Caine's Reckoning (52 page)

It was a philosophy she was thinking of adopting. At least, when it came to her husband. She fingered the lace again. No one had ever bought her something just to make her smile. She’d been given gifts for birthdays, for bribes and for fun. Gifts casually bought with the excess of money available, but no one had ever sacrificed a part of their dream to make her happy. No one except Caine. This bit of lace had set back his plans to buy his brood mare, and when she’d found out, she’d been furious. She was Hell’s Eight now, the ranch’s future was hers, just as it was his, and she didn’t need lace more than the ranch needed that brood mare.

In the course of the argument, she’d rejected the present, and indirectly, according to Tia, him. She hadn’t understood how much Caine had needed to give her the lace. How his pride demanded it. His guilt commanded it. She mentally sighed. Men and their pride. She’d have to learn to handle Caine’s better if she wanted a peaceful marriage.

She passed her little mare’s stall. The horse whickered a greeting and stuck her nose over the top bar. Desi gave her a pat in lieu of the sugar nugget she usually brought and kept going, her steps getting shorter and slower as she got closer to Caine’s location, until, finally, she came to a complete stop just shy of the door. She owed him so much more than an apology that she didn’t even know where to begin. Hopefully, though, the next couple hours would open the door to a discussion on the matter. Certainly at the end of it she intended there’d be no doubt she was staying.

She tugged her skirt from between her legs. If not, she was giving Caine the job of rubbing ointment on her chafed inner thighs. Bloomers definitely had their uses, and doing without made that fact abundantly clear.

“You going to stay out there and spy or come in here and talk?”

How did he always know where she was? “Do I have a choice?”

“You’ve always had a choice.”

She was beginning to understand that. “Will you think less of me if I tell you I’m too chicken to come in there?”

There was the sound of a soft pat of a hand on horseflesh, another murmur and then Caine slid through the cross poles that made up the stall door, replacing the middle one before leaning on his arm against the top, hat tipped down too low to see his eyes. He crossed his ankles, nothing but lazy nonchalance in his posture as he answered, “Not if you tell me it’s the horse that has you clucking.”

The turn of phrase made her smile. Then again, Caine always made her smile. “I’m not afraid of
you.
”

He pointed to the spot in front of him. “Then come here and prove it.”

She shook her head and pointed to a spot in front of her. “You come here.”

He pushed his hat back, revealing the natural sternness of his expression and the hint of laughter etched in faint lines around his eyes. “Make me.”

She cocked her head to the side, keeping her own smile hidden with difficulty. “Do you think I can’t?”

He eyed her from head to toe, pausing a fraction longer on her breasts than anywhere else, before coming back up to her face. “What I think, sweetheart, is that I’ve got about a hundred pounds on you.”

“Uh-huh.”

His right eyebrow rose at her open purloining of his favorite expression. “You don’t think that’s going to make a difference?”

She shook her head. “Not a bit.”

He straightened, pushing his hat back farther, his attention honing in that indefinable way he had. The way that made a person feel in the center of a tornado, with judgment whirling all around, the delivery at his discretion. It was a scary feeling having that attention focused on her when he was angry, but with the edges of his mouth softening with desire, all it did now was remind her how thorough he was in the bedroom, how particular he was when it came to her pleasure. The tiniest of shivers quivered through her womb, reverberating outward on a tendril of anticipation, peaking in her nipples, drawing them tight with the first sweet hum of desire.

His gaze dipped to her chest again. His smile turned knowing. No doubt he’d noticed her body’s response.

“You don’t say.”

She reached for the fastening at her collar. “I do.”

He didn’t say another word, just watched expressionlessly as she got the first, second and third buttons undone, but she wasn’t fooled. By the time she’d reached the fourth his cock was halfway down his thigh, straining the tough cotton of his pants. By the time she got to the fifth, he’d found his counter to her declaration.

“It’s going to take more than a glimpse of skin to get me to see things your way.”

She popped the sixth button, dipping her fingers inside, stroking lightly in the shadow of her cleavage, allowing herself another small smile when the muscle by his cheek twitched. “Uh-huh. Well settle your mind on it, Caine Allen, I’m staying.”

The blouse opened over her abdomen, exposing her blue corset, the one he liked best because it fit just a little too snugly around the chest, pressing her breasts in and up more than was fashionable, but perfect for his mouth. Or, she glanced down, the jut of his cock.

She held his gaze and shrugged her shoulder, letting the material slide down her arm at its own easy pace, letting him hope, just a little, before slipping her hand across her breast to catch the edge just above her elbow with her fingertip. Leaving her hand splayed suggestively over her left breast, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I’m just hoping the right incentive will get you over your stubbornness.”

“It’s not a matter of being stubborn.”

“It’s not?” She dipped her right shoulder.

“Nope.” His gaze narrowed, lending a dangerous edge to his expression as the other sleeve began its slide.

She caught that one, too, just above the gather of her loosely tied chemise—very loosely tied chemise—that gaped obligingly.

A little of the nonchalance left his stance. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

She just loved the way he drawled the endearment, as if it were a threat and a promise at once. “I am?”

He pulled the hat down over his brow and straightened. “Oh, yeah.”

She strove for innocence as she pointed out, “I’m just trying to get your attention.”

He nodded toward her chest. “You’ve got it.”

“Good.”

She turned, giving him a view of her back, and let the blouse go. It slid off her arms in a whisper of enticement. As soon as it cleared her hands, she reached for the fastening on her skirt, feeling every bit the fast woman she’d been accused of being as the outside button came undone. She decided she liked it.

From the husky edge to his drawl, Caine liked it, too. “You know the others will be in here in about five minutes to rig up?”

She nodded, more concerned with the stubborn button than the conversation.

