Claiming Coral (The Red Petticoat Saloon)

by Maddie Taylor

  “So damn beautiful, my Coral.” This was softly said as he continued to slowly excite her. It didn’t take long before the Viking emerged again. Taking her roughly into his arms, he bent her backwards and feasted voraciously on her breasts, sucking and nipping, hands pressing them together so he could easily work back and forth between the two.

  Robbed of speech and lucidity from his near frenzied passion, she wound her hands in his hair, hanging on. Bent half backwards that was all that she could do.

  After long minutes of this exquisite torment, he lifted her against him, moving without releasing the suction of his mouth on one tingling tip. Then as quickly, he dropped her onto her back on the couch and pulled her so that her bottom was perched on the arm, her legs flung nearly over her head in a swath of skirts. These he pushed high and her drawers, which were in his way, ripped from her as he spread her thighs and he buried his face in the wet heat between her legs.

  “Bo, oh my heavens!” she cried as he spread her lips and delved into her channel, spearing her with his tongue. Then it trailed lower, between her bottom as he’d promised her one day he would, licking the forbidden entrance that she never imagined possible to take. One hand snaked around her belly, holding her bucking hips still as his hand found her slick nub of pleasure. He worked it rapidly, his fingers circling round and round, and then flicking it back and forth. A flood of honey surged from inside her, trickling down to wet the hole where his tongue teased and stroked. It was replaced by a fingertip pressing slowly into her.

  Her breathing stopped, and if she didn’t know better, if felt like her heart halted too. Yet it couldn’t have because a pulse pounded in her ears as he penetrated her bottom for the very first time. There was no discomfort, she’d been well prepared, but it felt so different being filled back there. His broad finger pushed in farther, up to the third knuckle, while his other hand stimulated her in front. He slid slowly in and out, once, twice, on the third stroke adding a second finger. She whimpered at the sensation of being stretched wide and imagined how his long broad shaft would feel in their place. It was much bigger than two of his fingers.

  “Relax and enjoy it, älskling.” She loved it when he called her his love. And since she knew he meant what he said, she tried to ease the tension in her bottom. “Good girl,” he whispered as he rose to his feet, his fingers still gliding slowly in and out. With his other hand, he freed his cock from his trousers. She watched in awestruck amazement as he licked his fingers and transferred the wetness to the tip, then guided the glistening head of his shaft to her untried back entrance.

  At first the pressure was fine, but when he pushed through with a little pop, she felt the bite of the stretch and tensed.

  “Bo,” she called worriedly, her hand coming up to press against his belly. “I really don’t think you’ll fit.”

  “I will, Coral. Let your bottom go lax; when you do, I’ll slide right in.” He didn’t press any further as his thumb returned to circle, rub and arouse her once again, while two fingers of the same hand dipped inside her wet channel. The sensation of him filling both of her holes was beyond anything she could have imagined and a shudder of ecstasy shook her violently.

  “That’s it, baby. Give yourself up to the pleasure.”

  “It feels so naughty,” she squeaked as his honey-slickened shaft pushed in more.

  “Don’t worry about what you think is right or wrong, just feel. Nothing we do as husband and wife, as long as it is pleasing, can ever be wrong.”

  He slipped in deeper as his thumbs stroked relentlessly. She hiked her legs higher.

  He groaned as the new openness allowed him in further. “That’s my girl, wrap your legs up and breathe deep.”

  Instead of pressing his advantage as she expected, he withdrew a bit, gathered more of her honey and worked it around his shaft, then leaned in again. This time, he stretched her tight passage farther and sank deeper, his cock taking more.

  The overwhelming fullness had her climax building, she was close.

  “Bo, honey, I’m going to come.”

  “Do it, baby. I want to feel you clamp around me as you find your release.” He moved faster as she wiggled her hips, rocking upward despite the awkward position that left her without leverage to get more of the tortuous thumbs and his steadily driving shaft in her bottom. It was too much and she flew apart, crying out his name from the intensity of his possession.

  As her channel rippled and clamped down around him, it spurred him on. He pumped into her harder, her juices making the taking easier for him. There was no more discomfort, only pleasure, as he gave several more driving lunges and stiffened over her, the joy he found in her body written in sweet agony across his gorgeous face.

  His eyes slowly opened and as his hands caressed the backs of her thighs and upthrust bottom, he grinned. “As I predicted, you screamed my name, raring.”

  Instantly, she flushed crimson over what he’d done to her and how much she’d enjoyed it. “Oh my heavenly stars!”

  He pulled out and came over her, inching them both upward until they lay flat on the couch. Ducking his head low and to the side so he could see her bright red face, which she had buried in the back cushions, he drawled, “For a girl who worked at a saloon known for pleasuring gentlemen, you’re surprisingly innocent.”

  “I never… the things you do to me. They didn’t…” She knew she was stammering, yet she couldn’t stop.

  “Take a deep breath and settle, sweetheart. You don’t ever have to be ashamed with me. What didn’t they do?”

  “The girls joked and teased, but they never discussed what they did upstairs.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head while peeking up at his face. He eased onto his side and pulled her into the curve of his arm, where she promptly buried her face in the shirt he hadn’t bothered to take off in his haste.

