Promises Prevail

by Sarah McCarty

  She didn’t answer and didn’t move. He was getting used to her silences. He figured they either meant she was nervous or embarrassed. Tonight, it was probably a little of both.

  Ornery sidestepped, uncomfortable with the placement of weight. Jenna abandoned her paralysis. Ornery abandoned complacency. With a snort, he bucked. Just enough to let Clint know that he wasn’t happy, but it was enough to send Jenna into a full panic. She let go of the horn to grab her skirt. A mistake, but one Clint had anticipated. He waited, a knife in his hands. On the next hop, she flopped back into his arms. With one hand he held her against his chest, and with the other, he cut her skirt loose. As she lay gasping against him, he sheathed his knife.

  “It would have been better if you’d let me help you.”

  “I just wanted to do it myself.”

  He set her feet on the ground.

  “Independence is a good thing,” he turned her and pushed her hair off her face, noting the faint sheen of tears in her eyes, “but it needs to be tempered by intelligence.”

  Her flinch was mostly internal, but it lingered in the flicker of her lashes and the slight tightening of her lips. He tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. “And patience. Jenna, you’ve got to learn patience.”

  “I’m patient.”

  “Sometimes.”

  She didn’t say more, but he knew she wanted to. He wondered if there had been a time when she would have said more, before the fire inside her had been smothered by criticism and beatings.

  She stepped back. He allowed her a foot before he hooked a hand behind her neck and stopped her. There was a sizable pile of manure one step back.

  “I don’t think you’re stupid, Jenna, but I do think you’re impulsive, and I’d appreciate it if you could curb that tendency.”

  She ducked her chin, “Or what?”

  He tipped her chin up. She seemed to be staring at a point just south of meeting his gaze. With her lack of night vision, it was hard to tell if she was avoiding his gaze or just didn’t know where it was.

  “Are you asking me what will happen if you don’t?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be unhappy.”

  “Oh.”

  He caught her hand in his and guided her toward where Ornery stood by the barn door patiently waiting to be let in.

  “You don’t have to hold my hand.”

  “You can see where we’re going?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m holding your hand. And watch out for the rock there.”

  “Where?” Her toe hit it, and she stumbled. He steadied her.

  “Right there.”

  “Oh.” A pause and then, “Thank you.” There was a certain note in that “thank you” that hit him wrong.

  Her hand, so much smaller and softer rocked in his. It took him a second to figure out why, and then he realized she was furtively feeling around with her toe, looking for more rocks. He slipped the rope latch off the iron hook that kept the barn door closed.

  “Jenna?”

  “What?”

  “I won’t let you fall.” All movement stopped.

  “Thank you.” That off note in her voice was stronger now.

  “You’re welcome. Now let’s get Ornery settled.” He grabbed Ornery’s reins just below the bridle. He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder before sliding it down to her waist. He wouldn’t say she tucked willingly into his side, but she went. He made his first step small, accommodating her stride, but it wasn’t small enough to accommodate a dead stop.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Guiding you into the barn.”

  “I’m not helpless.”

  “Never said you were.”

  “I can walk by myself.”

  “Fine.” He let go of her and guided Ornery along the familiar path to his stall. Behind him, he heard Jenna shuffling her feet. The stall door creaked as he opened it. Jenna gasped and stopped.

  Ornery pushed past him, eager to have his oats. Clint supposed he could light the lantern by the stall but he could still see, barely, and some perverse part of him didn’t want to make things easy for Jenna. Not when she was so determined to make them hard for herself.

  There was more shuffling as he undid the girth and pulled off the saddle and blanket. He swung the saddle onto the sawhorse with ease of long practice. He could make out her outline in the doorway. She’d made it just inside the barn, no doubt clinging to the faint light coming from outside. From the way she was bent, he figured she was checking out the damage his knife had done to her dress. He removed his rifle from the leather scabbard and propped it against the outside of the stall. She was a stubborn little thing.

