A Promise of Thunder

by Connie Mason

  When she returned to awareness moments later—or was it hours—Storm was lying on the bed, naked as the day she was born, and Grady was standing over her, grinning down at her with the aggressive leer of a savage aware of his power. He had lit a lantern, and soft light filled the room with dancing shadows. With growing apprehension she watched him release the string holding his breechclout in place. Her eyes followed it as it dropped to the floor.

  “Look at me.” Her eyes widened hugely as they slid upward to his groin. For the first time in her life Storm saw a fully aroused male organ. It protruded like a rigid shaft—strong, bold, sure, from a thick nest of coarse ebony at the juncture of his thighs. He displayed no modesty as she stared at him, only pride in his body and the knowledge that he could give her pleasure.

  “Storm.” Embarrassed by her burning perusal, her eyes returned to his face. “Touch me.”

  Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Touch you?”

  He knelt on the bed, the size and strength of him frightening, yet oddly stirring. She couldn’t be absolutely certain, for she had never seen Buddy nude, but she was almost positive her husband hadn’t been as generously endowed. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips in a gesture that sent Grady’s senses reeling.

  His eyes focused on the way her tongue probed provocatively at the corners of her mouth and licked across the soft pads of her lush lips. Every nerve and sinew came alive with the pleasure that he knew would soon be his.

  “Touch me,” he repeated. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not much different from any other man.”

  Not different? Storm thought mentally. She wanted to disagree, to tell him he was unique, that no other man could compare with him. His strong, angular face, proud bearing, and dark coppery skin proclaimed him as different from other men as night from day.

  When she resisted his plea, he reached out and grasped her hand, placing it on his distended member. Her eyes grew enormous, but curiosity overrode reluctance as her nerveless fingers stroked up and down his shaft and over its velvety tip. He groaned and lurched against her hand. When she looked up at him his eyes were closed and his face strained, as if caught in the throes of agony. Then his hand closed around hers, wrapping it more tightly around his hardness, thrusting into the soft warmth of her palm.

  “Enough!” he gasped, flinging her hand away and dropping onto the bed beside her. “Now, sweet lady, we shall see if Thunder can tame the Storm.”

  Rising to his knees and elbows, he lay full length atop her, wedging himself snugly between her thighs. Then he was kissing her, everywhere his lips could reach, teasing, nipping, tantalizing her with the hot moistness of his mouth. His hands moved restlessly over her flesh, stroking, caressing, seeking—bold—arousing, making her feel things she had never felt before. When one hand inserted itself between their bodies and probed between her legs, Storm jerked in violent response.

  “Don’t, please! I don’t understand what you’re doing to me.”

  “I’m making you happy, lady,” Grady replied as he flexed his hips and placed his swollen shaft into position at the cleft of her womanhood. His hands sank beneath her to cup her buttocks, holding her tightly as he flexed again, parting, penetrating, sliding into the liquid heat of her. Deep, deeper … When he was fully embedded in her, Storm sucked in a ragged breath as she felt herself stretching to accommodate him. Nothing in her limited experience had prepared her for the shock of total possession by a man as magnificent as Grady Stryker. Never had she felt such fullness or pleasure with Buddy, she thought wonderingly.

  “Oh, lady, I’ve never felt anything so good,” Grady groaned against her lips.

  He stroked her slowly, knowledgeably, both inside and out, with his hands and lips and shaft. She tilted her hips against him, unconsciously seeking more, and he dutifully obliged. Suddenly the slow rise and fall of his buttocks grew wildly frantic as he strained toward climax, and Storm’s senses erupted into wild, swirling pleasure. Thrusting, withdrawing, thrusting, she surrendered fully to his breathtaking ferocity, meeting his thrusts in staccato bursts of brilliant response that left Grady breathless with wonder.

  Thunder’s fury has tamed the Storm, he thought triumphantly. Nothing nature created could compare to the fierce, wild pleasure he found in Storm Kennedy’s arms.

