by Robin Gideon
This awareness did little to ameliorate Helen’s fury at her friend for staring—with the same desperate longing that a starving man would stare at a perfectly grilled beefsteak—at the erection Jared had locked inside his gabardine trousers.
Jared extended the burlap sack toward Marcus, though his gaze was trained on Helen. He said, “See if there’s anything in here that interests you. I could have stopped somewhere and picked up a bite to eat for supper, but I couldn’t wait to see you again, so I bought food and came right here. That’s why I’m early.”
Helen knew that Jared was speaking directly to her, even if he was at that very moment handing the heavy burlap sack over to Marcus. When Marcus looked in the sack, he yelped with joy and extracted a small, wood crate containing eighteen brown and speckled chicken eggs.
Marcus asked excitedly, “You went to McCready’s?”
Jared shook his head. “I went to Olsen’s General Store. He said the eggs had just come in, and he was going to sell them one at a time. I bought all eighteen eggs he had in stock.”
Helen saw the look of absolute adoration begin to shine in Marcus’s eyes, and though she would rather that particular expression only come from her when directed at Jared, she also understood that she had no claims to Jared’s exclusivity.
Another screech of pleasure came from Marcus when he found the tin of peaches in sauce and the glass jar of Mrs. Norton’s strawberry jam. An even more enthusiastic cry of pleasure came from him when, digging deep into the burlap sack, he found the loaf of bread and the brick of cheese that had come from Mr. and Mrs. Fitzsimmons’s dairy farm. Under normal circumstances, to get an entire brick of cheese from Mr. and Mrs. Fitzsimmons, a person put their name on a list and waited a week or two for the order to be filled.
Helen said, “You seem to have a way of hurrying things along.” Helen turned sizzling, green eyes upon Jared. “How do you always get everyone to do exactly what you want?”
“I don’t always get my way,” Jared replied. He leaned toward Helen slightly, his gaze raking over the ripe curves of her breasts pressing against the décolletage of her chemise before traveling downward to take in the magnificence of her naked thighs. “But honesty precludes me from saying that the cards don’t sometimes fall the way I want them to.”
“Sometimes?” Helen arched a disbelieving brow. “More like all the time, Mr. Parker.”
Jared frowned theatrically. “Mr. Parker now, am I? Seems like quite a comeuppance, if you ask me.”
Helen replied, “Kindly note that I didn’t ask you.”
Jared’s gaze crawled slowly up and down over Helen, his lustful desires rushing to the fore, the man making no effort to keep his emotions from showing in his expression. Helen saw the raw hunger in his eyes and knew what would happen—and what magnificent bliss would be hers to bask in—if she gave in to that ravenous sexual need.
“Stand up, Helen,” Jared said, his tone suddenly commanding, dictatorial. “I’d like to sit there.”
“But I—” she began then was silenced by the hard look that had crept into Jared’s eyes. Despite her best intentions and her determination to never be controlled by anyone, Helen found herself rising slowly to her bare feet.
“Thank you,” Jared said with a smile as he sat in the now-vacated chair.
Helen quietly declared, “I hate you.”
“I don’t believe that,” Jared replied, his smile unwavering. “Now please, my darling Helen, remove that chemise. You’re lovely in it, but I’m inclined to believe you’ll be even more lovely without it. And please explain to me what problems there are in your life that make a jackass like Gregg Neilson necessary?”
Marcus pulled a bottle of whiskey from the burlap sack and asked, “While she explains, would you like a drink?”
Chapter Ten
Gregg didn’t like the way his father was looking at him. He even considered saying something about it before wisely deciding to keep any comments to himself. The elder Neilson’s attitude had been more aggressive than usual after Jared Parker had balked at the employment offer.
“So, if this gunman you had your hopes set on doesn’t take the job, who are you going to get?” Jerome asked, standing once again in front of the map on the office wall at the bank.
“His isn’t the only gun available for hire.”
