Rocky Mountain Bride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 2) (19 page)

“Yes, sir.”

He rained a few more smacks on her bare cheeks, then soothed the skin. She moaned as his fingers dipped lower. “Call me Miles.”

“Miles,” she panted.

His fingers kept sliding into her, and then he added another hand to stroke her breasts.

She shifted on his legs, and he smacked her bottom again, but it didn’t feel like punishment. It felt wonderful.

“Oh, Miles,” she sighed. Her body stiffened, reaching for its climax. In another instant he pulled her up from across his knees, setting her back on her bottom. As soon as her bottom touched the blankets, she shrieked and jumped, but he gripped her hips and set her back down on the bed.

“Not yet,” he said as she rubbed her legs together in frustration. “Open for me.”

She obeyed and he stepped between her legs, the tall bed frame putting him at the perfect height, ready to enter her.

“Miles, please,” she begged.

He fisted his cock, then ran it up and down her weeping slit. She rubbed against him, and his big hand went around her neck, collaring her loosely. She didn’t feel frightened, but captive, protected.

“You’ll not run from me again?”

“Never. I promise.”

He surged forward and she wrapped her legs around his powerful form. His thrusts rocked her back and forth until her climax overtook her. In the throes of pleasure, she clawed wildly at his back, and Miles shouted, then spent himself inside her.

Pushing them both up onto the bed, Miles lay on top of her, a heavy blanket. Carrie’s hands roamed up and down his muscular length. She couldn’t get enough of him.

“The last time I ran away, I came two thousand miles to you,” she told him. “From Providence, Rhode Island, all the way to Colorado Territory.”

“I’m glad of it. But no more.” Miles’ tawny eyes held hers. He cupped his hand between her legs and ground the heel of his hand down, right on her aching folds. She groaned as her arousal started building again.

“Never, never,” she promised and surged up to kiss him as her orgasm caught her a second time.

They lay in each other’s arms, Miles sliding large and gentle hands over her body, while she tried to calm her ragged breathing. His fingers caught her breasts and teased them; she felt herself heat all over again.

“Sleep now, Carrie.” Miles threw a heavy thigh over her legs and pulled her into his body. She felt totally protected and safe, and when she dropped off to sleep, she only had good dreams.

*****

“Morning,” she whispered.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

Miles kissed her and left the bed, banking up the fire. He returned to the blanket’s warmth and Carrie welcomed him, wrapping her arms around his large body. She felt his length grow against her and reached down to grasp it. Her fingers slipped up and down its length.

When his breathing became ragged, she dropped it with a wicked smile.

“I have to do chores,” she said.

“No. Not today. You don’t get away that easily.” He growled and rolled on top of her, pressing his cock against her until she gasped.

“Are you going to tie me to the bed?”

It was his turn for a wicked grin. “Maybe.”

“Miles,” she groaned, and he sank into her, pumping a few times before withdrawing. “Where are you going?” she cried, feeling the loss.

“See to the horses,” he said, tucking his cock into his pants.

“Wait, no.” She launched herself at him. He caught her naked form easily, swing her into his arms.

Laughing, he grabbed the tack he had been mending, and brought it to the bed along with his wife.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, once he’d laid her down on her back.

Wide eyed, she nodded.

He took her arms and bound them together before fastening them above her, to the headboard. Her legs he secured too, tying them loosely to each other. Then he took a small strip of leather and tied it around her neck. He pulled on it, testing it. “Your halter, sweet filly.”

Carrie’s body ached with the arousal humiliation brought with it.

“Now,” he climbed between her legs, “I can do whatever I please with you.”

Every part of her tightened, and she pulled at her tethers to see if they’d hold fast. Still grinning, Miles lowered his face between her legs and, in the subsequent minutes, she tested the limits of her bindings, as well as the range of her voice.

Miles finally came up, face wet. “Next time I’ll gag you,” he said, and the thought made Carrie orgasm again.

“Please,” she begged, rising up off the bed, her lower parts searching for his cock.

“You want this?” His hand jerked up and down his length and she licked her lips.

“Let me serve you,” she whispered.

Kneeling carefully on either side of her head, he put his cock to her lips. Immediately her tongue lapped out, tasting the salty heat.

