Beauty and the Beasts [Bride Train 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (22 page)

Finally, she was naked. The light was better than it had been the first night, but not good enough.

“Outside.”

“What?” She whipped around, eyes wide. She covered her breasts with one hand, her pussy curls with the other.

So, she hadn’t done this before, and was shy about it. Good. She’d do a few new things today. He’d stretch her limits as well as her ass.

“You heard me. Out.”

She shook her head. He shrugged and walked around her. He walked around to the old cabin and collected an old soft quilt and her pallet. He stuck a blanket and pillow under his arm and carried them to the relative safety of the side yard.

Still no woman appeared. He took his time, first placing the pallet and then spreading the quilt just so. He rolled the pillow in the blanket and set it aside. Still no Sarah. He set his feet wide, crossed his arms, and faced the door. His cock pointed straight ahead.

“You coming out, or do I have to come in and get you?”

Silence.

“I’ll count to three. One.”

Knowing she would be watching, he rubbed his hands.

“Two.”

He slapped the fingers of his left hand on the palm of his right, suggesting what would happen if she didn’t cooperate. Not that he’d hurt her, or do anything that would frighten her. No, he’d just test her limits. He rolled his shoulders and lifted his foot to take a step.

“Fine!”

She stood in the doorway wearing nothing but stockings and boots. The building provided shade from the midafternoon sun, and he wanted to see every freckle, dimple, and scar. He gestured to their makeshift bed and waited. She huffed for a moment, but stepped onto the dirt. He raised his eyebrows and beckoned her forward with both hands. He couldn’t help the wide grin that stretched his mouth damn near to his ears.

She gave him a look a mule would be proud of. She set her shoulders back, fists at her side and stomped toward him. Her breasts jiggled wonderfully, making his balls tight. If he had a choice, she’d be walking around naked as often as possible.

“You make me so damn glad I’ve got both eyes to see you with.”

She lost a bit of her pout. She stopped a couple of feet away. He looked from her long white neck to the large pink nipples staring at him. He took his time, watching her nipples crinkle even tighter. He dropped his eyes to her dark curls. She shifted her feet farther apart. The flesh of her inner thighs glistened.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

She clasped her fingers together and dropped her head.

“I have a scar,” she said quietly. “On my left hip.”

Everyone had scars, unless they’d been pampered all their lives. But this one must mean something to her. Evidence of the abuse she’d suffered in Bannack City?

“That what you rub when you’re nervous?”

“I do that?”

Her wide eyes, now flecked with honey and dark brown, hit him straight on. He needed to get some arousing green to appear. He nodded. “Show me.”

She turned sideways. A small mark, not even an inch long, marred her skin. He put one knee on the ground and looked closely at it.

“It’s a capital ‘I,’ for Isaac,” she said. “That’s the name used by the man who put it there.”

A rush of white-hot fury erupted from deep inside. Oz clenched every muscle in his body in an effort to stay still. Someone had purposely marked his woman. Had burned his mark into her tender flesh as a reminder of ownership. If he showed his rage, he would not only destroy his plans for the afternoon, but he might frighten her.

“Gabe said to think of it as if I’d burned myself on a stove while bathing nearby. But sometimes it’s hard to do when I know what really happened.”

The pain in her voice almost broke him. His rage was misplaced. It was not about someone marking his woman. Sarah was her own person, his to protect and cherish, but not own. His rage was for the man who thought he could harm women, marking them as his personal property as if they were animals.

“You feel shame from being marked.”

He looked up at her. She pressed her lips together and nodded. He kissed the spot, gently and tenderly. She sighed and rested her hands on his head. He pressed his face against her belly and held her for a long moment. How could he convince her she wasn’t guilty when he was still trying to live with his own shame?

He stood up and swept her into his arms. She squawked in surprise but didn’t complain. He sat in the middle of the pallet with her in his lap. He looked at the hills, still green from spring rains and snowmelt. He and his two partners owned it all. They also owned cattle and horses, chickens and pigs. But they would never, ever, own a person.

She needed him. Needed to know she wasn’t the only one, and it didn’t matter.

