“I’m not a virgin,” she blurted.
“That’s good to know,” he nodded. “Neither am I.”
She rested her forehead on his chest and looked at the floor. “But I’m not very experienced either.”
A thundering silence filled the kitchen. Elizabeth waited and waited for some response. When it didn’t look like one was coming, she muttered, “It would be helpful if you answered that confession with, ‘Neither am I, Lizzie.’” She mimicked his deep voice. She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest before she heard it.
“So you’d want to begin our relationship on a lie,” he said and she could tell he was trying not to laugh.
“Yes,” she said seriously. “About this and only about this, I think I would be much more comfortable with an outright, blatant lie.” She stepped back, looked him up and down and started to laugh at her own foolishness. “And can you add a few dirty spots to that t-shirt and maybe mess up your hair a bit…”
He kissed her then, before she could finish her list of Things That Would Make Elizabeth Comfortable, and the room began to spin as she kissed him back. Not only because of the heady kiss, but because he’d lifted her off her feet and was twirling her in circles as he danced her to bed.
It wasn’t crisp sheets on an inflatable camp bed. It was two sleeping bags zipped together for a mattress with two blankets spread on top. She didn’t have much time to notice anything else because his hands were sliding over her hips and under the tee. Her hands weren’t idle. They were busy pulling his shirt from his jeans. They were searching for skin and when they found it, she heard herself give a satisfied mewl in answer to his growl.
His tongue continued to explore her mouth, in and out, in and out in a prelude of things to come. And when his mouth left hers, she moaned and tried to follow it. But she was too late. He’d already found the pulse of her neck and was beginning to worry it with nibbles and kisses that made her heart beat faster and harder to keep up with the wild sensations that were coursing through her body.
This wasn’t the sedate and orderly lovemaking she was used to. There was no gentle building of the heat of passion. This was fire touched to dry tinder and when he pulled her shirt over her head and peeled away her bra, she thought she would burst into flame.
His hands played over her breasts, gently at first. He sighed as if in wonder at her softness. His fingers began to play and the fine sandpaper of his calluses brought her a new awareness of body parts she’d previously thought of as only something men liked to play with. Someplace deep inside where her mind was still functioning, she felt she should be doing something, reciprocating in some way, but her body was on sensory overload, zooming along on a roller coaster and she could only hang on for the ride.
Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her shorts and he hoisted her to his waist. She wrapped her legs around him, felt the cold of his buckle against the silk of her panties and wanted them both gone. She wanted to feel him next to her, around her, inside her. She tried to tell him but her words came out as a moan.
He tilted her back and began to work on her breasts again, this time with his teeth and tongue. He suckled her like he could swallow her whole and she felt an electrifying zing of sensation travel from her breast to the juncture of her legs. He moved to her other breast, nipped her with his teeth hard enough to make her jump then laved away the small hurt with his tongue. She could only push her breast forward, begging him to do it again.
He brought her gently to the floor, half senseless with desire. He knelt between her legs and loomed above her. He tore off his shirt. Yes, yes, this is what she wanted, to feel his skin on hers, to touch him as he was touching her. But when she reached for him, he pulled away.
“Not yet, my lovely Lizzie,” he chuckled a little breathlessly. “No distractions until I finish my work.” He placed her hands to either side of her head despite her whimpering protests and took a time out to kiss her eyelids and her nose. I could spend a lifetime exploring you,” he whispered and then he smiled with a devilish grin. “No moving now.” He tapped her pebbled nipple as if it were the end of her nose.
The pause and hearing his voice gave her time to gather her wits. As wonderful as it all felt, she wasn’t sure she should lose control like this. The thought lasted all of a second and was already too late. Her control had gone the way of her clothes, flying off to who knew where.
He tasted each rib on his way down her belly. The man certainly knew how to use his tongue. She heard him chuckle as she wiggled and squirmed against his tongue as it danced in and around her navel. The roller coaster was beginning to pick up speed again when she felt his lips move to her hipbone and begin to work their way toward her center.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. This was a place no man had ever gone and that was fine with her. She was sopping. It would be embarrassing.
“Trust me, Lizzie.” He wasn’t asking. He was telling.
She watched him slide her panties down over her hips, past her thighs and knees. She gasped when he pulled them over her feet and brought them to his nose.
His eyes had turned dark and deeply blue. “They smell like you, Lizzie. They smell like a beautiful, beautiful woman.”
He began to kiss his way back up her legs to the spot where she was afraid to let him go. She couldn’t close them completely together because he was between them, but she kept them stiff.
“No, no, no,” she whispered again. “You said you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t like.”
Marshall was having none of it. “No, I said nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want.” He wiped his finger through her woman’s slit and showed her the moisture he had gathered. “I think you want this.”
His fingers began to dance. She was already aroused, tender even, when he began to play. He drove her mad with his teasing, bringing her to the edge over and over but never quite letting her fall. She moaned and moved her hips against his hand wanting more. Her legs were splayed open in complete abandon. She no longer cared. All she wanted was that sweet release she had always been denied. She felt her panic begin to rise along with the roller coaster.
