Karen Mercury (17 page)

On the fringe of Tabitha’s awareness, she heard Worth’s mare entering the little clearing. An overwhelming aura of naughtiness had overcome Tabitha since “forcing” Worth to suck Foster’s penis the night before, and more than a tiny part of her had hoped Worth would take his revenge on her. Turning the tables was a very scintillating game, and both men seemed willing and eager to play that game. Watching the athletically built Worth sucking so voraciously on her beau’s prick had stimulated Tabitha to the point of lunacy.

She had not been dressing when Foster had gone out to check with Chang about the green dye. She, too, had been venturing forth to Chang’s and had to hide around the corner of a whorehouse waiting for Foster to leave. More than once she was mistaken for a prairie flower, even though it was only eight in the morning. Chang had earlier told her that he could find a recipe for saffron herbal soup, used in ancient Chinese courts to prevent pregnancy. Only, apparently you didn’t drink the soup. Chang provided her with a rubber syringe for rinsing herself out with the soup, hopefully after allowing it to cool.

She did not want Foster to know about the soup, as it would tell him that she was planning on allowing him to ride her, when he had not even asked her to marry him yet. She would just keep all the soup ingredients on hand, in case she was carried away with lust. A likelihood, the way things were going.

“Bettina. Pierre.” Worth greeted them as their pirate alter egos. He grinned in that beautifully relaxed way he had, displaying his dimples. “You don’t need to worry about Montreal Jed stumbling upon us. He’s off chasing a bird for its plumage. He wants the feathers for one of his puppets.” He dismounted. “He’s probably halfway to Cheyenne by now.”

Foster asked, “How is he going to pluck the feathers from the bird, even if he catches it? I can’t imagine Montreal Jed shooting a bird.”

“Or using a weapon,” Tabitha added.

“Yes,” agreed Foster. “The report of the revolver would probably knock him on his ass.”

“Speaking of Bettina and Pierre,” said Tabitha. She moved closer to Worth, to let him know that she considered him on nearly equal footing with Foster. Worth deserved to be privy to any important information that came into their lives. “Ivy hit upon the excellent idea to telegraph the sheriff in Port Galveston, Texas. She does that sort of thing all the time, assuming that her husband Neil is acquainted with all sheriffs. She just wrote, ‘The marshal up in Laramie would like to know any information about these people.’”

“I wonder how they died.” Worth mused. “Caleb didn’t say.”

“Well,” said Tabitha, “Pierre died at Campeche in 1821, we know that.” She shot Foster a meaningful look. “Only the day he was reunited with Bettina. They didn’t get much time together.”

Foster looked sheepish. “I ain’t making that mistake again, I can guarantee you that. My pet,” he added.

As if to add to Foster’s mortification, Worth put on an air of authority. He even dared to put his hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. “You want to make sure Foster stays this time, don’t you…Bettina?”

“Of course,” she replied, all wide-eyed innocence, eager to please.

“Well. I think I know a method that’ll ensure he doesn’t leave. There are few things guaranteed to entrap Foster Richmond better than the most skillful cocksucking of his life.”

Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut. Waves of lust ran up and down her spine, and the lips of her labia were plumping up with blood merely at the thought of licking her beloved’s cock. Innocent again, she pretended to protest. “But he already
had
the best cocksucking of his life, Worth. You.”

Worth got halfway behind Foster and wrapped his long, sinewy arms about his chest and waist. “I admit I am probably the most skilful
virginal
cocksucker in the world. Right, Foster?”

Tabitha’s inner pussy clenched when Worth ran a hungry palm down Foster’s abdomen and clutched his cock boldly. The cock bulged out, lewdly cradled between the leggings like that, and Tabitha had to lean against a tree, she was suddenly so weak. Foster covered Worth’s hand with his own. He rolled his head about as Worth nuzzled him behind the ear and said, “Virginal? I wouldn’t have guessed. I’ll bet Tabitha is just as good, if not better. After all, she’s a perfect Venus.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Worth mumbled against Foster’s neck. Foster’s hand encouraged Worth to unbutton his pants.

