“Tell me,” he said, and the heat in his voice darted straight between my legs.
“I want you to feel what you do to me,” I whispered, heart destroying my ribs, shocked at what he inspired me to say, let alone feel. I took his right hand into my left, capturing it and licking his palm, slow and sweet, and then brought his middle finger into my mouth. He groaned and shifted, lifting his hips against me as I suckled him. I took his hand into both of mine, drawing it directly between my legs, lifting enough so that I could insert his finger into my body.
Marshall rolled me beneath him before I could blink, continuing to stroke me deeply, kissing me with a determination that stole every last rational thought, every last breath from my lips. His wide shoulders angled above me and the blanket bunched under my hips as I struggled in effort to get closer to him.
His voice a low, husky murmur, he asked, “Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I moaned. “Oh yes…”
“Ruthann,” he whispered. “You don’t know what you do to me…”
“Did you buy condoms?” I demanded against his lips.
He nodded, unable to reply as we kissed and kissed. I had never known anything like this, like him. I tugged his jeans from his hips and curled my right hand around his length, letting my fingertips glide lower so that I could take his balls in hand, though gently. I was overcome with a desire to touch every part of him and so I did, following my questing hands with my mouth. I breathed against his chest hair, springy and slightly musky, completely intoxicating. I let my tongue tease over his belly button and his hands sank into my hair as his breathing grew harsh.
I took him firmly in hand again and pressed his cock between my breasts, where I was damp with sweat, letting my nipples graze his skin just lightly, and then I took the tip of him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around and around. He groaned and shuddered, fingers curled tightly into my hair. I let my hands explore, running over the length of his hard thighs, clutching his hips as I determinedly squelched my gag reflex and took him as deeply as I could. He surprised me by catching my hands into each of his and braiding together our fingers, squeezing me tightly as he muffled a sharp cry and then came down my throat.
I was better prepared this time, swallowing hard and then moving upwards to rest my cheek against his sternum. I could feel his pulse beating, could hear his heart, and I smiled, rubbing my jaw against his skin. I whispered, “So much for a condom that time.”
He laughed at this, softly, and then shifted, tugging me back up his body and curving around me, one strong hand pressed to my lower back, the other sliding along my thigh and drawing my right leg around his hip. I saw his teeth flash in a grin as he whispered back, “You don’t have to swallow, but thank you with all my heart just the same. Every last bit of my heart.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, kissing his chin, licking him a little. And then I worried, “Were we too loud?” even as I reveled in this intimacy I had never known, had never understood existed. Impulses were clamoring for attention in my mind and before he could even answer I implored, “There’s something else I want…”
Marshall cupped my chin and kissed my lips with utmost tenderness, pressing my hips even closer to his own. He whispered, “What’s that?”
I felt my cheeks flame, amazed that I could take charge so boldly one moment and be so ridiculously shy the next. I kissed his neck and then whispered, “I want to feel your chest hair between my legs…” and just like that, the hesitancy vanished and I straddled him, rolling him to his back and then bracing my palms on either side of his head. I stroked my hips over his chest, rhythmically, letting the soft dark hair there rub against me. I had never dreamed of doing anything like this, had never allowed myself to let loose this way.
“That feels so good – oh my God, you feel good,” he said, cupping my hips and then ordering, “Come here, come do that on my mouth.”
A red-hot pulsing overtook my nerves as he lifted me to his face, stroking me with his tongue as I straddled him, arching backward and letting him have his way. Sweat streaked between my breasts, my arms and thighs trembling hard as he held me tightly. Marshall was breathing harshly and I knew what he needed, what I needed, and I curved forward and then moved swiftly down his body, pressing intently against his hips with mine.
“Holy Jesus,” he said, shaking a little in my arms, stroking my hair with both hands. He drew my mouth to his and kissed me, getting all the way out of his jeans as best he could without breaking our kiss. Against my lips he said, “Condom…” and I giggled, relinquishing him so that he could grab the one in the pocket of his jeans, which were currently around his ankles.
