Wicked Temptations

by Patricia Watters

  "Oh," she replied, running her tongue over her lips. "Will you still be running for mayor then?" she said, moving closer, inviting him to kiss her again.

  "Do you want me to?" he asked, obliging her wishes, this time a tad longer.

  "Well... I don't know," she said, her eyes clearly focused on his lips, he noted.

  "Then I'll decide for you," he said, smiling at her eagerness to get on with what he was subtly doing, though deciding to make her wait a little longer. "I plan to withdraw my candidacy so I can focus on the paper. I've made an offer on a large building that can be converted into an edifice for the newspaper. We could have the place renovated, and printing equipment brought in from the east, and the paper up and running in a month."

  Priscilla looked up at him, curious. "You still haven't said who the we are."

  "No, I suppose I haven't," Adam said, kissing her again, long enough for her to curve her hands around his neck and open her mouth to allow him to kiss her thoroughly. But he broke the kiss to add, "Do you have any objection to my selling the ranch?"

  "All I have an objection to right now, Adam, is that you keep tempting me with your kisses, then stopping, and I'm getting very frustrated."

  "Good," Adam said, and kissed her again, three little pecks that brought her eyes dilating and her lips pressing together in irritation when he pulled away.

  "All right, then," she said, in annoyance. "It seems that I'm supposed to be doing something other than kissing you, but since kissing you is all I have on my mind right now, you'll have to tell me out right what it is."

  Adam bent his head and kissed the side of her neck, and whispered into her ear, "Don't you want to know why I decided to sell the ranch?"

  Priscilla batted her big hazel-green-brown eyes several times, and replied in a breathy voice, "All I want right now is for you to do what you did in the backroom, but since it seems that I have to earn your favors... All right. What made you decide to sell the ranch?"

  Adam kissed her once on the lips, and said, "A stubborn, charming, thoroughly exasperating redhead who convinced me that I don't want to be party to what's going on around here, and in fact, want to be a strong voice towards stopping it—" he kissed her again, this time longer "—and a newspaper opposing the WGSA is the best way I can think how—" he moved down to kiss her neck "—but I also have this idea of incorporating a quarto-size paper that would come out once a week, something of interest to our female subscribers—" he tugged the neck of her jersey down and planted a kiss in the hollow of her throat "—with an ongoing romantic story, and editorials about women's issues, and columns where women could send in questions—" he tugged her jersey further down so he could place a kiss on the swell of her breast "—and I'd want my wife to be in charge of it."

  "Your wife?" Priscilla said, dreamily, allowing her head to drop back and her chest to rise to meet his accommodating lips...

  Adam stopped what he was doing and took her face between his hands so she'd have to look at him, and said, "I have no choice because the woman I happen to want by my side for the rest of my life is determined to put out such a paper, and having her in the same building as my paper is the only way I could think to keep her out of trouble."

  Priscilla's face sobered, and the passion he'd seen moments before had vanished. "Then why did you smash my printer?" she asked. "You could have moved it over to your place."

  "I could have," he admitted, starting with her lips again, finding them responding once more to his kisses, "but I had to stop you from what you were about to do, for your own good, and mine." He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, and in her eyes he saw his future... changeable as her frame of mind, exciting as the dark pupils expanding and contracting as she held his gaze, the distinct glint of passion shining only for him, and said, "You see how selfish I am, my love? I want your beautiful, unharmed body in my bed every night of our lives, and I can't allow anything to happen to it ... or you."

  "That's fine, Adam," she said, "but what about my press?"

  He kissed her soundly. "I'll be setting you up with more modern equipment."

  "But I don't want more modern equipment," Priscilla said between kisses. "I want what I had. With another Stanhope press and Jim as my pressman, I can put out The Town Tattler with the help of four women without any fuss, and I can make banner headlines and insert engravings and wood cuts. And the building I have is just fine."

  "I could argue that," Adam said. "Your building's sagging from rotting floor joists, termites have invaded the walls, and the only reason the roof doesn't leak is because there's so much moss on it the rain can't get through. Besides, your women have left you."

  "I know that," Priscilla clipped, "but I'm sure I can find others willing to work for me. It only takes five of us and Jim to do the job."

