  Mr. Blake sighed again and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, no inhibitions about nakedness, his cock semi-hard between his thighs. Even in this state, it was quite large. And it had fit in me! There was no question he kne
w how to use it to exact the most intense of pleasures.

  "Come here, Emily." His voice was flat, yet commanding.

  I took the few steps between us and stood in front of him, although warily. He tilted his chin. "Remove your shift."

  I couldn't deny him his request. I had no grounds to be contrary. He knew my secret and it was his choice what he did with me now. I did as he ordered, the fabric catching on my hair, before letting it drop from my fingers onto the floor.

  His cock hardened as he glanced at my breasts, directly at his eye level, yet he remained resolute. His jaw clenched and I worried he'd break his teeth. "Over my knee."

  My eyes widened at his unexpected words. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Over my knee," he repeated, his voice dropping an octave.

  "Why?"

  He sighed. "Because you have some truths to tell and I'm going to spank your ass until you give them up."

  "But - "

  Not interested in any form of debate, he reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me into him easily enough. His grip was gentle, yet his strength had me easily over his knees, my feet on the wood floor on one side of him, my head on the other, my hair falling about my face. He offered me no opportunity to settle into my position, but began spanking me right away.

  I jerked at the first strike, the sting of his palm against my bottom harsh, but not painful. As he continued, however, the combined effect was an intense burn that had me crying out. I'd never been spanked before; being the sole child in a brothel didn't offer much in the way of supervision or discipline. Aunt Trina had been kind, but quite busy. I was lucky a tutor came to educate me. How he was paid, I could only assume.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Blake, for not being what you expected!" I shouted, my tears returning once again.

  He spanked me two more times, then left his palm to cup a heated patch of skin. "It's time for answers, Emily. You clearly were not a virgin."

  "I am!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the bedroom walls. The sun had set and the room was darkening quickly. "I mean, I was, until you."