Bride Gone Bad Read online

  “What if I was in the painting with you?”

  “Naked?”

  He stood up, shucked down his blue jeans, and stepped out of them. “Like this.”

  She inhaled sharply at the beauty of him. “That’s a different matter.”

  “Is it?”

  He stalked over to her, ran his hands up and down her back, then clasped her butt and pulled her against him, wedging his cock between her legs. He began a slow dance, in and out, as he pressed his mouth to hers and repeated the dance with his tongue.

  She clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into the strong muscles of his shoulders as she rode him, clenched him, rubbed him, unable to get intimate enough to ease the burning that was building inside her. She felt him dig his fingertips into her butt. He held her tight as he pumped faster between her legs while she clung to him, writhing and straining and moaning.

  He groaned louder and thrust harder as she hung on tight, struggling to reach that peak of exultation. When he called her name and shuddered, she was cast free of her earthly bonds. They reached the heights of their fiery pinnacle together.

  As she plummeted back to reality, she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her. She’d never felt so weak and yet so satisfied. When he eased her to the blanket and sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close, she sighed in contentment.

  He tilted up her chin and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “And that is what it means to be a man’s ladylove.”

  Chapter 21

  Lucky wished he wasn’t short on time. He wanted to savor Tempest. Even more, he wanted to give her the opportunity to blossom like a flower bud slowly opening to sunlight. But he didn’t have that luxury.

  She was more delectable and passionate than he’d dared to hope even in his wildest dreams. Now that they’d tasted each other, touched each other, and shared ecstasy together, he wanted more. She reminded him of a seductive New Orleans courtesan, only innocent of that world.

  Yet he had to pace them both. Bodies had limits, no matter that minds had none unless forced into a cage. Sensibilities had limits, too. He didn’t want to push Tempest too far too fast, but he would do what he had to do to keep her safe.

  She shivered in his arms, so he pulled her closer. Men ran hotter than women, so he was often surprised when ladies grew cold even on a warm day. Now night had fallen and cast a chill in the air.

  He picked up his shirt. “Why don’t you put this on?”

  She sat up, hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes sleepy. “You can keep me warm.”

  He smiled as he held out the shirt, going against every instinct and desire to keep her completely naked. “Later I’ll warm you again. Right now, let’s get something to eat.”

  When she slipped one hand into a sleeve and then the other, he tugged his shirt up onto her shoulders.

  “Thanks.” She pulled his shirt around her body, making it look better than it ever had on him.

  While she rummaged in her saddlebags for food, he found the crumpled napkins and set out the canteens.

  “Wish we had more of Mama Lou’s food, but this will have to do.” She placed jerky, cheese, and crackers on the blanket.

  “Looks good to me.”

  She glanced at him with a mischievous twinkle in her violet eyes. “Are you going to feed me?”

  He chuckled, feeling pleased that she was taking the initiative. “What about me? Don’t I get fed?”

  “Big strong man like you?”

  “I’m feeling weak after my exertions.”

  “In that case, I better feed you so you can get your strength back. I’m thinking I’ll need more ladylove instructions soon.”

  “Happy to give those.”

  She scooted near him, tore off a bit of cheese, and held it up.

  He leaned toward her, opened his mouth, let her insert the cheese, but he held it between his teeth. He clasped the back of her head and pulled her face toward him. For a moment she appeared puzzled, but then she pressed her lips to his mouth and let him feed her the cheese.

  As she chewed and swallowed, she smiled. “You’re bad.”

  “I thought you wanted me to feed you. Isn’t that what you meant?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “But you liked it?”

  She shrugged, glancing away.

  “Erotic?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “I just wonder what all you can think to do with my mouth.”

  “I’ve got lots of ideas. Want to find out?”

  She blushed, shaking her head.

  “Does that mean yes?”

  “Right now my mouth is doing nothing but eating supper.” She put a piece of cheese on a cracker and popped it in her mouth.