“Please, please, please,” she begged. Don’t let it happen again. Not with him, not now.
Those long, beautiful fingers plunged within her and his mouth came down. His tongue tortured her until she was sure she would scream. And then she did.
His mouth came down on hers to swallow the scream as the world exploded with a force she never thought possible. Her insides quaked. Her breasts became taut and her back arched into his still thrusting hand.
She was shaking, trembling as he gathered her into his arms. She snuggled up against him, clung to him to keep her body anchored to the earth. She felt as if she could float away.
“You are beautiful and I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispered hoarsely into her hair.
And at that moment, with her ponytail gone and her hair clinging to a face covered with a fine sheen of sweat, she felt beautiful for the first time in her life.
He held her for a few moments more until her breathing was normal and then he stood and she heard him slip off his jeans. She flopped back spread eagle on the sleeping bags. She was a wonton, a hussy, a loose woman. She hadn’t an inhibition left to contend with. All were replaced by a consuming desire to please and be pleased by the man waiting above her.
“Lizzie?”
“Mmmm?”
“Open your eyes.”
“I can’t. I’m afraid they’re permanently crossed and you’d be disappointed in a cross-eyed lover.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “Open your eyes, Lizzie.”
She obeyed. “Wow!” she breathed. It wasn’t enough, but Marshall seemed to understand.
He laughed a little smugly. “No double vision?”
“No,” she said, “But something else must be wrong with my eyes. Everything seems to be a little bit larger than it ought to be.”
“A little bit!” he laugh
ed as he dove down beside her and rolled her onto his stomach. “Now that I’ve got you properly warmed up, I’ll show you what can be done with this little bit.”
Elizabeth sat astride him and leaned down to kiss him thoroughly on the lips. “Bring it on wolf.” She returned his devilish grin. “You have no idea what kind of beast you’ve created here nor how much it’s going to take to keep her satisfied.”
“You liked it then?” His grin widened.
“Let me show you just how much,” she purred. It was something Cassandra might say, but the words were Elizabeth’s. She didn’t need Cassandra anymore. The look in Marshall’s eyes told her that Elizabeth alone was quite enough.
Chapter 19
She knew she was coming awake and she fought against it and clung instead to the dream. Her backside was cold, but the heat radiating from the body beneath her was too wonderful to give up in search of covers. This rock hard chest somehow made the perfect pillow. She snuggled in closer and his arm tightened around her. She didn’t want to give that up to wakefulness either.
There was a thump. A small clang and someone hissed a startled, “Shit!” If she ignored it, it would go away. She was so, so tired. And he was so, so…
Shit? No one in an erotic dream said shit. She started to rise before her eyes were fully opened and her knee came in contact with…
“Ouwf!”
She was flipped onto her back with her hands pinned above her head. She wasn’t sure if she was more shocked that the dream was real or that Marshall’s face was contorted with pain.
“Good god woman,” he sputtered, “That’s no way to wake a man in the morning. A little rough play is one thing, but that was… hmmm, this looks nice. A ripe little berry for breakfast.”
She shushed him. “Marshall, there’s someone in the kitchen,” she whispered. He was already nuzzling her breast.
He stopped, cocked his head and listened. “So there is. Who’s in the kitchen?” he called. He went back to his nibbling.
“It’s just me. Sorry if I woke you. George is hungry.”
If Gwenna was trying for nonchalant, it wasn’t working. Her voice quivered with a suppressed giggle. Marshall however was working hard at Elizabeth’s other nipple. She wanted to smack him but he still held her hands in an iron grip.
“She’ll see us,” she whispered.
“I think she already has,” he informed her breast.
“Not like this!” What was the man thinking?
“Oh, you’re right.” He looked up at her face and grinned that devilish grin. “Would you rather be back on top?”
“Marshall!” she pleaded.
“Oh, all right.” Marshall rolled his eyes as if she were the one being contrary. He took a last reluctant taste and turned his head toward the kitchen. “You about finished in there, Gwenna?”
“Just waiting for the all clear.”
“There. You see.” He pulled the blanket over them both covering their heads as well as their bodies. “Make it quick.”
They heard the bedroom door close and faint sounds of laughter. Elizabeth let out the breath she’d been holding. She was almost in tears.
“She walked right through and there I was with my big old butt exposed for the world to see.”
He kissed her eyes and her nose. He was chuckling. Did the man not understand?
“It’s not a big old butt, it’s a lovely little rosy one and if you’ll roll over, I’ll nibble on it some more just to prove my point.”
“You think this is funny.”
His head was shaking ‘no’, but his laughter said otherwise.
She smacked his shoulder, which only made him laugh harder.
“Marshall, she saw us!” How many times did she have to say it?
He finally sobered. “What did she see, Lizzie? Gwenna’s not the type to stop and stare. She caught a glimpse of two people exhausted by lovemaking. She was thinking of George, not us. She’s probably just as embarrassed as you are. She’s a big girl, she’ll get over it.”
“She might, but I won’t,” she grumbled.
