Wild, Wild, Mother Of The Bride

by Lacey Savage

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  Amber Quill Press

  www.amberquill.com

  Copyright ©2008 by Lacey Savage

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Also By Lacey Savage

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  Epilogue

  Lacey Savage

  Amber Quill's Rewards Program

  * * * *

  WILD, WILD, MOTHER OF THE BRIDE

  By

  LACEY SAVAGE

  * * * *

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  www.amberquill.com

  Also By Lacey Savage

  Eat Me

  Getting Lucky

  Grave Pleasures

  Like A Virgin

  Love Me Always

  Love Me Wicked

  Moving On

  Naughty & Dice

  Oceanbound

  Once Upon A Conquest

  Revenge Of The Ex

  Steel-Tipped Velvet

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER 1

  At the age of eighteen, after getting an eyeful of Bobby McRae's massive dick at the senior prom, Eliza Webber swore she'd never sleep with a woman. She remembered that night because her cousin Jenny had stunned both their parents by announcing she was a lesbian, then attending the prom with another girl. Eliza had spent the entire evening dancing close to Bobby, rubbing up against his erection and wondering what on earth had possessed her sensible cousin to give up cock forever.

  Now, twenty-four years later, Eliza still believed in the magic the mighty male rod could conjure. So if someone had told her that the night before her daughter's wedding Eliza would be in bed with a sixty-seven-year-old crone who snored like a drunken sailor wielding a chainsaw, she'd have laughed until her sides hurt.

  Well, she wasn't laughing now.

  A thunderous snore rattled the bed frame. Eliza held her breath and fought back a shudder. She should have never agreed to spend the night at Cowboy's Hideaway. When Marissa had told her she wanted the entire wedding party to have a joint sleepover, Eliza should have looked her darling daughter square in the eye and told her in no uncertain terms she wasn't doing it. No way, no how.

  She might have, too, if at that very moment she'd been able to think of anything but Jacob Clarke, naked and chained to the wall of the old-fashioned jailhouse cell.

  The owner of Cowboy's Hideaway, a recreated Old West village that served as a major tourist attraction in Lady Bird, Texas, had starred in Eliza's naughtiest fantasies ever since Marissa had introduced them eighteen months earlier. As the groom's best man, Jacob showed up at any event having to do with the wedding, and a few that didn't. And every time she saw him, Eliza had to remind herself of the myriad reasons pursuing a relationship with Cowboy's Hideaway's delectable sheriff was a very, very bad idea.

  For one, he was her future son-in-law's best friend. Then there was the age difference. She might be able to turn a blind eye to the twelve-year gap between them, but she didn't expect Jacob to feel the same way. And Marissa—old-fashioned, moral-to-a-fault Marissa, who obviously didn't take after her mother—would never understand.

  Still, it didn't hurt to fantasize a little, did it? No one would ever know she dreamed of dressing up in frilly Old West skirts with no undergarments, perching herself on all fours atop the antique sheriff's desk, and having Jacob fuck her silly until she couldn't remember her own name.

  Right. Totally benign.

  Yet those same harmless fantasies had led to Eliza sharing a bed with an elephant impersonator.

  If she'd paid a little more attention to Marissa's plans instead of picturing herself on her knees, mouth-to-groin with Jacob's make-believe cock, she might have learned that Marissa planned to make her share a room with Gemma Serratos, the mother of the groom.

  Another booming rattle from deep in Gemma's throat shook the foundation of the inn. God! Eliza couldn't stand this a moment longer. It was bad enough she'd barely seen Jacob all day. Between the wedding rehearsal, a girls-only afternoon at the spa and a dinner where she'd ended up sitting at the opposite end of the table from the man of her dreams, the hours had seemed interminable.

  The only worthwhile portion of the day had been the time Eliza got to spend with Marissa. She knew it was partly her fault she and her daughter weren't very close, and she intended to remedy that blunder if it took a lifetime. Good intentions aside, repairing her relationship with Marissa wouldn't be easy. Ever since Marissa had been old enough to walk, she'd chosen to let go of Eliza's hand and put significant distance between them. Now, at twenty-one, successful, respectable Marissa Webber was more of a grown-up than her mother would ever be.

  Gemma grunted. With a wheezing half-snore, half-hiccup, she turned over and plopped her arm across Eliza's chest. For a brief moment, Eliza envisioned grabbing the silk pillow propped against the mahogany headboard and whacking the woman over the head with it.

  Didn't that just figure. Marissa warned her that her overactive imagination would one day get her into trouble. Well, damn it, if Eliza was going to go down for having wild fantasies, she wanted to go down. Literally. On hands and knees, bowing before the mighty cock she wanted so desperately to worship.

  When Gemma shimmied a little closer and snored a heck of a lot louder, Eliza made up her mind. This was her chance to see if, with a little luck and a healthy dose of shock value, fantasies could be turned into reality. Sure, she risked making a fool of herself, but she was pretty certain that even if Jacob rejected her, he'd keep his mouth shut at least until after the wedding.

  Besides, it wasn't as if Eliza hadn't faced her share of rejection and humiliation over the years. She earned her living as a stand-up comic, for the love of Pete! Being laughed at wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to her.

