by Howe, Cheryl
He took one of the pistols out of the holster before he arranged the belt at the head of the bedroll. The single gun he laid on the center edge of the red and green checked blanket, clearly within his reach. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“Come here.” He guided her to her knees beside him.
She responded to his gentle persuasion, not completely happy with his explanation of the guns. He shrugged out of his shirt. Before she could settle on the soft flannel, he gripped the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
His reverence went a long way toward helping her forget her doubts. She hadn’t forgotten what it had felt like to be held at gunpoint by Langston, and if his precaution would prevent that, so much the better. He wouldn’t think of hurting her brother while making love to her. He wasn’t that callous.
By the time he yanked off his boots and shucked his pants, he was fiercely aroused.
She placed her hands flat on his chest, wanting to feel his strong pulse against her palms. Soon she’d be unable to think at all. The total absorption of joining their bodies, being consumed by him, was the only thing that let her truly escape the grief that had been her companion for so long she could hardly remember what if felt like not to carry its weight.
Her hands drifted down his rib cage. He stopped her before she went any lower.
“Lie on your back.”
She complied immediately, ready as he was for their joining. Even the hard ground was a heady caress against her tingling body.
He moved over her, supporting his weight on his hands and knees. She spread her legs and arched up, unaware of how wanton, how eager that instinctual act was until he jerked his hips back, pulling away from her.
“Not yet, sweetheart. Though you tempt my resolve.”
“Resolve for what?” She gripped his hips and tried to guide him between her spread legs.
“To make you come.”
At first the word shocked her. She’d heard her brothers use it when they thought she wasn’t within earshot. She hadn’t thought a woman could do that, but the idea excited her just the same.
“Is that possible?”
With his weight lowered to his elbows, he dipped his head to cover her mouth. The wicked slide of his tongue against hers convinced her anything was possible.
“It’s different from a man, but it’s definitely possible,” he said between open-mouthed kisses that drifted across her collarbone. “But you’re going to have to help me. Tell me what you like.”
Her body arched everywhere he kissed, seeking more. When he swirled his tongue in a hollow at the base of her neck, her insides coiled with pleasure. Her desire for him seared straight to her sex, making her pulse with need. The sensation raged with an intensity that left her mindless with wanting. She couldn’t help but rotate her hips, her whole body vibrating to urges that demanded a response.
He moved his attention to her breast, and when he sucked her nipple she cried out. He lifted his head briefly and laid his finger over his lips, reminding her of their need to be quiet. She nodded, then pressed her hand against the back of his neck to encourage him to continue.
She forced her eyes to remain open, to focus on the sea of blazing stars. She couldn’t lose herself so completely that she was howling like a banshee. Corey slept just beyond the rocks. She couldn’t let him find them like this. There was the loaded pistol beside her head.
She pushed thoughts of Corey away before they overrode the pleasure in her body. As Christopher’s kisses trailed across her stomach, her hands drifted to her breasts, squeezing them, relieving the ache at his departure.
“Show me how to touch you like you like to touch yourself.”
Her eyes opened, and when she realized what she was doing, she immediately stopped, embarrassed by her neediness, her total lack of control.
She also became aware of how close his face was to her spread legs. She tensed, but his body blocked her from closing her knees. He guided her hands back to her breasts.
“I like to see you do that. It makes me crazy.”
The huskiness in his voice encouraged her. Her fingers brushed over her straining nipples, and she felt a jolt all the way to her sex. She pinched the overly sensitized tips and had to swallow a moan.
“That’s it. Keep doing that.” He wedged his shoulders under her knees and opened her fully to his gaze. With his fingers, he spread her inner folds. She jerked at the intimate contact.
“Relax, sweetheart. I want to taste you.”
She lay back, reeling with the idea. Surely she’d be going straight to hell afterward, but she wanted the same thing.
When his tongue tentatively touched her, something in the pit of her stomach clenched into a fist. But one soft graze across her hungry flesh eased the shock, turning his caress into liquid pleasure that flowed across her skin like warm rain. She writhed under his insanely gentle assault. Christopher’s soft kisses were almost torment.
“Have you ever touched yourself here, Lorelei?”
He eased a finger inside her slick passage, and she found it impossible to concentrate on his words.
“Show me how you like to be touched.”
She wanted to tell him she never touched herself there and she didn’t know, but she did know. She had touched herself, but had always been deeply ashamed. The experiences had left her tense and disturbed, and afterward she always vowed never to do such a wicked thing again.
He circled her opening with his tongue, then flicked the tip over her secret spot.
“Show me,” he demanded.
“There,” she whispered.
He spread her, exposing her in a way she could never imagine she’d allow. He gently licked the hidden pleasure point. She squirmed against him, wanting more. He took her between his lips and sucked. She jerked at the jolt of sensation.
He eased up instantly.
“Lick me there again, soft, like you were.” His eager compliance made her soon forget her horror at her own bold words.