  He chuckled as he bit into jerky and realized how hungry he was. It’d been a long day on the trail without much food. Muffins didn’t stick to the ribs, no matter how tasty. Bed sport could take it out of a man, too.

  As they ate, he listened to the fire crackle and pop, a cozy sound in a night quiet of human sounds, but loud with the singing of frogs, buzzing of insects, rustling of critters, and punctuated by an occasional chorus of coyote howls and the hoot of an owl. All the while, he kept an ear out for men. He didn’t expect intruders, but he’d learned to be cautious.

  When he’d finished eating, he drank the last of the water in his canteen and set it aside. He watched as she tucked the remaining food in her saddlebag, and then smiled at him.

  She yawned, delicately covering her mouth with her palm, and then lay down on the blanket. She held out her hand. “Join me?”

  Nothing was better than snuggling with a warm, willing woman. And she wasn’t just any woman. She was his ladylove. Yet he wished again that the Moon Rattler had waited to make her intrusion into their lives.

  He lay down beside Tempest, raising her hand and placing a kiss on her soft palm. She stretched like a contented kitten and regarded him with heavy-lidded violet eyes. He pushed her flaxen hair back from her face, traced the whorls of her ear, and continued down her jawline to her full lips. She pressed a kiss to his fingertip, and then drew his finger into her mouth, sucking and licking until his cock responded, growing hard, hot, and heavy. He wanted her all over again.

  While she laved his finger, he pushed open the shirt with his other hand to reveal her round breasts, tawny in the firelight with rosy, taut tips. He cupped one breast, massaged the soft flesh until she moaned, and then rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. When she groaned and rolled toward him, he cupped both breasts and squeezed until she reached up to draw him down.

  “No,” he said in a voice husky with desire. He quickly captured her wrists in one hand, raised them above her head, jerked up the shirt, and tied her hands together. He smiled down at her surprised look.

  “Trust me?”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t move.”

  She nodded again.

  He feasted his eyes on her, spread out before him like a banquet. If he’d been hungry before, now he was starving, but only for her. He kissed the tip of each breast and then moved lower, branding her as he went down her soft skin to her navel. He licked and nibbled until she moaned, wiggling her butt. He tapped her stomach with his fingertips, hard enough to remind her not to move. She stilled under his touch.

  All of that was a prelude to where he really wanted to be. He placed his palm over her triangle of curls and heard her quick intake of breath. He massaged there, fingers exploring downward to her cleft, sinking into the hot, wet folds. She moaned, tossed her head, but otherwise remained still.

  He parted her thighs to reveal the heart of her, glistening in the firelight, and pushed her legs up so that her feet were flat on the ground. And then he knelt before her, as if in worship, clasped her butt with both hands, and raised her so that he could feast.

  With his first lick, she shivered and moaned, and he felt like joining her. She tasted like intoxicating wine, the type that went straight to a ma
n’s head. He wanted to bury his cock in her, but instead he used his tongue. He plied her sensitive flesh and taut nub with a finesse born of experience, teasing and tormenting until she writhed up against him.

  “Lucky, please . . . I can’t take much more.”

  He quickly brought her to the edge, held her there a moment, and then pushed her over so that she cried out his name in pleasure.

  He untied her hands, tossed the shirt aside, and drew her into his arms. He held her tightly against his chest, feeling her heart beat fast and strong as she snuggled to him. He pushed back her damp hair and kissed her forehead.

  She looked up at his face. “Ladylove sounds so prim and proper.”

  He nodded.

  “What you’re doing to me is anything but that. If you hadn’t driven me so far out of my mind, I might be shocked.”

  He watched her glance down at his rigid prick, then back up at his face. If he’d been in need before, now he was so hard he wasn’t sure if he could ever walk again.

  “And women do that to men?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not all women?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think I’m that kind of woman?”

  He was hoping like hell she was exactly that kind of woman, but he didn’t say it. “In time, perhaps.”