  The lid to the oat box slammed open. Jenna jumped. He scooped out a measure, pushed Ornery’s eager nose out of the way as he reentered the stall, and dumped it into the horse’s bin. Grabbing the water bucket, he went to the pump just inside the door and started pumping up the water. Everything was quiet with that peculiar hush that comes with the first snow of winter, amplifying the other sounds—the grinding metal efforts of the pump, Ornery’s munching, and Jenna’s sudden shriek. A shriek that quickly turned into a panicked scream.

  “Jenna?”

  She didn’t answer, just shrieked again and started spinning in circles, beating at her clothes. He dropped the bucket. It took him four strides to get to her side. He caught her by the shoulders, stopping her hysterical spinning. It took him a second to decipher what she was saying.

  “Oh, not rats. Not rats, not rats, not rats.”

  “Not rats, Sunshine. Kittens.” He plucked a kitten off the back of her skirt and pulled her into his arms.

  Wrestling against him, she didn’t seem to hear. He put the kitten on his shoulder, and grabbed at the bulge moving beneath her cloak in the vicinity of her stomach. She grabbed, too, her short nails gouging into his hands. The bulge howled and hissed. Jenna screamed and fought. He anchored her with a hand at the back of her neck, left her to contain the bulge, and made short work of the buttons on the cloak. It fell to the floor, revealing the whiteness of her skin and the problem. The kitten was stuck in the fold of her loosened top as it fell over her waist, trapped by her hands and the material.

  “Let go, Jenna.”

  Her chant shortened to staccato “nos” as she wrestled to contain the little kitten, which was just as determined to get free.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled them from her body. She lashed out with her feet. Her eyes flashed white in the darkness.

  “Nononononononononononono.”

  Holding both her hands in one of his, he pulled the equally hysterical kitten from under the bodice, tugging hard when the sharp little claws clung to the material. As soon as the kitten was free, it spun in his grip. He winced as it clawed its way up his arm to the security of his shoulder.

  “It was just kittens, Jenna.” She shuddered under his hand. He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Just two little pesky, more-trouble-than-they are-worth, kittens.”

  She burrowed against him as if wanting to get beneath his skin. He wrapped his arms tighter, holding her harder.

  “Just kittens, Sunshine,” he repeated.

  She gave one last violent shake, and then released her pent-up breath. “Kittens?”

  “Just kittens.”

  She went limp. He backed them up until he got to the side of the stall. He sat her on a bale of hay. She resisted, her soft hands sliding over his stomach, wrapping around his thighs as he pulled out his sulfurs and lit one. Her eyes were huge in her pale face as the match flared. He lit the lamp, sitting beside her as the glow intensified, unbuttoning his coat and pulling her into the warmth of his body. What in hell had made her so fearful of rats?

  She was still trembling, tiny little shakes that he knew she was trying to contain from the way she tensed though each occurrence.

  “I’ve got you, Sunshine. You’re safe.” He cupped her head in his hand and cradled her
close.

  She lay against him, her breath coming hot and moist against his chest through his shirt, the mounds of her full breasts pushing against his stomach, and her left hand resting against his erection, which stretched down his thigh, uncaring about the fear draining from her body. Only aware of her womanly smell and the lush temptation just the thickness of the fabric away.

  The kittens mewled in his ears. One draped itself into the curve of his neck, and started grooming his ear. He’d kick them off if he didn’t know they’d just cause a ruckus crawling back up.

  “Are they yours?” The soft whisper drifted up from the level of his chest.

  He shrugged the kitten away from his earlobe. “They certainly think so.”

  “Why?”

  “I made the mistake of feeding them when their mother abandoned them.” The kitten came back with a vengeance, determined to have its comfort. There was another silence.

  “Jack used to bang their heads on rocks.”

  That did not surprise him. “A lot of folk feel that way.”

  He shrugged the kitten away again. The kitten dug its claws in and pushed back.