“Just one?” I teased him, rolling to my knees and reaching to run my palms over the tops of his wide shoulders as he hurried to kick free of his jeans and tear open the condom wrapper.
“I had to steal this from Sean,” he said, half-breathless, half-laughing, and I giggled.
My hair swung over my shoulder as he finished the task and curled his right hand into its tangled length, cupping the back of my head.
“For the love of all that’s holy, get back in my arms,” he said, lunging over me and growling against my neck, as I shivered and gasped, still giggling. He bit my earlobe and said, “You tell me just what else I can do, just what you need, and I’ll do it, angel-woman.”
“This,” I whispered, lavishing his neck with wet little kisses as he stroked firmly between my legs.
“I know you like this,” he said with heated, lazy confidence, bending to take a nipple between his lips. I grasped his ears and held him there, arching upwards.
“Marshall,” I gasped out.
“And this,” he whispered.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, guiding his mouth to my other breast.
“I won’t,” he assured me, and his voice was low and throaty. “Not ever.”
I said, “I need you…Marshall, I need you…”
He knew exactly what I meant and moved with fluid grace, taking my hips into his hands as I reached down and brought him directly between my legs. He made a deep, intense sound and held himself at the juncture of my thighs, letting no more than the tip of his huge, swollen cock within me. He braced on his forearms and studied me at close range, our hearts beating intensely against one another. I imagined the storming shade of his eyes, though the darkness of the room robbed us of color.
In that moment, exactly as I had upon first hugging him, I felt as though I didn’t know where my body ended and his began; I could smell his breath and taste him on my lips, I could feel his heartbeat upon my breasts, the heat of his skin on mine. I breathed out in a rush, swept away from solid ground, though not against my will. But I was still terrified. And so full of joy that I could have split along the seams.
“I need you,” I told him again, threading my arms around his neck and holding fiercely, and with those words I lifted my lower body, firmly impaling myself.
“Ruthann,” he gasped, shuddering hard, holding deep and still inside of me.
“I’ve never…felt this way,” I told him, clinging to him as he drew out to glide back within, my body tightening and throbbing around his, and I moaned and kissed his jaw, his neck, his right shoulder, closing my teeth over the muscle ridge along the top, as he drove into me.
“It’s so right,” he breathed, low and sweetly, bringing my lips back to his and kissing me deeply as our bodies thrust together. We were slick with sweat, our breath shallow and our hearts throbbing. He was so strong inside of me, his kisses and his unceasing motion creating an intense, swelling wave that was about to crest. I felt as though I might be ripped apart with its force, my moaning cries muffled between our mouths.
“Not yet,” he managed to whisper, slowing our pace just a little, biting my bottom lip. I couldn’t articulate a response, too overcome, and Marshall smoothed hair back from my temples, kissing and kissing me, until I could no longer sense time and space.
“Yes,” I groaned at last, unable to hold bac
k another moment, the intensity of an orgasm bursting through me almost violently, as my heart thundered and I buried my face against his neck to contain all sound.
And then seconds later he collapsed atop me, his satisfied weight cradled over me just about the most wonderful thing I had ever known.
“Thank you, oh God, thank you for that,” he murmured sometime later, his voice hoarse. We were glued together with sweat, our bodies still joined. I would have giggled if I’d had the strength. It took about all of my energy to kiss him – his right ear was closest to my mouth, so that’s where my lips landed.
“What a gentleman,” I teased and at that moment there was the sound of footsteps in the hallway. I shrieked at whisper-volume and huddled against him. His chest bounced with a silent laugh and he wrapped his arms more securely around me.
“It’s just Wy,” he whispered against my ear. “It’s all right.”
“How do you know?” I demanded, quaking and almost overcome with the giggles; I was the worst when it came to inopportune laughter.
“I know my brothers,” he assured me.
