McCabe's Pride

by Gayle Eden

  Biting her lip on a smile, Falon nodded. “I’m glad you were there to censor him.”

  “Me too,” Lucas drawled dryly. “He gets to yammering and talking and can make me blush sometimes.”

  “I doubt that.” Her eyes went up and down him. “You’ve probably got more of those stories than he does.”

  “I’m more sinner than saint,” Lucas confessed bluntly.

  Falon decided to end that conversation, since she already knew that instinctively. “I’ll get him inside and ready for bed. He’s going to see Mamma tomorrow evening—”

  “I thought I might clean up at Morgan’s house, check on it.”

  Their eyes were holding over Asher’s head as the lad was yawning and leaning on her side.

  “I might come and take a tour.”

  Lucas raked his teeth over his bottom lip, his lashes lowering slightly. “I’ll show you… anything you like.”

  With that, Falon was hard pressed to chatter with her sleepy son though another snack and his bath. Since he’d grown, he didn’t want her doing more than running the water and laying out his clothing, so she sat outside the door of the room, reminding him to wash behind his ears and things of that nature—her blood spiking as she anticipated that—anything you like, Lucas offered.

  Snuggled finally in a big bed, the lamp low, Asher was still trying to tell her about his adventurous day. She stroked his damp hair and sat on the side of the bed. She could tell he had gone nonstop from the time he and Lucas left, and she could tell Lucas and the hands had made it a great day for him.

  It didn’t escape her notice that he was a little in awe of Lucas McCabe. Apparently one of the men had told him Lucas had been a U.S.Marshal—that alone had Asher fascinated. In a watered down way Lucas had told him about chasing outlaws and the rougher days on the trail. He had been places Asher said, all the way from California to the Ocean.

  As his voice was more sleep than awake, her son mumbled that Lucas had roped calves, rode like the wind on one of the wild horses the men were bringing from the pasture. He said before sleep claimed him, “Seems like he’s hard when you look at him. Even when I first saw him, thought he looked just like the villain in those stories, you know. But, we laughed that day. He’s quiet sometimes. When we were coming home, I looked over at him and his face was still and hard like that. I said, penny for your thoughts, like you do me sometimes, Mamma. And he looked at me and said, someday I’ll tell you…”

  Falon leaned and kissed his cheek. “Every man like Lucas has lived with some regrets and mistakes.”

  Asher sighed and nodded. “Men gotta' be tough sometimes.” His soft snores coming soon after.

  Going to the adjoining room, leaving the lamp low, Falon was in a muse during a long soak in a scented tub. She heard Alex and Jordan return sometime after, smiling to herself as Jordan stopped in Asher’s room—probably to give him a kiss. She had sensed Jordan’s bitterness toward Finn was mingled with her innate longing to be a part of a real family. Tough and poised on the outside, strong in her own way; Jordan was, underneath, at that knowing who she was, and finding herself, age.

  Life made her grow up fast, but maturing, Falon knew, came with experience and age, with giving up some dreams, losing others, and finding a real life that brought a balance of contentment and challenge. Jordan would have to come to the point Falon did, where she didn’t identify herself as Frank’s daughter, so much as she did Falon Landry, a woman with her own thoughts, feelings, past, and mistakes…yes, joys, too.

  Smoothing on lotion, her hair dried by the fire’s heat, she combed it straight and smooth, leaving it down. Her thoughts on the tawny-eyed Lucas—and that strong scrape of his teeth over his lip.

  She thought of what he had done in the office—

  Looking at her face in the mirror, she ran her fingertips over her cheek, down her throat, feeling that part of her come alive, and the sexual woman he had summoned from the first touch of his lips.

  Falon arose and padded nude to the bed, reaching under for the packages she’d gotten by mail yesterday. Untying the plain paper, she grinned seeing the corset nestled in it, silver and pink with attached garters. It hooked up the side, just under the arm, and left the breasts bare. There were stockings too, silvery threaded. She lay that aside and opened another with a sheer blush pink robe, long sleeved and completely see through. Having a low bodice, one hook at the waist, and long skirt to the floor. The velvet boots came next, over the ankle black, with hooks, and high heels, tiny silver bows at the top of the foot.