  Jenna didn’t say anything, just lay against him. The kitten took advantage of his distraction to latch onto his earlobe. In two seconds it was happily slurping away, sucking on his ear, like a baby with a sugar tit. He knew from experience if he yanked it off he’d have to listen to ten minutes of yowling protest. It was easier to just wait until it went to sleep.

  Jenna shifted against him. He looked down to find her looking up with something like amazement in her eyes. “You have a kitten sucking on your ear.”

  He winced. “She’ll go to sleep soon.”

  “It looks uncomfortable.”

  “It isn’t my favorite experience.”

  “Do you want me to pull it off?”

  “You want to hear her yowl for the next ten minutes?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither.”

  She stared at him for so long that he didn’t know what to make of it. Then she blinked and the smallest of smiles touched her lips. “You are a nice man, Clint McKinnely.”

  “I’m a selfish bastard, and you’d do well to remember it.”

  She slid off the bale of hay, settling between his thighs. The light from the lamp cast her bare breasts in golden shadow. His cock jerked in his pants. She had to have felt the leap of hard flesh beneath her open palm. He expected her to flinch away. He never expected her to smile. Or the delicate touch of her hands on the buttons of his pants.

  “Jenna…”

  “What?” She didn’t halt in her unbuttoning.

  “There’s a house just a few yards away.”

  “Good.” She unfastened the last button.

  “There’s a big ol’ bed upstairs with a brand-new mattress sitting on it.”

  “Good.” She tugged at the waistband of his denims. He lifted his hips so she could work them down.

  “So why are you undressing me?”

  She pulled those softly aggressive hands from his eager flesh and folded them in her lap.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  He liked her better with the light of confidence in her eyes. He caught her hands and put them back on his pants.

  “There’s nothing to realize.” He removed the now-sleeping kitten from his shoulder and put it on the bale of hay. “I was just a little surprised.”

  She’d been too forward, Jenna realized. How many times had Jack slapped her for taking charge? She’d just been so touched that he’d fed and sheltered the two little kittens that she’d wanted to do something equally nice for him.

  He released her hands. For a moment she didn’t know what to do. Would he be offended if she resumed touching him? Would he be mad if she stopped now that she’d begun?

  His hands slid up over his thighs, over his lean hips, and under the worn blue fabric of his pants. He shifted. The material bulged as his hands worked beneath. Little by little he revealed the solid length of his cock. Every time she thought there must be an end, another dark, throbbing inch appeared until at last the broad head lay heavily against his hair-dusted thigh.

  She stared. She couldn’t help it. She’d never, ever seen a man’s organ that was so large. Never, ever dreamed a man could be built so. Jack’s cock had barely cleared his fly. Clint’s would not only clear his fly, but reach the elk horn button just above his navel. It was dark, wide, and tinted with the same red as the rest of his skin. Part of her was appalled, but another part of her, the shameful part that had led her astray in her youth, wanted to touch him to see how he’d feel under her fingers. To stroke the power that simmered under his skin.

  As if knowing what she was thinking, and the demons she wrestled with, Clint held his impressive length in his hand—stroking it, making it grow even more.

  “Is that what you wanted, Sunshine?” Deep mystery blended with the night, edging his drawl with temptation. “Were you curious as to what I looked like? How I was built?”

  How could he know so much about her in so short a time? She ducked her head, bracing herself for the condemnation that always came with honesty. “Yes.”

  “Then come satisfy your curiosity.”

  It was a long way up to his face, but she needed to see his expression. To understand the motive behind the invitation. His eyes met hers. His gaze was intent, serious, and unflinchingly dark with desire. He wanted her to touch him. She relaxed inside.

  “Come take what you want, Sunshine. Let me feel those soft lips on my cock.” He angled his cock toward her with three long strokes of his big hand.

  His thighs flexed under her hands as she leaned forward. He was such a big man, so strong. And he was hers. She’d do well to please him.

