Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  “Those words have haunted me,” he said, moving on top of her. “I’ve never been able to shake that memory.”

  “Then it’s time to make some new ones.”

  Feeling his hardened need against her hip, she wrapped a leg around his waist as Prent sighed and kissed her forcefully. Miranda arched into him until he broke the kiss, growling his approval. He brought his lips to her neck, quickly moving to her breasts where he teased and tortured her until she was moaning in a mixture of delight and agony.

  Prent’s mouth migrated lower, first finding the valley between her breasts until his tongue raked the line between her curls and the soft skin of her lower tummy. She sucked in a sharp breath as his hand claimed her wetness, stroking her languidly as his mouth moved up along her body and discovered her belly button. His thumb found her hard nub, and she bucked her hips involuntarily as Prent increased the pressure to her most sensitive place.

  “I know what you need,” he said, briefly removing his mouth from her body but continuing to stroke her core. He reached and found a large pillow and shoved it under Miranda’s hips. “That’ll make it better.”

  He slipped two fingers into her as his thumb remained on her clit, and Miranda clenched around him in welcome. He shuddered then smirked before lowering his head between her open legs.

  She gasped as his lips and tongue raked along her wet divide, moving up and down until he began to suck and flick her clit, all while keeping at least two fingers inside her walls.

  Moaning his name, Miranda fell into a dark, hot oblivion as Prent pleasured her and pushed her toward climax. Unable to grasp his head, she flung her arms out to the side of her body, her left immediately warmed by the fire. She clasped some small pillows and the quilts, kneading them tightly in her hands as the tension in her body bubbled and danced through her being with anticipation.

  When Prent slipped a third finger into her and curled it just a little as he sucked her hard, the explosion hit her. Her hips rose from the pillow, Prent’s fingers still inside her as she clenched around him in waves of shattering ecstasy.

  Panting and trembling, Miranda opened her eyes to see Prent hovering above her, looking mildly smug before giving her a kiss. His prideful look then changed, and his face bore the suppressed longing of a thousand lonely days. Knowing she was the object of his long-denied need, Miranda shivered and sensed a reckoning in the offing.

  After readjusting the pillow under her, Prent returned his hand to her entrance, sweeping over the swollen flesh.

  “So wet,” he rasped. “So ready.”

  She reached for his erection, feeling his length in her hand for the first time since they last made love over two years earlier.

  “It seems you’re ready as well,” she countered, her eyes half-lidded and her head lolling back onto the pillow as she stroked him.

  Prent batted her hand away and fell upon her in a near-frenzy, his mask of restraint falling away to reveal the passion she knew he had long contained. His mouth was on her breasts once more, this time sucking and licking harder than she could remember. It was rough and sudden, but she welcomed the difference and felt powerful, knowing she had the ability to drive him to this point of madness. His hand moved to her center, where he put a finger into her while pressing down hard on her clit.

  “I want to make this the best ever for you, Miranda,” he said, bringing his face inches above hers as she squirmed underneath him.

  “If it isn’t, do you promise to keep trying?”

  He slipped his hand from her, grabbed a condom packet, and held it up.

  “We’ll keep trying until we run out of these,” he declared and ripped the thing open.

  Miranda snatched the condom from him, and Prent perched himself on his knees before her. Sitting up, she dipped her head, kissed the tip of his shaft, and dragged her tongue around the head before rolling on the condom. Prent seemed helpless under her touch, gazing down at her with barely-restrained desire. Once her hands left him, however, Prent took control.

  Putting his palms on her inner thighs, he spread her and again brought his mouth to her clit, sucking hard until she was breathless.

  “Tell me when to stop,” he said roughly. “Tell me when you want me inside you, Miranda.”

  “Now…,” she moaned and moved her legs apart a little further to invite him.

  He rose over her, kissed her hard, and brushed against her opening. Miranda reached between their bodies, claimed him, and guided him inside her.

  Prent gasped and froze.

  “Don’t move or I’ll come right now, and that’s not how I want this to end.”

  “Nor do I,” she said, barely daring to speak.

  Her arms rested limply at her sides, and Prent was above her, a sexual, sensual canopy of flesh, scent, and sensation. She wanted to reach for him, pull him closer and to clench around him but knew that any little movement would risk their extraordinary reunion being a very brief one.

  Miranda watched him as he tried to regain control of his body. His eyes were closed, and he trembled as he held himself above her on long, strong arms. His muscles twitched and flexed, with shadow and light moving across his skin like a blanket of desire and power.

  Prent sighed and opened his eyes, and Miranda could feel some of the tenseness leave his body as the likelihood of his quick climax ebbed. He licked his lips, and his eyes bore into hers, a mixture of relief and pride reflected there. She brought her arms to his neck, wrapped her legs around him, and clenched against him.

  “Miranda…”

  It was the sexiest, neediest thing she’d ever heard him say.

  Prent began to move faster as did she, and Miranda was most grateful for the elevated position of her hips on the large pillow. Prent’s angle of penetration was perfect, and he kept hitting the sweetest mark inside her with every thrust. Miranda found herself ascending that sensual, tense crest as Prent’s need became greater. Unable to stop, Miranda’s hips moved of their own accord against and around him until she felt him pull back a little.

