She rocked her hips, begging for more. More what, she couldn’t determine. “Trent, please…”
His mouth shifted and he lassoed her clit between his lips. The fierce sucking action sent pleasure spiraling deep into her womb, ripping a yell from her lungs.
Trembling with the power of her orgasm, she lowered her hips and closed her eyes.
The foot of the bed dipped, and a light scraping noise whispered through the room.
“God, Catherine, I can’t wait another minute.” The head of his cock knocked against her opening. Her eyes sprang open, and she grabbed his shoulders.
Suspended over her with his weight resting on one hand, he nudged his rod deeper. One stroke, two, the thick length filled her pussy.
Catherine gasped. His weight pinned her down while his cock stretched her inner walls. She locked her gaze to his. Dark emotion swirled in their depths and plunged her into a wondrous, new world.
“Ah, fuck, I never thought…” He slid a little deeper, then wrenched his hips back and slammed forward again.
A slight pain ripped through her womb. She stiffened and her breath hitched. “Trent!”
He tucked his arms close to her side and nibbled on her neck. “Easy, baby, the worst part is over.” He moaned as he slowly rocked his hips and sank further into her sex.
She expected another twinge, but when none came, she relaxed. Each stroke ground his cock against her clit, and he slowly built a fire inside her pussy. Hard, relentless quivers bombarded her nerve endings.
Adrift and needing to anchor herself, she wrapped her legs around his waist and circled her arms around his brawny back.
He lowered his head and his mouth rained kisses along her neck to the base of her throat. After a quick lick, he sucked the tender flesh into his mouth. The action reminded Catherine of a stallion claiming his mate by teasing her with rough bites to the neck.
An invisible cord formed through the center of her body connecting his cock to the sucking pressure of his lips. Her heart raced, and a soft cry sprang from her lips. “Oh, please.”
Trent increased his pace. The pounding force of his thrusts drilled deeper—harder. He released his hold on her throat, and the heavy sound of his breathing whispered passed her ear.
Her second climax hovered out of reach, waiting like a coyote to rip her apart. She tightened her grip and begged for the end to come.
A savage groan tore from Trent, and he plunged his cock deep. The spasms of his orgasm released the bonds holding her hostage, and her body exploded into a furious shudder of delicious flames.
Moments later, Trent rolled onto his side and gathered her against his chest. “God, what a day,” he whispered followed immediately by a soft snore.
“You can say that again.”
****
Catherine stared at the tin roof in the distance, glowing from the low light of dawn. Scrub oaks and tumbleweeds dotted the landscape. A few cows grazed on the parched grass. The heat of late summer baked the ground, and dust devils kicked up dirt. Yet, the rough scene called to something deep in her soul.
Home. She’d been away too long.
A warm breeze brushed her cheek, and she turned her face into the caress. Memories of turbulent weather filled her mind. West Texas ran the gambit from sizzling summers with hail and dust storms and a tornado thrown in for variety, to frosty winters. No one could predict what would hit next.
How she’d missed the hot baking sun, followed by the chilly winds of winter, the open range, the scruffy animals, and the smooth velvety sound of a southern drawl.
Trent’s in particular.
Never again would she have to endure the stifling noise of Boston. After last night, her future was secure. She’d live out the rest of her life in Texas with Trent. They’d build a life together. A smile bloomed on her lips, and she rocked with the easy gait of her horse.
An image of Trent lying naked on the bed made her smile. She’d hated leaving him this morning, but she had to get home.
The empty space in front of the house showed no movement. Was anyone up? Near five o’clock, they’d be rising soon.
“Come on, boy, let’s get you some feed. Then I can head on in and rustle up some breakfast for everyone else.” She tugged on the reins and drew the horse to a stop on the dirt path by the fenced in front yard. The door to the barn opened, and a dark figure filled its frame.
“Morning, Catherine. Enjoy your ride this morning?” The teasing tone of her brother’s voice told her he guessed where she’d been.
