Chapter 13
Stormy estimated it was nearly midnight when they arrived home. Silvery moonlight lent a fairytale aura to the ranch yard as Blade guided his mare to the corral gate and dismounted.
She put her hands on his shoulders and let them slide down his chest as he helped her down. She’d stolen countless glances at his sun-bronzed back when he worked on the fence, and had tried to imagine how his muscles would ripple under her hands. Liquid pooled between her legs as he set her lightly on the ground.
He made no move to release her. Instead, he caressed her back and sides like a blind man reading a braille love poem.
She looked up, trying to read the thoughts hidden behind his dusky eyes. Surely, he’d kiss her now. That’s what lovers did in the novelettes she’d read. She closed her eyes and waited.
Nothing.
When she opened them, he was staring at her, the muscles of his jaw working.
Uncertainty jabbed her. The suffocating shroud of her self-doubt threatened to crash back into place. Her fists closed defensively.
She was debating whether to hit him or run when the only possible explanation exploded like fireworks in her head. Blade had a manly problem.
When she was twelve, the Pendergasts’ ranch hand was kicked in the groin by an out-of-control stallion and nearly died. Brownie had explained that no eligible woman would ever marry him, even out of pity. He’d moved far away, where no one knew about his unfortunate condition.
The hurt and anger twisting her gut vanished. There had to be herbs that could restore Blade’s virility. She’d talk to Running Bear. Maybe Zed had a book of remedies.
She reached up and tucked an errant lock of Blade’s hair behind his ear, hoping the soothing gesture implied she’d never mock him. His secret was safe. She’d try to help him with his problem, and whatever the outcome, she’d remain his stalwart friend.
He folded his hand around hers and pressed her fingertips to his lips as if shoring up a crumbling dam. They stood, frozen in place, until his mare snorted.
“Go on inside.” His voice sounded more choked than eager. “I’ll take care of Belinda.”
~ ~ ~
Blade lit a lamp in the barn, set Belinda’s saddle on the sawhorse, and touched the leather lace he’d knotted into a ball five years ago. Hidden inside was the ring he’d bought for Candy.
He wanted to offer it to Stormy before they made love. By making her his fiancée tonight, he’d protect her from Vance and give Prosperity’s gossips something positive to wag their tongues about. He’d be able to look Brownie, Running Bear, and Zed in the eye come sunup.
As he picked at the unforgiving knot, the memory that had dogged him for years came crashing back.
He’d just spilled his seed inside Candy. She’d pushed him off, put on her rhinestone robe, and sat at her dressing table, fixing her hair.
His heart thumped in his chest as he admired her curves. He rose from her bed and fished in his shirt pocket for the ring box. Though small, the embedded stones were genuine diamonds.
Hiding it in his hand, he stood behind her, catching her eyes in the mirror. “I’ve saved enough money to buy a small ranch.”
She pursed her lips into a pout. “Sugar, surely you don’t still expect me to eat dirt, day in and day out. Not when I know you can give me a grand house with servants.”
“But, you promised.” He couldn’t believe what she was saying. “We made plans.”
“You made plans.” She hurled her brush to the dressing table, snapping the handle. “I want fine clothes and jewels. To eat in restaurants and attend society balls.” She turned on him in a fury. “Living on a ranch is your dream, not mine. If you love me, you’ll give me what I want.”
He set the opened box on her dresser, certain that the sight of the glistening gems would pacify her. He waited for her to rush into his outstretched arms and say she was sorry.
She glanced down at the ring. “Chip diamonds? Are they even real?” Her laugh dripped with derision. “Silly boy, take your things and get out. Don’t bother coming back.”
Two days later, Jared announced at dinner that he and Miss Candace Kennedy were engaged to be married. She wanted a sumptuous wedding with Blade as best man.
Olivia Masters was ecstatic. A wedding to plan. “Why can’t you find a nice girl, Blade?”
Sam Masters thumped Jared on the back. “Grandchildren. And, a promotion to pay for a nice, big house.”
Late that night, he’d packed his things and headed for Kansas.
Blade looked down. The diamond-flecked band dangled on the leather lace. As he stared at the token of his former infatuation in the shelter of the Hawkins’ barn, a great weight slid off his shoulders. He’d been so young and lonely, and Candy was a consummate gold digger. He hadn’t stood a chance.