  “I’m closer,” he said warningly. “So let’s do something a little different.”

  Prent moved in and out of her in very shallow strokes, and she felt his entire body tense against her; she knew he was fighting the urge to slam into her hard, repeatedly, and with abandon, to seek the climax he was willingly delaying for her own satisfaction.

  Her hips slowed to meet him as Miranda savored the new sensations. His technique was effective, and she soon felt the delectable tenseness building between her legs. She would have been more than happy to climax with him drawing out her pleasure with his short strokes, but Prent once more surprised her. Slightly shifting his weight to one side and supporting himself with one, tense arm, he placed the thumb of his opposite hand on her clit and caressed her in soft circles.

  She immediately ground against him, enveloping his full length until he was buried as deeply as possible inside her. Miranda shuddered as her orgasm coursed through her body, her hips leaving the pillow to meet Prent’s thrusts. Her body limp and spent, Prent plunged into her, claiming her again. He stilled and tensed, then like a raging yet expected storm, groaned her name as his climax overwhelmed him.

  Prent fell onto her, nearly knocking the breath from her. Too exhausted and overwhelmed to move or speak, they lay together for several seconds until Prent had the strength to slip out of her and collapse at her side. After several quick, passionate kisses, Prent stole away to dispose of their protection.

  Miranda whimpered upon his departure, moved the pillow from under her hips, and covered herself with a quilt, falling asleep during his short absence. Prent’s return barely roused her until he swept her into his arms and pressed his sweat-slickened body against her own.

  “In case I forgot to mention it, I love you,” he said, their faces nearly touching.

  “And I love you,” she whispered before succumbing to a consuming and inescapable sleep.

  16

  Miranda stirred a
wake, startled by her complete lack of attire and her inability to recognize her surroundings. Sitting straight up, she looked at the blazing fire. and realized she was at Prent’s house.

  Although Prent was nowhere to be seen.

  Standing, she wrapped the quilt around her and glanced down at the detritus of a sex-soaked night.

  Her clothes were littered atop and beside the couch, mingled with Prent’s own cast-off garments. Close to the edge of the quilt were the unused condom packets, abandoned little tiles in a sexual mosaic.

  Then there were the three torn packets.

  After their first round of lovemaking, they had fallen asleep for a few hours. Miranda had awakened with Prent spooned tightly to her and kissing the nape of her neck. When he announced it was a few minutes to the New Year and suggested they break out a bottle of champagne or sip some Old Garnet to toast new beginnings, Miranda proposed a very different way to ring in the New Year. She rolled over to face him, kissed him, and moved her hand between their bodies to stroke him. They ended up making love with her on top, and she rode Prent to another explosive climax.

  After that joining, they once more dozed in each other’s arms for the next several hours until Prent awoke and poured them flutes of champagne. After downing a few glasses, they again fell into each other, with Prent taking her from behind. It was not a sexual position she preferred—she had only made love in the position once, with Prent years ago—but there was something about the night and the fever-pitch of their sexual reunification that made her not only willing to try it but eager to suggest it. Prent happily took up the challenge, and she peaked once more that night, after which Miranda sorely needed the support of the pillows he had propped underneath her as Prent sought his release, grasping her hips as he came hard.

  With the quilt wrapped around her like a stately robe, Miranda padded toward the kitchen where she smelled coffee and something baking. But once she was there, her attention was immediately consumed by the vision through the long line of windows along the kitchen wall.

  “Come look at the catastrophe,” Prent said, startling her. He was making coffee and wearing a pair of boxers and an old T-shirt bearing the cooperage logo.

  He offered her his hand, and she took it, causing her to adjust the quilt around her like a bandage. Miranda walked with him to the windows and gazed in awe at a brutally transformed landscape.

  As the dull light of dawn bled from the southeast into a limestone-gray sky, every surface shimmered under a thick layer of ice as far as the eye could see. Each tree, twig, leaf, power line, blade of grass—everything—was coated in a clear crystal cocoon as though the entire world had been flash frozen.

  The lighter objects, like tree branches and taller areas of grass, bent under the heavy weight in fearful deference to Mother Nature’s power. Huge icicles hung from the eaves, and not one of the tips bore the faintest traces of water dripping from the ends.

  It was a cold and frozen wasteland unfurled before them, and they were trapped on their own little island of warmth and refuge.

  “Like this for most of the state, according to the reports. Snow is underneath all that, at least four or five inches. Roads are impassable either due to that or the downed power lines and trees. We’re gonna be here for a while, my dear.” He put his arm around her and drew her close.

  “Have you called your mother? Your uncle?”

  “They’re both housebound, of course. I’m not too worried about Mom—she has gas heat. But she does have the flu, so I’ll have to keep checking on her. Kurt said he was fine and planned on getting to work tomorrow,” Prent said with a laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

  “I’d better check my phone for messages,” Miranda said. “I wasn’t on call last night or today, but my mother is out there in Perryville alone. And she doesn’t have gas heat.”