  Well, it might hurt just a tad if I was naked.

  But she wouldn't be naked—at least not at first—she decided as she slipped out slowly from beneath Gemma's arm. Darn thing felt like two hundred pounds of dead weight as she fought to lift it off her. Eliza held her breath while Gemma muttered something unintelligible and flipped onto her back, then waited until the death rattles started again.

  On tiptoe, she made her way to the high-backed chair by the window, where she'd tossed the Old West costume Marissa had expected her to wear all day. The two-piece, 1880s-style formal-wear ensemble wasn't half bad. Trimmed in pretty pink lace, it came with a cream-colored jacket that ended halfway down Eliza's hip and a long shirred and bustled overskirt. Beneath, she'd worn a gauzy chemise and matching panties.

  Afraid she'd wake Gemma, who'd force her to provide explanations for plans she wasn't ready to share, Eliza gathered the garments to her chest and strolled to the door. Clad in a pair of shorts and a faded T-shirt, she wasn't worried about running into any of the other women from the wedding party. If she did, she could simply tell them she was on her way to the outhouse. And she'd justify the mountain of clothes in her arms away by...

  Well...

  Hmm...

  She'd figure that part out when and if she needed to. Her overactive imagination had its benefits. It had gotten her out of worse spots.

  She made her way down the wooden steps leading f
rom the upper floor of the inn to the entrance without incident, only letting out a soft curse when she smacked her shin against the edge of a glass-and-iron coffee table. At last, Eliza breathed a sigh of relief and opened the front door. Sultry June Texas air pasted her thin cotton shirt to her breasts.

  Humidity she could endure. It was infinitely better than the alternative.

  A little thrill shot up her spine as she darted around the far wall of the inn. Across the dusty road, a row of darkened buildings marked with wooden signs swaying in the soft breeze made up the better part of the recreated town. As she ran, she could see the brothel, the saloon, the second inn—where the men were staying tonight—and the jail. Farther away and silhouetted against the night sky stood the large barn that would serve as the reception area for the wedding tomorrow evening. A church and a small private house she couldn't make out from here completed the perimeter of Cowboy's Hideaway.

  Pressing herself against the wall at her back, Eliza held her breath and listened for a sound that would alert her to another's presence. Nothing stirred. The women had turned out their lights around 2:00 A.M. Gruff chatter and the occasional hooting laugh had streamed through the open windows from the men's inn at the time, but that had been two hours ago, and now all lights were out.

  When Eliza had arrived at Cowboy's Hideaway earlier that morning, Marissa had taken her on a quick tour of the place. While she'd pointed out various attractions, she had also mentioned that at full capacity, the recreated village could accommodate a hundred-and-sixty guests.

  Marissa and Gavin had reserved the entire village for their use this weekend, but Eliza knew that tonight only about thirty people occupied the rooms in the twin inns—mostly those in the wedding party and a few close family members who insisted on coming early. The rest of the guests would arrive in the morning.

  She cocked her head, straining to hear even the slightest noise. A horse whickered softly. A bird chirped. A cricket answered them both.

  Finally convinced she was the only person out here at this hour, she peeled herself from the wall and gave a long sigh of relief.

  So far so good. Eliza had overheard Jacob saying he'd be spending the night at his place instead of sleeping with the rest of the men at the inn. Since there was only one privately-owned house at Cowboy's Hideaway, Eliza had no trouble figuring out where to find it.

  Now she had only to change into her costume and play the role she'd acted out so often in her mind. At worst, Jacob would chalk up Eliza's behavior to the eccentricities Marissa had repeatedly warned him about. In that case, Eliza would spot a rejection a mile away and she'd bolt before embarrassing either of them any further than absolutely necessary.

  It was a heck of a gamble, but what did she really have to lose? She could have stayed in that room with Gemma and counted down the minutes until the sun came up, or she could take a risk. She'd taken plenty of those in her life. Why stop now?

  A shiver of apprehension snaked down her spine. Most of her risks revolved around stepping onto a stage in front of an audience who may or may not get her raunchy brand of comedy. Sure, she'd learned to put herself out there, and she'd gained a pretty thick skin through necessity if nothing else, but this was different.

  She wasn't putting her jokes on the line. She'd be offering her body. And through it, pieces of her self-esteem. Pieces she might never get back.

  But oh, the rewards...

  Her lashes drifted closed as she recalled the countless nights she'd spent in bed, fingers parting the plump folds of her pussy while her favorite vibrator plunged into her, again and again and again. She'd imagined it was Jacob's cock filling her, stretching her, claiming her. And she'd come, every time, with his name on her lips.

  At first, she'd thought this forbidden infatuation with a younger man would vanish once the novelty wore off, but it had only grown stronger each time she saw him. And these days, that was often. Much too often. Jacob had shown up at the bridal fittings, the cake tasting, and she'd even found him on her doorstep a time or two for no apparent reason at all. He'd made some excuse about waiting for Marissa and Gavin, but Eliza wasn't born yesterday. There was something else beneath Jacob's overeager enthusiasm to perform his role as best man.

