Rocky Mountain Ride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 7) (17 page)

“I don’t know.” She trembled a little. “What was that? What have I done?”

He cuddled her and kissed her.

“It’s all right. You gave yourself to me completely. It’s natural. You’re a passionate woman. You needn’t be ashamed.” He kissed her deeply. “Surrender. I’ll take care of you.”

She shook in his arms, and cried a little until the fit passed, leaving a calm like a clean sky after a storm. “It’s been so long,” she whispered. “And I never knew it could be like this.”

“I know, my love. But I meant what I said in the grove.” His face was filled with pain and earnest hope. “I didn’t do right by Nell. I’d give anything to go back and do it again. But I promise it’ll be different, with you.”

“I know it will, Englishman.” She stroked his face as if she could wipe his sadness away. “You are absolved. Enter our marriage a new man.”

“Francesca.” His head bowed. “You undo me.”

They lay in each other’s arms, reassuring each other with their kisses. Sebastian rubbed some balm into her tender backside; it still ached from her punishment, but each throb seemed to send the message deep inside her, of love and connection to her new man.

Dawn broke and they were still sating themselves with each other.

“Do you want children?” he asked.

“I do. As many as possible. And you?”

“Yes. As many as you want.”

She lay against him with a sigh. “Cyro wanted children. We lay together but I never quickened. He was content after a few tries. It was not meant to be.”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “I’m glad you want them. For I intend to plant my seed in you every night. I am a farmer now, after all.”

*

Sebastian stood knee deep in muddy water, trying to drag a cow out of an
acequia
. He pulled the lead and cursed the animal, but it would not move.

“So, Englishman,” Juan called from the shore where he was supervising. “How do you like being a farmer?”

“I’d like it better if the bloody cows would stop going into the water. How do these things flow when the cattle are always using them to wallow?”

Juan shrugged. “Usually there is more water. We are due a good rain. Any day now, and these
acequias
will fill right up.”

“In the meantime, we should pasture the cattle near the far stream.” The cow turned its head at an inopportune time, bumping the blond man, and Sebastian lost his footing, slipping on the bank. “Bloody bounder.”

He heard a joyful laugh and looked up to see his wife riding by. She’d swapped out her usual work dress with the striped skirt for a flowing white dress. Her black hair streamed behind her like a flag. He stared so long at her the cow butted him gently and he nearly went down again.

Juan chuckled. The cow lowed and Sebastian took his anger out on it.

“Shut up, you. Or we’ll be eating steak for dinner.”

*

By the time Sebastian returned to the hacienda, it was late afternoon, and he was covered in mud. Francesca was in the garden, still in that perfect white dress. He closed the gate and paused, his eyes feasted on the beautiful sight. She’d pinned her hair up, piling it on her head, leaving her lovely shoulders and neck bare. He approached and she gave him a coy look.

He longed to kiss that expanse of caramel skin, to light her up with a thousand little touches. As hard as life was on the farm, it was worth it just to come home to her. She smiled at him, as if she could read his thoughts.

A quick glance around the yard told him Ana was gone and the guards were standing on the road outside the gate. Besides the white goat, he and his wife were alone.

“Come here,” he growled.

“Oh, no,” she said. “You stink. And you’ll get me all dirty!”

“You love it.” He chased her. She fled, holding up her skirts, stooping to pick up a bucket and throw it at him. Water splashed out of it and washed some of the dirt away.

He stopped and stripped off his shirt, enjoying the sense of getting clean.

“You see? You need a wash. No one is about. Rinse off here and strip off your things and I’ll have a bath waiting for you inside.” Francesca indicated the large trough Ana used for everything from laundry to collecting rain and watering the garden. Sebastian frowned at the pig trough. It wasn’t used for pigs, but still, the principle of the thing.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” his wife sang out before disappearing into the house.

The promise made him speed up. He stripped off his boots and regarded the tub.

A few minutes later, Francesca found her ridiculous husband singing as he sat in the garden trough, completely nude.

“Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies…” he bellowed tunelessly at the top of his lungs.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?” she yelled until the awful noise stopped.

“It’s an old sea shanty,” he said. “I was in the navy, did you not know that?”

“Get inside.” She bit back a laugh as he rose like a lily white whale, ready to traipse buck naked and shameless into the house.

“Come, kiss me, wife,” he challenged, spreading his arms.

“No. Come inside, you fool.”

“You won’t come kiss me, I’ll come to you,” he said, and lunged.

She squealed as he caught her. “Sebastian, you are soaking wet…” her words grew muffled as he took her mouth. She gasped when he broke the kiss. “You prick…”

“Your turn in the bath.” He scooped her up, carrying her back to the trough.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

He dropped her into the water and she screamed as if it burned.

“You stupid—” her sentence finished with a string of Spanish curses. She reared up, splashing, looking like a wet, angry cat. Sebastian noticed her dress was even more lovely now. The wet drape clung to her skin, outlining her dusky nipples.

It gave him all sorts of naughty ideas.

“Inside, you said?” He tossed her over his shoulder and carried her inside, still singing.

*

She’d set up a tub in an alcove off the kitchen. Once he reached it, he shrugged her down and held her back to his front, his cock poking her bottom while his hand took liberties. He was larger and stronger and though she struggled, he easily held her.

“Mmm, a lovely water nymph. All for me.” His hand cupped her breast.

“You are a fool.”

“That’s not very nice.” He squeezed her breast a little harder and his other hand roamed until the wet dress got in the way. He stopped and peeled it off, then grabbed her again, his hands roving up and down her now naked body while his head bent and mouth did what it wanted to do the moment he first saw her in the garden: lick and suck on the sensitive skin of her neck.