Minutes later the toilet flushed down the hall and the footsteps retreated. Marshall and I were still linked together as closely as ever. I stroked my fingertips over his face and he murmured in quiet pleasure.
“I’m for sure crushing you, but I can’t move,” he murmured.
“Don’t you think about moving,” I ordered.
He kissed my lips, gently, skimming his hands along my waist. I tightened my arms and thighs around him, soaked with sweat and the scent of him, but I craved it, still a little stunned at this level of craving. His hair was just long enough for me to comb through with my fingers, and I did. He was damp with sweat all along his hairline, just as I was, and I stroked his jaws and his chest, delighting in how hairy he was, something I had never realized I liked. And found so arousing.
Marshall rose to one elbow so that he could look at me. In the dimness he stroked my right cheek with the backs of his fingertips. He whispered, “I feel like I was made just for you. I don’t know exactly how to say that any other way.”
His words were soft pleasure that dusted every inch of my skin. I told him, “I feel like anything I want to do with you is right. That you would never be shocked.”
He laughed a little at this. He bit my chin ever-so-gently and said, “You’re right about that. Amazed, for sure, but never shocked.”
“I like your chest hair,” I told him, curling my fingers into it, my cheeks burning.
“I noticed,” he said, grinning at me, playing with my tangled curls. “I like every last part of you.”
“You make every last part of me feel amazing,” I whispered, flushing even brighter.
“Yep, pretty proud of myself,” he concluded, and I giggled as he pressed a warm kiss to the base of my throat. There he inhaled and then whispered, “You smell so damn good. Oh my God, so good.”
I shivered. Our legs were tangled together, my hands in his hair. It was soft in my fingers and I told him, “Yesterday in the barn, I imagined touching your hair this way.”
He whispered, his face still against my neck, “I’ll be totally honest. I imagined a lot more than that. I imagined carrying you straight up to the haymow – “
I giggled at this, interrupting him, “That would be a pretty tough climb, seeing as how you’d need both arms.” He snorted a laugh, tickling me as his face was still at my neck. I went on, pretending to nag, “Besides, the haymow? Ouch. That would be so prickly…”
“I’d spread my shirt for you to lie on,” he explained, moving back above me, grinning and nuzzling my jaw.
“Oh,” I said, teasing him with my tone, my heart erratic again as he studied me at close range. I whispered, “Then what? After we got to the haymow…”
His grin widened and he explained, “You’ve been wearing those little tiny shorts for two days now. Do you know what torture that is, to look at you but not be able to touch you? Jesus. Climbing the ladder behind you just about did me in. It was like that summer in Landon, on the lake. I felt like a stalker those two weeks – I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, like a crazy person, and you didn’t notice at all.”
“You tormented me,” I countered, still stroking his hair. “You tried your best to get me to notice you by acting like a thirteen-year-old.”
“Oh, so you did notice,” he said, a little smug, and I giggled.
“Mostly I just wanted to push you in the lake,” I informed him. “Make you just as angry as you made me.”
“As long as you jumped right after me,” he said. He slid his warm, strong hands gently along the length of my legs, curling his fingers under my knees, and continued, “But those little shorts that you’ve been wearing. Here’s what I’ve been imagining. I’ve been imagining taking them off of you with my teeth, and then kissing all along your inner thighs…I can show you, right now…”
I was breathless and quivering at these words, but I insisted, “No, when you do that I can’t think. And I want to talk to you for a minute.”
“All right,” he agreed, but then asked sweetly, “Can I at least keep touching you?” He stroked my thighs to illustrate.
“You can,” I said primly, my hands flat upon his chest, his heart beating swiftly and steadily beneath my right palm. I whispered, “What is your middle name?”
“I don’t think we know each other well enough for that,” he teased, and then muffled a yelp as I squirmed to wrestle him to his back. He caught me in his arms, whispering, “I’m just kidding. It’s Augustus. After my mom’s granddad.”