  If Eliza hadn't known better, she'd have thought Jacob was interested in Marissa. But she'd watched the two of them together. While there was obviously a deep friendship between them, she couldn't sense any currents of sexual tension at all.

  She, on the other hand, could spontaneously combust if Jacob as much as brushed her arm with the back of his hand. Which he also did ... often.

  Heat pooled in the crotch of her panties. Her pussy pulsed with a knowing, wanton thrum. She wanted this man. And if having him meant risking potential humiliation—the kind that would make her consider moving out of Texas to, say, the moon—then she'd do it.

  Because pleasuring herself and dreaming about large, masculine hands and dark eyes shielded by the brim of a cowboy hat wasn't doing a damn thing to bring her libido, or her life, back to normal.

  Under the knowing gaze of a fat yellow moon, Eliza dropped the mountain of clothes onto the lush grass at the back of the inn. A few feet away, a field of wildflowers led to gently rolling slopes thick with trees. She couldn't see beyond them, but she figured the highway lay somewhere past the hills.

  There was no one out here to see her. No one to ask for explanations.

  Perfect.

  Her fingers brushed her stomach as she yanked the hem of her T-shirt over her head. Hot, sultry air caressed her nipples with rippling tendrils of warmth, making them stiffen to taut little points. A tingle spread from her breasts to her clit like an ethereal force connecting the two pleasure points.

  She suddenly yearned to feel the same brush of night air along the seam of her aching pussy. With slow, deliberate motions, she unzipped her shorts and let them fall to her ankles. Her panties followed, leaving her naked to the assessing eyes of a million stars.

  Her fingers drifted down the line of her stomach and plunged into the dark, neatly-trimmed curls covering her mound. The slick moisture clinging to the soft patch of fur transferred onto her skin.

  Eliza's fingertips glided over the aching bud of her clit, drawing a strangled groan from deep in her chest. It lodged in her throat and she pressed her lips tightly together, delving deeper, prodding the entrance to her soaked channel with the tips of two fingers.

  Her heartbeat quickened as a frisson zinged through her core, spreading outward from her pussy. Reluctantly, she removed her hand. She hadn't come out here to fuck herself under the stars, as romantic—and pathetic—a notion as it was.

  Still, no wonder she wanted to linger here. This was the easy part. Once she had her costume on, the real show began. It would take every ounce of courage she possessed to march down the dirt road and knock on Jacob's door. Once he flung it open, she planned to shove him into a chair and perform a stripping routine she'd only seen flawlessly executed in movies.

  More risks. More ways this could all go incredibly, embarrassingly wrong. Maybe she'd been too hasty leaving the comfort of the inn. Perhaps Jacob wasn't even home. He could have changed his mind and crashed in one of the men's rooms after a night of heavy drinking.

  She should go back. Grab her clothes and forget this entire ridiculous plan. She could blame it on temporary insanity brought on by the full moon and going way too long without a good fuck.

  A branch snapped, followed by the soft, unmistakable swish of a footstep, then another, through the grass.

  Eliza's heart leapt into her throat. She whirled around, but, before she could face her assailant, arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against a wall of muscle. Her naked body molded itself to clothing, but there was no mistaking the heat emanating from the masculine physique drawing her close.

  Cinnamon-scented breath caressed her temple. “I've got security cameras installed throughout the village, sweetheart."

  Eliza's body gave an involunta
ry spasm of protest. Her pulse did a frantic somersault, then returned to a speed resembling normal levels when she recognized that the only immediate threat was to her ego.

  "Jacob. I was—"

  The lie died on her tongue. What? Getting naked for you? Planning to seduce you? Think, damn it, think.

  "Just taking a stroll,” she managed to murmur at last.

  The rich cadence of his laughter filled the silent night and sent a wave of longing to settle deep in Eliza's chest. She wanted nothing more than to turn around, plaster her breasts to his hard torso and kiss him until he shoved her against the wall and took her right here, in front of God, the stars, the cameras and anyone else who cared to watch.

  Apprehension and the desperate need to prolong this closeness held her back. She cleared her throat. “Lovely night for a walk."

  "Lovely night for a fuck?” he echoed in that low Texas drawl. He sounded somewhat startled, but a slight predatory edge sharpened his tone.

  The tension stretching her nerves taut loosened a little, and she chuckled. “That, too."

  Jacob leaned closer, until she could feel the pointed ends of the star he wore pinned over his heart. He was still in costume, then. A surge of molten heat drenched her pussy in fresh moisture. She'd thought about ripping off that sheriff's costume so often. Or better yet, fucking him while he kept it on, and simply pulling his long, thick cock through the slit in the trousers.

  A low, frantic moan escaped her throat before she could stop it. She tried to cover it up with a cough, but instinctively knew it was too late.

  He'd heard it. His warm palm splayed and molded to her ribcage, then drifted higher, cupping the underside of her breast. When she glanced down, it was to see silver moonlight kissing the knuckles of long bronzed fingers, the tips of which pinched her nipple tight enough to send a razor-edged stab of pleasure deep into her core.

  Eliza sucked in a loud, startled breath.

  Dear God, was that ... a pistol pressed to the small of her back?