  Prent held Miranda a little tighter about the waist and kissed her temple before she left the kitchen.

  “Give your mom my regards,” he taunted.

  “I don’t know how I’ll explain being here,” she said.

  “Is an explanation really necessary?” he asked, turning and putting his back to the window as he grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter.

  “No,” she said softly with a smile.

  She stared a little at him, openmouthed. Even though he had a shirt on, it was a little tight, and with the light behind him, his muscular form was in perfect relief. Her smile broadened as she anticipated the hours and days ahead and how they would pass the time together, trapped by ice and creating their own heat indoors.

  After retrieving her phone, Miranda sat on the couch in front of the fire, happy for the warmth. Although the house had some heat, Prent had been right; the chill was substantial, and she suspected they would be living (and loving) in front of the fireplace for the foreseeable future.

  After checking her messages and happily noting that no patients had called with emergencies, she saw that both her mother and Maisie had left messages exhorting her to call and expressing concern for her safety. She dialed her mother first, and to her surprise and relief, Maisie picked up.

  “Yeah, we decided to ride this out together,” Maisie explained in a decidedly cranky tone. “I came over last night just as the snow was turning to ice. Figured it was better to be in town rather than out where I live during this disaster.” Maisie lived in a house close to the state historic site and a few miles out of town. But in a disaster like an ice storm, being stranded that far out in the country was akin to being lost at sea. “No power, of course. Same for you?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Miranda hedged.

  “Don’t tell me Bourbon Springs was spared,” Maisie said. “Are you up there right now all warm and snug?”

  “Warm and snug, yes. In Bourbon Springs, no. I’m at Prent’s place.”

  “Oh, my!” exclaimed Maisie. “And what a sweet little New Year you must be having! Cuddled up right now with him in front of the fire?”

  “Shut up. Mom will hear you!”

  “Like you can get out of telling Mom where you are!”

  “I actually came over here for a dinner party last night and ended up staying because of the storm.”

  “Yeah, a naked dinner party for two, right?”

  “He actually invited over his mom, uncle, and another person, but two got sick and the other ditched us.”

  “Well, it sounds like you’re dealing quite well being icebound with Mister Toasty Pants.”

  “Mister what?”

  “Well, you did let it slip once that Prent was quite the bedroom athlete and—”

  “Maisie!”

  “I bet you two had fun last night,” she teased.

  “Look, just tell Mom that I’m fine, will you?”

  “Oh, you’re not getting off that easily, sis. Besides, don’t you think she would like to know where you are? I mean, it’s a natural disaster out there. Thousands are without power. Roads, schools, government offices are closed, and people are going nuts.”

  “Well, put your mind at ease. I happen to be in a perfectly cozy place,” Miranda said.

  “I’ll bet you are!”

  “What I meant was that Prent has a generator and fuel to last a few days. It’s a little cold in the house, but we do have power and a big fire. So as far as being safe, I’m probably better off here than in Craig County although how I’m going to get back home is beyond me right now. I might have to call the sheriff to pick me up if they can get out here.”

  “They do that?”

  “For emergency personnel, yes,” Miranda said. “I’m one of only two OB/GYNs in Bourbon Springs, so they’ll probably send a posse out to look for me eventually.”

  “I guess state park workers don’t warrant a search party.”

  “Probably not. And where would you go? Home? Work?”

  “I’ll be lucky if I can walk the few blocks to the grocery store. And they probably don’t have power. So has he already asked you to marry him again? Is ther
e a date for the wedding yet?” Maisie continued to taunt.

  “Shut it!”

  Maisie laughed but was quickly stilled.

  “Oh, wait—uh—here’s Mom. She wants to talk to you.”

  Before Miranda could get in another word, her mother was on the line.

  “Are you safe?” her mother asked.

  “Yes. I’m at Prent’s place.” Miranda decided to just put it out there rather than try to keep it from her mother, especially since Miranda sensed that she and Prent were back together for good.

  “You’re where?”

  Miranda provided her mother with the same explanation of events—but obviously not the details—of what had happened the previous evening.

  “I’m warm and safe, and we have power for at least the next day or so.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful for at least that.”

  “Are you two safe?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes. We’ve made a fire and have plenty of firewood.”

  Miranda explained that she hoped to get back home within the day, depending on conditions and the kindness of the Van Winkle County Sheriff. Prent’s house was in Van Winkle County, just a mile or so south of the Craig County line. If one sheriff could get her to the border, she suspected that she could rely upon Kyle Sammons’s good graces to get her to her medical practice or the hospital, wherever she was more needed. She knew Brad Byrd could cover for her for a while if necessary but not for days on end.

  “So I guess you and Prent are really back together?” her mother lamented with a sense of resigned finality.

  “Yes, I already told you that.” Miranda wasn’t going to tell her that the deal had really been sealed three mind-blowing times during the night and instead reminded her that the reconciliation with Prent was hardly news.

  “I just don’t understand, Miranda,” her mother said.

  Miranda ignored the invitation to argue and chose to conclude the call. After promising to keep her family updated on her location and extracting the same confirmation from them, she dropped the phone into her lap and considered the conversations she’d just had.