by Em Petrova
“Mrs. Dalton, welcome to your humble home for the next few weeks until I’ve got a house ready for you.”
Or months. At the rate it was taking them to build Hank’s home, he and Maya wouldn’t be in a place for a year. He shoved the thought aside and focused on the rose-lipped vixen sprawled on the mattress.
Her juices still coated his fingers, her aroused scents socking him hard. He stuck his two fingers in his mouth and sucked.
A soft noise left her, and his forced himself to focus on going slow.
“Where’d your tie go?” she asked, eyes soft.
“Last I saw it, Beck had it around his head.”
She giggled. “Oh yes. He was quite a hit on the dance floor.”
“When he smacked old Mrs. Turner on the behind, I thought she’d punch his teeth out. But she just laughed.” He shook his head. As he stared down at his bride, all thoughts of the reception fled.
He closed his fingers over his shirt buttons and began to free each one. She watched, tracing her lower lip with his tongue.
As he noted the fire in her eyes, he realized this marriage was more than a green card to her too. She’d been so responsive. There was no faking attraction or desire.
Slowly he peeled his shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor.
“You’re just going to leave your shirt there?” she asked.
“Yep.” He reached for her feet. Each boot was well-crafted. Good quality. And they molded to her shapely calves like a second skin. Holding her gaze, he pulled off one then the other.
And laughed.
Under the boots she wore bright blue socks.
“Somethin’ blue?”
“Yep,” she imitated him with his own drawl. Then she tugged a chain around her neck, lifting a pendant into view. A cross. “My mother’s.”
“She would have been so happy to see your smiling face today,” he said.
She nodded.
His face creased into a grin as he stripped off her socks. Then he raised her ankle and brought it to his lips. The bones were fine beneath his mouth and tongue. As he kissed and licked up to the inside of her knee, she twisted her fingers into the covers.
Lightly, he sank his teeth into her flesh, and she arched upward.
So responsive. So beautiful.
“I want to touch you.” Her voice came out as a rasp.
He eased onto the mattress, covering her with his body as the sofa springs groaned and squeaked. They shared a laugh.
“First thing we buy is a new bed.”
“Yes.” Breathless now, she caressed his shoulders down to his chest, her gaze tracking her exploration. The way her eyes darkened told him how much she enjoyed touching him. Pride for all the hard work that had sculpted his body burned in his chest.
She fanned her fingers over his pecs, her pinkies brushing his nipples.
He sucked in a breath.
“You like that?” she cooed.
His throat was tight, his jeans tighter. “I like everything you do to me.” It was true. Even when she argued with him, he got a kick out of it.
She flicked his nipples a second time, and he swooped in for a kiss. Her mouth was hot and delicious. Each thrust of his tongue was met by hers, and she rocked her hips into him.
He let her feel all his weight—and every inch. She moaned, and he ground his hips.
Tearing his mouth free, he said, “I want this to last forever, but truth is, I’m pretty pent up after waiting for you so many days.”
She blinked. “We’ve only known each other a few days.”
“Yeah, and it was enough to drive me crazy. Besides, I feel as if I knew you for weeks before you got off the plane.”
“Surely you weren’t excited by that horrible photo my father gave you.” She chuckled.
He nibbled her lower lip. “The picture started me thinking about you in a lot of ways. Wondering about your personality. Your voice, your laugh.” He kissed a path to her ear and sank his teeth into her lobe. She squirmed, but he had her pinned.
Strange, but he wanted to keep her talking. Part of her charm was her sassy mouth, and he wanted her playful in bed—to set the tone for all their years to come.
“What do you think of my…” her breathing hiccupped as he poked his tongue into her ear, “laugh?”
He raised his head. “Like a hyena’s.”
She stilled—then fought him like a mountain lion. Laughing, he took several cuffs in the ear and a punch to the ribs.
“A hyena! You better believe you won’t be hearing much of my laugh if you say things like that to your wife.”
The word “wife” stopped them both. He braced himself on his elbows but kept her knees trapped under his in case she got any ideas about rooting him in the balls. The last thing he could do after a hit was make love.
“Maya,” he breathed. “I want you.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “Me too.”
Slipping a hand under her, he searched for a zipper on her spine.
“It’s on the side.”
He moved to her torso, groping.
“Other side.”
He fumbled before catching a slim metal tab. Each rumble of the teeth was music to his ears. When the zipper was down, he pushed back to look at her. “Is there a trick to getting you out of this thing, darlin’? Because my patience is worn through.”
She wiggled one arm free of the short strap. Then the other. The honey-brown exposed skin ignited him. Biting off a groan, he gripped the cloth and shimmied it down her hips.
Breathing hard, he made note of each inch he wanted to kiss. By dawn he’d know all of her.
A scrap of white lace covered her breasts, but the nipples were dark brown and pushing against the fabric. And the dark patch of hair between her legs was quite visible through her lacy panties too.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, fighting for his wits.
“Cash?” The uncertainty in her voice made him find his.
