Bewitching Bret

by Cheri Chaise

  Then again, if my actions hadn’t been so rash, perhaps our father wouldn’t have frittered us away to the nation’s capital. Abby wouldn’t have married Phillip, and our father might still be alive and happy.

  Though I’d have been miserable – and would’ve never become a Carston and given birth to my babies, the very idea of which made me shudder.

  “Now I wonder,” Abby mused aloud.

  “Wonder what?”

  Her fingers twisted again at the fabric covering her lap as she avoided my stare. “If that was why Father pushed him my way.”

  A chill passed down my spine – and I shuddered for a whole new reason. “Who?”

  “Alan.”

  “Please tell me he didn’t…that you didn’t…”

  “Oh no, I made it quite clear to Father I had no intentions of accepting an offer from that man, regardless of how hard he pressed,” Abby assured. “I have no intentions toward any man ever again, for that matter.”

  “Not all men are like Alan…or Phillip.”

  Her shoulders slumped into a very unladylike posture. A very un-Abby posture. “I realize this.”

  “Someday you will be ready to marry again. And if you stay here, you’ll have your pick of anyone you want.”

  “Perhaps,” she acquiesced. Then a small smile formed. “With all the handsome men around your home, I wouldn’t even have to leave the ranch with Evan, Drew, Seth and Sean around.” She attempted to smooth out the mass of wrinkles she’d created in her dress. “And I find Bret to be such a fascinating specimen. Do you think he’d mind if I painted his portrait?”

  I had no words in which to respond. For weeks I’d stewed away on how I’d conceal my desire for any of my other husbands besides Cole. But as a shot of jealousy coursed through my veins, I realized I could very well have a different problem on my hands.

  It no longer had anything to do with concern over the possibility of a whore bedding one of my husbands, and everything to do with competition for my husbands’ attentions from an entirely different source.

  A source I feared had set her sights on the one man I desperately wanted to keep to myself.

  My dusky and so desirable Bret.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bret

  The lamplight flickered against the book’s page, distorting the words into a jumble of ink. Or maybe my eyes crossing from the need for sleep were the culprit.

  I laid the book on my chest and rubbed my eyes before reaching to turn down the lamp wick. A distant flash in the darkness beyond the window was followed by a low rumble of thunder.

  I couldn’t help but grin. Hadn’t I warned my brothers that a storm was on the horizon? That’s what they got for leaving me behind, the fuckers They were gonna be wet dogs while I stayed warm and dry, curled up on the living room sofa.

  The sofa.

  With Evan and Drew gone there were two perfectly good beds available upstairs. But with so many women under the roof and an egg thief afoot, I figured it was smart to keep one eye on the barred door. No telling what else he might steal if whoever it was remained in the area.

  In all honesty, I had an ulterior motive for staying put on this lumpy monstrosity – and it had nothing to do with keeping the women and children safe.

  I wanted – no, needed – to be near Essie. To hear her stir beneath the warm blankets on the other side of that wall. To hear her breathe and imagine those puffs of air tickling across my chest like when came down together off of a lovemaking high.

  But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, no matter how my cock stirred and yearned to fill my wife. Not if the conversation I’d overheard in the stables between Essie and her sister was any indication.

  From the sounds of things, this wasn’t just a visit of a few weeks. If the Davies family home and business was sold and her husband’s family disavowed her, Abby had nowhere else to go.

  Which meant she was at Carston Ranch to stay.

  Another flash and louder rumble of thunder covered over my groan of despair. There was no way I’d last if I had to give up our wife. Go back to hand fucking my cock. Hell, after only a few days my balls were aching for the relief that only Essie could provide. The ache only grew as I thought of my wife’s warm and waiting pussy on the other side of the bedroom door.

  The sharp crack of thunder and release of the pounding rain exacerbated and mocked my need. It continued on and on, unabated as the storm whipped into a fury guaranteed to quickly dissipate as the clouds shed their burden.