He stroked her until she was wet and purring under him, then set her away. “I suppose I should clean up before the bath gets cold.”

“Sebastian,” she pouted. Now she was hot for him. Well, too bad. He’d decided she needed a lesson in who was boss. It was going to be a long night for her. He climbed into the tub.
“Come now, Francesca. You promised to help get me clean.”

Naked, her chest heaving and nipples tightly ruched with desire, she stared at him, frustrated, as if trying to decide whether to hit him or pounce on his cock. Finally, she obeyed. He sat in the bath scrubbing off the rest of the grime while his wife poured the warm water over him, serving him like a pretty Roman slave. After a few minutes, he couldn’t resist pulling her in with him, cradling her on his lap and rubbing the washcloth into all her delicious crevices until she panted for him.

“You want some pleasure, darling?” He rose, water sluicing off him, getting it all over the stone floor, though neither of them cared. “Perhaps you could see to this?” His tool pointed straight at her face.

With a nod, she reached for it.

“No hands,” he ordered, and her eyes dropped to half mast as she circled his cock with her ripe, red lips. Her pupils were deep and dark with submission. Sebastian noted her trance-like obedience, arousal overtaking her will. Or maybe a part of her found pleasure in serving him.

Whether she loved or hated it, a part of her needed him to be in control. It was up to him to find the balance that brought her the most intense pleasure, without breaking her will. As she worked up and down his length, he wondered how far he could go.

The sight of her on her knees, dark head bobbing, slavish mouth sucking, brought him to the brink in no time, and he raised her up.

“I don’t want to spill in your mouth.”

They left a wet trail all the way to the bedroom. He sat down on the bed his cock jutting up in invitation. “Ride me.”

She was a fine sight, her breasts bouncing and body curving over his. He let her do the work, encouraging her from time to time by pinching her nipples and then craning his head so his lips and tongue could soothe the sting away. She started to tighten around his cock and he slapped her ass.

“Now, on the bed. Hands and knees.”

She obeyed with alacrity, settling onto all fours and wriggling her bottom in invitation.

His cock throbbed with such need, he was surprised he’d lasted this long. She tilted her hips, offering her sweet pussy. As tempting as it looked, he decided now was the time to push their boundaries a little. Her little asshole winked at him from between two perfect, caramel nates, and he knew just what she needed. She’d love it, she’d hate it, she’d beg him for more.

He detoured a moment to the washbasin and grabbed a vial of oil she used on her skin. After slickening his cock with a generous handful, he knelt on the bed and set his cock at her tight bottom hole.

She tensed. “Sebastian.”

“It’s ‘Master’ to you, naughty one.” He slapped her ass. “And I suggest if you want any chance of cumming tonight, you work harder to please me.”

His fingers dipped into her pussy to check her response. Soaked, as he suspected.

“Face down,” he commanded, and grabbed a fistful of dark hair, pushing her head down to the bed. The resulting position pushed her backside out further. “Now reach back and part those cheeks for me. Show me what you have to offer. Show me what I own.”

Her breath came faster as her face reddened with humiliation, but she obeyed. His long fingers gripped her caramel lobes, drawing them apart to bare her sweet cuntpurse to his gaze. The little hoyden kept her lower lips smooth, and his mouth watered at the sight.

“Good girl. Next time I snap my fingers, you’ll lift your skirts and present.”

She growled and he smacked the side of her bottom hard. It made such a nice sound, he did it again. Then he couldn’t stop himself from bending down behind her and licking up and down her crack. His tongue probed her sweet nether lips, then slid up slowly, circling the dark star until her bottom shook.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Rising, he positioned himself and started to slide in. His hand stroked her.

“It’s all right, darling. I’ll go slowly.”

Her body relaxed and let him in. She moaned, but the sound didn’t herald pain. Then his hipbones touched her plump rear and he lost himself in the beautiful feeling. Her body gripped him, her asshole clenched tightly as if trying to squeeze his dick off.

Prostrate before him, she arched her back, her hands still holding her cheeks open for him.

She deserved a reward.

“Touch yourself.”

Once her breath started to quicken, he moved, rocking back and forth. The oil lubricated her back entryway, allowing his cock to push in and pull out. It was a beautiful sight.

“Faster, Francesca. Make yourself come with my cock up your ass.” He’d train her to feel good while he took her bottom hole. One day she would crave the act.

She did as he ordered, her face resting against the bed, her mouth open and drool leaking out. The sounds she made and the way her asshole spasmed as she came made him lose control. His fingers bit into her hips as he spent himself.

*

“Why were you so muddy anyway?” she asked, after he’d cleaned them both up, and collected her into his arms.

“Wallowing all afternoon with the cows. Sneaky bastards. Push you over as soon as you turn your back.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh, Englishman, we’ll make a vaquero of you yet.”

His arms squeezed her tighter. “As long as I get to come home and wallow with you.”

She sighed, and he knew he’d satisfied her. Their honeymoon was over, the days blending into endless trials that soaked up all the daylight. But nights were all theirs.

“It must rain soon,” she murmured drowsily. “Otherwise the crops will die. The
acequias
will only last so long.”

“Shhh, my darling. Don’t worry about it. I’ll wire my father for more funds. We can float the farm as long as we need.”

“That is your money.”

“It is yours. Everything I have is yours.”

She angled her head to fix him with her sharp, dark gaze. “What about everything I have?”

“That is also yours. That’s the truth of it, my darling. When a man falls in love, everything he has becomes the woman’s.”