“I’m going to have a real problem with my wife strutting before them in her unmentionables.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she freed her skirt, liking the possessive emphasis he always put on “wife.” Liking even more the way he looked. Big, mean and ready. For her. Her smile broadened as his hand dropped to his fly. “Then I guess it will be up to you to make sure they don’t get too much of a show.”

Her skirt hit the floor with a soft rustle. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath except the chemise and corset, and ankle boots topped with knee-high stockings tied with a bright pink ribbon just below her knee.

His curse hit her ears a lot harder. Deep, dark and sexy—a hot erotic prelude to the touch of his skin. In the next instant, he was there behind her, his big body propelling her forward, toward the stall wall. His hand splayed across her stomach, pulling her up short before she connected, giving her a moment to catch herself, and then he was up against her, crowding her between the hard wood and the heat of his body, the rough cotton of his open fly abrading the naked curve of her buttocks, the thick hot length of his cock pressing hard between. She wiggled back, working him deeper into the crease of her buttocks, gifting herself with the hot stab of arousal. “Does this mean I’m staying?”

“It’s a hard life.”

“It’s a challenging one,” she corrected.

“You were meant for better.”

“I swear if you make me say this again, I’m going to box your ears. I was meant for you.”

His laugh puffed beside her ear. “Box my ears?”

She nodded. “And before you get to laughing, you should know that Tia offered to teach me to do it right.”

He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Really.”

She smiled against the cool wood. “But only if you prove stubborn.”

“I’m never stubborn.”

He was so full of it.

His right hand climbed the light boning of her corset. “How much time do we have?”

“You said yourself, five minutes.” God, he felt good against her—all hard muscle and banked power. His left hand headed south, tugging up the bottom of her chemise, finding the flesh beneath, stroking a path from hipbone to hipbone, the rough calluses dragging on her stomach before stretching to tangle in the curls topping her mound. His right had reached her breast, covering it completely, cupping the nipple within his palm, the heat of his touch carrying the remembered promise of pleasure, as slowly, oh, so slowly, his fingers contracted.

Pleasure speared deep as her flesh shaped to his touch compressing and shaping as he willed.

“Uh-huh.”

His fingertips coasted up the smooth slope until he captured the taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Tiny flutters of eager sensation broke off as he pinched the tight bud through her chemise, swooping down to feed the hungry expectation of her pussy, stroking the ache, the need…whispering of more to come. Her sheath clenched and cream flowed as the worn cotton amplified every brush of his thumb, every press of his finger, every squeeze of both. He rubbed the sensitive nub lightly, then harder, knowing what she needed, coaxing her nipple from plumped to hard with a light pinch that shot the sharp, sweet sting of joy winging straight to her core. Lower down, that teasing finger traced the curve at the top of her mound. “Now, tell me the truth.”

She dropped her head back onto his shoulder, and tilted her hips up into the stroke of his finger, wanting it, needing it lower. “I declared the barn off-limits all morning.”

His hands stilled, and his chest pressed against her back as he sucked in a slow deep breath. Had she gone too far?

And then he bent, his breath reaching her first, wafting over her ear in a shivery caress that found a friend in the shudder that raced though her. It hadn’t taken him long to discover how sensitive she was there. To realize that just the feel of his breath across her ear pulled her nipples tight and readied her pussy. Goose bumps sprang up over her skin as he drawled, “You, sweetheart, are a scandalous woman.”

The smile was back in his voice, along with that low, sexy rumble. “So, what does that make you?”

His finger worked between the plump folds of her labia, sliding into the slick crease between. “A very lucky man.”

He drew lazy figure eights on her sensitive flesh, alternately circling her vagina and her clit, touching neither, as if they had all the time in the world, as if her skin wasn’t catching fire from the drag of his calluses on her intimate flesh.

His finger dipped into the well of her vagina, circled the tender opening to gather silky moisture before he drew his finger back up to her swollen clit, nudging it lightly as he milked her nipple with a slow, easy rhythm that was anything but easy on her equilibrium. Simply put, the man made her burn.

“Caine.”

“Right here, Gypsy.”

And he was. All around her. She leaned into his hands, trusting him to hold her up. “Do it right.”

His “I wasn’t aware I was doing it wrong” reflected his amusement and his intent. The man was not in a hurry.

Another little nudge, but this one followed by a slow circle, equally as frustrating as the engorged nub of her clit strained, every nerve ending leaping to life, training on that one spot, waiting for the deliverance he withheld. “You know what I mean.”

“Maybe you should elaborate, just to be sure.”

She had to wait a second to explain, her voice stolen by the hot kiss he pressed into the curve of her shoulder. She canted her head to the side, giving him better access. “You’re teasing me.”

Her reward was a strong suction that brought her up on her toes, followed by a sharp sting that had her dropping back down. He caught her weight in the cradle of his palm, cupping her pussy while two fingers slipped into the crease of her buttocks, finding her anus with unerring accuracy.

His smile pressed against her cheek as she gasped and bore down, instinct overcoming caution as he countered, “I’m pleasuring you.”

She braced her hands against the wall and pressed back into the thrust of his cock, rubbing her ass back and forth against the solid length, grinding her clit against the heel of his hand, the silk of her cream making them both slick. “I need more.”

She needed him bare and in her hands, her mouth, her pussy.

“Like this?” The tip of one finger left her ass while another dipped back to her vagina, not entering, just stroking in that aggravating, maddening, mind-shattering way. She dug her nails into the wall, holding on as a bolt of desire seared her control. Her knees buckled. The finger at her pussy pierced her in an inexorable culmination. Her muscles clamped down on the tip as the one at her ass strained for the same pleasure. It wasn’t enough. She shook her head helplessly.