Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (38 page)

Mercy felt her body catching fire from his. She felt an unbearable tension growing deep in her belly, then spreading to a throbbing ache between her legs. She moved her mouth from his.

“Daniel, do we . . . ?” she breathed.

He waited, but no more words came from the soft lips pressed to his.

“Do we what, love?”

“Do we . . . do I take off my nightdress?”

“Would you mind?” His whisper was ragged against her ear.

“Not if you want me to. Tell me what to do.”

“Just love me . . . and let me love you.”

“Darling . . .”

“It was torture to lie beside you and not do this!”

“It’s over, darling. Hold me. Love me.”

Her heart soared with love and pride. She moved away from him and slipped the nightdress over her head. In an instant they were back together, naked and straining, feeling every inch of each other.

“There’s nothing between us. You feel so good!” His voice was choked with the harsh sound of desire.

Her breasts pressed into the silky hair on his chest, his hand cupped her buttocks and pressed her soft down to his rigid arousal. He claimed her mouth once more, filling it with the sensual caress of his tongue. She gave herself up to his kiss with an abandon that made the clawing hunger in his loins an agony.

He bent over her breasts, kissing first one and then the other, until she arched in a silent plea. He took her breast in his mouth, drawing, sucking, tugging on her with a slow rhythm. The rough drag of his tongue was so painfully exquisite, she drew in a gasping breath. When his fingers moved into the mound of tangled hair that hid the hot core of her and slid, caressingly, inside, pleasure speared through her body, bringing soft cries. She moaned and arched against his probing fingers. Her world began to careen crazily beneath the savage urgency of the wild emotions that claimed her.

Trembling from the force of his need, Daniel pulled her thigh up over his. He clutched her buttocks with strong fingers and held her while his aching flesh slid across her soft thigh, then pressed hungrily at the entrance of even greater softness. When the tip of him entered her body, his open mouth sought her lips, parting them. Their breathing became one, and Mercy lost her last touch with reality. Swimming in a black void, she was totally unaware that as soon as his blunt hardness touched her intimately, intruding into her soft, womanly flesh, his life-giving seed pumped into her.

Mercy awakened to soft words and gentle kisses.

“Sweetheart . . . love . . .”

The sweet, familiar smell of his breath and the light touch of his lips at the corner of her mouth brought a small, inarticulate sound from her.

“Darling?” Daniel whispered anxiously. She lay on her back as he bent over her.

“Did we . . . do it?” Her hands moved up into his tumbled hair, fondled his neck and the strong line of his shoulders, then came up to stroke his cheeks and caress his ears. His lips, sweet and firm, moved over hers. She felt the rough drag of his cheeks, the caressing touch of his hair against her forehead. Her legs were entwined with his.

“Not all. I couldn’t . . . help myself,” he muttered against her cheek. “There’s more, love. Much more. I’ve spent so many nights wanting you, I couldn’t hold back.”

“What do you mean, more? What could be better than this?”

“I’ll have to show you.”

“You were . . . hard and trembly.”

“I barely got inside you,” he whispered apologetically against her shoulder.

“I remember only . . . that. It was so wonderful, I must have swooned.”

“Swooned! Oh, love . . .” His voice was a moan of agony.

“It’s all right. I was just . . . so excited.”

A groan started deep in his throat as he felt desire that had been only momentarily appeased stir in his loins. His mouth closed hungrily over hers in a moist, deep, endless kiss. She gave herself up to his kiss with an abandon that made hunger leap even deeper inside of him. The palms of his hands moved over her breasts, rousing her nipples to hard buds. A powerful, sweeping tide of love flowed over her, making her feel stronger than the hard-muscled body entwined with hers.

“I like for you to do that.” She pushed her breast harder against his palm and raked her fingers through the soft fur on his chest.

“I like doing it. I like touching all of you. Ah, love, the nights will never be long enough for me to love you like I want to,” he whispered urgently, kissing her, stroking her lips with his tongue, kissing again. “I want to lose myself . . . inside of you.” His breathing was shallow and rapid, while her heart thudded a wild, frantic rhythm.

“You can . . . you can,” she crooned. Hesitantly she brushed her fingers along the tense muscles of his stomach. “Can I touch you?”

He drew in a long, torturous breath as he guided her hand to his hard, heated, elongated flesh where throbbed the pulsing hot blood of his desire. His whole being turned to liquid as her slender fingers gently explored the length of his rigid flesh, then circled him with her hand. Her touch sent an agony of sensation through him. He was glad now that the edge had been taken off his passion and he was able to control his desire.

“You were like this that night down in Kentucky when you kissed me. I felt it against me.”

“Yes . . . I was afraid it would frighten you.”

“You could never frighten me!”

“When I go inside you, it may hurt you.” He pressed the throbbing flesh against her hand. “Tell me if I do and I’ll stop.”

Daniel moved to bring her beneath him and lowered his hips between her thighs. It was her hand that guided him into the warm cavern of her body. She swallowed a strangled moan as he probed with gentle, but unrelenting, pressure at her tight, resisting flesh. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him, aching for fulfillment. When she arched against him, a small, sharp pain exploded in her innermost recesses, and there was a sense of delicious fullness as he plunged deep within.

“Oh . . . oh . . .” she whispered when it finally seemed that she could breathe. Feeling that her heart would stop, she pressed her face against the base of his neck. His hungering mouth would not allow hers to hide. He searched out her lips, and he kissed her slowly, deliberately. The touch of his tongue was persuasive rather than demanding. She gave herself up to the waves of emotion crashing over her, and the ache of his intrusion subsided.

Mercy was not aware of the precise moment he began to move within her. Her hands roamed his back, feeling hard ridges of his muscles body, enjoying the feel of his strength under her hands.