  “I’m surprised,” he murmured, kissing her temple lightly. “In all the time you were there, no one offered to play under-over with you?”

  Her head fell back, eyes wide with dismay. “I declined, thinking it was a game of chance with cards.”

  “Coral,” he said while chuckling softly and shaking his head. “What about splitting an apricot, did anyone ever want to do that?” Her face flushed. “Or ask for a game of backgammon?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “One man… I said I would dance with him, however, if he wanted dice he would find that at the tables. No wonder he gave me the oddest look.”

  Bo grinned and gathered her close. “It’s a good thing I came along and rescued you, my little innocent.”

  “I had no idea. Another man asked to tip the notch. I told him Charlie worked hard and would enjoy the appreciation.” Her hands flew to her hot cheeks. “That wasn’t what he meant, was it?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Why didn’t they come out and ask, in plain English?”

  “It’s a tawdry game, Coral. Those in the know, know.” He caught her chin and tipped it back. “What exactly did you do with the judge? Now that we’re married you can trust me to keep his secret.”

  “Surely you heard the rumors, after—”

  “There are few chances to hear rumors and gossip while laboring at a noisy forge, raring.”

  “He, uh…” She closed her eyes, not able to tell even him.

  “Is it something so bad that I need to settle things, between him and me?”

  Her lashes flew up. “Are you asking if he hurt me? No. Never. In fact, oh dear!” More heat flooded her cheeks. “It was the other way around.”

  “What?”

  “He liked to be spanked.” Her voice trailed off so low he didn’t hear.

  “What’s that?”

  “Good heavens, don’t make me repeat it.”

  “Coral…”

  “He was tense. Traveling from town to town, hearing cases, and punishing others harshly for their crimes.” She stopped, hoping that would be enough.

  “I understand he
had a difficult job. What did he get from you to ease his tension?”

  “I told you, Bo. I never did that with anyone.”

  “And I’m pleased, sweetheart, but what things did you do? You said he tipped you one hundred dollars every visit. Surely, that entailed more than pleasant conversation.”

  “He wanted to be punished in return, all right? With a strap. On his backside.” Her face was flushed, more so from anger than embarrassment that he’d badgered her into a confession.

  Bo on the other hand was stunned. “I’ll be damned.”

  “You mustn’t repeat it. I’ll deny it if anyone should ask.”

  “They wouldn’t dare. If someone asks about your time at the saloon you act like it never happened.”

  “But you said dancing was honest work.”

  “It is and there’s nothing wrong with it for another man’s wife.”

  “Bo!”

  “If we don’t bring it up, no one will make mention of it after time goes by.”

  “You don’t know gossipy women. To them and many folks in this town, I’ll always be a gem. Even you call me Coral.” She worried her lip as another thought came to mind. “I can’t go back to being Carissa, to do so now would draw even more curious stares and disapproving whispers, don’t you think?”

  “I imagine it would, although I think it’s a shame. Carissa is a beautiful name, like the bearer.”

  She smiled softly. “Thank you, Bo. I’ve been meaning to ask about your name, is it short for something? Beauregard, perhaps?”

  “Bowdyn. It’s a family name, Danish actually, but no one has ever called me it. I’ve always been Bo.”

  She repeated it aloud. “Bowdyn. I like it. It’s unusual. What does it mean?”

  “Commanding.”

  She grinned. “Well, you certainly are that.”

  “Yes, and you’d be wise to remember that should you have any ideas about revisiting your time as a gem. I’m the only one who will be doling out punishments in this household, with a strap or what have you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  He arched a brow, a silent statement that he would do exactly that if he chose to.

  “Let’s forget about the judge and his penchant for the strap, please. He was a kind man, just had a slightly different bent, is all.”

  “I’ll say,” Bo murmured.

  “You aren’t so different, husband. I never knew until this morning that you like to play backgammon.”

  His face lit in a devious smile. “As do you, raring, you screamed and came in such a flood of sweet honey that you pulled me right over before I’d had my fill. A repeat performance to see if we can draw it out longer is called for, I think.”

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “True. I can’t get enough of my beautiful, lovable, responsive bride.”

  And he proved how responsive she was and how insatiable he was, keeping her up late into the night. They had breakfast on the run again the next morning.

  * * *

  That was the way with them, never getting enough of one another, especially in the mornings. Upon waking with Bo invariably wrapped around her from behind like two spoons in a drawer, they started the day with a rolling, rousing—sometimes rough and rowdy, other times sweetly romantic—romp of passion. She loved it, but most often wanted to turn over afterward and go back to sleep. That wasn’t allowed, though. Bo would tease her out of bed, or tickle her until she surrendered, or once, when she got a little stubborn, he swatted her bottom until she conceded defeat and crawled out of bed.

  The morning of the spanking, as she stomped around the bedroom getting ready while intermittently rubbing her sore behind, she noticed him eyeing her in the mirror, his lips twitching as he shaved.

  She stopped and glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I’m glad you think having a sore bottom all day is amusing.”

  He stopped with his razor aloft, lather covering half of his face, and then turned with a blond brow raised. “Five little swats are hardly enough for you to be sore all day, but keep stalling and I’ll test that rosy round behind to see how many it takes.”