“I was the youngest boy after a couple of girls. Because there was five years between me and my next older brother, I was a lot smaller, and weaker. Worse, I was the only boy to have curls like my ma and sisters. Pa said I was a useless pretty boy. So he, and my brothers, beat me from the time I could walk until I left home.”

She tensed, but said nothing.

“When I was about eight, I realized he did it partly to mark me as his property. When I walked around with cuts and bruises that he’d given me, it made him feel like a man.”

“It’s bad enough when two men fight each other to prove their manhood,” said Sarah. “Doing it to a helpless child, especially your own son, is terrible!”

“Should I be ashamed of the marks my father beat into me?”

“Of course not! He’s the one who should be ashamed. You had nothing to do…with…it. ” She blinked at him a few times. “Oh.” She wet her lips with her tongue. “You’re saying that it’s the same with my burn.”

He nodded. “My face was banged up even before I got this.” He pointed to his eye.

Sarah brushed his belly with her fingertips. His cock twitched. She blinked and watched it swell. He set her on the quilt and went after the lard. She’d left it on the table, right in the middle. He put a few fingers’ worth on a plate and carried it out.

She sat, legs apart, leaning back on her hands so the sun warmed her. A tantalizing glimpse of swollen pussy lips protruded from between her thighs. He knelt and walked his fingers from her knees to her curls. He stroked her, separating her inner and outer lips. She had a neat little pussy, with her inner lips small enough to fit inside the outer. It looked like a sliced bun. The outside was lovely, but what flavored the inside was what he needed.

He set the plate down and zeroed in on her curls. He lay on his stomach before her splayed thighs. She glistened, proving how wet she already was.

“You and Gabe have a good time this morning?”

She nodded. He watched a rosy glow rise from her pussy all the way to her forehead. Her nipples puckered even tighter.

“Make sure you tell him tonight how much fun we had, and what we did. After what we’re about to do, you might be ready to share your bed with both of us soon.”

A trickle of fluid escaped her slit. He leaned forward and caught it with his tongue. Salty, sweet, and ready to go. He traced her folds, in and around, before flicking his tongue tip at her clit. She pressed her thighs together, catching his face. He sucked her, just a bit, and pulled back. She smelled like sunshine and sweet female sweat.

“Hands and knees,” he ordered. “That way I have everything I want in front of me, and two hands, a mouth, and a cock all ready for you.”

He put the rolled blanket under the quilt and helped her lie across it. It took a minute as she didn’t want her ass aimed south. It meant she couldn’t see anyone coming, but they’d get a peach of a view. His hearing was excellent so no one would creep up on them, but she didn’t know that. He bet the excitement made her cream even more.

“Damn, what a sight for a hungry man,” he moaned. There she was, his for the taking. Only it was loving, and he’d be giving everything he could for her.

He stared at her smooth, creamy white bottom. By the end of the summer those cheeks, and the rest of her, would be a warm tan if he had any say in it. He wanted to see her bare-assed naked every chance he got.

Seeing her swollen pink pussy clenching for his cock, her virgin asshole above, made him think he’d reached heaven. And dammit, he’d make sure Sarah thought the same thing before he was finished. He looked down at his cock. The poor thing had been hard all day. His balls were so tight there wasn’t more than a few hairs between his cock and balls.

“Angel, you’ve got me so hard I don’t think I can go easy on your ass unless I come first. That means we share an orgasm with this pussy here”—he leaned over and kissed it—“and then I’ll work you up for another.”

She turned her head to see him better. “Stop talking and get working.”

She raised herself up so she could rub her breasts. His cock jerked. She tilted back, pushing her pussy closer to him. He groaned and leaned forward. His tongue found her clit, already poking its head high. He slid a couple fingers inside her, curling them down to catch that special spot.

She clenched his fingers, hard. Damn, if she wasn’t almost ready to come!

He guided his cock past those swollen lips and down, down, down, and then ever so slowly, back out again. He loved the sight of his thick cock disappearing into her. She groaned, deep and long, with every downstroke. She was tight, and so hot.

Oz gathered some lard on the longest finger of his left hand. As he pulled his cock out, he pressed his finger into her ass. She took him easily, so he kept up the slow rhythm. His finger and cock slid against each other with only a thin membrane separating them. He suddenly choked out a ragged laugh. Here he was, having the best sex of his life, out in the sun on his ranch with a beautiful, wonderful woman, and he was fingering his own cock!