Jerome cast a sideways glance at his son, and Gregg wondered if he’d said something foolish. Whitetail Creek was crawling with men willing to rent out their muscle and gun, so the comment seemed safe enough. But his father had seemed particularly tense lately, even more churlish than usual.
“Let’s do a worst-case scenario, just to see how well you’re looking at the big picture,” Jerome continued. There was a distinct undercurrent of contempt in his tone as he spoke. “What are you going to do if Jared Parker not only turns down your offer to get these folks here”—he put his finger on the map—“to sell their land to the bank, but he also decides to work against us?”
Gregg blanched at the thought. “Why would he do that?” His voice was low, his tone lacking in self-confidence when he added, “He wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t touch his gun unless there’s gold in it for him.”
“You hope he wouldn’t. That’s not the same thing as being sure he wouldn’t.” Jerome drew an imaginary circle in the map with his fingertip. “I want this land here. Every last bit of it. And I’m getting goddamned tired of waiting around for you to get it for me. And what about that girl of yours? If you can’t get her to marry you, get her to sell that land of hers. I don’t give a damn how you do it.” He tapped the map indicating where Helen’s homestead was. “Everything I’ve planned hinges on owning this land right here.” He turned to look directly at his son. “Get the legal deed to that land. I want it, and I want it now. And you’d better get yourself some hired guns, too. There was something in Jared’s eyes that I didn’t like, something that said he could be real trouble to us. I’ve got to tell you, Gregg, that I’m really beginning to wonder whether you’re smart enough to inherit this bank.”
“I’m smart enough,” Gregg replied, his eyes narrowing hatefully. “Don’t you think otherwise.”
Jerome headed out of his son’s office, saying, “It’s not your place to tell me what to think.”
* * * *
Helen’s heart was racing, and though she tried to remain calm, her palms felt clammy and her stomach jittery. What Jared was doing to her—giving her commands as though he somehow had authority over her—would be infuriating under any circumstance, but it was doubly infuriating to have him behaving with such autocratic airs when Marcus was right there as a witness. But then, he had been witness to much more than just airs.
“Jared, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m…” She looked into his dark eyes and a shiver worked its way up her spine. Her words just drifted away. She licked her lips to moisten them and nervously tugged at the bottom hem of her chemise. “I’m not going to let you…”
Jared smiled and raised his right foot. In a casual tone, he stated, “Do be a dear and help me off with my boots. I think it’s high time I get comfortable.” When Helen did not immediately act upon Jared’s request, his face slowly transformed, losing its warmth as he added, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’ve had me down on my knees more than once. Now please, help me with my boots.” The right side of his mouth inched upward slightly. The gleam returned to his eyes. “And with the rest of my clothes, for that matter.”
Helen looked at the swollen bulge of Jared’s trapped erection then glanced furtively over at Marcus. In a whisper, she asked Jared, “But don’t you want some privacy?”
“It’s a little late to get shy around Marcus, don’t you think? Late and hypocritical.”
Helen knew that she had just been called a hypocrite, and it felt like she’d been slapped across the face. But what was equally true was that Jared’s commanding, authoritarian presence and bearing touched within Helen excitable nerves that had nev
er before known anyone quite like the tall man dressed in black. He was a man who simply took whatever he wanted, and as much as Helen could find fault with this mindset, she was also aroused by his naturally commanding presence. His dominance made her clit tingle softly, made her nipples tighten and become visibly erect through the thin cotton of her well-washed camisole.
Feeling the eyes of both Marcus and Jared on her, Helen leaned forward slowly at the waist, cupping the heel of Jared’s boot in her palm, and grabbed the toe with the opposite hand. She eased the boot off his foot, set it aside, and then removed the other. Next she removed his white socks and set them on his boots.
“Very good,” Jared said, his eyes warm and glowing as he studied Helen’s voluptuous figure. “Now remove my neckerchief and jacket, then my shirt.”