  One by one, she slipped her new outfit on, her body stirred by the time she hooked the garters to the corset. Glancing in the mirror Falon straitened. Her hair had slid around. Her creamy nipples and breasts were exposed, pushed up by the silk and satin garment, garters meeting the mid-thigh hose were mere ribbons, with tiny bows and seed peals. She sat down and put on the high-heeled boots, looking over her shoulder at her firm, heart-shaped backside with a raised brow, amazed that mere clothing could make her look, feel, so sensual. She put on the sheer robe; not calling it that because it hid nothing and certainly was nothing more than a teasing veil that hid— nothing.

  Over all of that, she pulled on her fall coat that was nearly to the ankle. Fingering her hair back behind her ears, Falon hoped she could walk down that path in those boots without breaking an ankle. Still, as she checked on her son, then quietly slipped out, she felt unmistakably wicked.

  The silk lining of the coat and the whisper of materials on her skin as she walked already moistened her sex. She could feel the curved lines of the corset under her breasts, feel it just edging at the top of her buttocks, and it opened her senses long before she crossed that bridge.

  Crossing it, she saw the glow from Lucas’s cigarette. Behind him, the windows showed a subtle amber light, but his image came into focus as she came closer. He was in an unbuttoned shirt of soft chambray, his chest bathed in warm light. Well-worn denim molded his hips and legs. His chair was reared back. When she came up the shallow steps, his head turned, looking at her.

  Falon turned toward him, her hand braced on the nearest post, noting that on his downward scan of her, his gaze stayed on those boots a good long time. It was not her usual footwear, and it wasn’t something a woman traversed a ranch yard in, to take a tour.

  By the time, his gaze was rising, and she could see his expression, she grinned slightly at the all-curious, half-amazed look of it.

  She reached out and nudged his feet down off the rail. Waiting until the feet hit the porch floor, before she stood against it herself, right in front of him. Watching his face, noticing the rise and fall of his ridged chest and stomach, she undid the latches of her coat, and then pushed it off her shoulders, letting it slide over the rail.

  “Jesus…” Lucas sucked in a breath. His eyes rising to her serene looking face…and slightly wicked eyes, before slowly taking the tour over that veiled half-nude form. Lithe, but with shapely hips, legs, breasts—he had known she was feminine but he couldn’t have guessed what a silver and pink corset, garters, and high-heeled boots would emphasize.

  Lucas wanted to stare at her milky breasts, the nipples hard in the cool air—brushed and teased by the sheer robe over them. He wanted to stare at her waist, at her hips in that corset, but then with that stripe of ribbon, the garter coming from the hip of it, his gaze lingered with mouth-watering lust on the nest of curls between them.

  “Do you like it?” her husky tone drew his head up.

  “I’ve never seen anything more…” He couldn’t finish and half stood, cupping the back of her head, kissing her hot, deep enough to melt her bones.

  But, Falon had a plan, and she slid her palm to his tight muscled chest and eased him back. Her eyes glinting from the windows behind him and that subtle light. She sat him in the chair, pushed the shirt off him, and leaned down, kissing him instead.

  His rumble was a half growl and came because she nibbled his lips, traced them with her tongue. Before lon
g, he got the idea. His hands raised, fingers rubbing her nipples, while their tongues played and teeth scraped.

  Still bent over, her hands on his warm shoulders, she arched her head back for his nipping and laving her neck. Falon sucked in a breath and rose slightly so he could lick at her hard nipples through the sheer robe.

  His breathing tight, sexual heat coming from him like a wave, Falon was right with him, and erotically intoxicated. His palm felt the corset down her ribs and stomach. Her mouth teased his ear and her warm breath bathed it. When she felt him touch her curls, she straightened more, the wet material over her nipples making them harder. Falon looked downward under her lashes, watching those tanned fingers trace around the curls.

  He slid to the edge of the chair and kissed the skin along the edge of the corset, supple and soft. Moving his head, he reached around and cupped her bare buttocks, kissing all the skin exposed between the corset and stockings.

