ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories)

by Jane Prescott

  “Fuck, I'm going to come,” Jerry said, even though he was already coming. “Holy fuck it feels so good to come in your pussy. Fuck your pussy feels good. And I love your fucking tits.”

  After Bell slipped off him to lay on the sheets panting Jerry got on his knees in front of Dillard and started sucking his dick to get him hard again. Bell's eyes grew wide like she'd never even seen anything remotely close to this before, but she didn't protest or make a sound. After a few moments she wriggled over to the side of the bed closest to the action so she could get a good view. Within a few minutes Dillard's cock was huge and throbbing, which turned on Jerry so much that his own cock grew larger and larger. He was excited. It was time to fuck again and Bell was already running her fingers through her slit.

  “Are you fucking ready, baby?” Jerry asked. “Do you want to take two big cocks like the slut that you are? I know that you do. I know that you want to take two big cocks like a fucking whore, don't you?”

  “I do, daddy,” Bell said. “I want you both to fuck me as hard as you can. Can you please do that for me daddy? Can you please both pound my pussy?”

  “We'll pound more than just that you little whore,” Dillard said as he tugged on his cock.

  Bell got on all fours with her ass facing them. Jerry wasn't sure what she wanted but he knew what he wanted to do. So he got behind her and put his cock head against her asshole. Bell leaned back into it, signaling that she wanted it in her ass. Jerry slid in as slowly as he could and then started thrusting slowly. Gradually he worked his tempo up from very slow to a steady rhythm that threatened to make him come. He didn't want to come, though, he wanted to keep going and going, working her little asshole like it had never been worked before. Just when he wondered if she'd be able to handle him fucking her even harder Dillard slid up behind him and started to massage his asshole. Jerry loved the way Dillard's giant cock head felt against his sphincter, so he perked his ass backward and up so that Dillard would have the most amount of access possible. Dillard slid in slowly and soon they were fucking in unison.

  “Oh yes,” Bell moaned. “Yes, fuck me harder. Fuck me harder while he fucks you in the ass. Fuck me baby! Fuck me harder! You know how much I love it. I know you know how much I love it. So please, fucking fuck my ass! I need you to fuck me harder, I really do. I can't have it any other way. Harder! Harder!”

  In an effort to fuck her harder both men were thundering away at the asshole in front of them. Dillard wasn't going to last much longer though, Jerry could tell by how hard Dillard's cock was.

  “Oh fuck, I'm going to come,” Dillard said. “I'm trying not to but I'm going to come anyway. Fuck!”

  Jerry could feel Dillard coming inside of his ass and it made him come.

  “Fuck! Now I'm coming!”

  Bell just moaned as her ass was filled up with his spunk. She loved it and kept bucking her hips back into him long after he'd stopped coming. Then they all crawled onto the bed and fell asleep together.

  A knock at the door woke up Jerry. He got up quickly from bed and answered it. The other two were still out and he made sure not to wake them by slipping out in the hall to talk to the people gathered there.

  “Hello, my name is Sheriff Pat,” Pat said.

  Pat and Jerry went way back. They'd been hating each other ever since Pat first came to the front range a few years ago to be a law man after not being able to cut it out east or down in Arizona.

  “I know who you are,” Jerry said.

  “Well that's good because it makes things a hell of a lot simpler,” Pat said. “I'm here to get you folks the fuck out of here before anything else happens that disturbs the peace. I know that you think that you can run around my state just shooting at people and doing whatever you want, but that just isn't the case anymore. The front range is growing, and unless we keep stuff like this to a minimum it won't have room for people like you or me. I know that sounds crazy, but I swear that is what's happening.”

  “A second ago you were acting like you didn't know me,” Jerry said with a sarcastic voice.

  “Don't think I won't knock you out for being a dumb ass,” Pat said. “And yeah, I'm an asshole sometimes. I guess you'll have to get over it.”

  “Let me grab my people and we'll be out.”