She buried her hands in his hair and rotated her hips. The muscles of her sex pulsed. She needed to feel him inside her, but didn’t want this new and wicked pleasure to end. She knew he needed more also, but he resisted just to please her. He laved her with his tongue as if she were all he wanted in the world.
The writhing urges of her body grew more demanding. “Put a finger inside me,” she heard some other part of her command.
He did and she moaned, glad for her wantonness. Nothing had ever felt this good. He moved his finger to the rhythm of her hips, then slid his tongue around his finger. A groan from deep in his throat added his fire to her own.
Her whole being was centered between her legs. Her blood seemed to pump from her sex, pulsating spasms out to the rest of her body. She had to remind herself to breathe as her body closed in on itself, desperately grasping his finger.
“You’re so close, sweetheart. Wait.” He pulled away from her so abruptly the shock was like a hard shake. “I want to be inside you when you come.”
He hooked his arm underneath her knee and thrust into her as he moved over her.
She gasped. His fullness forced jolts of pleasure to bite hard around the place where they connected. Waves of ecstasy tumbled through her.
He pulled back and pushed into her again, each movement slow and deep.
“Touch yourself, Lorelei. You’re ready to explode.”
She rubbed her secret spot while he slowly rocked in and out. She felt so raw it almost hurt, but something made her push harder. Her body wound tighter, she gasped, almost on the verge of tears.
He reached around her and cupped her bottom, spreading her as he pushed deeper into her. He was pushing past all her barriers. She couldn’t let him touch her so intimately, open her so thoroughly.
“No,” she whispered.
He eased out and in again. “Let go.”
She didn’t know what he meant. With the same sureness with which he h
ad entered her, he eased a single finger into her as well.
Everything in her body clenched at this new, different invasion. She gasped, but no sound came out. Then she came undone. She bucked against him as a wave of concentrated pleasure raced through her.
He lowered her to the ground, keeping in connection with her. When the bone shaking contractions had subsided, he kissed the comer of her eyes, her cheeks, around her mouth. Despite his gentle pecks he was still fully aroused inside her. His presence intensified each little spasm left over from the giant swell that had overtaken her.
With his weight on his elbows, he nuzzled her ear. “I think you did it.”
She brushed his hair off his forehead. “You think?” Her limbs were dead weight. She dropped her hand back down, unable to do much else.
“I’ve never been with a woman like you before, Lorelei. So passionate.”
Despite her exhaustion, she stiffened. Maybe she’d always known deep down she was wanton. Feared it. That was why she hadn’t wanted to take her father’s not so subtle hints to get herself in the family way with Berkley. It wasn’t her pride. It was what she feared she might unleash.
He cradled her head with his palms, forcing her to look into his eyes. “That was a compliment. Your passion is honest. That’s what makes you so rare.”
She traced the outline of his mouth with her finger. “Thank you,” she whispered. He made her feel cherished. That was why she’d risked so much for this intimacy.
She shifted her weight, the pressure on her spread legs becoming strained.
He closed his eyes as if he were in pain. A groan caught in his throat and he pulsed inside her.
“What about you?” she crooned, loving her power over him.
“I was hoping you’d help me out with that.”
She gripped his hips, urging him to take his pleasure, but he hesitated.
He kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead. “I want to try something different.”
“All right.” He’d given her so much pleasure, she readily agreed.
He trailed soft kisses around her mouth, his hesitation unnerving. What was he trying to soften her up for? His gentle coaxing stirred her body back to life. The lips of her sex pulsed lightly around his erection.
He must have felt the growing demands of her body as well, because he abruptly pulled away from her and sat back on his heels. “Roll over onto your hands and knees.”
She stared at him a moment, unsure. But the intensity and plain desire on his face urged her over. She wanted him to lose control as she did, to be so vulnerable and pliable that he would let her do anything, touch him anywhere. But the places she wanted to touch couldn’t be reached so easily.
Once she was planted on her hands and knees, she glanced at him over her shoulder. She didn’t have to ask him if this was what he wanted, because she could tell it was. He stared at her in a way that made her desire flare all over again. He was breathing hard through his nose, his jaw tense.
He gripped her hips and wedged himself between her legs, pushing her knees farther apart with his.
She let her head roll between her shoulders. The position exposed her in a way she’d never been before. The desert night caressed her as much as his touch. Her sexuality dominated her with a primal power that surged through her. She arched her back in a catlike motion that released the tension building in her body.
There was a slight pressure as he entered her again, but the sensation quickly turned to pleasure. He grabbed her hips, steadying her for his powerful thrusts, pulling her to him as he surged forward.
She glanced at him over her shoulder again. His head was slightly back, his eyes closed.
“What are you doing to me?” he said on a moan.
She rotated her hips as he pushed into her. When that wasn’t enough, she sat back on each of his forward strokes, maneuvering him to a place inside her she hadn’t even known existed. As her pleasure increased, she laid her head on the bedroll, stretching her sex and deepening their connection.
“Yes.” The increased fierceness of his strokes let her know he liked her shared passion as much as did his spoken word.