  Her hands lightly touched his hair. Eyes closed, Falon whispered, “Yes… your mouth is like velvet fire.”

  Lucas kissed those curls and then stood and turned her so that her back was to him. Brushing her hair aside, he laved and bit her nape, his voice raspy uttering, “I could burn, just looking at you. Your skin, your scent, is like silk under my mouth, and you smell of flowers.” By the time he covered all her exposed skin she was trembling.

  “You’re one amazing woman.” Lucas reached around and cupped her breasts firmly. Biting her ear next and husking, “Lean over and hold that rail.”

  When she did, he sat down again. Falon should have been embarrassed at least at the position. Since he was licking and biting her backside, she was too aroused to think of anything else. Rubbing her thighs, down her legs, while his lips and tongue, his breath, bathed her there, Falon held air poised in her lungs when his palm raced up the inside of her thigh.

  “Open, love.”

  She widened her stance.

  The flick of his tongue on her sex had her moaning. The thrust of it inside—caused a gasp. ‘“Lucas….”

  Two fingers slid along the crease. “You’re wet and hot.” He rubbed from her entry to high between the folds, playing, abrading, and pressing there. “Is this what you want?” He came back and sank his finger into her, softly thrusting.

  “Yes. Yes.” She arched her neck, shivering, loving the way even his touch inside her felt so good.

  His hands cupped her upper thighs, pressing them apart before his breath bathed her again, seconds afterwards, his tongue was in her. Then he licked and suckled, mouth and fingers touching every spot that was burning her up.

  Panting, Falon moved to relish it, and enjoyed the sexual intoxication that made her feel like flying.

  When his finger was deep in her, he nibbled his way up and bit her bottom, murmuring, “Trust me, trust me.”

  “I will…I do.”

  With that and a scrape of the chair, she knew he was on his knees, his soft silken hair brushing between her legs. He sexually ate her, erotically fingered her, and took her to a melting orgasm that wrung soft cries from her lips.

  Seeing stars behind her eyes, Falon turned as soon as he had sat. In her daze of lust and pleasure, he was twice as virile and wholly sexual with his dark skin and half-mast lashes over green eyes.

  His mouth was sensually swollen. She kissed him, her hands mapping the tight upper arms and his shoulders. Tasting the tang of herself there, she rubbed his nipples, down his hard chest and to the contracting muscles of his stomach.

  Against his mouth she whispered, “I’m going to do that to you.”

  “God…” Lucas choked as her hand went between his legs and cupped him. The thin denim was nothing.

  “Falon…” he started to say something. She grasped his hair and forced his head back. Their heavy lidded eyes glittering and locked, breaths panting.

  “Do you trust me?” She ran her tongue over her lips.

  “I’d let you take me to hell,” he rasped with honest desire and lust. His mind heady from her first appearance, his blood quickened from tasting her sex, having his finger inside her. Lucas added, “You tell me what you want, honey. I’m willing.”

  She skimmed her fingers over his lips, her eyes almost smoky with heat. “Just, trust me.”

  His eyes flashing with the heat of his blood, Lucas found himself made to stand, and while his vision was filled with enough of her to tighten every muscle in his body. He grit some half-formed helpless curse when she turned him so his ass was against the rail and began undoing his pants.

  Lean hips, hard-ridged stomach, the muscles fanned out above that as his arms went up to hold onto the overhead porch brace. He would have shook his head so surreal was the image when she shed that robe—and shoved his pants down his muscled thighs—and took him in her hot, sweet, pink mouth.

  “Jesus Christ.” His neck arched back and hips forward, arms straining, veins filled with quickened blood. Silken fire wrapped around the head of his sex. He lost his breath, found it in a constricted way, lowering his head, and seeing her on her knees suckling him.

  “Falon…Falon…You don’t…”

  She eased off and laved, nibbled, licked him until his legs shook. Peeking up she husked, “Am I doing it wrong?”

