She was surprised when the judge walked in right before opening time. He didn’t help her situation by ending their weekly appointment, then and there.
“Things changed last night, Coral.”
“I had no idea Harvey would barge in on us and reveal your secret pleasure.”
His brow wrinkled briefly, as though the memory of his humiliation was painful. “That isn’t what I meant. In my mind, you were an unattached gem so I could easily see you in the role I had cast you. Then I met Bo and saw you with him. You love him, Coral, and I won’t betray another man, or let you betray the love you feel for him.”
“I don’t love him,” she insisted, not fooling herself one bit. And by the way he raised a skeptical brow and cocked his head to the side, the judge didn’t either.
“Honey, you do. It’s written all over your face and shining from your beautiful green eyes whenever you look at him. You need to settle this with him and marry the man.”
“I can’t, Emory.”
“You can. Simply go to him and tell him how you feel.” He raised her hand to his lips. “I enjoyed our time together, darlin’. And when I remember it, I’ll cherish the memory of you, as well as the sting your strap delivered to my bum.”
“Emory!”
He laughed, leaned down and kissed her cheek, then headed to the bar where he ordered up a double shot of whiskey. She’d brooded more after that and Mister Gabe had finally sent her upstairs.
“You’re scaring the customers with that scowl, Coral.”
“I need the money,” she’d complained as he’d pointed to the stairs.
“Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel more like dancing, or have come to you senses and realize you need to talk to Bo.”
“I can’t.”
“You can, honey. Tell him how you feel. He’s a good man, and smarter than you’re giving him credit for. He’ll find a way out of this mess.”
“I don’t think even Nettie can break my curse.”
“Now you’re talking utter nonsense.” He aimed his long finger at the staircase again. “Up you go, and don’t show your face again unless it’s smiling.”
That was two hours ago, and his words, so like the judge’s, kept repeating in her head. “Tell him how you feel.” She sat up, her body sore from lying there so long. As she did so, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair mussed, having come loose from its pins, it stuck out in all directions and her dress was rumpled. Her face free of the rouge and lipstick she normally wore down on the saloon floor made her look as pale as a ghost. And her eyes were bloodshot from crying. No wonder Gabe had sent her upstairs. Yikes!
She flopped back, not having the energy or inclination to do something about it. But she couldn’t sulk up in her room forever. It wasn’t fair to Jewel and Gabriel to occupy a room meant for a girl who actually earned her keep. She should move back downstairs, or out altogether. Maybe the café was hiring by now.
The door burst suddenly inward and a sense that she’d been here and done this all before washed over her. Angrily, Bo stormed in and without a word to her, scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
“What in the world? Bo—” she yelped as his huge hand connected sharply with her vulnerable bottom.
“I only want to hear two words from you tonight. When it’s time, I’ll let you know what they are. Until then, shut up.” Incensed by his rudeness, she snapped her mouth shut. Her behind was still tender from the last round over his lap, she wasn’t about to risk more. Draped in an undignified fashion over his broad shoulder and long back, she fumed as he moved down the hall and then took the stairs. She didn’t look around to see who witnessed his unseemly handling of her person until they were outside.
“Where are we—” Another swat cut off her words. “Bo!” And another.
“I’m serious, Coral. I had problems at the shop today which delayed me making my arrangements and coming for you, and after spending a sleepless night in Jeb’s less than accommodating jail, I’m angry and tired. If you want to spend the night with a blistered backside, keep it up.”
She didn’t, so she said no more, watching his long stride eat up the hard packed road beneath his booted feet as he carried her to who knows where. The blood had long since rushed to her head when he took a set of stairs two at a time. The next thing she knew she was being flipped upright and set on her feet. She found herself in a nicely decorated parlor crowded with familiar faces.
Mister Gabe stood beside a beaming Jewel. Beside her Nettie stood and when she met her eyes, the older woman winked. Next to her stood Opal, who also smiled broadly, and Amy, who was looking at her with a frown of concern. Others present were Reverend Black and his wife, Callie.
“Shall we begin?” the pastor asked.
“Begin what?” Coral demanded to know. “I haven’t a clue what is going on here.”
“As I told you would happen today, we’re getting married.” Bo stated this matter of factly as he steered her into place in front of the reverend then clamped an arm around her shoulders.
“I didn’t agree to this.” Her eyes found the minister’s. “I have to agree, don’t I?”
“Oh for crying out loud!” Everyone turned to look at Amy. “I’m your friend, Coral, but this nonsense about a curse is driving me batty. Do you love the man or don’t you?”
She blinked at her, then after a brief pause, tilted her face up to the would-be groom at her side.
“It’s time for those two words,” Bo said softly. “Say ‘I do,’ raring.”
Although she tried, she couldn’t deny her feelings when she saw the expectant and challenging look on his face. She’d hurt him enough already. “I do,” she replied earnestly, her heart pumping wildly while meeting his gaze dead on.
“Not quite in the order I’m used to,” the reverend exclaimed, “but I’ll take it. Bo, do you also?”
His light blue eyes twinkled as he grinned down at her. “I do.”
