Jenna Stewart

by The Sisters O'Ryan

  He took her hand. That was all. But the tenderness with which he turned it and kissed her palm filled her eyes with tears.

  He didn’t look up, keeping his gaze focused on her hand. Gently, he twisted her wedding ring around and around her finger. “I admit that I didn’t love you before we married. I didn’t know you. But this journey has allowed me that opportunity, and it’s changed everything.”

  “Micah, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Whatever good you might think of, do me a favor and say it with your body.”

  Siobhan smiled. “That I can do.”

  * * * *

  How was it that Siobhan always seemed happy to welcome him into her body? Micah chose not to think that she just loved sex, for that might mean any man could make her pant with desire and come with a force that rivaled a nor’easter. He wanted to be special in that way.

  He unlatched the bottom bunk and let it drop before caressing Siobhan’s lips with his own. As he sucked her bottom lip between his teeth and lightly nipped, she undid the buttons of her blouse. She no sooner had the last undone than he slid it off her shoulders and to the floor.

  He loved handling her breasts, so full, so soft. More than a mouthful, more than a handful, they more than filled his dreams. Her nipples pebbled in his palms. She arched her back, letting him have all he could manage. He dropped his mouth to her neck where he suckled her tender skin with abandon.

  Siobhan rubbed her palm up and down his erection through his trousers until he thought he’d explode. He unfastened the buttons at her waist and dropped her skirt to the floor. In no more than seconds, he yanked her shift over her head and pushed her serviceable bloomers over her hips and out of his way. Except for those she’d worn under her wedding dress, her intimate wear had been plain, white cotton, very different from her other clothing, which was delicate satin or silk, embroidered in exquisite detail. He enjoyed this fascinating dichotomy, and he smiled through his lust.

  “Touch me, Micah.” Her whisper was hoarse and rough, revealing unquenched passion he never tired of hearing.

  He swiped his fingers through her furrow, gratified when they slipped and slid in her juices.

  “You’re so ready.”

  “You’re not.”

  He drew back to look at her. If he was any harder he’d be stone.

  “You have on far too many clothes.”

  “You’re right,” he said, smiling. “Give me just a minute.” In less time, he lay on the bunk naked. He held out his hand, and Siobhan came to him without hesitation.

  Straddling his hips, she winked before cradling his pecker in her hands and fitting it to her pussy entrance. She teased him by taking in the head and then letting it pop out. Once, twice, three times she almost sank full force. That same number of times, cool air struck where he most wanted heat.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said, his jaw clenched with the effort it took not to grab her hips and assume control.

  “I have one for you, too,” she said. She lifted her right breast and licked her own nipple. Fire rushed through his veins and straight to his cock.

  “God, Siobhan, you don’t know what you do to me. But if you settle on me all the way, and lie on my chest, I’ll do something to make you feel amazing.”

  Her eyes widened as though she wondered what he could possibly have up his sleeve. Then she spread wide her legs and took him in all the way. Waggling her butt to be sure he could extend no farther, she braced her hands on each side of his head and leaned in for a deep kiss, her tongue twisting with his, her mouth sliding over his until they fit. He thrust up. God, the way she makes me feel! Like I could rule heaven and Earth.

  He ended the kiss, replacing his tongue in her mouth with his middle finger. “Wet it good.”

  When she had sucked it thoroughly, he pulled it out and reached back to her ass. Spreading her saliva from his finger to her bum hole, he gently probed, stretching and pressing until she held his finger up to the first knuckle.

  Siobhan moaned, trapped between his cock pressing her up and his finger pushing her down. The train jerked on the track, tossing them back and forth. The extra motion only added to their own thrusts and drives.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes. Don’t stop, Micah.”

  He marveled that she accepted anything he wanted to try with her, but he hadn’t counted on how invading two entrances of her body would make him feel. If she didn’t come soon he’d climax without her, and damn if he wanted to do that.

  “Micah!” She was there, quaking around his cock, squeezing his finger and trembling on his chest.