“Not yet,” he said, holding his member away. “Beg me.”

“Please, Miles. I want to do this for you. I love to give you pleasure. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good girl,” he said, and pressed the sack at the base of his cock against her lips. “Lick.”

Submissively, she lapped at his ballsack, lifting it and feeling the coarse hair rub against her tongue. Her eyes never left his.

He shifted and presented her with his length, guiding her to lick all around it. Finally, he pressed his cock to her lips.

“No teeth,” he reminded her and she opened her mouth wide, careful not to let her teeth scrape against his sensitive skin. Her tongue still worked up and down his length. Above her, Miles sighed and she felt a thrill of satisfaction.

“Open,” he told her, and she stretched to take in more of him. For a second she felt she couldn’t breathe, and stiffened, but then he withdrew. Quickly, he untied her hands from the bedframe and helped her up. Her hands and feet still were tied together though, and he arranged her on all fours in front of him. Burning with embarrassment, she eagerly presented her lower haunches to him, begging him without words to take her.

He didn’t hesitate, but surged inside her. Gripping her hair, he tugged her up so she arched her back and pushed against him. He used her hair like reins, never pulling too harshly, and sawed in and out of her.

Carrie arched back further and gasped, her whole body shaking with the force of his thrusts.

At one point he leaned down. “This is how I ride you,” he whispered, his hand slipping between her legs at the same time to find her pleasure spot. “Do you like it, wife?”

She tried to answer, but her orgasm washed over her and turned her words into wordless cries.

He went on his back and guided her on top of him, pulling her hips down so she sat on his cock. Her head flew back and she yelped, feeling him deeper than she’d ever felt him before. It was awhile before she could move, but when she found her wits, she rocked naturally. Miles’ hands guided her up and down.

“This is how you ride me,” he said, and then his orgasm took him.

She lay atop of his shuddering body, then kissed him. Rising slowly, she started to go to the fire for a rag to clean them both. The bindings gave her pause.

“Leave them,” Miles ordered.

“What if I fall?”

“You may crawl. Twill be a pretty sight.”

Carrie moaned.

Walking carefully, she hobbled to the hearth and back. The leather strips around her feet allowed only tiny, mincing steps, and she did her best to go from the bed to the hearth without falling down.

When she made it back, Miles opened his arms to welcome her.

“I may keep you tied like that all week. Naked and waiting for me.”

Her lower parts clenched at the thought.

Miles’ rough hand found her chin and turned it to him. “I love you, Carrie.” He kissed her roughly, beard scraping her soft cheeks. “I’ll bind you to me with cords of love so you’ll never leave again.”

*****

That week it felt like they barely left the bed, and Carrie was sure her body would soon grow big with Miles’ child. She told him this, and he redoubled his efforts to keep her satiated and full of his seed. At night she dreamed of giving birth to a baby with tawny eyes.

They rode to church the next Sunday, swaying together in the wagon and holding hands. When they arrived at the little white house, Miles helped Carrie down with a smile, and she waited until he unhitched the wagon and saw to the horses so they could enter arm in arm.

They found a surprise guest as part of the growing gathering in the little parlor.

“Mr. Martin?” Carrie greeted the shopkeeper.

“I reckon the shop can stand to be empty for an hour or two,” Martin said. The little man looked uncomfortable in a fine vest and white shirt over his usual black slacks.

“And we’re so glad to have you.” Esther swept in, beaming, and the shopkeeper mopped his head with his handkerchief furiously. She and Carrie shared a private smile.

“Reverend. Martin.” Miles shook the men’s hands and then settled his wife in on a faded chaise.

The gathering came together and the Reverend called on Miles to pray before Esther led them all in a hymn. Then the Reverend asked Carrie to read the passage. She opened her little white bible and did so, blushing and grateful for Miles’ hand skimming her back the whole time.

The Reverend had just started his sermon when the door flew open. Everyone jumped, and Lyle stood there, clad in black and scowling.

“I hear you want to talk to me,” he slurred, and Carrie noticed he was swaying a little on his feet. Drunk.

“Lyle.” Miles stood.

“No,” Lyle roared. “You’re so high and mighty with your perfect wife. Well, read this and she won’t be perfect anymore.” The man fumbled for a paper in his vest pocket.