  Storm soared, lifted on the wings of Grady’s passion. The dazzling promise of climax dangled before her eyes like a ripe plum and she reached for it, giving herself up to the heat of Grady’s loving. The second climax of her life, when it came moments later, exploded inside her in wave after wave of lush, sensual rapture, and she cried out in unrestrained awe. Through a gathering mist she felt his body’s forces straining, focusing on release. His muscles tensed, his body surged and withdrew, his thrusts grew furious and uncontrolled.

  The white-hot splendor that washed over Grady was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. His body was racked by spasms, his face a mask of agony and ecstasy as his seed spurted into the receptive heat of her womb.

  When at last his breathing slowed to dull thunder, Grady slid from Storm’s tight sheath and lay beside her. Fitting her into the curve of his body, he continued to stroke and caress her. He felt strong and invincible, stronger than he ever felt in his life, strong enough to want her again … now.

  “Storm.” His voice was soft. “Are you all right?”

  Her muffled reply was a bit shaky. “Yes.”

  “Is it true, what you said earlier? About never having reached a climax with your husband, I mean.”

  Storm buried her face in the pillow, too embarrassed to allow him to see her confusion. She never even knew women could feel pleasure in the marriage bed. Or wanted to.

  “I—why must we speak of such things?”

  “Because I want to know. Tell me, sweetheart.”

  “Dammit, why must you know what transpired in my marriage bed?” Her anger was brilliant. “Will it make you feel any more manly to know that I never felt anything remotely like that with Buddy? Must you destroy every aspect of a marriage I thought perfect until you showed up in my life?”

  Grady felt ten feet tall. Storm’s reluctant disclosure brought Grandfather’s words instantly to mind. Did Storm Kennedy really hold the key to his peace of mind and happiness? Only time would tell, he thought as his arms tightened possessively around her. As tired as he was, he knew he wouldn’t sleep this night. There was too much to think about. And he wanted to be fully alert in the unlikely event that the two men who had attacked Storm in the dead of night returned.

  “Go to sleep, Storm. It’s late and you’ve been through a great deal tonight.”

  Storm preferred not to think right now. She was tired, so tired. Yet she knew when her good sense returned there would be issues to be resolved, recriminations to be confronted—and a conscience that must be placated. But it was difficult to think, let alone make decisions with her body still tingling from Grady’s hands and mouth and her insides churning with lingering pleasure. Tomorrow, she thought sleepily, tomorrow I’ll confront the shame and embarrassment of the terrible sin I have committed.

  Storm came awake slowly. She could hear the wind howling through the shattered window, but she felt cozy and comfortable, wrapped in a warm nest of blankets. Blankets? She knew of no blanket with the feel of silky strength like that which surrounded her. Shattered window? Suddenly the events of last night came to her with devastating clarity.

  She must have been out of her mind to allow a half-breed savage into her bed! And if she remembered correctly, she had responded to his loving with a dazzling display of shameful abandon. Because her response was completely at odds with what she had experienced with her husband, Storm knew that it was evil and sinful.

  Dragging in a shuddering sigh, Storm slowly turned her head and found Grady awake and regarding her with an indecipherable look on his face. “You’re awake,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

  Memories of the pleasure they had shared during the night softened the h
arsh lines of his face. Though there were purple smudges of exhaustion around his eyes, he gave no indication that he had spent the night watching Storm sleep, marveling at the pure lines of her face and form and curling long strands of her lustrous blonde hair around his fingers. When she stirred and opened her eyes, Grady hardened in instant arousal. Just thinking about making love to her again gave him strength.

  Storm couldn’t bring herself to look Grady in the eye so she stared at his chest. It was smooth, well-developed, and bronze, with a very light sprinkling of black hair. The outlines of his muscles seemed to stretch his skin to magnificent proportions. Was there nowhere she could look without imagining his proud, regal length stretched atop hers, the exquisite fullness of him filling her …

  “Stop!” The word burst past her lips in a loud explosion of denial before she realized she had spoken aloud.

  Grady grinned with wry amusement. “Have I done something wrong?” He hadn’t done anything—yet—but he was seriously considering it.

  “You did everything wrong,” Storm said, finally finding the courage to raise her eyes to face him squarely.