  Jerry slipped back in the room and found the other two already dressed. They all exited and headed down to Sheriff Pat's caravan of stagecoaches and posse of people out front of the hotel. Once all three of them were safely in a stagecoach they looked back at the hotel as they rolled away form it. Bullet holes peppered the building’s facade, which was funny because Jerry didn't remember seeing any muzzle flashes.

  “Dillard . . .” Jerry started but trailed off.

  “I didn't see any muzzle flashes either,” Dillard said. “Makes me wonder if they don't have some kind of muzzle devices that mask the flash, or maybe they were shooting through blankets or something that would hide the flash and muffle the noise but would allow the bullet to pass through.”

  After that all three settled into a brooding silence as they slowly passed through Denver toward the bank. It wouldn't be long now, Jerry though, and hopefully all of this would be behind them. Or would it all be behind them? Just as Sheriff Pat had just pointed out, the front range was growing and leaving people like him and Dillard behind. Maybe the future that was in front of them had to do with protecting banks and people like Bell. Maybe this was the first step down a road toward a sustainable future instead of a future that was obscure through gun smoke and whiskey filled fever dreams. He wasn't sure though. It all seemed a little too good to be true, that he and Dillard would just be put out to pasture at a bank. Surely the bandits would hit the bank, and then what? Then would the bank employees help them repulse those that would come aboard and steal, or would the bank employees be too afraid to do anything and just watch as Dillard and Jerry were killed in front of the.

  Jerry tried not to think about the future as the stagecoach made its way through town. All he thought about was what was right in front of him, Bell. Bell was an utterly beautiful woman. She was smart too, and great in bed. Pretty much everything that Jerry had always wanted. He never thought that he'd end up asking a woman that he and Dillard had both just fucked out on a date, but here he was, about to.

  “Uh, Bell . . .“ Jerry started and stopped.

  “Yes Jerry?” she replied.

  “I was wondering, after the ribbon cutting thing today, or whatever goes on, if you were busy tonight. Or if you had any plans or anything like that.”

  Bell looked like she didn't know what to do at first. It was probably a first for her as well, that a man that had just shared her with another man would then try to spend time with her in a romantic sense after that.

  “Well, I guess, nothing really . . .” Bell trailed off this time.

  Jerry wasn't sure what to say, so instead he switched seats so he was sitting with Bell and held her hand. She kept looking out the window nervously. Jerry glanced back at Dillard who gave him a knowing smile. Pat had been right, the front range was growing smaller and Jerry wanted to get out of the game they were playing. He wanted to cash out and be with a beautiful woman and keep Dillard as a friend. He hoped Dillard would understand, already knowing that he would. Hell, Jerry figured, Dillard will probably want to come with me!

  The bank was starting to sound less of an option in his head as they approached it, and could see it with their eyes. There were other things they could be. They could be policemen for all anyone here was concerned. They pretty much were already, even if it was just by happenstance and nothing else that drove them to do what they did. When they got to the bank everyone gathered around to watch Bell cut the ribbon. Right before she cut it she paused and smiled big at Jerry.

  Afterward there was a party, and the rest of Bell's and Jerry's life together. Dillard and Jerry would become officers of the law after that, and their reputation would help keep the front range peaceful for decades to come. The bank
prospered and in turn brought a great economic boom to the area. Everyone was happy, especially Sheriff Pat. Without Jerry and Dillard running around stirring everything up trouble could be handled at the old Sheriff's pace, which was one that went slow but never stopped.

  THE END

  Fated to His Kiss

  “You will be my wife,” Henry said, preening away.

  “I will do no such thing!” cried Anabelle, indignant. “When I am grown, I will be my own lady, own my own stables, and no husband or brother or father will tell me what I am to do with myself.”

  “But Anabelle,” pleaded Henry earnestly, “that is not what wives DO.”

  “But I will,” said Anabelle, tossing the ball they were throwing around deep into the lake. “I will be my own person.”