  He shot into her, streams of cum filling her cunt, and perhaps starting a life deep in her womb. Now that he knew he loved her, binding her to him with a child became his fondest wish. Only two things could make him happier. The first would be if she would admit back that she loved him. The second would be if she and Drew were as close. No one was as much a part of him as Drew. If Micah could share Siobhan’s affection with anyone, it would be his twin.

  Could he bear sharing her body, too, if it ever came to that? Yes, he could. In fact, watching Siobhan and Drew fuck would be an experience unmatched by anything else in his life, the nearest thing to fucking her himself.

  After a few minutes’ rest, that’s just what he would do, until she cried out his name once more. Tomorrow they arrived at their destination and their new lives and responsibilities. Today and tonight belonged to them alone. He wouldn’t waste a moment of it.

  * * * *

  “Welcome to California!” Drew held out his hand to help Siobhan from the train. Dressed to the nines, she wore a light blue suit with fur-trimmed collar and cuffs, and matching hat. White gloves covered her hands, and he noticed fine kid leather shoes peeking out from beneath her skirt. She would have fit in perfectly with Back Bay society, and he had no doubt she would set trends among San Francisco’s top echelon.

  “Andrew!” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him with such fervor, he laughed and hugged her back.

  When she stepped back to arm’s length and examined him, he took the opportunity to do the same. Unlike the last night in Boston when they met accidentally in the library, her hair was up, mostly concealed under her hat, and she was carefully powdered and rouged, though she still looked very natural. And beautiful, very beautiful.

  Something else seemed different after the weeks they’d been apart. He studied her eyes, her smile, and the way she glanced at Micah. The woman looked thoroughly satisfied, in a way only a well-fucked woman did. Well, good for his twin. He hadn’t wasted any time plowing her but good. Was she pregnant yet? Drew wouldn’t be surprised, though under his fine examination she showed no overt sign of being so.

  “Hello, Drew,” Micah said, stepping down the steps and holding out his hand.

  Genuine happiness at seeing his twin caused Drew to envelop Micah in a bear hug. “You son of a bitch, the trip has done you good. You look great!”

  Micah grinned. “Who’re you calling a son of a bitch, you bastard?” He slapped Drew’s shoulder. “God, I’ve missed you!”

  “I missed you, too, brother.” With a glance and flick of his finger, Drew instructed the man in livery standing discreetly to the side which bags piled on the platform needed to be taken to the wagon waiting to cart their goods home.

  “Come outside,” he said. “The carriage is waiting. It isn’t far as the crow flies, but with traffic and the ferry, it will take a little time to get into the city.”

  “I’m so looking forward to seeing the house you purchased for us, Andrew.” Siobhan took his arm with one hand and Micah’s arm with the other. Heads turned as they strode through the train terminal. Her beauty far outshone any other woman’s in the building. Pride swelled his chest just being with her, and for a moment, seeing the looks of appreciation shot their way, he forgot she was Micah’s woman, and not his.

  “You’ve been living there comfortably, haven’t you, Drew?” M
icah asked.

  “Yes, until I find my own place.”

  “Why would you need to live anywhere else?” Siobhan asked.

  “Well,” Drew said with a smile, “because you’re newlyweds? I thought you’d want to establish your own home and be alone for a while.”

  “With all the work for the office, it will be more convenient if you stay,” Micah said. “And we’d enjoy it, wouldn’t we, dear?”

  “Absolutely,” Siobhan said without hesitation. “Unless you just want to leave. Do you?”

  Her dark-green eyes pierced his heart. Could she see how much he wanted her? The very best thing all around would be if he delivered them to the large, three-story on Nob Hill and moved out immediately. The way his cock ached as he watched her ass twist and sway when she climbed into the carriage proved that. He wanted her as much as he had that night in the library. More, now that he knew she and Micah had had sex—lots of it, most likely—and she still looked so damn happy.