  The cry from one of the boys soon sent a scuffle of bare feet across the wood floor toward the nursery. I knew the other twin’s fearful wail wasn’t far behind, so I dragged myself from the sofa to join Essie in comforting Cole’s children.

  I needn’t have bothered. She was already seated in the rocking chair as I peeked around the doorway, her lap covered in a tangle of little feet with both twins nestled in her arms. Her long braid of dark hair flapped against the wood with each creak and rock like a metronome set in rhythm to the soft notes as she comforted them with a lullaby.

  Her lilting voice rose and fell in gentle waves that calmed the storm both inside and out. A flash caught the gleam of Meg’s open eyes as she stubbornly remained in bed huddled beneath her blankets. But even if that brief glimpse hadn’t revealed her fear, the space between us pulsed with it.

  I pushed open the nursery door and padded over to sit beside my daughter. Our daughter. Essie caught the flicker of my gaze with a contented smile as the words of the song drifted into a hum.

  I leaned over and kissed Meg’s brow, tucking the edge of the blankets securely under her chin before stroking my fingers through her hair. Silky like her mother’s. Dark as ebony like mine.

  Essie and I stayed to our respective tasks for a half hour or so as the storm ebb and flowed. Nestled together in the same room. Cooing. Comforting. Communing.

  As a family.

  Meg was the first to fall back into the slow, deep breathing of sleep as the storm moved on across the prairie. Still I remained until one-by-one the boys drifted off and we safely tucked them back into their cribs.

  “They’re going to need new beds soon as well,” I whispered near Essie’s ear.

  Her shiver from my breath against her skin went straight to my cock – no matter how much I tried to tell it that she was only cold. Cold in that thin, cotton nightgown. The nightgown where the neckline slid seductively off one shoulder.

  One bare and tempting shoulder that beckoned my lips to trace the pebbled skin. The gown that exposed every succulent curve of her luscious body outlined by the soft light that still flashed intermittently in the distance.

  A body that begged for me to take her. Taste her. Touch every inch of her. Fuck her until she cried for mercy.

  Instead I backed away into the darkness of the living room – and returned to take my place on the sofa.

  Where I belonged.

  But no matter how long I laid there, pulse hammering through my veins, my breath coming faster, my cock growing harder, I couldn’t stop thinking about my Essie on the other side of that door.

  A door that quietly creaked open in the hushed silence.

  Broken by the snick of the match stroke and the flaring flame as Essie relit the lantern. She only lowered the wick a fraction to cast a warm glow over her as she stood before me and unbraided her hair to fall like a glistening ebony waterfall over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing, Essie?”

  Her blue eyes burned with fire. “Taking what’s mine.”

  Still I resisted with the last ounce of control I had left as my cock strained against my trousers. “What about your sister?”

  A flash of anger – no fear – reflected behind the heat as she leaned over me to press her lips against mine. “We’ll just have to be quiet.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I don’t think…”

  With one flutter she ripped the nightgown over her head and flung it away to allow me to gaze fully on her glor
iously naked body.

  A body I could no longer resist.

  “Essie,” I groaned, running my fingers over her soft, rounded hip before gripping her ass. “You don’t fight fair.”

  Hunger raged through my blood, tearing through me like a starving animal in the throes of winter’s grip. Her skin warmed against mine as I tugged her to me. She ripped open my shirt and sent buttons skittering across the floor.

  Our lips ravaged one another as our tongues met. Our breath mingled. Sweat fused us together like the chinking between the logs of our home.

  And my cock found its home in Essie’s pussy. Warm. Wet. Wanting. But no longer waiting.

  She hiked a leg onto the sofa and impaled herself on my rigid manhood, fucking me hard and fast as she rode me like a wild stallion. Her breasts bobbled and bounced so erotically with each slap of flesh against flesh. Bucking up and down. Nipples tightening into beautiful jeweled points that demanded my attention.