  She knew that her mother would not be happy to hear her saying these things, but eight year old Anabelle Givens frankly did not give a damn, even though she knew damn was a bad word because of God. But if she could not share it with the neighbor boy, who was so close to her in age that it almost did not count, who could she share it with?

  Henry Princely, aged eleven years and three months, did not know quite what to make of the fire-locked girl before him. On one hand, she had been taking over all of his toys and mastering riding lessons well before he did, and on the other, she was so darned interesting to look at. It was certain that her sister, Isadora, was much whispered over by his parents because of her lovely blond hair, but he much preferred the way Anabelle did not seem to care much at all if her own red hair was brushed or not. He had started coming over every day ever since their parents had decided that the racing track was all the rage and begun attending such events together, and it was Anabelle who always set the pace for their explorations.

  The grounds of the Given family household were not extensive, but Anabelle always found the most marvelous games to play. Once, it was that they were pirates of the pond, hunting for treasure, and once, it was a giant tree with a huge knothole in hit where she showed him she hid all of the things that mattered to her. Anabelle was his friend, although he would not admit it to any of the boys he went to school with. He was almost a man now, and it would not do to be playing with a girl, except for the fact that he did not enjoy himself nearly so much playing military constantly. What else was there to do but to marry Anabelle so that he could play with her all the time and nobody else would be the wiser? Except that she was so resistant to the idea!

  “You will be my wife,” Henry insisted, following his ball’s trajectory into the water. It landed with a resounding splash and bobbed up again after a minute.

  “Never!” she cried, and seeing Henry’s outrage, she fled.

  She ran like the wind. It was oxygen to her, the way her feet carried her further and further away. When she ran, she felt invincible. It was a shock to hear him coming up behind her, gaining on her, the heavy breath and fall of his footsteps coming ever closer. Her lungs burned with the expenditure, and she knew she could push herself no further. Ahead of her, the stable doors were opened, and although she knew there was no escape, she could see no other path for her to take.

  She barreled towards the doors as if her life depended on it. She knew that gently raised young ladies did not run like this, but her father was not home and she did not care; there was nobody to watch. Besides, the tall walls of the stables offered many places to hide, as did the ladder leading up to the hayloft, located high up so that it was out of everybody’s business. She scrambled for it and climbed, feeling Henry grab at the folds of her skirt as she climbed high out of reach. Hearing him utter a curse behind her, she let loose a giddy, breathless laugh and used the last of her energy to reach the top of the ladder and collapse into a hayloft. She was taller than Henry, and prayed fervently that he would not be able to reach the ladder. The lack of air getting to her brain made her laugh slightly hysterical and uncontrollable, but she did not care. When she leaned over the edge to look below, Henry wore a slightly confused look on his face that made her laugh even harder.

  “Guess you can’t reach me now, can you, Lord Princely?” she taunted, her unruly red locks hanging over her face as she called out to the boy below.

  “Why will you not marry me, Anabelle?” he asked, feeling more choked up than he thought was appropriate.

  Anabelle considered this. “Because I do not want anybody to tell me what to do,” she finally said.

  He looked up at her only once, then backed up several paces, and with a running leap, made for the ladder she had just climbed -and made it. Hanging on with a grip that must have pained him, Henry Princely climbed the ladder just as she had, and Anabelle felt her breath catch. She realized he would gain upon her soon, and all would be lost! Panicking, she looked for a way out, but as she looked out beyond the tiny perimeter of the hayloft, she knew that the only exit that was not being taken over by a determined boy was a perilous fall all the way down all the way next to Pauncy, her beloved horse. There was only one answer. Anabelle began to dig.

  She made a well in the hay, a ditch, a space for her body to fit into. It did not make any sense, she knew, but it was the only thing she could think of. Besides, it added to the game and would surely through Princely off track. She buried herself inside of the pungent straw entirely, and held her breath as Henry’s face came up over the edge of the hayloft.

