Stephen’s Bride (8 page)

Calliope arched her back at his ministrations and let out a slight moan. Stephen moved over to partially cover her body, still busy with his mouth at her breast, but moved his fingers down to touch her opening.

He groaned with male satisfaction. “You’re so wet, so warm, so ready for me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she gasped. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing fine, baby. Just fine.” He took her hand in his and moved it to his erection. At first she pulled her hand back, then wrapped her palm around him, and he almost exploded.

Calliope allowed Stephen to move her hand up and down his . . . well she didn’t even know what to call it. However, this did not seem the best time to ask for an anatomy lesson. Whatever its name felt soft and hard at the same time. She ran her thumb over the tip and sensed a bit of moisture. Before she could question him, he moved his mouth from her breast and rose over her.

A black curl fell over his forehead which she brushed back. His fingers continued to give attention to her woman’s place. “You are a virgin, I assume?”

“Of course!” Whatever made him ask that question? Weren’t all properly brought up young ladies virgins until their wedding day? Of course the fact that she was well beyond her wedding night was pushed to the back of her mind.

Frankly, she was tired of holding him off. The restless sleep she’d suffered had a lot to do with his kisses and touches before he scrambled from the kitchen. Perhaps allowing him his husbandly rights would not change things, and not make him try to control her. She could enjoy the experience and not relinquish any of her independence.

Yes, she could.

He smiled down at her. “I didn’t doubt it, but I don’t want to hurt you either. The first time can be painful. Short, but nevertheless you will feel me break through.”

Lord, why hadn’t her mother talked to her about these things? No doubt most mothers waited until their daughter’s wedding to bring up the subject of married love. She turned her head aside. “Just do it.”

He chuckled. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not interested in any sacrificial virgins.” With that comment, he used his thumb to circle her opening and once more moved down to suckle her breast. The fire was certainly doing its job. She was very warm now and felt achy and swollen where Stephen suckled and circled. The pull on her breast went straight to her core, making feel restless, like something was out there that she was missing.

While Stephen was busy pleasuring her, finding places on her body she never knew were sensitive, she used her hands and mouth to imitate some of what he was doing. She found a great deal of enjoyment in touching him, feeling the differences in their bodies, the texture of his skin, his hardness where she was soft. She particularly liked running her fingers through his hair, liked the feel of its silkiness.

He raised his head and stared into her eyes. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted you, my beautiful wife. From the minute you stepped off the stagecoach in Bartlett Creek, I’ve wanted you just as you are now, naked, and writhing underneath me.” He moved his hips so the swollen part of him nudged her. “Do you feel what you do to me? How much I desire you? How much I want to bury myself deep inside your body, watch you come apart in my arms?”

His words floated over her as the spot he was concentrating on began to tingle, making her push against his hand, looking for the relief she knew only he could give her. “Please,” her legs shifted, “please make this stop, or make it finish. I feel as though I’m missing something.” Her head moved back and forth on the carpet, beads of perspiration gathered on her upper lip.

“Shh, sweetheart.” He kissed her closed eyelids. “Just relax, let me help you.”

She was almost there—where she didn’t know—but knew somewhere out there she was headed toward completion. “Stephen, please.”

“Relax, love. Don’t try so hard, let me do the work.”

There were no sounds, no smells, no feelings except those between her legs where his fingers played, like a fine instrument, her body tensing, then relaxing, trying so hard to . . . The tightness in her core exploded and waves of pleasure as she had never in her life known before washed over her, she could feel the ripples in her core, feel a flush rise from that spot over her entire body.

“That’s it, baby, let go. Enjoy it.” His murmured words in her ear were almost lost in the sounds of her breathing, the moans that escaped her as she pressed hard against his hand, feeling the last of the ripples leave her body. She floated slowly down from wherever it was he’d brought her.

Slowly dragging her eyes open, she meet his piercing blue ones, darker now, a slight smile on his lips as he smoothed the damp hair from her forehead. “Welcome back, love.”

She licked her dry lips. “That was . . .”

“Yes.” He leaned down and kissed her gently, at the same time, nudging her legs apart with his knee and shifting his body so her legs were spread and his hips nestled between them. “I’ll go as easy as I can.” He placed his hardened male flesh against her opening and moved his hips slightly.

She felt him enter her, then slid back out to push in a bit further. She felt stretched, full, a not unpleasant sensation.

“Are you all right?” He must have been holding himself back because all the muscles of his face were tightened, and he seemed to be gasping for breath. Once more he moved in a little bit further and then stopped. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but this can’t be helped.” He shoved his hips forward until he was fully seated.

A blinding flash of light and sharp pain had her sucking in her breath. “Ouch.”

Stephen rested his forehead on hers. “It will be better now. I promise. No more pain.” He moved his hips back and then forward. The full contact was quite nice, actually. Soon she felt nothing but enjoyment as he continued his movements. She found if she wrapped her legs around his waist she received a bit more contact with the part of her that felt very good.

***

Stephen tried his best to hold back. He hadn’t been with a woman for months before Calliope came into his life. That he had lived with, but the constant scent, sight, and feel of his wife so close, and yet so far for the last few weeks had taken a toll on his ability to make this last. He’d never had that problem with another woman, but no other woman had affected him like Calliope. He didn’t care to dwell on why that was, only enjoy the feel of her warmth enveloping him.

After only an embarrassing few minutes, he reached his climax and poured his seed into her. His body stilled and he felt a peace and a sense of belonging he hadn’t experienced in a long while. He gazed down at Calliope’s face and brushed back the damp curls from her forehead.

His feelings scared him. He didn’t want to feel this connection to her. He wanted to uphold their initial commitment of partners, no emotional ties. He’d had sex before with many women and never felt this bond. Always before it was more of a release of tension, not this overwhelming need to hold her close and never let her go.