His family, however, deserved her. His father, Sam, so sure of his ability to outsmart competitors. His mother, Olivia, who’d lectured endlessly about good breeding and proper matches. And, Jared. Poor Jared. Convinced he’d finally bested his big brother.
For years, he’d wanted to tell them about Candy, but now, miraculously, that didn’t matter anymore. He’d found a new home. A true love. If he had anything to regret, it was that his family would never meet her.
One day soon, when he and Stormy were caught up on ranch work, he’d take her to Yankton and let her pick out a brand-new ring. He would reserve the honeymoon suite and feed her strawberries dipped in French champagne.
Feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, he slipped the ring into his pocket, extinguished the light, and headed for the house.
On the way, he glanced through the windows overlooking the front porch. His soon-to-be wife stood in front of the big bookcase wearing only a man’s shirt with tails that hung to her knees. She bent, revealing her lithe thighs, and ran her hand along the bottom shelf of books as if she was searching for a particular title.
His johnson bucked. Soon he’d be lying between her soft, naked legs. He took the steps two at a time and burst into the sitting room. “I prefer Keats to Byron, if you want to recite poetry.”
She turned, her face nearly as scarlet as her hair. “I . . . I was looking for a remedy book.”
He checked his smile. “What do you want to remedy?”
Impossibly, her face turned redder. “You.”
“Me? I’m not sick.”
“Yes, but part of you is.”
He ran his hands through his hair, buying time to think. “Stormy, all my parts work fine.”
“No. You took too long coming in.” Sympathy played across her face. “I understand, Blade. Truly I do. I didn’t mean to pressure you when I asked to . . .”
It was obvious she needed some pointed convincing. Chucking his plan to propose first, he crossed the room in three steps, cupped her face in his hands, and feathered kisses across her lips until she stopped trying to speak. Then, he pulled back a fraction of an inch. “Stormy, I know how to make love.”
“But, you—”
He pressed his mouth firmly against hers and drew his hands down the sides of her neck, along the rapid thump-thump of her pulse, past the ripple of her throat as she swallowed. Spreading his fingers across her shoulders, he deepened the kiss until she rose on her tiptoes and pressed back with satisfying fervor.
“How was that?” he said softly.
“You’re a good kisser. I’ll give you that. But—”
“You want more proof?” He gave her a cocky grin as he unbuttoned her shirt. His hands skimmed her shoulders, and he slid them slowly toward her arms.
Her enchanting mouth formed an “o” as the thin cotton parted and his thumbs traced the high arch of her full, round, beautiful breasts. He couldn’t wait to take one—or both—in his mouth.
The garment slid down her arms and fell with a faint whoosh to the floor.
“How was that?”
“You’re a pretty good undresser.”
“I can do even better. Close your eyes.” He moved his palms, slow and teasing around her nipples.
She fisted his shirt and tipped back her head. Her breath soon came in quick, hot pants that accelerated the beating of his heart. With a swift embrace, he matched his mouth to hers, silently daring her to doubt his virility.
The silky tip of her tongue touched his lips and retreated.
He followed eagerly. She tasted like whiskey and honey, a fusion of sweet and heat that left him aching for more. He pulled her hands off his shirt. Pressed them against his rock-hard erection.
“Oh.” Stormy gasped. “It’s . . . You’re . . .”
“A working man.”
“Hallelujah.” Blue eyes sizzling with rekindled desire, she hooked her fingers under his belt and towed him toward the stairs.
As he followed, he thought about throwing her over his shoulder, but Stormy gave no hint that was what she wanted. Candy had always played the damsel in distress, praising him for ‘taking her like a real man.’ Fifty years from now, he wanted Stormy to remember their first night as perfect.
She opened the door to his bedroom and leaned against the frame like a streetwalker on a lamppost. His pulse raced as he waited to see what she would do next.
Letting go of his belt, Stormy moved through the dark of his room as if she possessed cat’s eyes. A second later, the bed creaked.
“Light the lamp,” she said. “I want to watch you undress.”
Blade reeled back. He had a reasonably pleasing physique, no paunch or embarrassing skin blotches. But, strip? Was he supposed to dance? Twirl around and wriggle?
His balls ached impatiently, begged him to ignore her ridiculous request, but he resisted. The desire to please her was stronger.