Behind her husband, Carrie cowered a little.

“I have a letter from her own brother. She lay with a man before matrimony, then lied to everyone to save face.” Lyle threw the paper on the floor. “There’s your proof. Now you know what it’s like to marry a whore—”

In a single stride, Miles made it across the room and cracked his fist into Lyle’s pretty face. Carrie yelped and the rest of the town leaped to their feet.

The drunk man staggered back and tripped off the doorstep, with Miles following him outside the house.

“Miles,” Carrie shrieked as Lyle regained his feet and dashed forward to plow into her husband. Miles staggered backwards, but then the tide turned and he threw Lyle off, following up with another savage blow to the tall man’s middle. Lyle crumbled over, but did not go down, and Miles stayed close, fists ready.

The Reverend and Mr. Martin rushed outside, grabbing at Lyle and shouting at Miles. The rest of the men followed and pulled the two men apart, although they didn’t have to hold Miles for long. Carrie rushed to him and he took her into his arms.

“Call my Mary a tart; she’s the tart,” Lyle spat at Carrie, struggling to throw off the men’s restraining arms.

Before anyone else could do anything, Esther stepped forward and slapped him full across the face. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

“Amen,” said her husband, as Lyle sagged in his human bonds.

*****

“It’s my fault,” Reverend Shepherd said. “I must take at least partial blame. I wrote her brother to see if he could shed insight on why she had bad dreams. I thought only to help. I didn’t know you could write, Mrs. Donovan. And I certainly didn’t realize our mailman would act dishonorably.”

The group of them rested in Esther’s kitchen. Lyle was upstairs, sleeping off the stupor brought on by drunkenness and Miles’ blow to his head.

Carrie found she couldn’t hold anything against the tall Revered for long, and told him so. He smiled down at her, so kind that Carrie wondered why she was afraid to tell them all the truth.

When they first come into the kitchen, Carrie had cried and confessed. Miles kept his arm around her the whole time.

“I believe my wife,” he told the Shepherds. “Anyone who judges her will answer to me.”

“And to God.” Reverend Shepherd looked angry. “Even if you were at fault—and I know you were not—they had no cause to treat you that way. I am ashamed of my fellow church leaders.”

Esther hugged her. “I wish they were here,” she whispered, sounding very fierce. “I’d teach them a lesson.”

“Thank you. You proved it today,” Carrie whispered back. “You were so brave.”

“You’re worth it.” Esther smiled at her, then said to Miles, “Do you need a bandage for your hand? I know it must hurt, hitting such a hard headed man.”

“Now, Esther.” Her husband frowned.

“No, ma’am.” Miles flexed his fingers, then held the hand out for Carrie. She went to his side swiftly. “Ready to leave?” he asked her softly, and she was just about to answer when Mr. Martin burst in, crowding the other four in the tiny kitchen.

“He’s awake now. And I’ve relieved him of his mailman duties. He swore an oath, after all.”

“Where will he go?” the Reverend asked. “His homestead is gone, and if someone settles the land, they could have rights to his mine.”

Martin shrugged. “Not my concern.”

Carrie tugged at her husband. “We should do something.”

Miles frowned down at her. “After all he’s done?”

“He’s hurting,” Carrie reminded him.

“Ever since his wife Mary died, he’s been taken with grief,” Esther said. “I should’ve spoken up sooner.”

“No.” Miles addressed the group, though his gaze was only for Carrie. “I should’ve. He was my friend since we were boys. It was my responsibility to help him.”

The stairs to the Shepherd’s bedroom creaked, and Carrie was sure Lyle would hear them long before they arrived, particularly Miles’ measured tread.

Sure enough, when they poked their head in the bedroom, Lyle was alert, but he’d turned his back to the door and face to the wall. Carrie could still see the edge of a bruise wrapping around his proud cheek.

“Come to gloat? Quote more verses? ‘Pride cometh before a fall’, perhaps,” Lyle said with tired sarcasm.

“I’m here to ask forgiveness.” Miles’ deep voice seemed to echo in the small space.

Lyle’s head whipped around. Carrie waited in the doorway while Miles approached his old friend, hat in hand.