  "Sweetheart," Adam said, "I'll get you whatever you want... fix up the old building if that's what makes you happy, and get you another old Stanhope press like the one you had. But I'll be setting The Plainsmen Review using a Mergenthaler Linotype Composing Machine, like the New York Tribune is using. With it, one operator alone is machinist, type-setter, justifier, type-founder, and type-distributor. Setting and casting type in leaden lines are done by pressing keys on a board much like on a typewriting machine."

  "You don't understand," Priscilla said, in a weary voice. "My dream was for The Town Tattler to be a newspaper written and printed by women, for women. With your machine there would be no need for any women at all."

  "Of course there would be," Adam insisted. "You'd need women journalists to go out and find your stories, and to write and edit them. And you could hire a female engraver to prepare the plates for illustrations. But with a linotype machine you can put all your time and effort into finding stories and writing editorials. The Town Tattler will still be set up like you want, but there will be no limit to the number of subscribers you can handle. Your paper will have the capability of being distributed in every town in Wyoming and beyond. But you're the newspaper woman and I'm just the fellow who's in love with you and wants to make you happy. All I ask is that you leave the politics to me."

  "I'll happily do that," Priscilla said, her fingers moving to the top button of her jersey, if that's what it takes to get you to finally pay attention to me and my needs."

  "I thought I just did that," Adam said, giving her his most innocent look. But when he saw her bodice parting to reveal an expanse of soft, white bosom, he said, "Don't go any further with that right now, love. I'll be right back."

  Before Adam went about the business of thoroughly and completely satisfying his wife-to-be, he went about the business of sending his mother and the children off to the theater, where a vaudeville show was having an afternoon performance, and giving the servants the afternoon off, except for Aubrey, who was already in the process of filling the bathtub with warm water before preparing the bed with fresh linens. After that was done, he returned for Priscilla, who was waiting breathlessly for the deflowering to begin, and scooped her up in his arms.

  As he carried her up the stairs, she clasped her arms around his neck and kissed the hollow of his throat and said, in a voice filled with anticipation, "I thought his day would never come, Lord Whittington."

  "Neither did I, Miss Phipps," Adam replied, cuddling her closely. "Neither did I."

  In the bedroom, Priscilla started to strip off her clothes in haste when Adam stopped her by saying, "No, love. This is my job," to which he methodically unfastened each button on her jersey while kissing his way down her chest, until he reached her camisole, which he just as methodically unfastened, until she stood bare breasted before him.

  "Adam," she said in a breathless voice, "you're carrying this out far too long..."

  "I know, love." He kissed his way down her chest and over each breast, concentrating on each ripe bud before continuing downward, where he took on the task of divesting her of her skirt and drawers, while continuing to kiss his way down to her feet. Then he stood back to t
ake a good long look at her, and she made no move to stop him. Instead, she smiled in pleasure as he looked her over thoroughly, because until then, no man had ever seen her naked, and her body, below her neck, had always been something she'd been proud of, but could never share with anyone. She'd seen herself in the mirror, and there was not a trace of freckles down the entire front of her, only a smattering of tiny ones on her shoulders and along the top of her back.

  But, enough was enough!

  "Adam, I can see from the look in your eyes and the smile on your lips that I have not disappointed you, but I am still a virgin, and I have never seen a man before, and since you are to me by husband, I would like to inspect what I will be getting."

  Adam laughed and shrugged out of shirt, and stripped off his trousers and drawers in one long movement, and stood before her, all smug smile, and hard muscles, and sleek contours, and a very impressive male member thrusting high. "Oh my," she said, while observing it. "That is an impressive thing, even more impressive than I had ever imagined." She walked up to him and curved her arms around his neck and cuddled up to him and realized they could not consummate their love unless certain adjustments were made. "Do I crawl up you, or do you bend down for me, Adam? I have no idea how we do this."

  "Sweet love," Adam said, "You still have to wait because there's a tub filled with warm water, and there is a lot more I intend to do to, and for, you before I divest you of your maidenhead. I know you're eager, but as you can see from the size of me, there could be some discomfort if you are not well prepared before."

  "The only discomfort I'm having right now, Adam, is that I am becoming increasingly impatient to get this done."

