by Reece Butler
There was a wet pussy right over his head, breasts above, and a first-class ass curving around the back. He couldn’t wait to sink his tongue and fingers into her pussy, then his cock. He’d try a finger in her ass, as well. If she liked it enough, and was still here when Lance got back, his brother would be a very happy man.
She bent her legs and shifted, so he moved his grip. His thumbs filled the inside creases of her thighs, and his fingers wrapped over her hips.
“Let me guide that wet, swollen pussy right to my mouth,” he said.
Though her face was as red as the swollen lips above him, she did what he asked. He inhaled again. He’d never forget her perfume. It was embedded in his DNA, or hotwired into his brain. He didn’t know or care as long as he could enjoy her dark curls wet with moisture. Below the curls her thick, swollen lips begged for his tongue.
“Oh, God, you smell so good.”
He used his tongue to press open the seam between her inner and outer lips. Once open, he felt for her clit. She gasped and tightened her thighs on his cheeks. Though he’d fought it at the time, he would have to thank the good doctor for insisting he be shaved before leaving the clinic. This first time had to be good for Marci so she would want more. Lots more.
“Get comfy because I want this to take a long, long time,” he said.
He flicked his tongue over her clit. She gasped and rewarded him with a gush of fluid. He took his time, licking up every bit. Then he pressed his tongue between her lips, now engorged and slick with fluid. Ambrosia. She moved her knees apart, sinking down on him.
He chuckled. “You’re a fast learner.”
“Shut up and keep working,” she said in a growl.
He went back to work with a wide smile. She was so hot, wet, and eager that she wouldn’t last long before she came for the first time. He concentrated on her clit with his tongue and put a finger inside her. She gasped when he hit a spot, so he worked it, using his finger as if motioning someone forward. She shivered and moaned. Her grip on his hair hurt, but it was so good. He sent his other hand lower, following the wet trail. When he got to her asshole he used his baby finger on her. She froze, and then curved her ass to pull him farther in.
“You like it in your ass, do you? That’s real good,” he murmured while she twisted and groaned. She yanked on his hair, so he put his tongue to good use again. With both hands busy and his tongue working her clit, it didn’t take long for her to shudder and come, gushing into his mouth. He kept the finger in her ass going as he sucked up every drop. Finally, she slumped. He was gasping almost as much as she. Gasping and grinning.
How had he gone so many years without pleasuring a woman?
“Oh, my,” she finally murmured. “So that’s what it’s all about.”
No, she couldn’t have meant that. She must be at least twenty-five years old. But she’d implied her husband was a selfish bastard, and he’d never even gone down on her. She needed a man to take the time to relax her so she could come fifty or so times.
Since no one else was around, he appointed himself. He helped her to lie down. She lay on his good side with her head on his chest, her right leg splayed over his. He lay there, almost content, until her breathing slowed.
“That was your first orgasm, was it?”
She twitched her shoulder, which he took as a hesitant “yes.”
“Well, honey, it ain’t gonna be your last.” He didn’t think she was ready for a deep kiss, but he couldn’t help planting a small one on her forehead. “Stay around for a while and you’ll get a lot more.”
“Promise?”
A very Mona Lisa smile played around her lips. He nodded and her smile broadened to take up her whole face. He barely saw the red line anymore. It was there, but it didn’t matter. He tucked her close. Pleasuring Marci like that made him feel like he was the best damn man on the planet. His leg throbbed but he didn’t really care. He’d given a precious gift to her.
A woman only experienced her first orgasm once. And he was the man who’d done it for her.
She lifted her head. Dark, inquisitive eyes twinkled. Her hand strayed down his body to grasp his cock through the sheet.
“What can we do about this?”
“You can do anything you want,” he replied as calmly as he could. Had she gone down on a man before? Would she be shy, or eager?
She tilted her head. He realized her eyes were slightly slanted, like a cat. She slid down the bed until her head, leaning on her elbow, was at his hip. She grasped him hard.
