Vampire Cowboy (5 page)

Well, she’d just have to pretend that green beans, two little not-quite-ripe tomatoes and a couple of even smaller biscuits with no gravy were a fine supper. She was so hungry that she salivated at the thought of them, but she’d pretend she wasn’t and he could have them both. She thought lovingly of Mrs. Timmons’ chicken at the picnic the night before. She’d eaten her fill and more, but there’d actually been one roll left.

“Why didn’t I take that roll with me? I could be eating it right now.” She sighed.
Truth is I wasn’t thinking straight. All I could think about was that man and how I wanted to see him again. Soon.

Well, she had time to bathe and wash her hair and put on the good gown.
Maybe I’ll leave the top button undone. Maybe the top two?
She’d noticed that Miss Susan over at the saloon often had a few buttons undone. Miss Susan’s dresses didn’t go up as high on the neck as her own did. She’d have to leave quite a few open to reveal as much of her chest as Miss Susan did. She didn’t want to appear excessively bold. Or maybe she did.

* * * * *

A few hours later, a huge pile of green beans and the biscuits were warming in the oven. The aroma of the biscuits was driving her to distraction. Even thinking about Daniel taking her in his arms, kissing and caressing her, didn’t interfere with her desire to open the oven, pull out those two plain, pitifully small biscuits, even though they weren’t fully baked, and devour them. The two unripe tomatoes lying on the table ready to decorate the top of the pile of beans looked appealing as well.

“Stop it!” she commanded herself and tied her clean hair back with a strip of fabric cut from a rag. They’d decided on nine thirty for dinner. But where was he? It was a going to be ten o’clock soon.

She had left the top two buttons of her gown undone. Then she’d done them up again.

“Don’t want to appear too forward,” she’d said to herself. “Don’t want to seem too anxious to do what we did last night.” But then, deciding she did absolutely want to repeat last night, she’d opened them up again. First the two and then another and then the fourth, opening the gown within an inch of the top of her breasts.

She thought she heard the lowing of cattle, but that was impossible. Then she heard a shout and the sound of horses and—improbable—the clucking of an annoyed hen and male laughter.

Looking out the window, she saw in the moonlight some cattle moving toward the house with three men on horseback. One of them was Daniel, his white face gleaming in the darkness. Another was Billy Joe. And along the other side of the cattle rode Seth Tompkins. A chicken stuck its head out of each of Billy Joe’s saddlebags.

As she watched Billy Joe pull the first chicken from the bag her mouth watered. When he pulled out another, her stomach growled. Then the men chased the cattle into their enclosure and pushed the gate closed. They rode to her door where she stood watching.

Billy Joe was in the lead. “Ma’am.”

“Take off that hat,” snapped Daniel, and Billy Joe whipped it off his head.

“Ma’am,” he repeated. “I am sorry I done rustled your cattle.” He twisted the hat in his hand.

“The chickens,” Daniel prompted softly. “And the meat.”

“Oh, yes. And ma’am, I sure am sorry I took your chickens. Me and my friends done ate most of ’em and most of your smoked pork as well, so I brung you two extra head o’ cattle.”

She didn’t know what to say. She looked over at Daniel. He looked clean and tidy compared to the other two, though there was a chicken feather in his blond hair. His hat and jacket were on the saddle before him, his rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed white muscular arms and he looked just a little dusty. Seth and Billy Joe were completely covered in dust and mud.

“Mr. Hastings figured out where your cattle had got to and he asked me to help him get them here safe to you. Billy Joe, he didn’t give us no trouble.” Seth lowered his voice and leaned in close to her. “I think he was afraid of making both you and Mr. Hastings mad at the same time.”

He sat up straight in the saddle, took off his hat and scratched his head. “You need to fix that there gate.” He pointed to the animal enclosure. “It’s fixin’ to fall right off, and if it does all these here cattle will be long gone, and ain’t no one woulda rustled them.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Daniel said smoothly. The two cowboys took off, Seth at an amble, Billy Joe as though the devil himself were at his heels.

Daniel leapt off his horse.

Well, in spite of those clothes, he knows his way around a horse. And around a woman, come to think of it.

A frisson ran down her back as she thought about the night before. She sure would like some more of that. Right now. She’d like him to take her in his arms and kiss her slow and hot and run his hands—

“Chasing chickens and rounding up cattle is dirty work,” he said, smiling at her and interrupting her thoughts. “I’m not fit for a lady’s company. Please forgive me.”

She brought herself back to earth. “How did you figure Billy Joe…and how did you get him to bring them back?

Daniel smiled. “I asked around a bit and then I, er, convinced Seth to show me where he lived and I persuaded Billy Joe that it would be best if he returned your animals immediately.”

Eliza smiled back and, stepping closer to him, reached up and removed the feather from his hair.

“Thank you,” he said in a grave tone. “I fear moving unwilling animals from one place to another is rather dirty work. It does give me pleasure to think that you might be pleased to have them back again.”

“I am,” she lied. At the moment she didn’t give a hoot about the animals. It was him she wanted. She wanted him to—

“Is there a place I might wash off?”

She gestured to the pump, and they walked over to it in silence.

“I’ll pump,” she said, taking the handle.

Eliza sucked in her breath. Lordy she could see the muscles of his torso ripple as he pulled off his shirt, set it on the wall that surrounded the well and put his head under the water. He rubbed at his fair hair and then turned and twisted so the water ran over his face and then his torso, so white it seemed luminescent in the moonlight. How she longed to get her hands on him. She thought about his hands and how they had caressed her. Her heart beat faster as heat rose within her. She longed to feel his strong hands on her again, stroking her back, squeezing her breasts. She wanted his fingers pinching her nipples, giving her that painful pleasure that drove her wild. It was all she could do to stay where she was, dutifully pumping the water.