  Adam laughed and lifted her in his arms and kissed her soundly before lowering her into the water. She settled against the sloped back of the tub, and he got down on his knees beside it and said, "Relax now and I'll begin soaping you all over like this..." He lathered his hands with soap, and started at her neck and worked his way down, running his palms over each full waiting breast while concentrating on one ripe bud, then the other, before re-lathering his hands. Then he made his way down her body and over her tummy, spending some time to stroke the inner sides of her thighs before concentrating on the folds and creases between them, until in a sudden burst of uncontrolled passion she writhed and splashed and let out some very unladylike sounds and ended by throwing her arms around Adam's neck and near pulling him into the tub on top of her.

  "Easy love," Adam said. "That's just the beginning. Now you're ready for bed."

  "But what about you?" she asked, wide-eyed. "I can't just go to bed and not take care of you, or maybe what just happened to me doesn't happen to men."

  Adam laughed heartily, and said, "Believe me, sweetheart, it happens to men too. And in a few minutes, what you just experienced will seem irrelevant in comparison to what you will experience when I penetrate your maidenhead and we moved together as one."

  Priscilla's breath was coming so fast and so furiously at the prospect of what was to come that she could barely stand up for Adam to dry her off, before he scooped her up in his arms and laid her on the bed and climbed in along side her. He started to stroke her chest and fondle her breast when she said, in a sharp voice, "Enough, Adam. I am well prepared for the deflowering, so will you please get on with it."

  Which Adam did, slowly at first, then increasing in vigor as she demanded more... and more... and yet more, until the room was spinning, and Priscilla was gasping and crying and laughing and writhing beneath Adam in a fury of uninhibited passion. It was some minutes before she opened her eyes, and said, "Lord Whittington, that was the most incredible experience I have ever had. How long will it be before we can do it again?"

  Adam sucked in a lungful of air and rolled over, taking Priscilla with him, then looked at her with amusement, and said, "Your wish is my command, Madam Queen." And he accommodated her once more, this time with her on top, regal and glorious and riding him like a queen, one in full control of her conquest.

  'This is the Lord’s doing

  and it is marvelous in our eyes'

  —Psalm 118:23, said by Elizabeth I,

  when she learned she was Queen

  FINAL NOTE: The hangings of Ella Watson and Jim Averell actually took place. Four of the six men who carried out the lynchings were members of the Wyoming Stock Growers Association. A Grand Jury convened on August 25, 1889, but before witnesses could testify, they either died or disappeared. Gene Crowder, Ella's adopted son, disappeared, never to be seen again. Frank Buchanan also disappeared before the hearing. Ralph Cole was found dead on the day of the hearing, possibly poisoned. Dan Fitger never came forward, but later told his story to his family. With no witnesses to testify, charges were dropped against the six cattlemen, and Albert Bothwell acquired both Ella Watson and Jim Averell's homesteads. However, the deaths of Jim and Ella inspired homesteaders to stand up to the Wyoming Stock Growers Association, and in 1892, a full-scale range war erupted in Johnson County, which effectively ended the era of the cattle barons, allowing the homesteaders to live in peace.

  By Patricia Watters

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES

  Broken Promises

  In Hot Pursuit

  Adversaries and Lovers

  Justified Deception

  One Hot Hunk

  HISTORICAL ROMANCES

  Colby's Child

  Perilous Pleasures

  Wicked Temptations

  Her Master's Touch

  To be released in 2012

  VICTORIA'S LADIES

  Come Be My Love

  Touch me With Love

  WHISPERING SPRINGS CHRONICLES

  LIVING WITH LIES TRILOGY

  Book One: Playing With Fate

  Book Two: Playing With Fire

  Book Three: Playing With Destiny

  THE LIES UNCOVERED TRILOGY

  Book One: Bittersweet Love

  Book Two: Bittersweet Promises

  Book Three: Bittersweet Memories

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, Patricia Watters gave up the glamour and pageantry of the city, and now writes novels from a hand-built log house nestled in the evergreen forests of Oregon. An author with Harlequin and Avon-Harper Collins in the past, Patricia specializes in romance, and she invites you to visit her website and drop her a line. She tries to respond to all notes, but please allow a couple of weeks for her to do so:

  www.patriciawattersromances.com

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