“Tough.” He set her on her feet, the rustle of his denims and the shift of his grip telling her that he stood also. “When you married me you took the good with the bad.”
Chapter Twenty-One
She had to take the good with the bad. The thought plagued Jenna as she rode behind Clint, her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek pressed against his broad back. His coat kept her from feeling the heat of his body, but if she closed her eyes she could imagine it. How warm he always was. How caring.
She had to take the good with the bad. She pressed a little closer, the back of the saddle pressing into her stomach, the scent of his cigarette drifting over his shoulder. There wasn’t an ounce of bad in the man. She’d bet on that when she’d joined this marriage, and she hadn’t seen a thing to change her mind since.
The saddle creaked as he half-turned, “Something wrong?”
“My hands are cold.”
“If you’d asked before leaving, I would have made sure you had the right clothes.” He flicked the half finished cigarette to the ground.
Again that reference to the fact that she needed looking after, as though she were a child. She slid her hands up under his coat and rested them against his belly, just above the waistband of his denims. He jerked. He was clearly still angry. She needed to do something about that.
She gently stroked his stomach through his shirt. The muscles under her fingers knotted on the upstroke. On the downstroke her knuckle slid beneath the waistband of his denims. His flesh burned hotter there. Her fingers lingered. His breathing grew rapid. The gap between material and flesh widened.
“Clint?” she asked softly, her daring rising to conquer her modesty.
“What?” His drawl was a growl.
“If you don’t want me to touch you, you need to tell me now.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“This isn’t going to change my feelings, Jenna.”
“I know. You’re going to beat me when I’m up to it.” She kissed his back through his coat. He leaned back, giving her better access.
“Damned straight.”
“But can I touch you now the way I want?” She worked his shirt up, sighing as her fingers reached the heat of his flesh. His stomach muscles leapt under her touch.
“How do you want?” His hand caught hers.
“Intimately.” She wanted to touch him with the same generosity with which he always touched her, releasing his fear and tension into a storm of passion that carried him away.
“Yes.” His fingers jerked on hers and then opened, freeing her.
“Good.” She smiled against his back. Who did he think he was fooling with his snapping? She could feel the excited jump of his breathing against her palms as she snuggled closer.
She tried to unbutton his pants with one hand while stroking his stomach with the other, dipping her finger into his navel while she tugged at the stubborn flap. When her nail bent back she acknowledged the truth. This was going to be a two-handed job. She got the fly of his pants open before running into another problem.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered.
“Who’s stopping you?”
She stroked the thick length of his cock through his denims, pressing her forehead against his back as the heat of embarrassment washed her face.
“I can’t get to you.”
“That, Sunshine, I can fix.” He stood in the saddle, raising his hips and straightening the line from thigh to hip. She reached into the open fly of his denims, very carefully cupping his hard flesh, easing him up. The head caught and she had to stop. Just when she thought he was stuck forever, he pushed the waistband down. On a soft sigh, she lifted him into her grasp.
She couldn’t see him, but she didn’t need to. The sheer weight was impressive. His cock rested on her hands, jerking and twitching with need. Every inch of his heavy shaft burned into her memory. The roping of veins under the silky smooth flesh. The hardness covered with velvet, ending in the flared head with its cushiony resistance. She ran a fingertip around that intriguing softness. He pulsed with life and promise. And if he was to be believed, only for her.
“You feel good in my hands.”
“Sunshine, I can’t begin to describe how good your soft little hands feel on me.” His laugh was choked.
“Do you like it when I do this?” “This” was a gentle pumping motion. His hips bucked, giving her a little more to play with.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll do it again.”
“What happened to my shy little sunbeam?” He asked over his shoulder, strands of his hair brushing her face.
“She’s coming out of her shell.”
“About damned time.”
Even though he couldn’t feel it, she kissed his back. He made her feel so special.
“Twist a little on the upstroke baby,” he ordered.
“Like this?” she asked, setting the suggestion to action. He jerked as if shot, his head arched back and then fell forward. His hands came down on the pommel, gripping hard.
“Son of a bitch, just…like…that.” She did it again and again, picking up speed as moisture leaked down the shaft, smoothing it back into his flesh as she planed his mood though the surface of his cock. Smoothing out his rough edges, taking away the hardness and giving him what she could. “Baby, I’m going to come.”
“Not yet.”
“It’s not like you’re giving me much choice.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t realized she could control the pace. She gentled her approach, matching her rhythm to the slow, easy gait of the horse, drawing his cock up and out on the forward stroke, bringing it down and back on the downstroke. He fought her, punching up in short jabs, trying to get the speed back, but she snuggled into his back and kept to her own pace. This was her gift. She’d deliver it how she wanted.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m trying to pleasure you.” This time on the upstroke she cupped the tip in her palm. It overflowed the center like a big juicy plum, ripe to bursting. Moisture pooled in the well of her palm. She rubbed back onto the head in easy circles. He groaned and shuddered. His cock surged against her palm. More silky moisture replaced the first. She scooped it up on her middle finger.