  “Was it wrong to save you from those two men, who would have done God knows what to you?”

  “No, not that, I—oh, stop confusing me. You know what you did last night.”

  An enigmatic smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glowed with fierce possession. “We made love, Storm Kennedy, and it was magnificent. Every bit as good as I knew it would be. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it; I know better.”

  She groaned and dropped her face into her hands, giving in to her despair. If she lived to be one hundred, she’d never survive the horror of waking up in bed with the man responsible for Buddy’s death. The fact that she had responded to the savage’s loving in a way she’d never responded to Buddy intensified that horror.

  “Dammit, Storm, what is wrong with you? Those men didn’t hurt you. And your cabin is unscathed save for a shattered window, a broken hinge, and a few bullet holes.”

  She pried her hands away from her face and whispered savagely, “Why? What kind of man are you to take advantage of a woman in distress? What kind a woman am I to—to—oh, God, I can’t even talk about it. I’ve shamed Buddy’s memory.”

  Grady was truly perplexed. To his way of thinking there was no shame in a man and woman wanting one another, fulfilling their mutual need in a natural way. “Buddy is dead, but you’re alive, more alive than you’ve ever been in your life. If what I suspect is true, your dead husband never pleased you as well as I did last night. Can you deny the passion you experienced in my arms?”

  “No!” she spat fiercely. Her honey-brown eyes narrowed with anger. “But it was wrong to feel like that with a—a—savage!”

  The word exploded in Grady’s brain like a blast from a gun. “Savage! Is that what you think of me? Am I less than human because of my Indian blood? You’re a damn hypocrite, Storm Kennedy. I may be a savage, but you’re a liar who’s afraid to voice your true feelings. You told me last night that I was the first man to bring you to climax.”

  Storm gulped in fear, realizing she had trapped herself with her own words. “I—I am a liar. I didn’t mean what I said. Of course you weren’t the first man to—to—make me feel like that. Buddy and I had a very satisfying marriage.”

  “Are you telling me you’re always such a hot little piece?”

  His crude language brought a flush of color to her cheeks. “You’re the expert; think what you like.”

  Suddenly he swept back the blanket, exposing her to his lascivious gaze. Bold blue eyes raked the length of her naked body before coming to rest on her outraged face. “Something tells me, Storm Kennedy, that you protest too much. Tell me again that I didn’t please you.”

  “You’re an arrogant bastard, Grady Stryker. Buddy was a much better lover than you.” Her lie was more for her benefit than his.

  Grady’s eyes blazed with unholy light as he pulled her upright into his arms. She knew what he intended before his hard mouth came down on hers. His kiss was angry, his tongue a rapacious sword that stabbed past her lips in a fierce demonstration of total domination. His hands, oh, God, his hands—they stroked, caressed, and probed relentlessly, leaving no part of her free of his possession. He was every bit the savage she had called him, and more. She fought against total subjugation and lost.

  With the agility and strength that was second nature to him, he lifted her atop him and impaled her fully, penetrating deeply, his hardened staff throbbing against the tight walls of her sheath. Storm gasped as he filled and stretched her, touching her so deeply and thoroughly, she felt magnificently possessed by the scent and essence of him.

  She expected savagery. He gave her tenderness.

  His lips softened. His mouth nuzzled her breasts with exquisite gentleness and thrilling passion. His fingers stroked and molded the soft mounds of her buttocks as he slid her up and down the engorged pillar of velvet and steel. Her climax came abruptly, shattering her into a million pieces then flinging her to the stars. She was barely aware of Grady’s shout of raw pleasure as he attained man’s highest reward.

  “How do I compare with your dead husband now?” Grady panted into her ear.

  “There’s no comparison. You can’t hold a candle to Buddy.”

  Red dots of rage exploded in Grady’s brain. “You’re a sorry excuse for a woman, Storm Kennedy!” The lie nearly strangled him, but it was too late to take it back now. “You are nothing like my sweet, gentle Summer Sky. At least she knew how to make me feel like a man. There’s much you need to learn about pleasing a man.”