Oh, yes. A hand job would be nice.
Her soft little palm and fingers felt so much better than his own callused ones. She stared at his cock for a bit. A few drops of pre-cum emerged. The tip of her tongue protruded between her lips. She wasn’t going to—
No. Of course not. She used her thumb to roll the liquid over the head of his cock. Her brow was furrowed a bit, and she worried at her lower lip with her upper teeth. God, he wanted those teeth scraping his cock!
“Oh, baby, that feels so good,” he said in encouragement. She lifted her head and leaned forward. He held his breath. She flicked her tongue over him.
“Oh, God, yes!”
He’d never forget seeing that pink tongue dancing over his cock. It felt even better sliding over the smooth head then around the rim. He swallowed hard, barely able to breathe, as she worked him.
He was hauling breath like a trucker on overdrive when Marci drew back. He silently begged for her not to go. She got onto her knees, grabbed him again, and leaned over. Before he could gasp, her hot, wet mouth sucked him in.
Heaven. Sheer, going-to-hell-in-a-handbasket heaven.
She backed away, spinning her tongue around him like a propeller. He jerked. Then she took his balls in her other hand and gently squeezed. The need that had been building since he saw her, rose in a torrent. He’d damned near come a dozen times while licking and sucking her hot pussy. He’d held off then, but he couldn’t anymore. He could barely suck enough air to keep him from passing out.
“I’m gonnna come,” he warned her between pants. “If you don’t back off you’re going to get—”
She pressed a finger into his ass. It hit something wonderful, like a push button to orgasm. He tried not to come in her mouth but she wouldn’t back off. And then she scraped her teeth down his cock.
His balls exploded. “Oh, God, yes!”
He emptied itself into her willing mouth. She sucked, flicking that damned tongue over and around his cock, until there was nothing left. He hauled air, sucking deep into his burning lungs.
“Mmm, that was nice,” she murmured and stretched, catlike.
He hauled her mouth over to his and kissed her. Deep, like he meant it. He tasted his salty cum on her tongue. Not many women put up with giving a blow job. Even fewer enjoyed it. Marci seemed to be one of them.
She lay back on his chest as if she was a tough woman using a man for her own purposes. But the sigh and snuggle that followed gave her away. He lay there, absently running his fingers up and down her back. From her shoulders to her thigh, over her curved ass and back, again and again. He felt her relax against him. He went still. Surely she hadn’t fallen asleep?
The sigh was followed by a soft snore. Yep, she was down for the count. They hadn’t made it to home base but they’d each gotten one doozy of an orgasm. That was enough for tonight. He held a satisfied woman in his arms, and was well satisfied himself. She inhaled, deep into her lungs, then released it slowly. He held still as she snuggled closer, curling her hand around his chest.
She was totally zonked, just like a baby. No woman had ever trusted him like this. Nor had he trusted in return. Even when he and Lance brought their almost-fiancé home, she took over the master bedroom and they slept in the rooms they’d used as kids. Thank God they’d never had sex with Charlene on the ranch. Thinking back, it was just raw sex they’d provided each other. There wasn’t one ounce of caring in anything Charlene did, in or out of bed. He should have
trusted Lance’s instincts instead of his need for a son, and therefore a wife.
What had just happened between himself and Marci showed more caring than he would normally be comfortable accepting. But somehow it was different, because it was Marci.
He watched her sleep for a few moments. He could get used to this in no time. He fought to keep awake but knew it was a losing battle. He pulled the sheets up and, holding her snug, followed her into sleep.
Chapter Ten
Simon flicked his tongue over Marci’s clit. This was the way for a man to start the day, with an eager woman’s pussy right in his face.
She gasped and grabbed his hair to hold him in place. “Right there!”
He added his finger as she pushed on the edge of the kitchen table with her bare heels, lifting her ass to press her pussy against his mouth. Marci was a fast learner, demanding he give her what she wanted. Right now, she was well on her way to the second orgasm of the day. The first happened in their bed with her sitting on his face again. He wanted her to sink down on his cock and ride him hard, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. He was hoping this afternoon the situation would change.