  “No. God no.” He shook nearly all over, his muscles and nerves jumping. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yes. I do.” She kissed the tender skin of his stomach, holding him in her fist as she made her way, up to his lips in a kiss and lick journey. Kissing him, her hand stroking his sex, she said with rough arousal, “I want to strip you down and taste you everywhere. There’s not time for that. So I’ll start here.”

  He made a sound, and grit his teeth. She melted down once more. At some point, his hard buttocks were flexing. His hands dug into the beam overhead. His tight stomach quivered. Lucas let go as he never had—and came with a groan of pleasure—his mind hardly believing it—but his body loving it beyond any experience of his life. It was the rawest and most submerging climax of pure lust, pure pleasure, he would never forget.

  A half-hour later found them at the table, a lamp low, and coffee in their cups. She sat across his lap, where he had pulled her after refreshing. His free hand stroked her legs.

  Falon could feel his body stirring, although he swore he had died and gone beyond the world after that climax on the porch. She leaned back slightly and studied his face, sometimes amazed at how sensual and handsome he was. When he was aroused, that was when he was the most beautiful, in that untamed way.

  He turned his head to meet her gaze, brushing their lips before murmuring, “I want inside you.”

  She shivered and slid off his lap, taking his hand, but letting him lead her to the parlor floor and the rug before it. Lucas grabbed a blanket off the leather sofa and lay it down. As she reclined there, at his feet, Lucas undid his trousers, peeling them off, exposing a full thrusting sex. He made a rumbling purr when she parted her legs and reached for him.

  He settled between her silken limbs, his hands holding her wrists, her arms wide at the first deep thrust. Falon cried out, her lashes half closed. He eased out, thrust in, muscles straining and flexing, face intense, watching her own mirror the pleasure.

  On a full stroke he whispered, “I could ride you all night.”

  “I could…let you.” She raised her knees higher, her eyes a bit wild. “But we don’t have that much time.”

  He still took it. His time. Soft out strokes, and hard in. Lucas used his sex to pleasure her, and when she arched and met him or whispered for more, yes more; he gave it to her.

  At one point, he released her hands and cupped her head, his muscles bunching with the force of sinking into her. Her sounds put chills up his back. Sparks danced in his blood. He worshipped her, fucked her—loved her and teased her. He rode her through a series of moans and mindless explicit words—so fast and deep, that sweat dewed on his skin.

  Her hands grasping his buttocks, Falon reached some moment of mindles
s pleasure. She met his gaze with half-shuttered, smoky eyes, breathing, “I’ve never felt this. Every time you come in deep, I feel a kind of fever in my bones. You take me out of my head, out of my body, Lucas.”

  “Same here.” He looked fever eyed, but it was sensual pleasure written all over him. “I’m seconds from spilling myself in you, and I want it, at the same time, I want to keep stroking you over and over.”

  It was only seconds before he shuddered and climaxed, but Falon relished it, soothing his back and damp hair.

  Elbows resting beside her head sometime later, Lucas glanced down at her face, now with that heavy sated aftereffect. “I want to make you come again, before you have to go.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think Asher will wake up, but I need to get back to him.”

  He muttered and kissed her, let her up, and then walked up to the bathing room with her, while she washed. When she was done, having her coat on, Lucas walked to the bridge with her, having pulled on a shirt and boots with his denims.

  “I never did that, any of this, with Ashley.” She looked down at the water, hands deep in the coat pockets. “We had a special thing. I’ll always love him, because he made me love myself.” She glanced up and at Lucas. “It wasn’t like this. What we do and feel.”

  Lucas nodded and reached out, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I only need one promise from you, Lucas.”

  He stilled inside and searched her face. “What’s that?”

  “That when you’re ready to move on, another town, or another woman, you’ll care enough to tell me. I’m not asking for anything but boundaries. I cannot do this with you, if you’re going to be seeing other women. I’m okay when and if you—”

  “I won’t,” he said it, knowing he would not. He couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else. “I won’t touch a woman while I’m seeing you.”

  She nodded and chewed her lip. “We don’t own each other. That’s understood. But we’re mature enough not to be cheating if the other is respecting those boundaries.”