“Then it’s my job to see that you do.” He started his nibbling again alternating with nips and kisses. He worked his way up along her neck, across her cheekbone to her lips, where he whispered against them, “Besides, you owe me for waking me up with your knee in my crotch. For that, little rosy cheeks, you’re going to pay.”
And she did, but oh, what a wonderful way to start the day.
It continued that way for the rest of the day. Marshall had to leave for work and he took the path home for a shower and shave. It felt good to have him kiss her goodbye out on the front porch and give her rump an affectionate pat.
The pickup truck he had driven up in last night was hers if she wanted it. George’s final diagnosis on her car was terminal. The frame was bent and he’d found an array of other problems that would cost more than the car was worth to fix. She had no real affection for her old car and in fact, kept it only because it bugged her mother. It was one of the small victories she took so much pleasure in.
George swore the truck was a fair trade for what he figured her insurance would pay and if it wasn’t, they could bargain over the difference later. Elizabeth had never driven a truck before and for some reason the thought delighted her. She wondered aloud about getting a pretty pair of western boots and a hat to go with her new truck.
Gwenna’s snort of laughter answered that. They were sitting out back waiting for George’s brother, Carl, to pick them up. Carl was married to Eileen, co-owner of the Dizzy Dish, which made him brother-in-law to Sally Ann and Roman and he was also related to Vickie and her brother Junior, though Elizabeth hadn’t quite figured out how. She would need a flow chart to keep track of it all.
“Why can’t I get a pair of boots and a hat? You wear them.”
Gwenna was wearing a white pair of western boots that came just shy of mid-calf. They were tooled in light brown and looked absolutely gorgeous with her long legs and her skinny jeans tucked inside.
“That’s because I was born wearing them. My daddy’s pack, as a corporation mind you, owns one of the biggest spreads in Wyoming. I was riding before I could walk and I can rope a calf better than most men.” Gwenna looked over at George and winked. “Leastways most human men.”
Elizabeth didn’t doubt it. Gwenna was tall with broad, muscular shoulders. Her blunt fingered hands were sinewy with strength and her stride was long and sure.
“Better than the grease monkey she married,” George added proudly.
“How on earth did you two meet?”
“Eugene Begley,” Gwenna offered without the slightest hesitation. “He came on a visit at a time when I was feeling antsy and ready to get on with my life. He told me about a wolver he knew who owned his own business and I wrote George a letter and he wrote back. We wrote back and forth with a few phone calls in between and then Daddy told me how my name came up at a Council Meeting concerning a possible marriage with the High Plains pack.” She reached for George’s hand and squeezed it tight. “The Double W runs a pretty tight outfit and keeps a close eye on its women. I knew they’d be choosing a mate for me soon, but I didn’t think it would be that soon. I tried to tell Daddy I didn’t want it, but he wouldn’t listen. This mating would improve his standing in the pack. So-o-o-o, Mama helped me run away.”
“To George,” Elizabeth finished.
Gwenna laughed delightedly. “And don’t think for a minute it didn’t shock him silly to find me standing on his doorstep.”
“By her letters, I thought she was a might older.” George was a good deal older than his mate.
Elizabeth smiled and nodded, but she couldn’t believe in this day and age women were still bartered in marriage. “So once you found George, everything was okay.”
“Well, not exactly. The Double W sent representatives,” Gwenna curled her lip in derision, “To bring me back, but the deed was done and George said the only way I was going back was over his dead bod
y.”
“To which the ugliest of the three said ‘We can do that’ and they proceeded to beat hell out of me.” George took up the tale. “Bless her sweet soul, Eileen saw them go into the shop and thought they looked mean. She called Marshall. He helped me fight them off and when they said they’d be back, Marshall called the Double W and issued a Challenge by Moonlight. Fair fight, witnessed by three outside packs, three on three. We held it right up here at the Home Place, ‘course ole Connor lived up here then.”
Carl’s big Buick pulled up the drive and George and Gwenna rose to meet him.
“Wait!” Elizabeth wailed, “You can’t leave it there. What happened?”
George shrugged in bewilderment. “We won and I didn’t get kilt. Gwenna’s still my mate and the Double W knows to keep their noses on the other side of the country or we’ll whup ‘em again.” What more was there to say?
Elizabeth watched the dust settle behind the Buick. There were so many stories here and so many people talented in ‘the tellin’. She knew the tradition came from a time when these hills were isolated from the rest of the world; a time when cash money was scarce and needed for more important things than books; a time before electricity brought television and computers.
So many of these stories began with words like, “I heard tell of a feller,” or “My Granny told me of a woman onct.”
She’d listened to the women swap stories while they waited for the sun to set. She’d laughed along with them and shed a few tears for people she had never met. But that was the point, wasn’t it? These stories didn’t have to be about people you knew. They were about the human condition. They took place in these hills, but their appeal was universal.
She’d never write a novel. She’d known that in her heart from the very beginning. She couldn’t. Her mind wasn’t given to flights of fancy. That didn’t mean she couldn’t write a book. Her strength was in research. Her mind was geared for the compilation of data. She should be looking at non-fiction or a non-fiction compilation of possibly fictitious tales.
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