“Yes!” she screamed. “More!”
He heard a distinctive rumbling, silently cursed, and pulled back his head. She lifted her own and glared down her aroused body at him. He knew his face glistened from nose to chin. He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile and shook his head.
“Sorry, honey. Time to work.” He sat back in his chair.
“What? No!” When she sat up, her hot pussy pressed against the table. He wanted to mark the spot so they could do it again, and again, in the same place. Her feet dangled over the edge, far from the floor. “But, I was that close!” She held up her hand, thumb and first finger an inch apart.
“Yes, well, Donny’s about to get even closer.”
He pointed toward the window. Donny was parked right outside, driver’s side closest to the house. She shrieked and rolled off the table, landing on her feet. She scuttled forward, keeping her head down as she scrambled into her clothes.
“I thought that noise was my orgasm coming!”
He mentally patted his back that at least she now knew what an orgasm felt like.
“How long was he there?” she demanded as she shoved her shirt into her sweats. “Do you think he saw me?”
“Aw, honey, you’re acting like a teenager caught necking. It’s just Donny. He and Keith have four kids with Aggie. We didn’t do anything he hasn’t done lots of times.” Simon wiped his face with his forearm. The well-worn cotton shirt had been subjected to a lot worse fluids. He wasn’t sure he was going to wash it again.
“But I haven’t done it before!” Marci bit her lip and peeked out the window. The sun lit her worried frown. “Why’s he here so early?”
“He said he’d be over to help with chores,” said Simon. “Don’t worry about him. Even if he saw you, he won’t say anything.”
She turned incredulous eyes on him. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He leered at her. “No, that’s my job,” he stated. “After Donny finishes the chores.”
“Ha!” She straightened her clothes and walked to the door with more dignity than he thought she’d be able to put together. “I’m going to help.”
“No, you’re not.” Barn chores were not for female guests. He reached for his crutches to stand. She grabbed them before he could and set them on a chair where he couldn’t easily reach. “What are you doing?”
“The doctor said you’re to stay off your foot. Now sit!”
He gave in to her, but just because his foot hurt like hell now that he wasn’t face-deep in ecstasy. He’d been just as close to coming when he’d heard that diesel rumble. She bustled around getting pillows to put his foot on and making sure he had fresh coffee.
“What are you going to do while I’m in the barn?”
He wanted Marci to stay on the ranch for a bit. Hell, he wanted her to stay for weeks if she could cook more of those brownies and was as hot and eager for sex. But to do that he had to let her think she was caring for him. He was the boss, no two ways about that, but she didn’t need to know it yet.
He looked around the room. He wasn’t the type of a man to sit still unless he had his nose in a book. Lance would work for hours braiding leather and stuff into ropes and halters that he sold for mega bucks to rich folk with more money than brains. Not him. All he wanted to do was work on his family’s ranch and pass it down to future generations. His eye caught the narrow spines stacked behind the glass corner cabinet.
“Why don’t you bring me one of those diaries,” he said, pointing. “I’ve been wanting to read them since I was a boy.”
“Any in particular?” she asked as she carefully eased open the door.
“Might as well start with the one on top.”
She handed it over after shutting the glass again. “Who wrote it?”
He opened the flyleaf and read out loud.
This is the personal property of Elizabeth Katherine James Elliott from June 1873 to December 1875.” He turned the page and found the same neat script. “June 21st, 1873. Sophie’s twins, Max and Vivian, are flourishing. I don’t know who is more proud. Max Senior struts around as if he was the only father and Vivian already has Sam wrapped around her tiny little finger. Josh lets them crow, giving his silent strength to protect all three of them. Trace is working hard to convince Max to take over as sheriff. With Willie and Meggie in town, and me carrying Jack’s baby, Trace wants to stay closer to home. No, to me. When I’m with child I have a such a need for loving, day and night!