“You’re stunning. My wife.” He threw himself over her, kissing her deeply and thoroughly before moving down her throat, over her breasts. He tugged off her bra and spent long minutes worshipping each nipple. When he moved lower, he hardened like stone. Her aroused scent drove him crazy.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders, guiding him down her body. He caught her panties in his teeth and tugged them down, exposing tanned belly then the trim patch of curls covering her mound.
He nuzzled her, nose brushing her clit. “I’m glad you have body hair. Holds your scent better.”
A quiet noise left her. Staring up at her, he delivered a long, slow lick, from bottom to top. Her flavors burst on his tongue. He planted his hands on her inner thighs, spreading her to him. With deliberate movements, he set about working her up again.
She was already wet from her previous release, and he gathered her juices with a groan. Passion was a bonfire in his chest. Rumbling in pleasure, he drove his tongue between her lips, into her heat.
Crying out, she bucked into his mouth. He didn’t know her well yet, but her restless movements spurred him to keep doing what he was doing. Under him, her muscles strained, her belly dipped.
Sliding his finger along her thigh, he coaxed open her folds while tonguing the hard knot of nerves at the top. A throaty moan escaped her. As he swirled his tongue and parted her wet walls with his finger, she grew louder.
Damn, if he didn’t get her out of this trailer and into a house soon, his family—and her father—would know exactly when she was getting pleasure, and how much.
She quivered, and he ran his tongue side to side. Her hips lifted off the mattress. Covering her button with his tongue, he ground it into her body.
Pulsations shot down his finger and up his arm. As her release slammed her—and him—she issued an ear-splitting cry. He curled his finger inside her, drawing on her with his lips and tongue until the final contractions fled and she collapsed to the mattress once more.
He raised his head.
She wore a glow, skin kissed by a dew of perspiration, pupils blown wide in the dark rings of iris. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her nipples peaked.
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and glided up her body to kiss her. She hesitated when his lips, still damp with her juices, touched hers, but her ragged gasp told him she liked it.
He pressed his hips against her, too aware of his confining jeans and boxers. When he rolled off and hitched up a foot to remove his boot, the bed springs groaned in protest.
“Need…a new…bed.” He tossed one boot to the floor. The second followed. He fought his way out of denim and cotton, peeling off his socks last.
His cock sprang up, the head purple with lust. Maya lay on one hip, staring at his body with appreciation written on her pretty features.
“I please you?”
“Very much,” she said breathlessly.
Gripping his erection at the base, he fought the rising need to take her hard and fast. Judging by her rumpled looks, she would be up for that, but he wanted their first time—and wedding night—to be a good memory for her.
“We haven’t discussed a family or whether you want one,” he said.
The burning in her eyes cooled a little. “I do.”
“I’m betting it isn’t right away, so I brought condoms.”
She nodded. “But do you want children?”
“Absolutely. Remember me telling you I’d play catch with them?”
“Then come inside and ravage me…” Their gazes locked. Two heartbeats passed, then he dived over the mattress for his jeans and wallet. In seconds he’d torn into the packet and rolled the rubber over his aching length.
With need throbbing in time to his pulse, he trapped her soft, smooth body beneath his. Holding her gaze, he took her hand and placed it on his shaft. As scorching heat burned through the barrier to his skin, he yanked her hand away.
Her eyes flared with surprise.
“I can’t have you touch me yet. Next time around.” He poised at her opening, she clamped her thighs high on his hips, and he thrust deep.
* * *
As Cash stretched her inner walls, Maya’s mind splintered. Still sensitive from her last releases, feeling his invasion stole her control. She curled around him, moving with him, forcing his mouth to hers.
They shared a tongue-dueling kiss flavored with her own spice. Pressure built, and she focused on her husband. She wanted to know what pleased him, and while she’d been disappointed not to have a chance to touch him, it felt amazing to know he wanted her so much.
His five o’clock shadow seared her skin as they kissed. Having his hard body pressing her down thrilled her to the core. He angled upward and gained a fraction of depth. They shared a groan. The cords on his neck strained, and his eyes grew glassy.
She traced her hands over his spine, loving the feel of his muscles working. He pistoned his hips, half-lifting her into a devouring kiss.
When he stiffened, she knew he was on the edge. Somehow, knowing this sent her sailing over too.
Her scream would probably embarrass her later, but she couldn’t harness it. He plunged into her as waves of release pounded her. She clung to him, learning how fast his pulse tripped in his neck and how many thrusts he needed before he collapsed.
Smiling against his hard, damp shoulder, she trailed her fingers lightly up and down his back. He lay as if dead, breathing hard. Once he came to his senses, he lifted his head and stared into her eyes.
“We know we’re compatible in bed. The rest will come.”
“You’re not…sorry you had to marry me?”
His lips thinned. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, darlin’.”
She shifted, and he grunted.
“Keep moving like that, and I’ll want to do something right quick.”
He was already growing hard inside her. When he withdrew and got up to discard the condom, she watched his chiseled backside. Her eyelids drooped. After the whirlwind wedding preparations and the emotion of walking down the aisle with Papa toward a man she hardly knew, she was exhausted.
He kicked aside his discarded clothes before crawling into bed with her. The springs creaked.
“You’re not going to pick up your clothes?”