  When she clasped his shaft, he covered her hand and squeezed, stroking up and down. “That’ll do, too.”

  “I’m not so sure.” She pushed his hand away.

  He watched her lean over, covering his lap with her long, flaxen hair. When he felt her tongue touch his prick, he groaned. She sucked the tip into her mouth, clasped his shaft, stroked up and down several times, and he was already there. He clasped her head as he pushed hard into her mouth and spurted his seed, giving her everything he had to give.

  She raised her head, looking at him in astonishment with wide violet eyes. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  He caught his breath. How would she react? Too much too soon? Too crude for a lady. Or just right?

  She smiled, holding his gaze, and swallowed.

  A vast sense of relief washed over him. She hadn’t rejected him, or his actions. Even more, his seed was inside her. As part of a binding, it was powerful and potent. She’d done exactly what she’d needed to do. But he was also mindful of her delicate sensibilities.

  “I wish I could offer you wine or whiskey. But water will have to do.” He picked up his canteen, but it felt light enough to be empty. He shook the container. Nothing sloshed inside.

  “Mine’s empty, too.” She held up her canteen.

  “I’ll go down to the creek and refill them.” When he took her canteen, their fingers touched and he felt a powerful jolt of awareness.

  “Thanks.”

  He headed for the stream, but he wouldn’t hurry. They ought to have a little time apart. She needed to adjust to her new experiences. For his part, he needed to figure out how to explain the unexplainable. At least she saw ghosts, so she already had one foot in his camp.

  When he reached the creek, he refilled the canteens, and then he stepped into cool water. It helped to clear his head. He walked to the pool and sat down. He wasn’t concerned about snakes or other critters. He figured nothing would’ve stayed around long after Moon Rattler’s visitation, but he didn’t much care anyway. As he set the canteens aside, he noticed Tempest’s soap was still on the blanket. He could use a bath. He quickly lathered and washed all over, wondering how she’d like his new violet scent.

  He didn’t want to be separated from her too long. She’d wonder and she’d worry. He wasn’t done, either. He needed to complete the initiation. He owed it to her. But he wanted her, too. His cock wouldn’t be satisfied until buried deep inside her. At least the cool water gave him some momentary relief.

  When it was about time to leave, he heard the jingle of harness and the sound of male voices. He froze. What was somebody doing out here? This was way off the beaten track.

  He leaped out of the pool, grabbed the canteens and the blanket, and knelt behind the woodpile. He kept hold of the bar of soap, not about to leave a dead giveaway like it or the blanket behind where anybody could find them. He cursed himself for not being more cautious. He didn’t even have his six-shooter. But Tempest had clouded his mind.

  If he moved, he might be seen, but Tempest was defenseless. She wouldn’t know they had intruders. He wished he’d already taught her how to use her revolver. Worst of all, she was by the campfire. It had burned low, but its light might still give away her position.

  As the strangers came closer, Lucky heard the rumble of a wagon, probably drawn by mules. That was odder than men on horseback. But it’d also cover any sound he made.

  He sprinted for their camp.

  Chapter 22

  Tempest was shocked at herself.

  She’d never dreamed she could be such a wanton. At Lucky’s first touch, she’d lost any shred of decency. Now she couldn’t get enough of him. Whatever he wanted to teach her, she wanted to learn. Whatever he wanted to do with her, she wanted to do. Maybe somehow, sometime, somewhere she would change her mind. But right now, she felt as if she had come out of a long, dark night into the Sun.

  And Lucky was her Sun. He’d said so himself. She’d discounted his words, but now she believed him. She wanted to bask in his sunlight. And she wanted to be his Moon, so he could bask in her silvery glow.

  Everything else seemed far away and unimportant. She’d like it to stay that way. She even understood why folks would want to live on the edge of Texas and in Indian Territory. You could forget your past, your name, your difficulties, and create your present and your future. No wonder over the years so many people from all over the United States had scrawled G.T.T., meaning Gone to Texas, on their doors and made tracks for the huge republic, and later state, to start new lives.