“Then by the grace of God and the soon-to-be state of California, I pronounce you man and wife. Kiss your bride then let me get back to my supper. It’s pot roast, my favorite, and probably ice cold by now.”
His wife smacked his arm. “Lawrence!”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “What? They’re not wanting to linger, look at them.”
Their little discussion was all going on while Bo kissed her, deeply and thoroughly, robbing her of her breath. When he at last raised his head, he bent and she once again found his shoulder in her belly and her world turned topsy-turvy.
“The reverend is right. We’ve got things to discuss, I have a spanking to deliver, and then there’s a marriage to consummate. Not necessarily in that order.”
“Bo!’ This time when his hand came to her behind, he squeezed it. And there it stayed, steadying her as he went through the door and down the stairs they’d mounted only a few moments ago.
“What was that?” she murmured in a daze.
“A wedding like none of the other three you had, I suspect. Although I don’t believe in curses, this marriage is starting out entirely different, so whatever fates, bad luck, or voodoo curses you think are afflicting you will surely be broken by the unusual ceremony and the snubbing of tradition.”
“I don’t think that’s how these things work, Bo.”
“Hm, well, I’m making it so they do, wife. We’re going to live a long and happy life together, and it starts tonight, once I fuck you, redden your butt, and talk some sense into you. In that exact order.” His hand tightened on her bottom in warning. “Your answer will be two little words and nothing else, Mrs. Magnusson, when I ask if you understand me.”
She paused a moment then it came to her. “I do.”
He chuckled. “Now you’re learning, baby.”
* * *
Bo knew he was being high handed, but with Coral’s stubbornness, there was simply no other way around it. She was also headstrong, impulsive and entirely unpredictable. He’d have to stay on hi
s toes to keep a step ahead of her, but he was up for the challenge.
It was a quick walk to his house. With her over his shoulder, he didn’t pause for a tour but took her straight away to the stairs and climbed to the second floor and his—no, their—bedroom.
Having wanted her since their shared kisses in the hall the night of their first dance, hell, since the moment he saw her sitting looking lost and forlorn the day she arrived fresh off the stage, he began removing her clothes without delay.
“This is happening so fast. Can we slow down? I’m scared.”
That made him pause. “Of me? No, sweetheart,” he said as he gathered her into his arms. “Don’t ever be afraid of me. I love you.”
“You do?” she asked through tear filled eyes.
“Of course I do. I married you, didn’t I?”
“It’s my experience that love is not a requirement for marriage,” came her watery reply, full on weeping now. “You never said… Do you really, Bo?”
“Ah, baby, would I put up with all this curse nonsense, spending a night in a filthy jail, and keep hauling you back when you run from me, if I didn’t?”
“I love you too, Bo. I’m sorry I’m so much trouble.”
He made quick work of her blouse and skirt, took off her underthings, grinning at the plain white petticoat she now wore, before he laid her gently on the bed. He stood, and one at a time, lifted a foot, removing her shoes and stockings. Then he slid an arm beneath her hips, lifted her against him and with a whoosh drew down the bedding and joined her, tucking the blankets around them both while he was still completely clothed.
“We’ll talk while we snuggle and share a few kisses until your head stops spinning and you dry your tears. I can stand a weepy bride who is overcome by the beauty of my love making and swept away by my kisses, but not one who is crying from sadness and worry.”
Sniffling, she buried her face in his neck, her arms snaking around his shoulders. He barely made out her muffled reply. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Bo.”
It made him blow out a long drawn out sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t hopping mad over their nuptials. Confused and afraid were emotions he could work with more easily. His hands moved gently up and down the long line of her back, stopping at the inward curve above her bottom. His cock was hard and throbbing with need of her, but he wanted her calm and relaxed and, this time, he wanted it slow. He wanted her to look into his eyes when he brought her to the heights of pleasure again, and he for damn sure wanted her to know that it was him, her husband, the last one she would ever know and love, who had given her that.
After, once she was warm and replete, and acquiescent in his arms, he’d bust her tail for running again. He was bound and determined to break her of that habit whether by his hand, his belt, or the stout breadboard that had only been used once—not for the purpose he intended—and hung on a hook in his kitchen. He almost chuckled, remembering having to ask what it was when the neighbor woman brought it, along with a basket chock-full of baked goods as a welcoming gift when he moved in. Double the width of his hand and about a foot long, excluding the six-inch handle, he had other ideas for the innocent kitchen tool, and his bride would eventually be the recipient.
He wasn’t an overly stringent man, he laughed often, enjoyed a good joke like the next person, and didn’t intend to have many rules for his new wife. Except he wouldn’t abide his woman placing herself at risk. Culpepper Cove was a fairly quiet little town, but in the evenings, when the prospectors came in from the gold fields to eat at the café or enjoy the delights of the saloon, it was a town filled with strangers, often armed drunken strangers. With women still scarce in these parts, he didn’t trust a one of them as far as he could throw ‘em. So she’d do as she was told, waiting for him to escort her if she had to go out, or risk hand, strap or paddle painting her backside red until she did.
And, rule number two, she’d forget about this curse nonsense once and for all.