  “Oh!”

  Flinging himself out of bed, Grady stalked to the door, forgetting that he was stark naked, forgetting everything but the need to remove himself from the presence of a woman who wasn’t honest enough to admit she felt passion with him. He flung open the partially ruined door with a bang and a curse, nearly breaking it off the remaining hinge. The raw bite of the wind stole his breath away. But he was too proud to ask for a blanket to cover his nakedness, too incensed to return for the scant protection of his discarded breechclout. He stalked out the door, pure savage and every bit as ferocious as the fearless Lakota warrior who out of bitterness and hate had vowed vengeance against the white race. He turned once to send Storm a look of utter contempt before slamming the door behind him.

  Storm stared at the door long after Grady left. Long after she heard the thunder of hooves on the hard-packed earth. Sweet Lord, what had she done? What kind of woman was she to forget all she and Buddy had shared through the years? One moment of exquisite passion had made Buddy a dim memory from her past. Obviously the half-breed had cast a spell on her that turned her into a wanton hussy with the morals of an alley cat. How could Grady have found a place inside her that Buddy, her dearest friend, had never discovered?

  What made Grady different from any other man? she asked herself.

  The simplicity of the answer stunned her. No other man had the power to move her as Grady did.

  She hated the way he manipulated her. She despised the way her body responded to the touch of his hands and mouth. And she definitely didn’t appreciate the knowledge that he was the first man to reach some magical place in her that no other man had ever touched.

  Even if it was true.

  Chapter Seven

  “You bungling idiots!” Nat Turner raved as he fixed Fork and Purdy with a malevolent glare. “Can’t you do anything right?”

  Purdy shifted in restless agitation while Fork, wearing a bandage where Grady’s knife had gauged a nasty groove, grimaced in painful recollection. He preferred not being reminded of their disastrous encounter with the half-breed. But Turner was relentless in his fury.

  “What in the hell are you being paid for? You were supposed to convince the Kennedy woman that she isn’t capable of homesteading or defending her property. You were ordered to scare the living hell out of her so she’d accept my offer to buy her land. But no, ma
nhandling one frail woman was too much for you. My client in Texas is badgering me for land.”

  “How were we supposed to know that blasted renegade would barge in just when we had the woman where we wanted her?” Purdy complained bitterly. “Look what he did to Fork. An inch lower and the renegade’s knife woulda put a quick end to him.”

  “Stop sniveling. I can’t stand whiners,” Turner returned crossly. “What you’re telling me is that the two of you are no match for the breed.”

  “Now see here, Turner,” Purdy protested, “you got no call talkin’ to me and Fork like that. Soon as I heal we’ll try again, only this time we’ll know what to expect. Maybe we’ll even hire another man to act as lookout while we rough up the woman. That damn renegade’s got eyes in the back of his head. How in the hell did he know what we were up to?”

  “Seeing as how I can’t trust you two to do the job for me, I reckon I’ll have to do it myself,” Turner said. “If my methods don’t work by the time Purdy is healed, I’ll let you have another go at her.”

  “I didn’t think you liked dirtyin’ your hands with rough stuff,” Fork said with sly innuendo. “The Kennedy woman might be young and beautiful, but she’s damn feisty. Ya ain’t gonna handle her with kid gloves.” His snicker set Turner’s teeth on edge.

  “Perhaps you’re wrong,” Turner said thoughtfully. “Perhaps kid gloves are exactly what’s needed to convince the Widow Kennedy to move on to other parts. Or …” an arrested look came over his face, “I could rely on that old adage about honey catching more flies than vinegar. Boys,” he said, grinning wickedly, “I’m going acourtin’. Wish me luck.”

  Storm hadn’t seen Grady since the day he stormed out of her cabin. Nor did she expect to see him anytime soon after the angry words they’d exchanged. The weather had turned blustery, and each time she carried wood into the house for her stove she was reminded that if not for Grady she would be out cutting wood right now. Truth to tell, the guilt she felt was not due entirely to the firewood he had provided. A good share of it came from their lustful coupling that night a week ago.