“Marshall Augustus Rawley,” I said. I shivered a little at the sound of his name, liking it very much. I thought of what we’d talked about at dinner last night, sitting together in the little diner off the interstate. I said, “Thank you for telling me about your mom yesterday.”
He said, playing softly with my hair, “It’s good to talk about her sometimes. I know it’s hard for Dad to listen, or to hear that we miss her so much. Sometimes I can’t hear her voice anymore, and it scares me. But then I think about how she used to sing to us all the time, and I can always hear that in my memory. It was her favorite thing in the world.” I rearranged position in order to hold even more tightly to him as he continued, his quiet words pouring forth. “Case and Garth remember her even better than me, and when they talk about her, I feel reassured. I know Case loved her with all his heart too. She was like his mother after Melinda Spicer died.” He drew a deep breath and whispered, “That’s part of why I love playing music. I feel closer to her that way.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek to his neck. I whispered, “I don’t know exactly what I think heaven is, but wherever it is, your mother is there and she listens when you guys sing, and it makes her happy. That’s what I believe.”
“Do you think her soul is waiting somewhere for my dad? For all of us? Do you think we’ll see her somewhere, again?” His voice was very soft.
“I do,” I said. “I don’t have any proof, but I think that souls wait for each other, or try to find each other, somehow. I’ve talked about it a lot with Camille. She and Mathias are sure that they’ve found each other again. That they’ve been searching for each other for a long time.”
“I think that’s the way of it too,” he said. “But it’s not every time that each soul is allowed to be with its mate. God, I hate to think of it as some sort of celestial crapshoot. What a horrifying thought.”
I countered, “But it makes sense. Think – if you lived, say, a hundred and fifty years ago, and so did I, and we were supposed to find each other in that life, and then I died young –”
He interrupted me at once, ordering, “Ruthann, knock on wood. Jesus, don’t say such a horrible thing.”
“I’m just saying, theoretically –” I began to explain again, but he captured my hand in his, curled my fingers into a fist, and lightly rapped it on the edge of the nightstand, effectively knocking on wood for me.
&nb
sp; “Sorry, I’m too superstitious to let that slide,” he said, kissing my knuckles before releasing my hand and gathering me back into his arms.
“No, you’re right, my Aunt Jilly would scold me too,” I said, very touched at his action. “But I meant, say that a terrible thing like what I just said did happen, and then you lived out your full life, say eighty or ninety years. What if I was reborn, or returned to the earth, or however it happens, when you were still living the earlier life…what then?”
“We’d have to catch up somewhere along the years,” he said. “It makes my head swim a little, but I know what you’re saying. It could take generations. But I do believe that all of us, Carter and Camille, Case and Tish, you and me, my brothers too, we’ve all been together before now. Finally, we’ve all caught up again.”
“I think so, too. Tish and I have talked about it this week,” I said, and he kissed the side of my forehead and snuggled me even closer.
We held each other in warm, soft silence for a long time. At last he whispered, “I love how your curls wrap around my fingers. It’s like your hair is holding onto me, too.” He added, even more quietly, “I want you to hold onto me.”
“Marshall,” I whispered, and tightened my grip on him, in response.
He whispered, “So what’s your middle name?”
“Marie,” I told him.
“Ruthann Marie Rawley,” he teased me, but before I could tell him that I liked the sound of that a very great deal, my phone, abandoned on the nightstand, lit up with an incoming call; I knew it was either Liam or Tish and my heart shrank at the thought of it being Liam. The room glowed as though fireflies had been released from a hundred jars.
Marshall, angled differently than me, caught sight of the display screen and said, “He’s calling you.”
There was fire in his voice, though subtle, and I closed my eyes. I was worse than any girl I had ever judged, lying here in bed in one man’s arms while my boyfriend in Minnesota tried to get ahold of me. I knew Liam was worried. I had not spoken with him since we’d arrived in Montana. The phone buzzed with vibration, insistent as a tornado siren.
Until Tomorrow Page 16