Simon felt his ears start to burn. He cleared his throat. “No wonder my aunts wouldn’t let me read them.”
“You know those people?” asked Marci. She looked entranced rather than bored.
“Of course. They’re my ancestors.” Donny could wait. This was more important. “There’s a Bible on the table in the office. Bring it in and I’ll show you who they are.”
A moment later she carefully set the big black leather book down in front of him.
“Gillis MacDougal bought this for Amelia,” he said, running his fingers over the soft black leather. “She came here, sight unseen, in 1870 after signing a contract to marry his half brother, Ross. Her sister was Gillis’s wife, but she died after giving birth to a daughter. See here.” He pointed to the first page. “This lists every Montana MacDougal from Gillis on down. Birth dates, marriage, children, and their deaths.”
“Are you in there?”
“Of course. I’m a MacDougal.”
Marci ran light fingers over the list of names. She acted as if she was touching something as important as the Declaration of Independence.
“Don’t you have a family Bible?” he asked. She pulled her hand back as if burned. Then he remembered why she’d come to town, and felt like an ass. “Oh, hell, Marci. I forgot about the fire. It must have gone up in flames. But I was wondering, why aren’t you staying with relatives?”
She crossed her arms, almost hugging herself. “The only family I have is Ni—um, my sister. She’d love to have me stay but she doesn’t have enough space. And since you need help…” She flipped her hand as her words faded.
He couldn’t imagine not having family around. Sometimes it was a pain to have them sticking their nose in your business, but they were always there for you. It reminded him about Donny. Whether you wanted them to be near or not.
“You don’t have cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents?”
“My mother was an only child. When she got pregnant with my sister, my grandparents threw her out. She wouldn’t have let him touch her if he hadn’t promised to marry her. Instead he let her keep the ring, added some hush money to pay for the birth, and disappeared. Mom never saw him again.” She picked at a cuticle, avoiding his eyes. “Six years later the same thing happened with me. Mom tried over the years to contact her family, but they refused to have anything to do with us.
” She looked at the Bible. “Maybe that’s why I like to learn about the history of other families. So I can pretend what it would be like to have relatives.”
“If you hang around Climax, especially here in Tanner’s Ford Valley, you’ll be like family in no time.”
Her story made him wonder how she’d found herself here. Why choose to move to Nowhere, Montana, all alone? Maybe her sister had moved to the area. He wasn’t up on the comings and goings of Climax after spending the long winter working his ass off since Lance was away. He turned pages until he came to one that was half blank. He found his name and pointed.
“Here we are.” She looked over his shoulder. “My mother and father, and Fergus. He was in the Army, and died in Vietnam.” He pointed to the date. “There’s only me and Lance left. That’s why we want children. To pass on this whole heritage.” He patted the thick book. There was more to the story but she had no need to know.
“Well,” she said brightly. “I’d best go help Donny before he finishes all the work.”
She rushed out of the room as if she couldn’t get out fast enough. He figured it had a lot to do with the tears he’d seen brimming in her eyes. He went back to the first page of the Bible and ran his finger down the names. Between Gillis and his half brothers, Ross and Nevin, they’d only had two sons. Gillis’s daughter, Hope, had married and moved to Helena. He remembered his grandfathers, Keir and Gavin, from when he was a boy. His grandmother, a woman from the East, had died shortly after his father was born. As they’d not remarried, Kevin was the only MacDougal of that generation. The only one left was his great-uncle Daniel George, who they all called grandfather in respect.
Gavin had been fairly light-skinned, and had passed on the same coloring to Simon, though he’d gotten his red hair from farther up the line. Someone had come to Tanner’s Ford and taken photographs of each family around 1871. Simon looked a lot like Gillis MacDougal, though not quite so tall or broad. Lance had ended up with Ross and Nevin’s Bannock genes except for his blue eyes. If they ever managed to marry and have a child, there’d be no telling what color skin it would have. Not that either of them gave a damn as long as the baby was healthy.