Tabitha’s mouth watered as she watched Worth fondle the long, thick penis. She had only sucked on her husband’s penis before—he had not allowed her to pleasure any other men in their bed in that manner. So she had no idea whether she was talented in this arena. She hoped her enthusiasm would make up for lack of skill as she fell to the ground and clutched Foster’s hips.

She enjoyed just watching Worth’s hand fondle the long, red prick. She added her hand to the mix and caressed the shiny, taut mushroom glans while Worth gripped the shaft. Worth clamped a thigh around Foster’s hip, as he humped him through their clothing, to steady himself. Imagining Worth’s plump cock stroking the cleft of Foster’s ass made Tabitha so slimy between the thighs, she sat on her own slippered toes. She didn’t care if she was ruining the blue suede as she set up a lusty rocking motion of her hips.

She had to rise a bit on her knees in order to face the giant, drooling prick. She easily sucked the large mushroom cap of it into her little mouth, and she remembered to cover her buck teeth with her lips, as Parker had taught her, so as not to nick the sensitive penis. She could tell by Foster’s muffled moans that Worth was kissing him, and Foster reached down and cradled her skull in his hand, encouraging her in her sucking.

She swallowed more of the massive appendage, but it was a struggle. She wanted to imitate Worth’s powerful sucking jaw that had given Foster so much pleasure. But her mouth was much smaller. Perhaps only men could be talented at this! Foster’s penis was much bigger than her husband’s, and already her jaw hurt trying to encompass it all.

Yet when she popped her eyes open, she saw Foster’s hand fumbling in Worth’s crotch. He must be stimulated by her inept sucking, for they were loving in the way men do, Foster wrapping his hand around Worth’s impressive tool. Watching the two men fondling spurred Tabitha to greater heights, and she put her utmost into her renewed effort. Squiggling her tongue about the underside of the massive prick, she felt little tiny surges of semen undulate toward the tip. She was surprised when a few drops of jism spurted down her throat, and its saltiness reminded her of other happy days with Parker.

Now Foster frigged Worth’s cock in earnest. Worth had rent Foster’s shirt and was frantically pinching his nipples as they kissed sloppily, as men were apparently prone to do. Worth’s cock stuck out at a right angle as though panting, the tip shining tightly with the drops of jism that Foster spread there almost lovingly. Tabitha squeezed and rubbed the enticing covering of fat above the base of Foster’s prick as she sucked, coordinating both motions at once.

This seemed to get him off, for right then he exploded in her mouth. She had watched Worth struggle to contain Foster’s load, but her capacity was much smaller. Some of the warm seed came out her nostrils, out the sides of her mouth, as she labored to swallow it all.

To add to the confusion, Worth chose this moment to ejaculate, hitting Tabitha square in the eye with his stream. She was simply drowning in jism. Her eye stung, semen dripped from her nose like snot, and some jism had gone down the wrong pipe.

When she finally disengaged and fell back onto her slipper, she had to laugh weakly. Foster was still squeezing the final drops from Worth’s prick, milking it with his agile thumb. Worth’s head lolled on a rubbery neck, and he rested it on Foster’s shoulder. Fine tremors ran up Foster’s thighs, and he leaned on the tree.

She wiped seed from her face. “Wow.” She laughed. “I’m sure I’m not as skilled as Worth, but I hope I’m tolerable.”

Foster fell to his knees before her. Although they sat in the shade, his brow was sweaty from his exertion. He took her hands in his. “My pet. You are more than tolerable. You are sublime.”

He kissed her then, although her mouth was still coated with his jism.

A sudden throat clearing sounded in the glen. All three heads swiveled to see Montreal Jed standing lamely, holding his score card. “If you are quite done with your shenanigans, there is a lady visitor to see you, Mr. Richmond.”

Foster rose slowly. One hand assisted Tabitha, while the other fumbled at his crotch to button it. “How did a lady find us out here?”

“I have no idea,” Jed answered tersely. “But I must say, I do not have a good feeling about this.”

Tabitha didn’t either. What sort of lady would follow them all the way to their riding and shooting range? If it were one of her sisters, Jeremiah would have said “one of your sisters.”