Unbelievably, she was heading toward the place where she would come apart again. She put her hand between her legs, touching the spot that had brought on an explosion of pleasure, and accidentally brushed him with her fingers. His gasp was audible. Drunk with her power, she stretched her reach and grazed him at each pass.
His breathing grew more ragged. His excitement burst like a blaze catching and roaring through her. This time she felt pulled up high, then dropped, the contractions coming so hard and fast it took her off guard. She arched her back, writhing with the pleasure.
She dropped her hand, her own touch too intense to take. He surged against her and she gripped him, pushing him as far as she could.
A guttural sound ripped from Christopher’s throat as his hips slammed against hers. His whole body jerked as he spilled his hot seed deep within her. He gripped her hips almost painfully, and she knew there’d be marks there tomorrow.
He sagged to his hands, then eased himself to his side, taking her with him. She snuggled against him, her back fitting into the contours of his front.
“That wasn’t good.” His hot breath brushed her damp neck.
She wrapped his hand in hers, clutching it next to her chest. “I don’t believe you.”
He tightened his hold, obviously enjoying the closeness as much as she. “Not that. That was incredible and you know it. My losing control is the problem. You could get pregnant.”
She sighed. Their being together at all wasn’t a good idea. No matter what men said, there was no guarantee to prevent pregnancy except abstinence. That was one thing both her mother and brothers made sure she knew. They had conveniently left out the other parts. The wonderful parts.
“The only way to guarantee I don’t get pregnant is to stay away from each other.”
Lorelei listened to his steady breathing behind her. They were playing a dangerous game, a game where she wasn’t going to come out ahead. If she got pregnant, she didn’t see him settling down no matter how much she wanted it. A child would be her problem. Not his. And then there was her heart. Despite herself, she was giving a little of it each time she let him into her body. Their union would end one day, and Lorelei could see no way to ease the pain of their inevitable separation.
He lifted a piece of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. “I’ll stay away from you if you want.”
She grabbed his hand and entwined her fingers in his. “That’s not what I want. Do you?”
He pulled her tightly against him. “No.”
A deep silence said what neither wanted to say.
Lorelei couldn’t take the strain of emotions unspoken. “I don’t expect you to be a different man than you are. All I ask is that you be honest with me. I’m taking a risk, and I want you to too. You have to let me know who you are, Christopher Braddock.”
He remained silent.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked, not sure what she wanted from him or what she expected, but if they were to be lovers, she didn’t want to be the only one exposing herself, risking her heart.
He buried his nose in her hair, then kissed the back of her neck. His growing erection nudged her bottom.
“Yes,” he said fiercely, as if the word were yanked from him. “We have a deal.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lorelei hummed an Irish lullaby while she cleared a circle for their night’s camp.
“‘Sleep, oh, babe, for the red bee hums the silent twilight’s fall,’” drifted to her lips like a warm memory she had forgotten existed.
When they were little, her mother had sung to them as she tucked them in at night. She’d start with Devine and Donnan, but Lorelei had heard her voice drift down the hall while she'd waited under her quilt of pink stars. Even when her mother had sung to the boys, Lorelei thought the song exclusively for her.
“‘
My child, my joy, my love, my heart’s desire, the crickets sing you a lullaby beside the dying fire,’” Lorelei sang as she picked up small pieces of wood for kindling.
After a climb through narrow red walled canyons, they had reached a wooded area at a higher elevation. A hot meal over a roaring fire would cure the aches from two days of hard riding. Last night’s dinner of canned beans had left everyone hungry, especially Corey.
Their mother had stopped singing by the time he was born As Lorelei strained to remember the rest of the words, they faded like the once brightly dyed cotton of her favorite royal blue gloves. She continued to hum, not letting anything sour her good mood. Soon she’d be in Christopher’s arms. Like the coyotes that sang to the moon, she’d begun to live for the night.
She dropped her load of wood in the clearing’s center. While she massaged a knot in her lower back, she tilted her head and marveled at the tallness of the pine trees. Their tented tops seemed to brush the amber cast clouds that streaked across the sky. The vibrant green seemed a lush gift after so much sand. As she went to gather more wood, she caught herself waltzing.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She turned abruptly. Corey led his horse into the clearing. “Get him out of here. You’re supposed to stake the horses away from the camp,” she told him.
“This isn’t our goddamned parlor, Lori. We’re being held prisoner.”
“What are you talking about?” She braced herself for her brother’s anger. In her deliriously exhausted state, the long days of riding had given her plenty of opportunity to avoid him. And when the night came she didn’t think of him at all. The realization of how thoroughly she had removed him from her mind prompted her to lower her gaze, weaken her stance.
He must have sensed her sudden shame, because he marched toward her with fire and brimstone in each step. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you when you think I’m asleep. You sound like a cat in heat. I can’t believe you’re my sister.”
She tried to take deep, calming breaths, but all the sacrifices she had made for him surged up her throat, unwilling to stay swallowed.