Joel’s face held a wicked smirk, but she wouldn’t confirm his assumptions. “No, I still haven’t located that cow that’s due to deliver any day now.” She swung her leg over the rump of her horse and dismounted. “The ornery cuss will probably stay hidden until after the calf is born.”
“Yeah, well, women are known for not doing what their told.” Her brother’s heavy footfalls sounded behind her on the way into the barn. “Because everyone in the household knows you snuck out last night.”
Not caring what anyone thought of her spending the night with Trent, she guided her horse into the first stall. “And not a one of them will say a word.”
“Want a bet?” Joel walked to the barrel at the end of the stall and removed the lid.
She scanned his lean, whip-cord body as he scooped a few handfuls of feed into a bucket. Not much taller than she, he looked almost like her twin with the same auburn hair and green eyes. They also shared the same determined Irish attitude.
He’d unknowingly helped her capture Trent’s attention. Through the years, he commented on what he found attractive in women. How he liked them to wear silky clothing and thought women should tell men exactly what they wanted. But her time at the theatre had given Catherine a real education of pleasing a man. Joel, however, didn’t know about her cleaning job or how she’d acquired the corset hidden inside her saddlebag.
“Nothing to bet on.” She rested a hip against the stall gate. “Dad and Mom both understand what’s at stake here. They want me married and settled so they can move to the city.”
Joel handed her the bucket and waited until she dumped the feed into the trough before he said, “Yes, but what happens if Trent decides not to marry you. Just because a man is willing to accept,” he ran the toe of his boot through the hay scattered across the dirt floor, “a woman’s favors, doesn’t mean he’ll sign up for a lifetime commitment.”
“Trent’s not like that.” He’d even tried to talk her out of making love last night. And he didn’t know she had secured their future with a lease on her father’s land. Hell, she didn’t want him to know. He had to want to marry her and not what she could bring to their marriage. She placed the bucket outside the stall and met the concern in her brother’s gaze. “He’s a man of honor.”
After staring at her for a moment, he asked, “Then he’s asked you to marry him?”
Telling a bold face lie stuck in Catherine’s craw. She wanted to bend the truth to ease his mind but couldn’t. “Not in so many words. But when he comes over tonight, I have no doubt he’ll offer marriage.”
“Then you gave away the milk before securing a promise first.” He shook his head. “I hope you’re right. Because no other man will marry you after he learns you slept with Trent McCall. You’ll be shunned by every woman in town and the men will only come around for one thing.” He turned and walked away.
Her horse lifted its tail and dumped a load of manure. The pungent scent tickled her nose. She laughed and patted her horse’s rear. “You’re right, Gus. Joel is full of shit. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Trent won’t marry me. Not with everything I have to offer. Not after last night.”
****
The soft moan of a calf drew Trent’s attention from his thoughts. He stared at the cattle feeding in the pasture and automatically calculated the number in his head—twenty.
Was that all the cattle Pat Turnberry had left?
More than a hundred had accompanied
his family’s herd on the drive to Abilene.
“He can’t have many more, not with the small size of his spread,” he muttered and fingered the check in his breast pocket. The meeting he’d set up today with Mr. Turnberry before leaving for Kansas with his herd now had a more important purpose.
His father assured him a union with Catherine would serve him well. Why? What did Mr. Turnberry have planned? A dowry of money? Or property?
Trent shook his head. Did he really need either?
Beautiful and sexy, Catherine tempted him in a way few women could—innocent and naïve one moment, hungry and wild with passion the next. He tightened his hands on the reins and recalled the silky softness of her skin, the musky scent of her sex, and the creamy sweetness of cunt. God, he wanted to slide into her tight pussy again.
And he would have if she hadn’t snuck out on him this morning.
He stood in the stirrup to ease the tight pressure in his balls and studied the homestead in the distance. The scrub oaks on the western and northern side of the house would help hold back the wind. Good planning for those cold, bitter mornings—the walk to the barn and corral wouldn’t cut so deep. Chipped paint spotted the fence that sectioned off a small yard in front. Both the two-story house and the fence needed a new coat of paint.