Before Tabitha could ask who the lady was, the lady herself stepped out from behind a cottonwood. She was shorter than Tabitha but buxom, and her radiant red hair fell smoothly to her shoulders in thick waves. Her mouth was a perfect cupid’s and bowed sort of arrogantly, as though she sneered at them. “Hello, Foster.”

Tabitha looked at Foster. He appeared dumbfounded. Unable to speak. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

The lady appeared quite happy to see Foster. Her gray eyes were alight with the joy one felt at being reunited with a loved one.

Foster finally came forward. “Orianna,” he said, so the lady didn’t have to.

Foster was stunned to the core.

He had said good-bye forever to Orianna two years ago. Walking away from his son was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but Orianna was adamant. She was taking Abe to California without Foster. She wished to wed Arthur Firestone, the San Francisco magnate, and get away from this backwater town of Laramie. Arthur would provide everything she ever wanted, although, of course, she would still accept the gold that Foster sent her for the care of Abe.

Foster didn’t care that Arthur had more than enough money to spoil Abe. He continued sending it, because his beef wasn’t with Abe. His beef was with Orianna.

Of course, when first catching sight of her heavenly face—the face he had loved to kiss, that fiery hair like his own he had loved to thread his fingers through—his heart had leapt automatically. Like a puppy trained to drool when sniffing savory campfire fixings. Within a fraction of a second, though, Foster’s rational brain reminded himself that this Orianna was an illusion. Maybe in more ways than one, too. This Orianna could feasibly be a spirit. Maybe she had died and no one had bothered telling him.

He was in love with Tabitha Hudson now. Two years had passed, and he was a changed man. He wiped whatever overjoyed reaction he’d had from his mind.

“Orianna,” he said with no expression. “Is Abe with you?”

She answered in her smooth, cultured way. “No, he’s at Arthur Fire—at his own house in San Francisco.”

Foster frowned. “You came all the way out here to see me and didn’t bring the one person I most want to see?” Or…
does she
want
to see me? Maybe there’s some other motive for this visit.

“I suppose it looks that way,” Orianna said coolly. “But Abe is the reason I wish to talk with you. May we speak in private?”

Foster’s heart near about stopped. “Is Abe ill?”

“No!” Orianna eagerly calmed Foster’s fears. “Not at all. He’s being well taken care of.”

“I’m Tabitha Hudson,” Tabitha said, sticking her paw between Foster and his former flame.

“Hudson,” mused Orianna, not taking Tabitha’s hand. “Are you related to Simon Hudson of Union Pacific fame?”

“His daughter.”

Orianna nodded sagely. “Ah. I remember some other Hudson daughters a couple of years ago.” Her eyes flickered back to Foster. “All sorts of creative girls. Quite open-minded, as I recall. Unconventional.”

Foster knew this wasn’t meant as a compliment, but Tabitha pretended to take it that way. “Yes, we are from New York so are often in the forefront of modern thinking. What brings you to Laramie?”

Orianna’s gaze didn’t waver. She pinned Foster down with her thoughtful yet evil scrutiny. “I need to talk to Foster. May we speak privately?”

Although Tabitha, Worth, and especially Jeremiah cast suspicious looks upon this intruder, of course Foster wanted to know what Orianna had to say about Abe. He led her closer to the babbling stream, and he barely heard Jeremiah snarl, “Dog-killer,” as they passed by.

Foster wished he could be so blunt himself, so he didn’t cast Jeremiah a withering glance. After all, he agreed with Montreal Jed. It was a ninety-nine percent sure thing that Orianna had killed Phineas, and Foster wanted to hurt her for it. But again, as the mother of his child, it would barely behoove him to even have her arrested, if one could even be arrested for murdering a dog. His son would then know he had a jailbird mother. There was seemingly no way out of the whole Phineas debacle.

They walked to the water’s edge, but Orianna was too high-bred now to sit on the log. So Foster stood, too.

It was unnerving to see her beautiful face after so long. He had mostly gotten over her betrayal, which had come seemingly out of the blue. Foster had thought he was a good, reliable beau and had planned to marry Orianna, especially once Abe came along. But one day, out of nowhere, Orianna had proclaimed she would take the train to the end of the line and marry that shipbuilding bastard, who had obviously written her a letter or several. One didn’t just marry a shipbuilding bastard out of nowhere.