“Don’t look,” she whispered and she brought her hand back.
“At what?”
Before he could turn and see, she slipped her finger into her mouth, sucking it clean, letting his salty flavor spread through her mouth. Wanting this small part of him. When it was gone, she wanted more. More of his taste. His compliance. His acceptance. Heavens, she wanted him.
He turned in the saddle, catching her with her finger in her mouth, his eyes dropping to the sight, pausing before burning like black fire as they met hers.
“Did you like that little taste, Sunshine?”
With her cheeks so hot that she felt sure they’d catch fire, she whispered, “You weren’t supposed to see.”
He unbuttoned his coat and pushed it back. “Did you like it?”
She nodded. Her gaze locked on his cock as it rose from the V of his fly. Dark, throbbing, powerful, hungry. Her pussy swelled and clenched with anticipation. She took her finger out of her mouth and touched it to the tip, smiling as his cock danced.
“I like that.” She ran her finger down the side, tracing the curve of the vein to the base.
“You do?”
“Oh yes.” She wiggled her finger under the tight material of his pants, reaching the soft skin at the top of his scrotum before the material cut off access. He grunted as she scraped gently with the edge of her nail.
“I like touching you, too.”
“I know.” She pulled her finger free, retracing her path back to the moist tip. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
“All men want to touch a beautiful woman. It’s not a reason for finding favor.” He cocked an eyebrow at her in that half-play, half-serious way that made her
want to smile.
“I know.” She leaned her cheek against his arm. That he found her beautiful was a miracle she couldn’t get over. She closed her fist around him. He arched into her touch. She tested his readiness with a squeeze. He bucked and pre-come dribbled over her hand. She opened her fingers, letting the silken fluid pool on the edge of her palm. “But I like being able to give to you.”
“Look at me, Sunshine.” He caught her hand in his, holding her tight against him. She did. All play was gone from his face. He was still aroused, but he was serious too. “Be careful that you don’t give me more than you can spare.”
“You’re always taking care of me.”
“I’m warning you.” He shook his head, his hair rustling across his coat. When it comes to you, I’m a starving man.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“I can’t be.” She pumped him through her fist, knowing he was close to coming from the way his cock hardened to steel and throbbed. She squeezed him until his breath hissed between his teeth and his cock jerked in her grip before whispering, “I love you.”
She watched his face as her words threw him over the edge, his teeth gritted against the agony of sensation jerking his body. His eyes closed as he moaned deep in his throat, and in her hand, his big cock pulsed jet after jet of his hot come. She let it spill over her fingers, washing her in his seed, his pleasure, marking her as his. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, catching the excess. She milked him gently, watching as another spurt welled, feeling his shudder all the way to her soul. Oh, she liked him like this. Open to her, nothing held back, letting her in further than he ever had before, seemingly vulnerable. Though no man as tough as Clint could ever truly be vulnerable, she enjoyed the illusion.
A bead of fluid lingered on the broad head. She curled her finger around it. His moan as she stole that bit of seed sent a thrill of hot desire to her womb. She looked straight into his slitted eyes as she lapped it off her finger. His body jerked again and his lip lifted as a growl emanated from deep in his chest.
“Come here.” His arm curved behind her shoulders pulling her around until she sat across his thighs.
Clint turned her face up and kissed her hard, nipping her lower lip when she didn’t immediately open for him. Kissing her deeply when she did as always, opening herself to his needs. Goddamn, she was too generous. She’d give him everything if he asked for it, no holds barred. A man who had a woman like that had a treasure, but he’d have to guard her very carefully, place the limits for her that she couldn’t. He hugged her tightly.
“I’m not like this with anyone else.” The confession floated upwards on a puff of frosted breath. Though he probably wasn’t meant to hear the hint of fear in her voice, he did. She worried way too much.
He shifted her higher in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, breathing deeply of the scent of roses and contentment.
“I know you, Sunshine. I may not know where you’ve been, but I know who you are, and you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” He accepted that now. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t fighting it anymore.
Danny growled beside him. He followed the dog’s lead, looking across the field. A lone rider approached. He reached for his rifle.
“Sunshine, button me back up. We’ve got company.”
He held the rifle clear as she knifed upright, her breath coming in short gasps, her hands soft and shaking as she eased his semi-hard cock back under his coat. She couldn’t get him back in his pants, and her breathing grew almost desperate.
“That’s fine. Leave it like that.” The rider was too far away to make out features, but he didn’t recognize the horse. He kicked his foot free of the stirrup. Clint kept his voice calm, as he urged Jenna around. “Now turn and put your foot in the stirrup and get back up behind me.”
“But—”
“No buts. Just do it.” If it came to a confrontation he wanted his body between her and any bullets. As soon as she was settled he motioned to his side. “Take the revolver out of my holster.” There was a long hesitation in which she didn’t move. “Now, Jenna.”
She took it, following his orders, shaking so badly he was afraid she’d fall off.