He rolled off her, and laid on his back, his wrist over his forehead. He fought the need to pull her to him, to sleep with her nestled in his arms. But theirs wasn’t that type of marriage. So he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead and linked his fingers with hers. Despite the frightening feelings running through him, he fell fast asleep.

Stephen blinked several times at the sun streaming through the bedroom window, bathing him and Calliope in a wash of sunlight. He lay on his side, with his arm around her waist. She was cuddled next to him, her bottom snug against his groin. His very awake and ready to go groin. As much as he’d like to awaken her with kisses and another round of love making, she was certainly sore from last night, and he still hadn’t come to terms with these new feelings.

He eased his arm away and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced at her to see if he’d disturbed her, and met two green eyes staring back at him. “Good morning,” she whispered in a morning voice.

“Morning.” He reached for his pants alongside the bed and slid into them. “Since Bertha isn’t here, I’ll make coffee.”

Silence greeted him, so he turned to her as he shrugged into his shirt. She hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed and continued to stare at him. Even with the bright sunlight, it was difficult to detect her mood. Perhaps she was as confused as he was. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

He left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen, barefooted, and certainly not ready for the day. But he had to get out of that room before he said something stupid, or asked a question he didn’t want the answer to. After stoking the fire in the stove, he put on a pot of water and ground coffee beans. A quick check in the larder produced eggs and a loaf of bread. Breakfast.

The coffee was finished and he’d scrambled half a dozen eggs and cut up last Sunday’s ham, waiting for her to join him. He sipped his coffee and stared out the window over the sink. The wheat and corn were growing, the kitchen vegetable garden was already producing early produce, and the healthy looking chickens were busy pecking at bugs. With everything running so smoothly, why did he have this feeling of something missing?

It didn’t take long to figure it out. The idea of a horse farm was never far from his thoughts. He’d saved most of his pay when he worked the farm with his brother. Although he hadn’t expected compensation, Daniel had insisted, so Stephen had tucked it away with plans to start his own horse farm. Then Calliope came along and all those plans changed.

“The coffee smells wonderful. I often wondered when I was a child why it smelled so much better than it tasted.” Calliope grabbed a cup and poured the dark liquid. She added a bit of sugar and cream and joined him at the window. “What has your attention?”

“Nothing.” The one time he’d mentioned the horse farm to her she’d dismissed it out of hand. One day he hoped to convince her it would be a good idea, but as long as she held the deed in her name only, any drastic changes had to be put on hold. Not that he expected to go back on his word and demand she add him to the deed, but he certainly had to feel more a part of the operation before he insisted on major changes.

“Morning Boss.” John came through the back door of the kitchen with his son, David trailing behind him.

“Good morning,” Stephen answered. “Grab a cup of coffee.” He felt Calliope stiffen next to him, and glanced at her curiously.

John poured coffee for him and his son. “Looks like that creek is dammed up again. I think we ought to get out there and get this settled once and for all.”

Stephen nodded. “We’ll follow the path of the creek past our boundary lines and find out once and for all exactly what Melrose is doing. As soon as we’re finished breakfast, I’ll join you.” He paused and turned to Calliope who continued to stare at him and John. “How soon will breakfast be ready?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “As soon as you cook it, I assume.” She slammed her cup down on the table and left the room.

Stephen stared after her back, then turned to John. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

The man nodded and left, David once again trailing behind.

***

How dare he? How dare he brush me aside as if this farm belonged to him?

Calliope stormed into the parlor and plopped into a chair, then leapt up again and paced. John called him ‘
boss’
! And he expected her to make breakfast, and probably spend her day in the house catering to his needs. Doing laundry, cooking, cleaning. Well, not her. She worked side-by-side with her papa and she had no intention of handing over the running of
her
farm to Stephen.

Why were men all the same? They say lovely things to you, even make wonderful love to you, and then think they can walk all over you, take over your farm. She should have known once she allowed Stephen into her bed things would change.

And it had been wonderful. She was a bit sore this morning, but it was a good soreness, a reminder of what they’d done. At first when they’d awoken, she was afraid he would say something to make her think love making had changed them. Relieved when he merely wished her good morning and left the room, she felt better, but still concerned that the intimacy they’d shared might confuse her feelings, something she didn’t want to dwell on. Theirs was a partnership marriage, nothing more, but they certainly could enjoy what they’d shared the night before without doing anything silly like falling in love.

But then he had played the ‘man in charge’ game and infuriated her.

“Calliope?” Stephen stood in the doorway, and she swore he had a poorly hidden smirk on his face.

“What?” She raised her chin and stared him down.

“I’ll make breakfast.”

She rounded on him, fists clenched at her side. “Oh, you think this is all about who will cook eggs?”

He strolled into the room, blast the man, like he had no worries in the world. “I don’t know, exactly. I’m assuming since everything was fine up until I mentioned breakfast, that you somehow have an aversion to cooking, or you dislike eggs.”

“This has nothing to do with breakfast. Well, not completely, anyway.” She stormed over to him, poking him into the chest with her stiffened finger. “I heard the way you and John talked, like I wasn’t even in the room. Like this is not my farm.”

He still looked confused which angered her further. Men never understood what it was like to be a woman. To be treated like a child in some cases, and to be told what to do, when to do it, and whom to marry, even. Despite working alongside her papa every day, he still made all the decisions, ordered her about, and dismissed any ideas she had for bettering the farm. More than once he’d told her he’d wished she’d been born a male. It had seemed no matter how well she did, she had never measured up in his eyes, and for no other reason than she was a woman.

Well, by God, she’d put up with it with Papa, but she’d made a deal with Stephen, and she intended to make sure he stuck to it. “We agreed when we got married that this is
my
farm, I make the decisions and I’m the boss.”