Helen stepped around Jared until she stood at his side. She wanted desperately to be alone with him so that she could explore his body, as she had done when they were alone in her home and she had bathed his magnificent physique. She didn’t want Marcus to see her behaving so brazenly, so lewdly…and yet, in her soul, Helen knew that part of the reason why her clit was tingling with increasing intensity and the lips of her pussy had become swollen and moist was because she was being watched by her very best friend.
With hands that trembled more than just a little, Helen unknotted Jared’s black neckerchief and slowly removed it from around his throat.
“And now my jacket,” Jared instructed, leaning forward so that Helen could slip the garment down his back and arms.
As Helen eased the jacket down, she let her fingertips caress his sinewy body through his shirt, and a soft, instinctive sigh escaped her lips. Helen had never realized that touching a man could be so erotic—not until Jared entered her life.
Jared held a glass of whiskey in his right hand. With his left he nonchalantly brought his fingertips to the inside of Helen’s knee and began caressing her thigh, sliding up nearly to the hem of her chemise. Helen gasped softly when Jared touched her, her body responding instantly and with far greater force than she had thought was possible by such a casual caress.
“Do you like taking my clothes off, Helen?” It was a question she didn’t want to answer. “Don’t lie to me now. I’ll know if you’re not telling the truth.”
“Please don’t…don’t ask that of me.” Helen shivered as Jared’s fingertips traced swirls up the inside of her thigh. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down briefly to stop herself from moaning passionately. Orgasmic relief was always close whenever Jared was near. “You’re so wicked.”
“Answer me, Helen. Does it excite you to undress me?” He turned his hand until the palm was upward and pressed his fingers against Helen’s pussy. Her lips were moist, slick with the nectar of her lust. Jared said, “Your body tells the truth, but your tongue cannot find the words. Such a shame. Such a pity to be so at odds with yourself.” Jared pulled the Colt from the holster under his left arm, set it on the table, then removed the shoulder holster and handed it to Helen. “Put this somewhere close then hurry on back. My shirt is next, then my trousers and underwear. Your dawdling is making me impatient.”
Helen followed Jared’s commands to the letter, part of her raging at being ordered about by such a despotic man, part of her responding sexually to his authoritarian demeanor. She couldn’t look at Marcus, though she felt his presence, felt his gaze following every move that was made. When she had removed Jared’s shirt and properly set it aside, Helen paused a moment to look at the masculine perfection now revealed to her. It was a hard body, sinewy lean with solid muscles that moved beneath pale skin. Along his ribs on the left side was a white scar that ran for several inches, a reminder of a hard life lived not always on the proper side of the law.
“Y–You’ll have to get up for me to…” Helen said before her words once again died away before she could complete the sentence.
Jared took a sip of whiskey before slowly rising to his feet, his actions lazy and deliberate, his demeanor one of kingly confidence. He gave the appearance of a man who was not in any hurry at all to be pleasured, and his self-assurance rankled Helen’s nerves because she was only too aware of her own insecurities.
“Before you get down on your knees,” Jared said, his tone warm as it caressed Helen’s soul, “please take off your camisole.”
Helen caught the bottom hem of the garment with hands that trembled slightly. Though she was terribly frightened of what Marcus was thinking, she could not resist looking toward her friend. Marcus was standing barely ten feet away, his face ashen white, his expression one of shocked disbelief doing battle with escalating passion.
Turning back toward Jared, Helen whispered, “Why am I so powerless against you?” Then she pulled the camisole over her head and tossed it aside. Completely naked, literally aching to feel Jared’s hard cock thrusting deep inside her, she whispered, “I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Get down on your knees.”
A soft sigh of rapidly heightening lust came from Helen’s throat as she sank to her bare knees on the wooden floor. Without preamble, she pulled at Jared’s belt, unbuckling it quickly before hastily unbuttoning the fly of his trousers. As she pulled down his trousers and then helped him step out of them, Helen kept her gaze lowered, not wanting to see just yet exactly what it was she ached for. Delay had a way of heightening fulfillment, she had learned. Struggling to appear as calm as Jared, she folded the trousers and set them aside on the floor.