He’d left a half-burned candle on the dresser behind the door. Reaching around, he found the candle in its holder. Patted the top of the dresser until he hit upon a match.
As soon as the wick caught fire, he turned to face her.
She reclined against his pillows with bent knees. In the flickering light, he could see the creamy backs of her thighs and a hint of the red-gold bush between them.
Still feeling a bit foolish, he dropped his hands toward his waist and unhooked his belt.
She leaned forward, open-mouthed, as he leaned against the wall and pulled off his boots and socks.
He fingered the buttons of his jeans and kicked them off. Released, his johnson jutted like a drum major’s baton. He’d always been quite proud of its length and girth. Candy had been impressed, too, before she discovered his financial attributes.
On a whim, he turned sideways before removing his shirt. He wanted to tease Stormy a bit, banking on the advice offered years ago by experienced freighter rats to ‘get a virgin hot and horny before you dip your rod.’
Stormy’s cheeks pinked, and her toes curled delightfully into his bed’s quilt.
His confidence soared as he strutted toward her. She reached for him, but he stopped just outside her reach, roving his eyes from the small hollow at the base of her neck to the rosy tips of her breasts to the delicate bones of her ankles. Every part of her was glorious—and about to be his.
“Don’t you want to touch me?” she asked.
“Oh, I do.” He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her until she sighed with longing. “Roll over.”
A puzzled look flashed across her face.
“I’m going to touch you everywhere.” He eased her onto her tummy, straddled the backs of her thighs, and leaned forward. His sac brushed the rise of her derriere as he ran his fingertips across her shoulders and down the small of her back, stroking her soft skin sensuously. His johnson bobbed with readiness.
Just when he was tempted to ease her legs apart, she squirmed onto her side. He waited for her to turn onto her back.
Instead, she raised her arm. “Do my side.”
Acquiescing to her lead, he traced spirals over the curve of her hip and then down toward her puss, watching intently for signs her well was primed.
She turned languidly onto her back and stretched up her arms. “Now do my front.”
Her audacious pose reminded him of the playing cards he’d found in his father’s study when he was twelve. Each card displayed a voluptuous harlot in shocking dishabille. His body had quickened, and he’d shed his virginity with several quick strokes of his hand.
Fully aroused, he swirled his fingers through Stormy’s red-gold bush hairs.
She spread her legs until they bumped into his. Then, she plunged her hand between her thighs and withdrew it, fingers glistening.
To his astonishment, she rubbed her slickness over his engorged tip. He reveled in the sensation and struggled not to close his eyes. It had been so long since anyone had touched him there.
“You’re as big as Zed’s stallion,” she breathed.
That wasn’t at all true, but his chest still swelled. He was Stormy’s first, the measure by which she’d judge any future lover. The urgency to give her his ring returned, but before he could get up, her hand closed around his hard length.
He almost came. Hissing through his teeth, he forced himself to think about something, anything other than her touch. Gauge one-seventy and climbing. Boiler shrieking like a wounded giant. ‘Run! Run! She’s gonna blow.’
His pressure dropped to a manageable level. He pried off Stormy’s fingers, leaned down until her face hovered just below his, and initiated a kiss he intended to make long and deep and unforgettable.
Stormy wriggled under him. She was ready. He’d finish the kiss, and then he’d take her slowly. Do his utmost to be gentle.
Suddenly, she arched her hips, snagged his erection between her thighs, and guided it toward her slippery channel.
He broke the kiss and rolled so she was on top.
Her eyes locked onto his. In them, he saw passion, anticipation, and something he’d never found in Candy’s arms.
Love. Stormy was committing herself to him body and soul.
They pushed as one, and she drew a sharp breath. A tremulous smile spread across her face. She raised up his full length, and then slid back down again and again, squeezing his shoulders as she increased the tempo.
He gripped her hips, matching thrust with push. Faster. Deeper. His whole world became where they touched, and how the sensations wed them into one body, and one heart.
She cried out his name as her intimate muscles convulsed.
Panting, he teetered on the edge until he felt the peak of her orgasm subside. With no more need to hold back, he sought—and found—her lips and let himself go.
Afterward, she slept in his arms. He wanted to give her his ring now, but he didn’t have the heart to rouse her. Tomorrow would come soon enough. He’d ask her to marry him in front of her father.
Counting his blessings, he closed his eyes.