Trent drew closer and noticed Mr. Turnberry sitting in a rocker on the porch. He nodded his greeting and led his horse to the hitching post by the front gate. After swinging out of his saddle, he wrapped the reins around the metal ring.
Mr. Turnberry shifted forward in the rocker and worked his legs under his round body before lifting himself to his feet. He laid a hand on his back and stretched. His stiff movement and sparse gray hair pointed out the man’s age. A rancher for years, he’d not taken a wife or had a family until after he turned forty.
“Evening, Trent. Just about to head out to the barn to check on a mare.” He strolled down the stone path leading to the front gate. “Care to join me?”
The question didn’t sound like a request.
“Sure, I brought your check, minus the fee for driving your cattle to market.” Trent passed through the gate, pulled out the slip of paper, and handed it to Mr. Turnberry. “Should be enough to get you through a few more years.”
Mr. Turnberry’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced at the amount of the check before slipping it into his pocket. A worried frown marred the old man’s brow as he turned and strolled toward the barn. “That’s part of what I want to talk to you about, boy.”
Trent fell into step beside him. “And you also want to know if I plan on marrying your daughter.”
The man stopped, and light green eyes, so different from his daughter’s emerald ones, sank into Trent’s. The knowledge of what had happened in his hunting cabin the night before was there.
Trent opened his mouth to reassure Mr. Turnberry of his intentions, but the old man raised a hand and continued across the rough ground to the barn. Trent didn’t budge. He couldn’t read the man. Was he angry? Disappointed? Or ready for a shotgun wedding?
Trent straightened his shoulders. What every happened, they’d hash it out.
The cooler temperature of the barn greeted Trent when he crossed the threshold and glanced around for Mr. Turnberry.
“I’m down here, boy. I’ll be out in a minute.” The voice rang from the other end of the barn.
Trent strolled past several stalls and stopped at a small pen near the back wall. A dark brown mare stood in the center of the enclosure. Fresh straw scattered across the floor. Mr. Turnberry stroked the horse’s round belly. He spoke softly to the mare and slid his hand over the dark teats and squeezed a small stream of milk from the end.
A spurt of yellow liquid landed on the ground and then Mr. Turnberry straightened. A low neigh rumbled from the mare, and she swung her head back over her shoulder.
“It’s okay, girl. I’ll be here when the time comes.” Mr. Turnberry opened the door and stepped out of the enclosure. He pointed to the mare. “How long do you think she has?”
Trent glanced again at the liquid on the ground and the dull black tip of the horse’s teats. “At least another day or two.”
Mr. Turnberry nodded, locked the gate leading into the pen, and turned. His gaze ran from one end of the barn to the other. A slight frown wrinkled his worn face, and he leaned back on the wooden post behind him. “I should have known better than to marry a woman from the city.”
His father had made the same mistake and had come out on the raw end of the deal when Trent’s mother disappeared. Confused, and a little wary about what Mr. Turnberry might say, Trent waited for the old wrangler to explain. What did this have to do with him and Catherine? Was her father warning him she might want to return to Boston?
Finally, the man’s gaze met his, and the pain in the depths punched a hole through Trent’s gut. He stiffened and held his tongue for the news to come.
“You, boy, won’t have the same problem. Catherine loves this place.” Mr. Turnberry surveyed the barn again. “She worked for the last four years and invested her money wisely so she could lease the ranch from me.”
What? Catherine couldn’t run a ranch by herself.
Again, Mr. Turnberry’s gaze lit on him. “You’re getting a good woman, boy.”
Trent blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
A toothy grin split the old man’s face. “Well, you’re here to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage, ain’t ya?”