She responded to his wild, ardent kisses, her tongue playing with his. Suddenly she was quite incapable of reason. She arched against him and met his thrust instinctively. Each movement now was forceful and hard, as if he were trying to reach her very soul. It brought her to a new plateau of pleasure, and each level seemed to her to be as high as she could go, yet she was filled so completely with bliss that she continued to soar up and up. Somewhere along the way she had lost her fumbling innocence and was driven by a fierce desire to keep him there, inside her, the tip of his heated shaft moved inside her in an ever-increasing rhythm, knocking with sweet symphony against her womb. She buried her face in the hollow of his throat, whimpering at the glorious agony of sensations he was creating in her. His hands, on her hips, pressed her to him. She was consumed by rippling waves of exquisite sensation as the warm, healing fluid from his body passed into hers.

Shaken and exhausted, he rolled so that they lay locked together on their sides, and their minds drifted back from the nether ends of the universe where they had fled during their joining.

“Sweetheart . . . did I hurt you too much?” he whispered between kisses on her damp forehead.

“You didn’t hurt me at all.” Her hand moved down to where they were joined. “I never realized that . . . all of you would go inside me.” She could feel his smile against her face. “Do married people do this every night?”

“Some do . . . at first.”

“It’s all right with me if you want to.” She giggled happily and laid her head back against his arm to observe his face, but all she could see was the white flash of his teeth when he smiled. “I lost my virginity!” she said, as if she had just thought of it.”

“Yes. You’re no longer a maiden.”

“If you hadn’t married me, I would’ve stayed a maiden forever,” she said staunchly, then moved her head and kissed his lips lingeringly. “I love you,” she whispered, sighing. “We were playmates, then friends. Now we’re lovers!”

“I love you,” he murmured huskily. His hand slid down the warm, smooth curve of her back, pulling her so tightly to him that her breasts were flattened against his chest.

Her body trembled against his; his lips found hers gently, sweetly. They were lost in a mindless vortex of pleasure created by caressing fingers, biting teeth, warm lips, and closely entwined limbs. They made love deep into the night, until sheer exhaustion sent them to sleep, her cheek nestled in the warm hollow of his shoulder, her naked body molded to his.

“A
re you going home with me today?”

“Is it morning already?” She opened one eye, then closed it against the light from the lamp on the table beside the bed. She ran her fingertips lightly over the face bending over hers. He was real. “Danny, when did you light the lamp?” Her words melted on her lips and were swept away by his kisses.

“About an hour ago. I wanted to see my wife.”

“Have you forgotten what I looked like already?” she said teasingly.

“I wanted to see you after I made love to you, your lips puffed from my kisses, your hair in a mess. And I wanted to see these.” He moved the covers down to bare her breasts. His eyes held hers, then he looked down and back into her eyes before he bent his head to kiss them reverently. When he lifted his eyes to hers again, he held them tenderly. On his face was the look of unfettered love.

“It was a wonderful . . . night.” She let her fingers wander across his chest to a nipple, and gently stroked it.

“Are you very sore?” His face was buried between her breasts. Her thighs were tightly locked between his, the hardness of his aroused flesh pressed against her leg.

“Danny . . .” A sudden flood of tenderness overwhelmed her, and she lifted his face to hers, longing to kiss his lips with sweet, lingering softness.

His lips covered hers, murmuring between kisses. “I’m so hungry for you. I want to . . . love my wife . . . again.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I won’t . . . if you’re too sore.”

“I have an ache there that only you can take away.” Her hands glided over the firm muscles of his shoulders and into the silky down on his chest, wanting to touch him, satisfy the longing in him. Her hands instinctively knew what he wanted. His bare skin surprised her with its smoothness, and her hand fluttered down his side over his hipbone to his groin. His body answered the movement of her hands with a violent trembling.

He covered her, murmuring between kisses. “I love you . . . love you.”

When his entire length was buried inside her, Mercy was lost to her own throbbing need. His arms were the only arms in the world, his lips the only lips. Words were not needed now. Their bodies conveyed the message of love.

*   *   *

Mercy washed and dressed while Daniel went to the kitchen to order their breakfast, and food packed for a noon meal.

She had an uncomfortable moment when she saw the small spot of blood on the bedclothes and knew the maid would see it and recognize it for what it was. But her joy in her husband was real, blotting out all else. They had spent the night in each other’s arms. She knew that even if she looked the same that morning, she would be forever different. Her body had known the sharp thrusts of her lover’s body. He had caressed and possessed every inch of her. She was a woman, a wife. Nothing in her life up to now had prepared her for the emotions that churned inside her when she was fully joined with her husband.

It was daylight when Daniel drew up in front of the inn. Mercy picked up her carpetbag and went out onto the boardwalk. Their eyes caught and held, and Mercy thought she would stop breathing. Daniel jumped down and made a courtly bow.

“Good morning, Mrs. Phelps. Are you going somewhere?” He took the carpetbag out of her hand.

“I’m thinking about going home. That is, if my husband can stir his lazyself to help me up onto the seat,” she replied haughtily.

“Poor Mr. Phelps sure has a bossy wife,” he announced to the sky above. He set the bag in the back of the wagon and lifted her up onto the seat. He sprang up beside her.

Zelda moved out into the street at a flick of the reins.

Mercy glanced at his profile. He was so handsome. His hat was pushed back, and dark hair hung down on his forehead and over his ears. She could see the deep creases in his cheeks.

“Why are you smiling?”

He turned his head to look at her. His eyes were twinkling. “Because I can’t help it. I have the prettiest wife in Indiana, Illinois, and Kentucky. I’m taking her home to my house and to my bed. Get along, Zelda. Let’s get home.”