  Lust be damned. Micah must sense how he felt—they always did about each other—and he still asked him to stay. “Thanks, both of you. To tell the truth, I rather like the house, and it will be more convenient. I’ll be happy to stay on.”

  Chapter Six

  “Andrew!” Siobhan clutched her hand to her throat as they stepped from the carriage, overcome with joy. “This can’t be our home. You can’t be serious!”

  His voice full of worry, he said, “Don’t you like it?”

  She smiled into his eyes and playfully slapped his shoulder. “I love it, you crazy man. It’s absolutely exquisite!”

  Twenty steps led to a wide veranda, with turned spindles below the railings and gingerbread fretwork adorning the top. Delightful, fanciful colors covered the exterior, differing between the fretwork, the veranda railing, the door and window sashes, and the clapboard siding. Beveled glass inset into the wooden front door allowed a view to an elegant interior. Behind them, across the wide street and beyond, stretched San Francisco Bay, a breathtaking scene.

  Inside, she lightly touched the fretwork decorating the entrance to the dining room on the right of the entrance hall. The parlor and more fretwork were situated on the left. A white marble mantle topped the fireplace in the parlor. A mirror stretched from the oak mantle in the dining room to the ceiling. The butler’s pantry supplied plenty of cabinets. Everything was perfect.

  “Oh, the fine dinners we’ll host here,” she said on a sigh. “We’ll awe all of San Francisco with our home.”

  The kitchen impressed her most. Two sinks, one for washing up, one for preparation, provided a good division of labor. A large island and a long expanse of counters meant plenty of room to prepare meals for many people.

  “There’s also a library on this floor, and a study upstairs,” Drew said. “Micah, I thought we might utilize the study for our home office. That’s how I’m using it now.”

  “That sounds good.” Micah had followed Siobhan around the downstairs, but now he left her, climbing the steps to the second floor. She hurried after him.

  “I was told this is the mistress’s room,” Drew said when Micah opened the first door at the top of the stairway. “The master’s room connects.”

  “I presume you won’t allow me to occupy that huge bed alone very often,” she said peeking past the doorframe.

  “Worry not, my sweet. That bed is far too large for one person. It would be wasteful for you to sleep alone.”

  “Good,” she murmured. “And where is your room, Andrew?” He didn’t meet her eyes. What did that mean?

  “I’ve taken the suite at the end of the hall. There are two extra bedrooms and two baths. The servants’ quarters are on the third floor. I hired a butler, housekeeper, upstairs and downstairs maid, and a cook and assistant. I thought you would want to hire your own lady’s maid.”

  “Thank you. I shall begin the search tomorrow. I expect we shall entertain quite a bit and will need the extra help.”

  Andrew nodded in agreement. “A sewing room, laundry, and storage areas are in the basement. The carriage house in the back holds two carriages and four horses.”

  “Andrew, I’m amazed,” Siobhan said. She turned to Micah. “This is even nicer than our townhouse in Boston. The views alone are spectacular, but the house is so very comfortable.” She smiled at Andrew. “Thank you. This will serve us all very well.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I hope you like the city as well because Micah and I will be spending a great deal of time working.”

  She wriggled her fingers, brushing off his comments, and walked through her room, examining the accoutrements. “This bed really is huge. Wherever did you find it?”

  “I ordered the furniture from Haywood Manufacturing. They have a factory here in the West—in Oregon, I believe—and one of their specialty pieces is an extra-large bed. I thought the room could handle the size.”

  “Haywood. They had a fine reputation before the war,” Micah said.

  “Their products from Oregon are every bit as good. Run by old man Haywood’s son, I understand.”

  “Nice choice,” Micah agreed.

  Andrew frowned and faced Siobhan. “If you will excuse us, I’d better catch Micah up on a few issues that must be addressed this week.”

  “Go right ahead. I shall find plenty with which to occupy myself.”