Dressed now only in his underwear, Jared stood quietly, a faint half smile touching his lips, the front of the cotton garment bulging outward as it struggled to contain his solid erection.
Very slowly, Helen let her gaze move slowly upward over Jared’s body, taking in the fine line of his legs, the crisscrossing muscles of his lower thighs, and finally the white, cotton drawers. The breath caught in her throat for a moment. With both hands, she unknotted the drawstring. The moment she tugged the cotton down, Jared’s erection sprang out, prompting a gasp from both Helen and Marcus.
“He’s even bigger than I remembered,” Marcus remarked in a breathy whisper, a hand to his mouth as he stared at Jared’s solid cock with wide-eyed wonder.
Helen took Jared in her hand, wrapping her fingers around the cock’s thick shaft. With her left hand she cupped his testicles, giving them a firm squeeze and prompting Jared to groan softly. Helen stroked her hand along Jared’s length, and though he was pretending to be aloof, she heard his sudden intake of breath and saw the muscles in his thighs become tense. Though unsure of herself because of her nearby audience, Helen’s confidence was building.
For several seconds, Helen closed her eyes and searched within herself for mental clarity, trying to find reasons that made sense to her as to why she was completely naked, on her knees in front of Jared, while her best friend stood a scant two yards away, watching glassy-eyed and mute. Helen felt her heart hammering against her ribs and felt the heat of Jared’s body going through her palms and into her blood.
Opening her eyes, Helen leaned toward Jared and, after only a few more seconds of hesitation, snaked her tongue out to lick the crown of his cock. She heard simultaneous moans from both Jared and Marcus. After moistening the head, Helen pushed her soft lips over it, not stopping until her mouth was filled with Jared, her lips a snug, pink ring around the cock’s pulsing shaft.
In a tremulous whisper, Marcus confessed, “That’s…so…beautiful. He’s lovely.”
With Jared’s cock still filling her mouth, Helen turned her head slightly to look at Marcus, her lips pulling outward lewdly, her features distorted with her lover’s enormity. For several seconds she and Marcus simply looked at each other, a thousand unspoken questions, doubts, and fears remaining unspoken.
Helen squared up with Jared and began swanning her head and shoulders, dragging her soft lips back and forth over the throbbing, manly flesh. She was distinctly aware of Marcus being nearby, and feeling her friend’s gaze upon her added a su
rprising new element of taboo ecstasy that Helen hadn’t counted on. She was performing for Jared and for Marcus.
I’m a terribly wicked woman, Helen thought as she rotated her face around the rigid flesh, feeling it pulsing against the opening of her throat. Jared makes me want to do things I’ve never even thought about. He inspires me to be a wanton!
“Come closer, Marcus,” Jared said, his tone tight with sexual strain. “You can’t really see from over there.”
Helen tilted her head back on her shoulders to look up at Jared. In his dark eyes was lust and humor, and Helen thought then that there wasn’t anything he could ask of her—whether sexual in nature, or not—that she wouldn’t do. She was looking into his eyes when Marcus stepped into view, his slender body shuddering visibly, now standing nearly hip-to-hip with Jared.
Almost speaking to himself, Marcus whispered, “He’s so very big.” And after a pause, as though suddenly realizing that Helen could hear him, he added, “He…he seems to like how you do that very much.”
Helen continued bobbing over Jared, using her lips and tongue and fingers to pleasure eminently responsive nerve endings. She drew a firm suction upon Jared’s cock, her cheeks hollowing in response, distorting her features lewdly, erotically. Her actions were meant as much to be seen as to be felt.
Jared said to Marcus, “Take your clothes off. Touch yourself. I know you want to, and besides, I think Helen would like to watch you.”
How does he know what I want when even I don’t know myself? wondered Helen.
While continuing to nibble on Jared’s shaft, Helen began pleasuring herself, pinching her left nipple firmly while using her other hand to caress her clit. She eased a single finger between her slick lips, the digit entering smoothly, her lubricating honey easing the welcomed invasion. Her clit was already erect, the small nub swollen with desire.