  She could not see him, but she could hear his hesitation clearly. A bubble of laughter worked its way to Anabelle’s throat, but she willed it shut and willed her body to stop shaking from all the laughter. He began to claw through the hay, and it was not long before she felt the weight of his body on her, the strangest sensation she had encountered in her entire life. He was on top of her, pinning her down with his body, and he was heavier than she would have thought possible. Henry was in control now, and it was a thought that thrilled her for no particular reason she could possibly name at the time. Hands were raking the hay off her face, and light was dawning above Anabelle.

  “Marry me,” he demanded.

  “You will ask forever, and my answer will still be no!” she shouted, exhilaration filling her senses, triumphant even in the face of being dominated.

  Suddenly, her face was thrown into the streaks of sunlight that were shining directly into the hayloft, and Lord Henry Princely’s tiny face was peering directly into hers.

  It was a moment when time stood literally still. Too young to know what was happening to them, too simple to understand the rush of emotions coursing through their bodies, Anabelle Givens and Henry Princely stared hard at each other, both of them breathing hard. And then, before he had any idea he was doing anything in particular, Henry Princely mashed his mouth against hers.

  It wasn’t the sensation of it but rather the act itself that amazed Anabelle wholly. His mouth was a little grimy and wet, and neither one of them had any idea what this could or should mean; Henry had acted purely on impulse upon seeing how pretty Anabelle’s eyes looked shining in the light of the sun. He had seen his father do this to his mother countless times, and had always imagined that since his mother was so pretty, this was the exact course of action he should take. Anabelle, on her part, was changed forever in a way which she might never be able to put words to. In that moment, she had crossed over from a plane where she and Henry were equals, two snotty-nosed playmates, into territory where an imbalance of power would plague them forever. It was an adult world, and it was heady.

  With a loud smacking noise, Henry broke away from Anabelle’s mouth, and she did the only thing she could think of to do—she whacked him upside the head.

  He was still clutching it when she ambled down the hayloft ladder, nimble as a cat. How was he to know how badly her stick-thin legs were shaking and how hard her too-young heart was pounding? She ran until her legs burned, ran until she collapsed in her bed, startling all the servants on the way, and ran until she could outrun the idea of what had just occurred. It settled on her finally in bed, and she turned over, staring at the
crown moldings on the ceiling, reveling in the rush of emotions until the housemaid called her down to dinner.

  10 YEARS LATER

  “Your Grace.”

  “Your Grace.”

  “Your Grace.”

  “Your Grace.”

  And then the trio of men collapsed into laughter.

  So they were all in the cups, though Henry Princely. Was that so bad? He himself chose not to imbibe these days, but perhaps that was from his time abroad more than anything else. It had proved difficult to maintain the ever-popular lifestyle of drinking until cards, cards until dinner, dinner until women, and women until marriage when he had been doing his Grand Tour. His father had managed to procure some connections with the royal houses of Rome and Madrid, and Henry had enjoyed the lavishness he had been presented with when he was there. But when he stepped out of the palace to his own quarters, he had happened upon the starving children in the slums there in one city and then the next, and the disparity between the wealth of the privileged few and the underserved had struck him most acutely, had sobered him into seriousness earlier than he had expected. When he had hasten back to London due to his father’s illness, the remains of that particular lifestyle had disappeared entirely, and Henry’s days had become a familiar routine of bills, nurses, and keeping all the decanters around his home empty for his mother had become well-acquainted with that particular devil in her struggle to cope with the happenings-on.

  Truth be told, there was little amusing about the fact that he had now inherited his father’s title almost a year hence and had been mired in an ocean of paperwork when he could have been grieving for what had gone on. But when his London friends decided upon that little formal greeting, they had been unable to resist addressing each other in turn until the hilarity of the appointments had washed over them all as they shook hands. Maintaining that they all now had new responsibilities was perhaps not amusing in the conventional sense, but Henry preferred it this way—it was easier to laugh than to cry, and he felt the old camaraderie settle over him like a balm.