“Yes, but…” The vague conversation with his father about settling down suddenly became clear. If Catherine held the lease on Turnberry’s ranch—hell every man in the territory would be courting her. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t want you to.” Turnberry strolled away from the stall and slapped Trent’s shoulder. “Catherine planned for you two to be hitched before word leaked out about her mother and I leaving town. But I thought you should know before you officially asked her. The girl is rather determined when she sets her mind on something.” A small chuckle bubbled in the old man’s throat, and he eased back. “And she’s got her sights on you.”
Trent blinked. “Yeah, but what about your son? Doesn’t Joel want to run the ranch?”
Turnberry shook his head and pursed his lips. “No, he wants to go off and fight in the war. The dad-burn idiot is just going to end up getting himself killed.”
The rough tone of the old man’s voice spoke of both pride and concern. Deep wrinkles scarred his face, and the strong width of his shoulders slumped with the weight placed on them over the years. His hands trembled.
“And what are you planning to do?” Trent couldn’t imagine the old wrangler being happy anywhere else but at the ranch where he’d worked most of his life.
Turnberry groaned. “If I’m lucky, I’ll get to smoke a few cigars while I escort my wife around town.” He stepped forward. “Mary Ellen always wanted to live near a big city so we’re looking at buying a house somewhere near Ft. Worth.” He strolled to the barn door, grumbling on the way, “Guess she deserves it after putting up with this place for so many years.”
Trent marveled at Turnberry’s sacrifice for his wife and laid his hand on the old man’s shoulder to draw him to a halt. “And you don’t have any problem with me marrying Catherine and running the place?”
A wicked grin settled over the man’s face, and he rubbed his hand along his neck. “No, you won’t have any problem with the ranch.” He eased back his shoulders as if to release some built up tension. “But Catherine isn’t an easy woman. Loyal and faithful to a fault, she’ll raise holy hell if she makes up her mind she wants something and doesn’t get it.”
“And she thinks she wants me?” Trent struggled to understand why.
“Has since she was fourteen.”
Shock rippled through Trent. “What?”
“Said you were the only man in the territory worth marrying.” Mr. Turnberry glanced at the sun sinking lower on the horizon. “That’s part of the reason we sent her to Boston
. But it didn’t help. She just became more determined as the years passed.”
Trent tugged off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “But what if I’d married someone else while she was away?”
“Never seemed to bother her.” The old man wandered toward the house. “I guess we better get inside before Catherine decides to come looking for us.”
Trent, struggling with what he’d just learned, didn’t register the trip to the front door until he stepped over the threshold.
“Welcome, Trent. We’re so glad you could come by for an after-dinner drink this evening.” Mrs. Turnberry’s skirt swished softly around her, and the noise drew Trent’s focus back to the present.
He cupped his hand around his hat, slid it from his head, and nodded at Catherine’s mother. Decked out in her finest dress, she wore a cameo necklace and had her dark, brown hair pulled back in a bun at the base of her neck. Her dark eyes and thin lips didn’t resemble Catherine’s. He scanned her face for similarity and recognized the straight line of her nose and the round shape of her face. “Thank you, Madam. It’s a pleasure to be invited into your home.”
She took his hat and placed it on the entry table then led him into the parlor. “Pat will probably have bourbon. What would you like?”
“I…”
An elegantly dressed woman stood on the other side of the room. The rich fabric of her blue satin gown spoke of a refined city woman, but the demure curves matched Catherine’s. Pleasure, quickly followed by doubt, sped through his thoughts. He wanted a woman who could charm his guests and looked elegant, but she also had to work hard and enjoy the rough lifestyle of ranching. Could Catherine be that woman?
Or would she head back to town like his mother when things didn’t pan out the way she planned? Her father said differently, but Trent couldn’t forget the years she spent in Boston. She might decide she wanted to go back. Then what?
He edged forward and, for the first time, noticed the polished, young man beside her. Jealousy twisted a hole through Trent’s gut, and the desire to deck the man sped to his fists. How dare she entertain another man when he came to propose marriage?
Texas Passion Page 3