His arms flexed as she adjusted her position, settling her body more closely into his. He pressed a kiss against her fragrant hair as he listened to the sound of her steady breathing. There was no more sniffling, or hitching breaths. Gliding up her back, he threaded his hand into her hair and as he tugged gently to get her to look up at him, he eased back a fraction so he could see her pretty face. Spiky wet lashes and glistening cheeks remained as evidence of her crying spell. His thumb arched out and wiped away some of the dampness.
“Better, raring?”
She tilted her head, a habit she had before asking a question. “What does that mean?”
“The same as sweetheart, in Swedish.”
“And the other, minsk utt?”
He grinned as she slaughtered the endearment. “Min skatt?”
“That’s it.”
“My treasure.”
Her mouth softened and her bottom lip quivered. He dipped down and kissed it quickly. “Don’t start up again, Coral. You’ll make yourself sick, and I have other plans for our wedding night.”
“But you’ve been so sweet to me, for weeks, and I’ve turned you away. Why ever do you still want me?”
“I’ll admit you’re tough on a man’s pride, but you’re beautiful, you dance like an angel, you’re funny when you let yourself relax, your lips are sweet as Jack McCreedy’s elderberry wine…”
“The man you sent flying into the bar mirror?”
He cleared his throat. “I need to apologize to him for that.” She giggled and his arms tightened around her. “I also saw a sadness in your eyes when we first met and I wanted to change that.”
“You felt sorry for me?”
“No. I saw you as a challenge, and boy howdy, were you.”
“I’m very sorry, Bo. But you have to know I’m gun shy when it comes to husbands.”
“I understand, but that isn’t going to happen this go round.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m too stubborn to die young. I’ll live to the ripe old age of any of your first three husbands.” He was teasing, but she frowned.
“John was forty-two. How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
She shoved his shoulder. “You better give me a heck of a lot more than eight years, Bo Magnusson.”
“I intend to. I should have said all three of your husbands combined.”
She was silent for a moment. “That’s one hundred and sixty. That’ll do.”
He laughed, and much to his relief, she did too. “Now, enough talk. Give me those sweet lips while I love you until you scream my name.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did, baby. Let’s see if it’s a persistent habit.” His lips latched onto hers as he rolled them, coming on top of her. His tongue parted her lips and explored the warm recesses of her sweet mouth. She tasted like the most succulent of summer berries and her response was instant, opening up and letting him in. But she didn’t sit back and take, she gave, licking and rubbing and tasting with her tongue, joining in unreservedly.
Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed down at her. “I’ve been longing for a taste of the rest of you, raring. Have you ever had a man kiss you anywhere other than your mouth?”
“You have,” she replied between pants.
“That’s true. Remind me where.”
“My cheek, my hand, my neck, and you kissed my breasts.”
“Those were all very nice kisses, baby. Anywhere else?”
“Where else is there?”
As he suspected. After making it almost to thirty and never having experienced a release during sex, he knew without a doubt her ham-handed husbands’ repertoire of expertise wasn’t extensive. Lucky for him, but she’d been missing out for years. “What I intend might surprise you, but I want you to give yourself to me, Coral. Trust in me and I’ll make you scream with unbelievable pleasure. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful, but, Bo, please hurry.”
“Not tonight, min skatt. This is our wedding
night and it isn’t going to be rushed and frantic. We’re going to go slow and take the time to explore.” He eased down her body, pausing to kiss her throat, licking at the pulse point and enjoying the way her delicate neck arched, offering him more.
Moving on, he stopped at her breasts, his hand molding below the bottom curves and plumping them up until the peaks tightened eagerly, seeming to beg for his mouth. Of course, he was more than willing to oblige.
With his tongue, he circled one bud slowly while his fingers traced and plucked at the other. Pink and swollen, they doubled in size and hardness, ready for his mouth. Opening wide, he sucked one inside, not letting go as her fingers dove into his hair, tugging him closer. Even when his scalp burned from her grip, he didn’t let up. He continued lashing and flicking the bud as he kept up the suction.
“Oh my stars, Bo, that feels like heaven.”
Only then did he release her. Moving to the other breast, he repeated the process, laving the tip teasingly while his fingers pinched and rolled the already wet and sensitized nipple. She liked it, arching her back and pressing her straining nipple into his mouth until he sucked on it too, making it as hard and swollen as its pair.
He lifted his head and blew across the glistening peaks. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, flicking each with a fingertip. She sucked in a breath and writhed beneath him.
“I can’t take much more of your slow torture, husband.”
“Sure you can, wife. We’ve only just begun.”
He then trailed a line of wet kisses down her silken belly, circling her navel with his tongue before gliding down to the thatch of downy red hair between her thighs. He blew across her curls. “Spread your legs, Coral.”
She raised her head, gazing suspiciously down at him. “What for?”
“Because I mean to lick, taste, suck and pleasure your sweet little cunt.”
“Oh my— You can’t. It’s—”
“Heaven on earth,” he supplied for her. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“And a few hours ago you vowed to love, honor and obey me, as well.”
Claiming Coral (The Red Petticoat Saloon) Page 12