  The rough fabric of his denims scraped the sides of her breasts as she touched her tongue to the smooth, hot tip.

  “Yes, baby. That’s it,” he groaned, as he pressed his cock up into her touch.

  She let her tongue flatten against him, measuring the pulse of his hunger with her mouth. His hand cupped the back of her head, the weight alone pulling her forward, onto his cock.

  “Kiss it, Jenna,” he groaned in that low drawl that made everything in her want to obey. “Give me a taste of how sweet loving you is going to be.”

  She did, relaxing. He was no different than Jack in this. He wanted to be admired. Praised.

  “You’re so big…” She didn’t have to fake the wonder in her voice as she rained light kisses over the mushroom head.

  “Not too big.” His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth. “Open for me, Jenna.”

  She parted her lips just a little, teasing him with the promise of the heat within, knowing it would increase his pleasure. He growled and leaned back, pushing his hips forward. He rubbed his cock over her lips, from corner to corner, touching her teeth, seeming to enjoy their smooth glide over the sensitive tip.

  “Open, baby.”

  She did, but he was too big to just slide in. She stretched her jaws as far as she could, working him past her teeth, flinching when she accidentally scraped him, relaxing when he moaned instead of lashing out.

  When he was settled against her tongue, she peeked up from under her lashes. His big shoulders looked massive in the shearling coat, braced against the stall, his black hair swinging forward, framing his dark face, the shadows casting the sharp planes in stark relief. Beneath his lowered lids, his eyes glittered. He was watching her take him into her mouth. He touched her lips with his finger.

  “Now that’s a pretty sight. Those beautiful lips tight around my cock.”

  He was going to be easy to please. She smiled up at him and suckled lightly. One hand slid over her hair and then down to her shoulders.

  “Scoot up a bit.” She did, taking more of his cock in the process, the broad head filling her mouth too full. For an awful moment, she thought she’d gag. His fingers on her cheek stilled her panic.

  “Easy, Sunshine. Breathe through yo
ur nose and relax.”

  She knew that. Knew how to do this. Jack had spent most of their marriage teaching her to do this right. She took a slow breath and forced her throat to relax. It would be so helpful if she could remember it all now. If she pleased Clint tonight, maybe her second marriage didn’t have to go the way of the first.

  She worked him deeper in short little jabs. He was so much bigger than Jack that she couldn’t be sure she was pleasing him. Giving him enough stimulation. His finger under her chin made her jump.

  “Look at me.”

  She did, dreading what she’d see in his face. Surprisingly, he didn’t look upset, just very…intent.

  “Keep your eyes on me as you suck me. I want to see everything you feel, everything you think as I come.”

  She had to rely on her raised eyebrows to communicate her “Why?”

  “Because I want it.”

  And his tone said that was that. She shivered, but held his gaze. Clint’s eyes narrowed, and he swore.

  “Damn, I’m sorry.” He leaned forward. “You make me forget my head.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Just hold me, darling, while I get you settled.” She needed to be settled?

  His cock surged and jerked in her mouth as he shrugged out of his coat and then the heavy weight and warmth of it settled over her bare shoulders. She was immediately enveloped in the moist aroma of pine, smoke, and man. He seemed to surround her, his cock in her mouth. His scent in her nostrils. His hand in her hair.

  “It’s a shame though, to cover those magnificent breasts.”

  He thought her beasts were magnificent? She glanced down, but all she could see was the thick stalk of his penis and the curly edge of the coat he’d draped over her shoulders. His finger touched her cheek and she immediately brought her gaze back to his.

  She touched the edge of the coat and then stroked his penis gently. He was such a kind man. She wrapped her hand around his staff, marveling that her fingers didn’t meet, marveling at how he throbbed with life. Touching had involved as much fear as purpose with Jack. He could be volatile when aroused, though Clint was prodigiously aroused, she didn’t sense any violence in him. He was in control. Enjoying her mouth, but not on edge. It gave her the courage to experiment.