  She put her arms down and kept quiet until he turned back around, then she stuck her tongue out at him.

  “I can see you, Coral.”

  Her tongue disappeared immediately as she wondered if he had eyes in the back of his head. He tapped the glass in front of him. Damn! She’d completely forgotten the small mirror.

  “Be good and get dressed, raring. I’ve got a busy day scheduled.”

  Feeling two inches tall for keeping him from his work by acting like a spoiled brat, she apologized and moved quickly, ready and dressed while he was still putting on his boots. He came to her and pulled her into his arms, his hands dropping to mold around her bottom and squeeze gently. It really didn’t hurt at all anymore.

  “It won’t always be like this, sweetheart.”

  “What? You spanking me?” She hadn’t really minded, but she didn’t want him to know. Embarrassed that she liked being over his lap while he rubbed, squeezed, and yes, even swatted her bare backside. It made her wet and tingly, and if he hadn’t had to hurry and get to the shop, she’d have begged him to take her all over again and make the antsy sensations go away.

  “Never that,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid you married a spanking kind of man, and you, little miss slug-a-bed, have a tempting behind that makes me want to do it more often.”

  “Bo!”

  His fingers flexed and he ground the hard length of him against her belly. “The thought of it peeking out between the slit in those lace drawers, or squeezing it while I’m driving into you fast and deep, or kissing the silky softness of these cheeks…” He cleared his throat, deliberately releasing her bottom and moving his hands higher to the safer curve of her lower back. “You tempt me even now, which brings me to my point. I think about you constantly and walk around with a hard rod in my britches most of the day. But I’ve got a business to run, a wife to care for, and soon, God willing, we’ll have other mouths to feed. So, although I’d like to lie in bed and make love to you until the noon meal, I can’t. And since Dixon might still be lurking, you get to get up and come with me. The last part, is what I meant by it not always being this way.”

  “How long do we wait? If one, three, or six months passes and we see no more of him, will I be able to go about without a keeper?”

  “It’s an escort, baby, for protection. And I’ll make the call when the time comes, if it comes.” When her wrinkled brow revealed her frustration, he caught her chin with his hand and held her gaze with all seriousness. “You mean the world to me, Coral. And I intend to keep you safe, whatever that takes.”

  His words warmed her heart, and because she didn’t want to be parted from him, she gave in. “I understand, Bo, but darn Harvey and my father’s dadburned forged marriage contract.”

  He grinned.

  “What?”

  “Dadburned? That Yankee Doodle eastern accent is beginning to fade, I think.”

  “It was bound to happen. Without you slipping into Swedish every now and again, I’d barely notice you don’t hail from these parts either.”

  His smile faded a bit, and she again wondered about his past and why he didn’t want to share it with her. Lord knows she’d spilled all of her sordid history, horrifying him with the details of George and how he had actually died right on top of her. But even if she hadn’t wanted to, she would have told him all of it.

  It had only been a week, maybe in time he’d open up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Humming happily, Coral finished chopping the celery and added it to the pile of diced onions and bell peppers, which were the beginnings of Nettie’s spicy New Orleans-style gumbo. Her cooking lessons were coming right along and she was excited to show off her new skills when she prepared a special supper for Bo the following evening when they would celebrate four weeks of marriage. Though she knew it was silly to mark such a small milestone as a
month, with her history, she considered every day with Bo a gift, and couldn’t let it pass by unnoticed.

  Footsteps alerted her to Nettie’s return from the cellar. She didn’t turn, concentrating on peeling the skin off a garlic clove. “The vegetables are all chopped and ready to be sautéed, once I add the garlic and make the roux, I’ll be ready for what comes next.”

  When her teacher didn’t answer, she twisted, glancing over her shoulder to see what was wrong with the usually chatty cook. She froze as fear, stark and cold, tore through her. Two men, prospectors from the looks of their dirty raggedy clothing, stood in the kitchen, one held Nettie caught against his chest, a hand over her mouth, the other around her throat. From the way her eyes were watering and her chest rose and fell rapidly, Coral could tell his grip was none too gentle. Instinctively, she raised the knife she still held in her trembling fingers.

  “Let her go!” she demanded, cursing inwardly when her voice came out with more of a quiver than the intimidation she’d intended.

  “Drop the knife, Red,” the taller man standing next to the first barked, “or Merl here will snap her neck.”

  Her eyes shifted to the hand around Nettie’s throat. Big and meaty, the fingers flexed and caused her to choke. As her gaze lifted, she saw the panic on her friend’s face as she ceased her struggles against his hold, her lips parting for air. Coral didn’t doubt for a moment that Merl wouldn’t do exactly as the other man had threatened. But what was to stop him from doing it anyway, even if she put her only weapon down? The hand holding the knife wavered with uncertainty.

  The decision was made for her the next moment when Nettie’s hands, which had been pulling at his restraining hold, fell weakly to her sides and she slumped in the brute’s arms. Without further hesitation, Coral opened her hand and let the knife clatter to the worktable.

  “All right, I’ve put it down. Now, please, let her go.”