When he stood, shaking the water from his hair, she let go of the handle and came boldly up to him and put her arms around him.

“You’ll get wet,” he said.

“And this is how you’ll get dry.” She rubbed herself against him. Shamelessly she lifted her skirt as high as possible and dried what she could reach of him. Meeting his gaze she willed him to want her, to desire her with all his heart and soul, the way she wanted him. He tilted his head, an eyebrow raised and a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Turn around,” she said. He did and she rubbed herself against his back. She brought her arms around him and stroked his massive chest.

“Mm,” she murmured, “you feel so nice.” So powerful, so strong. She lingered there a minute, loving the feel of him—hard muscle under cool, smooth skin, loving the sound of his breath coming harder, faster.

“If we were to live forever,” he said softly, “I would still never tire of your touch, of the feel of your hands on my body.”

She let her fingers drift down his sides to his slender hips. She undid his belt, opened his stiff trousers and slipped her hands downward along his groin until she touched his member. Ah, he was already big. She pressed her body harder against his. Her nipples stood erect, pushing achingly against the soft fabric of her gown and the firmness of his fully muscled back. She was becoming damp down below. He was all she wanted, all she needed.

Gently, tentatively she slipped her hands down the hardening length of him. Satin over steel. He groaned. She pushed the trousers out of her way and slowly, wonderingly, she stroked him, caressed him. And then harder, faster, until he brushed her hands away, turned to her and took her mouth.

His lips were bruising, insistent. His hands were everywhere, demanding and possessive, first crushing her body to his own, then firm about her waist, her sides, her back. All the while his member pressed hard against her. She could feel her own wetness. Soon it would dampen her thighs. She was overwhelmed with the pleasure of it and yet almost in pain for wanting more.

She brought her arms around him, ran her hands down his back, palms flat against his buttocks, pulling him closer still. She stood on her toes and he bent his knees so that his member came to nestle between her thighs, brushing her mound, separated from her skin by her skirt. She ached with longing for him.

He paused only to murmur, “I could spend an eternity kissing you, holding you close to me, learning your body.” Then he was kissing her again.

As though he knew what she was feeling, his tongue pushed roughly past her lips. The ache became fire and flared, filling her pelvis, rising into her belly, licking at her heart until she thought she could stand it no longer.

“I want you,” she whispered. “I want you now.”

His laugh was low and throaty. “Not yet, my darling, not yet.” He picked her up and carried her into the house where he laid her on the dining table among her mother’s pretty flowered china that she’d brought all the way from Kansas City. He pushed her skirt up and bent to kiss the tender insides of her thighs.

He raised his head and met her gaze as he slowly ran his fingers up and down the creases that separate thigh from sex. He bent and kissed and licked where his fingers had been. Then his lips were on her mound, burrowing in the black curls, moving excruciatingly slowly toward the very center of her. She could hardly bear the mix of anticipation and the exquisite pleasure of the moment. At last he pushed her thighs toward her chest and his tongue was inside her. The exquisite sensation grew and blossomed until she felt the world shatter gloriously.

But he didn’t pause. She felt something—his finger—slip inside her and then, oh god, his lips were there as well, kissing and licking and sucking. The two sensations combined and became so intense, so sweetly overwhelming she could barely stand it. The almost painful sensual bliss of it bloomed and spread throughout her very being and, as though from far away, she heard herself screaming.

And he was there, standing between her thighs looking down, watching intently as he entered her. His gaze flew to hers, and he was filling her, pleasing her in a way nothing ever had or would. As he moved, she sighed with the joy of it and she heard him groan.

“Oh lordy,” she heard herself say. “Oh lordy. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

Her eyes closed as she moved her hips in tempo with his.

“Eliza!” he said. And then again, louder, “Eliza!” sending her to a place where there was only him and the exquisite sensation and the burning need for more and more and more until it was almost intolerable. At last she could not stand the pleasure of it one more second and as her world fell apart she heard him cry out and felt the pulsing of his release.

She lay there happily sated as he bent over her and stroked her hair tenderly. Never in her life had she been as aroused, as full of want and desire as she had been with this man. She sighed softly. And never had she felt as satisfied, as complete.

He’d given her what she wanted—and much more. Until he came along she had never known that mouths and tongues could do so much. She wiggled happily thinking about it. He stood up, stepped from between her thighs, pushed her legs together and helped her sit up on the edge of the table. She put her arms around him and squeezed him hard.

She let go and smiled up at him, but he seemed to be in another world. He was staring at the wall in an unfocused kind of way, as though he were thinking about something very disagreeable. Something that made him angry.

In fact he looked so angry that she decided it best not to inquire what could be so annoying after such thrilling lovemaking. When he turned away from her with not even a second glance and began putting on his clothes, Eliza, hurt and confused, managed to refrain from bursting into tears.

“I should leave,” he said. How could he after such rapture? That’s what it had been for her at least. And he’d called her name when he climaxed. Surely it had been a pleasant experience for him if nothing more. Well, she wasn’t going to start wishing the man would stay. She was far too proud to ask him to.

If he wants to leave now, let him. Doesn’t matter—well it does, but not much.
The truth came crashing down on her. It mattered a whole lot. She wanted this man to stay with her. She wanted to take him into her bedroom. She wanted to do some more of what they had just done and then fall asleep in his arms. She wanted those things very, very much.

“Best you forget all that occurred between us tonight.” He gave her a long, icy stare and everything seemed to go a little hazy for a minute. Her heart sank. He looked like he didn’t like her much.

Saddened and confused, she said, “Sure,” struggling to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Go.”

Well, at least now she knew a whole bunch of wonderful new things to want from a man that she hadn’t known about before. Trouble was she wanted this particular man to do them.