As his speed increased, he held his finger in her ass, pumped, and fingered her clit. He added his pointer finger, and she accepted that, too. If he could hold on, she might take his cock sooner than he thought.

He backed off and twisted his fingers, in and out, faster that he’d pumped. She twitched and moaned, gripping the quilt with her fingers. He got more lard as he plunged, slow and deep, again. Once more he held back as he put three thick fingers into her. She tensed at first, but he waited until she relaxed before entering her fully. He couldn’t bend his little finger out of the way, so it ended up in there, too.

Sarah took it all, and even pushed her ass against him for more. He pulled back to two fingers and took one more slow, deep ride while working her clit with his right hand. She had her forehead on the quilt. Her hands were busy pinching her nipples. He’d never seen such a sweet sight.

“You ready for me here?” He pulsed his fingers in and out of her ass.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned.

His heart, which was going a mile a minute, hammered like a jackrabbit before a coyote. He scooped up all the rest of the lard and slathered it on his cock, from tip to base. He wasn’t counting on going all the way in, but the way Sarah was panting, who knew how she’d go.

He pressed her ass cheeks wide, one palm on one cheek. The tight little brown rosette was now relaxed and ringed in pink. He set his cock right in the middle and nudged her. She relaxed and he slid in an inch.

He’d thought her pussy was tight and hot, but,
dayam!

She panted like a puppy, eager to play. He drew his clean right hand through her pussy lips and tickled her clit. That gained him another inch. He used his thumb to rub that spot just inside her pussy by her belly while his fingers kept tickling her clit.

Sweat ran into his eyes. The sun heated his ass as he nudged, forward and back, a little deeper each time. Her butt channel drew his cock in, deeper and deeper.

When he got so close his balls banged against his hand he grabbed her hips with both hands. He let his balls jiggle against her pussy. He leaned forward and rested against her back for a second.

“My balls doin’ anything for your clit, angel?”

“Oh, yes. Do it again.”

He pulsed gently again, letting his balls stroke her as he pressed deeper. “Keep your fingers busy on those nipples. Think it’s my lips biting down on you.” He took a minute to breathe. “When Gabe joins us you won’t need to do anything but lie back and moan. Two cocks, four hands, two mouths, all for your pleasure.”

He finally hit bottom. Now came the hard part, sliding in and out to tingle every bit of her without exploding alone.

Oz pulled back, almost out. She groaned, deep and loud. He sank into her, still slow and careful. Again he pulled back, a bit faster this time. Soon she was slamming against him with every stroke. His balls tightened, burning hot. He was going to come any minute whether she joined him or not! He held still, letting her control the action, while he rubbed and pinched her clit.

“Come on, angel,” he crooned. “Let go. Take what you need and fly.”

A white-hot shudder went down his spine to his ass, into his balls. Sarah gripped his cock, shouting as he exploded. He held her hips, letting her milk him for anything she needed, until she sagged.

Whatever she wanted, no matter the cost, was hers.

Sarah sighed in bliss. After the most amazing orgasm yet, Oz cleaned himself and tidied her up before letting her snooze in the sun. Then he helped her into a steaming tub of hot water. It didn’t matter that her knees almost jabbed her chin, it was heavenly.

She knew Gabe loved her. He was the type of man to fall quickly, and hard. She didn’t want to do anything to hurt the love, and trust, he had for her. For Gabe, she wouldn’t walk away if Luke said ridiculous things.

Her heart burned for the lost child inside Oz the man. That boy made him playful and wild most of the time but, now and then, such as with the tub, he was thoughtful and caring. Could the beaten child heal without losing the fun of the man?

Luke was no longer any fun. He expected her to fall to her knees in joy because he, Luke Frost, had chosen her to be the future of his family! She’d burst out laughing when Gabe explained it that morning, but he was serious. Gabe said that, when something was drilled into you since birth, it was hard to put aside. He insisted Luke had to have something momentous happen before he could crack through his childhood training and think for himself. That training included wives as nothing more than business chattel, wed for financial gain.