“You’re not going to need it. It’s just a precaution.”
“I don’t know how to shoot.”
“Nothing to it. Cock the hammer, aim for the chest, and pull the trigger.” The rider came closer. He wasn’t getting any more familiar.
“I can’t.”
“If I go down, you start firing and don’t stop until the chambers are empty. Danny growled again. Clint levered a round into the Spencer’s chamber, the barrel resting on his thigh, pointing at the stranger.”
“Oh God, you can’t go down.” She spread her palms over his chest as if to shield him. The muzzle of the revolver pressed up into his chin.
He moved it aside. “It’s not in my plans for the evening.”
“You have plans?”
“Big plans.” He squinted against the sun. There was something familiar about the rider now. “They start with stripping you naked and end with my tongue buried in your pussy.”
“How can you think about that at a time like this?”
“With you for a wife, it’s a wonder I think of anything else.” If he wasn’t mistaken that lump boring into his spine was her forehead and she was grinding it back and forth.
“Please be careful.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”The fierce whisper sent his heart to pounding and slipped beneath the familiar cold anticipation of battle.
“Then I guess we’ll just have to keep this encounter friendly.” Which might be easier than he thought as he recognized the rider. Mark Dougherty wasn’t his favorite person, but he didn’t think their meeting would come to a killing event. Nevertheless, he didn’t lower the rifle. “You can probably relax. It’s Eloise’s brother. He’s not anyone’s favorite, but I don’t think he’s a danger.”
If a body discounted the rumors that he’d taken up with a gang of no-goods and started down a bad road. Jenna didn’t relax at his assurance. After a brief pause, her shaking grew worse. Dougherty drew up alongside.
“Evening McKinnely.”
“Evening.” Jenna all but buried herself in his back.
“That one of the Emporium’s girls?” Dougherty jerked his chin in Jenna’s direction.
“The Emporium burned down a year ago.”
“For sure someone took it over.”
They had but he wasn’t going to get into that discussion with his wife behind him.
“You heading back to your sister’s?”
“Yeah, I thought I’d visit a bit.”
Which probably meant he’d run out of money. Clint eyed him. The man seemed to have aged ten years in the year and a half he’d been gone, his blond good looks dissipating under the influence of too much alcohol and too little exercise.
“I’m sure she’d appreciate the help.” Not that Clint thought Mark would be much help. The man was shiftless to the bone, but Eloise seemed to love having him around. There was no accounting for taste.
Mark moved his horse closer. Danny growled. Behind him Jenna stiffened. The shaking stopped, and beneath his arm, the muzzle of the revolver lifted and pointed. For a woman who said she couldn’t shoot at someone, Jenna was taking damned careful aim. Clint tipped his hat down over his eyes, absorbing the information.
“That’s close enough.”
“You’re not being very neighborly.” Mark pulled his horse up.
“Can’t help it. My dog doesn’t like you.”
“And you let your dog do your thinking?”
“He hasn’t failed me yet.” Clint shrugged.
“They said you’d turned strange after you quit marshaling. Soft even.” Mark’s bark of laughter was forced. He palmed his coat away from his belt. Clint wasn’t impressed wit
h the move or the stomach that overhung the other man’s buckle.
“They say a lot of things.” He smiled. He clamped his elbow down on the muzzle of the revolver Jenna was trying to shove forward.
“You going to introduce me to your companion?” Mark asked.
“No.” Clint kept his answer short and to the point. Jenna relaxed infinitesimally.
“You didn’t use to be so unsociable.” Mark’s thin mouth disappeared under the lash of the slight.
“Your memory might be failing. I’ve always been damned unsociable.”
“Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth when you were courting my sister.”
“Walking her home when she worked too late at the store isn’t courting.”
“It damned well better be, seeing as how you were out alone with her after dark.”
“If you were that worried you could have walked her home yourself.”
“I was busy.”
Busy only if you counted gambling and whoring.
Clint shrugged. “Seeing as she’s married, I’d say it’s all water under the bridge.”
“I suppose so.” Mark frowned, but he didn’t have any argument for the truth.
The smile he put on his face was forced. “Mind if I ride in with you?”
“Yes.”
“Planning on a little horse sport?” Mark’s smile turned lecherous. He tried to peer around Clint’s shoulder.
Clint kneed Ornery to keep Jenna hidden, while observing, “You always were an ill-mannered son of a bitch.”
“And you always were a selfish bastard, keeping all the good whores to yourself.”
Clint wanted to bury his fist in the other man’s smirk. As if sensing his mood, Danny snarled and lunged at the chestnut’s hooves.
“Goddamn it!” Mark cursed, trying to rein in the terrified horse. “Call off your dog, or I’ll shoot him.”
“I wouldn’t.” Clint raised the muzzle of his rifle. Behind him, Jenna tensed. She was afraid of the son of a bitch. He didn’t know why, but he would. And then, if necessary, he’d gut him like the pig he was. “However, if you move it along, Danny might see fit to leave you be.”
Promises Prevail Page 33