“Not yet. I want to hold you.” With that, he gathered her tight against his muscled body. Within minutes she got her chance to explore him. Straddling him, she took her time learning the dips and swells of his arms, chest, and abs. Then she found out how much he liked to be rooted deep in her mouth.
“You’re gonna kill me, wife.”
“Mmm,” she vibrated against him. Maybe they could have a happy ending even if their beginnings were peculiar.
* * *
“Got work to do, darlin’. I’ll see you at second breakfast.” Cash leaned over the bed where she was still sprawled half-asleep, and kissed her.
With her eyes barely open, she watched his backside until he closed the door. Then she rolled over, wanting to doze. But Charlotte and Mrs. Dalton would surely be awake and cleaning up the mess from the reception. She couldn’t lounge in bed, even if Cash had kept her up most of the night. Her feet hit the floor—and his discarded wedding clothes. Shirt, jeans, underwear.
With a disgusted sigh, she gathered the items in her arms and folded them neatly to be washed later.
Welcome to married life.
* * *
With eyes like two burning flames, Cash stripped out of his western shirt. The pearl buttons glinted in the low lamplight inside the trailer. The evening hadn’t gone fast enough for Maya. For hours she’d watched him work with the horses, hungry for this very moment.
“You must be exhausted.” She ran her hands over her bare torso, hoping he really wasn’t.
“Not enough to stop me from attacking my wife. C’mere.” He threw his shirt on the floor, and she bit off a groan of annoyance that she’d have to pick it up later. Then he lifted her and pinned her against the side of the trailer, legs locked around him and her neediest spot rubbing the bulge in his jeans.
He took her mouth roughly, kissing and biting like the wild beasts he’d spent the afternoon taming while she helped Mrs. Dalton in the garden.
Maya reached inside his open waistband and pulled his hard shaft free. He shoved into her hand. “Damn condoms.” He tossed her on the bed, giving her a once-over that raised all the hairs on her body. “Don’t move. I like you spread open for me just like that.”
She parted her thighs, inviting a growl from him as he stepped out of the rest of his clothes. When he sank into her, she gave herself up to his every whim. When he flipped her onto her stomach and yanked her hips up to receive him, she realized just how good he made her feel—body and soul.
At that moment, she didn’t care that she’d have to pick up his clothes.
* * *
“See you for second breakfast. Don’t wear any panties.” Cash stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the purple hues of dawn, cowboy hat shading his features.
A shiver began deep inside her at the memory of him walking his fingers up her thigh under the breakfast table. She had gripped his wrist until she feared she’d bruise him, but he’d just given her a wink and toe-curling smile.
As much as she ached at the thought of letting him touch her that way, she couldn’t do it under his family’s roof. She looked around the small trailer then returned her gaze to Cash. “When do you think we’ll have our own home?”
The stiffening of his shoulders wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for. “Soon as we get Hank’s house built. I’m sorry, darlin’.”
She sighed and swung her legs off the sofa bed, ignoring the squeaks they’d lived with for the past week. She was used to living in small quarters—her rental home hadn’t been as large as this trailer. Yet she longed for more privacy. She took a step toward her husband to kiss him goodbye—and tripped over his dirty clothes.
With a cry, she s
cooped up denim and cotton and hurled everything right at his handsome face. She knocked off his hat, and it disappeared out the open door.
Shock passed over his rugged features. “What the—?”
“I’ve asked you every day for a week to pick up your dirty clothes! Every day I step on them and have to do it for you.” She set her hands on her hips, glaring at her husband.
He stared back, face unreadable. Then he reached behind him and slowly closed the door. She backed up a step, and he came forward, stepping over the clothes she’d thrown.
“I see my wife has a pet peeve.”
“Yes.” Was that her voice? She raised her chin.
“Good thing I’m good at reading women.”
“If you were so good at reading me, you would know I hate picking up after you.”
“Maybe it takes a slap in the face by a pant leg to wake me up.” He was on her, fingers closing around her arms. He jerked her against his hard length and kissed her, swiping his scorching tongue through her mouth and practically singeing her panties off.
He turned her back to the bed and caught the hem of his T-shirt she’d worn to sleep in. In a blink he’d thrown it on the floor too. When his fingers clamped around her hard nipples, she no longer gave a damn. He’d pick them up later. And if he didn’t, she’d throw them at him again.
As they fell together in a clash of teeth and nails and muscle, she couldn’t help but think of how her life had changed drastically. From total fear and hardship to feeling cherished and desired.
With a practiced flick, he loosened his belt. In another, he freed his erection. She hooked her heels around his back and pulled him into her.
He sucked in a gasp as flesh met flesh. “You weren’t wearing any panties.”
“You told me not to.” She nipped his lower lip, raising a growl from him.
He twisted his head to the side. “Damn. Condom.”
“Forget it. We’re married.”
His eyes glittered with flecks of gold as he stared down at her. A tendon in the crease of his jaw worked. “You sure?”
In answer, she lifted her hips off the mattress and brushed her wet folds over the tip of his arousal. With a hard thrust and a loud groan, he joined them. As he sank into her bareback, emotion welled inside her. Tenderness and passion boiled along with something else—a bright feeling of peace she’d never known before.