  Essie gasped as I squeezed and pinched, rolling her tightening peaks between my fingers. Her pussy dripped with the milk of our pleasure, coating my thrusting rod in thick molten layers as she slid her heat over me then rammed back down to push my cock deep into her channel.

  She closed her eyes. Bit down on her lips to keep from crying out with rapturous abandon.

  “Fuck, Essie, I’m already coming.” I tried to keep my voice as low as possible, which was hard to do with my wife beating down on my cock with each thrust and slide of her slick and welcoming pussy.

  The moment her mouth opened to cry out, I sat up and covered her lips with mine, swallowing the joyous proclamation of our union as if I lapped up her sweet essence until every last drop slid down my throat.

  Instead her pussy lapped up my essence. Drank every last drop of my hot seed. And I willingly poured it out until our thirst was sated.

  I cradled her in my arms as we collapsed against my pillow in a swirl of heated musk, sweat, and gasps. Our pleasure spent, kisses devolved into moans as our lips slid slowly over one another’s. All the while, I listened carefully for any stirrings in the rooms above to ensure our lovemaking had gone unnoticed.

  When all remained silent, I relaxed and luxuriated in the feel of my wife’s breath tickling across my still erect nipples as she laid her cheek to my chest. I traced the rivulets along her back, dipping each finger up and down the ridges of her spine as I caressed her silken skin.

  “Do you love me?” Essie whispered.

  More than words could ever say. I kissed the top of her head instead of spouting flowering prose like the most erotic poems of Chaucer. But everything I wanted to proclaim got stuck in my throat.

  “You know I do.”

  “Why are you out here on the sofa again?” she asked, lazily drawing her fingers through the sweat lingering across my chest. “I’m sure Evan or Drew wouldn’t mind if you slept in either of their beds while they’re gone.”

  I couldn’t rightly tell her about a possible intruder lingering around the homestead. No reason to alarm her unnecessarily. Besides, no one in their right mind would hang out willingly in the storm that had just passed.

  I sighed. “I guess I’m just used to being closer to you now.”

  She raised up and looked me square in the eye with a thoughtful grin. “If you want to stay close to me, maybe you should come to bed then.” She leaned over for a sensuous kiss that left me groaning. “As long as you sneak back out here before Edna wakes up.”

  “Essie.” I threaded my fingers through her silky strands. “I’m not going to sneak in and out of your bedroom…”

  “Our bedroom,” she interrupted with a finger pressed to my lips.

  I kissed it before sucking the digit into my mouth and curling my tongue around it. Her eyes narrowed to sultry slits as her lips parted with a moan. My still embedded cock twitched with renewed life before I slid her finger out from between my lips.

  “I can’t skulk around my own home like a criminal, Essie.” I cupped my palm around her cheek. “If you want me to return, it must be openly…especially now that Abby is staying.”

  She pulled away and sat up fully, pressing my cock deeper into her pussy with a hiss of pleasure she couldn’t hide.

  “You were in the stables?” Her hips rolled a bit, sending my cock in even deeper.

  Or maybe that was just because I was lengthening again. No. She definitely didn’t play fair.

  I slid my hand up her thigh. “After I finished helping load the hay bales, yes.”

  “But I didn’t hear you come inside.”

  I sat up and kissed her forehead with a sad smile. “I’m sneaky that way.”

  She cocked a brow, heat glinting in those blue orbs. But this time it wasn’t from desire. “How much did you hear?”

  I leaned over and grabbed the scrap of cotton fabric she’d tossed on the floor. Our time together wasn’t going to go any further tonight. Couldn’t go any further tonight.

  No matter what my cock demanded. “Enough to know that Carston Ranch is going to be your sister’s home for the foreseeable future.”

  Essie snatched the nightgown from my hands and slid off my growing cock in a huff before righting herself.

  She pulled her hair from beneath the re-donned gown and furiously got to braiding, her fingers flying through the parted strands. “You had no right to listen in on a private…and very painful conversation.”