  The men excused themselves after a quick kiss from Micah. Siobhan removed her hat and jacket and strolled around the room, pulling back the curtains on the windows and absorbing the stunning sights. From one set of windows she spied Oakland across San Francisco Bay. Through the other set of windows, she gazed at a large island occupying the center of the Bay. She inhaled deeply, letting the fresh breeze refresh and invigorate her.

  Gazing out over the city, a strange sense infused her. The pulse of the city was different from any other she’d visited. In New York, one felt power—political, social, and financial. It was in the very air. In Boston, repression and conservatism affected everything, as the city’s history took precedence. Asheville was Western North Carolina’s hub of transportation and industry, but the postwar attitude hadn’t returned to the confidence they’d known before the war.

  Here Siobhan sensed freedom, real freedom. San Francisco imparted a sort of wild permission to explore anything she might want.

  She smiled. She and this city would get along quite well, for permission to spread her wings and investigate all life had to offer—something she wouldn’t have been allowed in either Asheville or Boston—was exactly what Siobhan sought. She would do whatever it took to help Micah and Andrew thrive in their new environment, for that meant security for her and a continuation of life as she’d come to expect it.

  Yes, that this move had originally been unwelcome slipped from Siobhan’s memory. All she saw now were opportunities, chances she would grab to fulfill her desires—and her fantasies.

  * * * *

  Left to her own devices while Micah and Andrew spent nearly all their time at the office, Siobhan had been looking for something to do with her time. In their first week she had decided on a lady’s maid, a Chinese woman named Ching Li. When Ching Li told her one morning that her sister sewed, Siobhan thought she’d strike a new chord for fashion in her new town and have some dresses made. She needed to meet women of stature in the city to instigate business contacts, and nothing inspired women to new friendships more than an interest in fashion.

  But later that afternoon, as she followed her maid, she wondered if she shouldn’t have asked Ching Li’s sister to the house instead of volunteering for an adventure in Chinatown. Micah would die if he knew where she was. Ching Li led her far off the main streets, deep into the bowels of the area, where no English could be heard, and the sights and smells were exotic and foreign.

  “This my sister’s house,” Ching Li said finally. The wooden structure rose three stories high, crammed with a dozen others just like it in a narrow alleyway. “Come, Missy.” Ching Li had adopted the nickname of Missy when
it became evident she wouldn’t master Siobhan’s name. Siobhan had quite come to enjoy the use of her substitute name.

  Ching Li climbed the steps up into the dark interior, turning once. She nodded when she saw that Siobhan followed. What have I gotten myself into? Someone could set upon me and my body would never be discovered. Then she flushed with shame. In the short time Ching Li had served as her maid, they had formed a bond. She trusted the small Chinese woman.

  They came to a stop before a door with a strange symbol on it. “This the mark of the seamstress,” Ching Li said, pointing at it. “You see. My sister very smart with needle and thread.”

  As soon as they entered the apartment, a delicious aroma of fried meat and vegetables struck her nostrils. Her stomach rumbled with hunger.

  “This is Mai,” Ching Li said, gesturing to another petite woman.

  Siobhan gave Mai a courteous bow and then stood quietly off to the side, letting the two women chatter in their native tongue. Surreptitiously, she examined the narrow room.

  At the end of room, bolts of fabric waited for something to be done with them. The colors were indescribable—nearly incandescent blues and greens. Pinks and vibrant red, flame orange. Oh, the beautiful clothing that could be made from such material.

  When the women stopped talking, Siobhan asked Ching Li to ask her sister if she could see an example of her work. The woman nodded several times while backing away. When she returned a few seconds later, she held a truly exquisite gown in the Chinese style. Embroidered red silk, the dress featured high collars and capped sleeves. Long slits extended from the hem halfway up the skirt. Siobhan examined the seams. Tiny, even stitches indicated true talent and attention.

  “May I try this on?”

  Ching Li translated and her sister showed her to back room, chattering with Ching Li all the way. They helped Siobhan undress and then redress in the red silk. She knew without looking in the mirror that the fit was perfect—and extremely sensual.