  She could still taste Lucky in her mouth, smell him on her skin, and feel him on her body. He’d marked her just as surely as if he’d taken a branding iron to her. And just as shocking as her wanton behavior, she felt excited about it. She only hoped that he felt branded by her, too. If not, she’d find a way to do it.

  For now, she was lonely. She wished he’d hurry back with the water. She worried that more rattlesnakes and ghosts lurked about the creek. He might get bitten or carried away or anything. She felt uneasy, as if trouble or danger or the past was catching up with them.

  She shivered, pushing those thoughts away. She’d best not borrow trouble. She pulled on his shirt and tugged it together in front for warmth. She glanced at the campfire. It had burned down and wasn’t giving out much heat or light. He’d have trouble finding his way back if she didn’t do something.

  She moved over to the campfire, picked up a stick from the pile Lucky had gathered earlier, stirred up the embers, and dropped the wood on top. As she was about to build up the fire, Lucky ran out of the darkness holding her blanket.

  He tossed her bar of soap and the canteens at her feet, and then kicked dirt over the fire, putting it out. When smoke spiraled upward, he quickly smothered it with the blanket.

  “What is wrong with you?” She grabbed the blanket off the campfire, shook it out, made sure it didn’t contain sparks, and set it aside.

  “Be quiet,” he hissed.

  “Why?” She picked up her bar of soap and tucked it in her saddlebag.

  “We’ve got company coming down by the creek.”

  “What?”

  “Shhh.” He pulled on his blue jeans. “Get dressed.”

  She felt fear spike her heartbeat. She might have known this idyllic interlude was too good to last for even a single night.

  As she watched, he quickly buckled on his gun-belt and adjusted it on his hips. She took off his shirt and tossed it to him. She hurried after her own clothes. As she slipped into each piece, she felt as if she was putting on one more layer of restrictive civilization and taking away one more bit of freedom. But for now, it was the only smart thing
to do. She quickly pulled on her socks and boots.

  On the outside, she knew she appeared to be the same lady who’d set out for Indian Territory. On the inside, she was a different woman. And she would never allow anyone or anything to stuff her back into her old life again.

  She was ready for trouble and ready to ride, no matter how stiff and sore from the saddle. She only wished she was wearing her new .32 like Lucky wore his six-shooter.

  About that time she heard a commotion at the creek. A wagon creaked to a stop as one man cursed his mules while another murmured complaints. Soon they quieted down and she couldn’t hear them.

  Lucky put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

  “Are we in danger?” she whispered.

  “They don’t know we’re here.”

  “Should we leave?”

  “I want to find out what they’re doing.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll go down and investigate.”

  “Not without me.”

  “Stay here where it’s safe. Better yet, I’ll take you out to the horses. And leave the saddlebags with you.”

  “No.” She kept her voice low but intense. “I’m not being left behind. Anything could happen to you and I wouldn’t know it.”

  He placed a kiss on her forehead. “You’d worry about me?”

  “How could I not?”

  “Sorry our night had to end this way.”

  “You’ll make it up to me, won’t you?”

  “Yes.” He placed a warm kiss on her lips. “Follow me. Make as little noise and as small a target as possible.”

  She tried to step exactly where he stepped, but his strides were too long. Instead, she concentrated on staying up with him while keeping watch and listening for strangers. Fortunately, the waxing Moon was riding up over the treetops and washing the landscape in gray, so she could see fairly well.

  Soon Lucky angled upstream away from the voices. She wondered where he was going until he headed for a willow tree with a wide trunk and branches draped over the creek. It’d provide good cover.

  He bent down, eased up to the tree trunk, and then motioned for her. She glided in near him, felt him draw her to his side, and nestled against his warm chest. She glanced downstream. As far as she could tell, there wasn’t much to see. Two men wearing hats even at night had unhitched four mules so the animals could drink from the creek. The wagon carried a load of wooden barrels.