  My fingers itched to assist, but I refrained. “Oh really? I had no right to discover the fact that your sister isn’t just here for a visit but to stay?”

  “Lower your voice,” she hissed.

  Better yet, I just stopped talking as I fought to keep myself under control. My whole world felt as if it tilted and Essie slipped through my fingers like her hair slipped from her unsecured braid.

  First she pushed me away. Then she took me out here in the open. Now she wanted to skulk around behind everyone’s backs – all while accusing me of doing the same.

  She stepped toward me then flinched. “Dammit. Your buttons are all over the floor.”

  I couldn’t even muster enough humor to smirk. “I’ll pick ‘em up in the morning.”

  “Edna might see if she gets up before you.”

  “Then let her see,” I growled.

  But she just shook her head.

  I grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against me as I stood. “First you tell me we can’t be together. Then you come out here and fuck me where anyone might stumble down the stairs and see.” Damn. Shit. Fuck. I wanted her all over again. Wanted her so bad it hurt. “What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

  We descended again into silence. Staring at each other in the faltering light. Waiting for the other to give an inch. Wanting each other.

  Unable to span the growing chasm between us.

  My voice came out strained as I released her and stepped back, gruffer than I intended as I tried to break the deadlock. “As soon as the boys get back, I’m heading out to the reservation.”

  Her gaze flinched and faltered at my unexpected pronouncement. “That doesn’t give me much time to put together the goods I’ll need to take.”

  “I’m going alone this time.”

  Essie took a step toward me, her fist clenched. “No.”

  “I can assess any medical needs of the tribe and get back home sooner without worrying about dragging a bunch of jams and jellies along.”

  A glisten grew in the corners of her eyes. “But they always look forward to my huckleberry jam.”

  “You’ve got family here to take care of while I take care of family there.”

  She stilled. “They’re my family too,” she whispered, her hand going to her belly. “You’re my family.”

  My outward silent calm said more than any words as I fought to keep my face expressionless. Cold. The hurt rolled off of her like silent waves of thunder, unheard reverberations you could feel vibrating through every inch of the floors, walls, and even the air.

  Then she tu
rned on her heel and raced away from me to the bedroom.

  Where I was no longer welcome.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Estella

  The only hope I had to restore peace and tranquility between Bret and I was to find a means to return Abby to a more civilized society. The only respectable avenue in which I could do so was to find her a husband who could care and provide for my sister in the manner to which she was accustomed.

  Quite a difficult task from the wilds of Montana.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t picture my dear sister as the wife of a rancher or a farmer. Certainly not the wife of a miner – no matter how rich he struck it. From those who’d wandered onto Carston land, most miners were a rough lot indeed.

  There were so few people I knew out here due to the nature of ranching. Mr. Watkins and his sons. A few others who stopped by from time to time to see and perhaps purchase their choice of the horses Bret raised and trained for the rugged work required out here. The aging county sheriff I’d seen a handful of times when he’d stopped in to speak with Cole.

  But miles and miles and days separated us from any semblance of civilization the territory offered.

  At least Edna planned to return home at the end of the month when Cole headed back to Glendive to collect the rest of Abby’s things. That would also alleviate her cutting remarks and suspicious looks anytime Bret was in the same room, her vehemence of which continued to puzzle me.

  I’d never known the dear old Davies cook to possess such a dislike of a fellow human being. Coming from old Irish stock, her family had endured prejudices of their own both before and after the dangerous trek across the sea when she was a girl. If I didn’t have enough to concern myself with in regard to my sister, I’d seek to pry the reason for her contempt before she set again upon the trail and returned home.

  The journey into town came with its own share of difficulties – my pregnancy notwithstanding. However, I was determined to make the upcoming trek in order to ascertain the marital status of the local businessmen under the guise of spending every last possible moment with Edna before seeing her safely delivered to the depot.