Rocky Mountain Ride (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 7) (22 page)

First he let her rest longer, his long legs and torso tucked around her. His hand started roaming up and down her chest, tugging her nipples, stroking her cunny. His fingers swirled around her little pleasure button.

She shifted and moaned, and he pressed closer.

“You were so beautiful working with Camila,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” His lips left her ear and traced down her neck, worshiping her scented skin. “I look forward to a lifetime of watching you work. You’re amazing.” She sighed, and he dropped kisses on her shoulder, before biting it lightly.

“But now you’re back in the bedroom, this is my domain. You’re under my command.” He pinched a nipple to emphasize his point and felt her whimper ripple through her. His hand worked between her legs. “And if I say you’re to cum, you’re going to damn well cum.”

“Sebastian,” she breathed, her hips starting to rock against his hand.

He smacked her ass and growled, “What do you call me?”

“Master. Please.” Her hips jerked, straining for his touch. He rewarded her obedience.

“I’m going to give you so much pleasure, you won’t be able to move.”

“Yes.” She cried out when he stabbed his tongue into her ear, thrusting in mimicry of his cock taking her, hard and without mercy.

He rolled her to her back and straddled her, his head down between her legs and his cock over her face.

“Suck me, while I taste you. Whoever cums first, becomes the other’s slave.”

He buried his face in her, confident that he’d win. His cock was satisfied from his earlier release and her primed pussy was no match for his voracious tongue. He felt a few tentative licks on his cock, and reaffirmed his grip on her hips, lifting her right to his mouth. With a growl, he devoured her, licking up all her juices and digging for more. She shook apart underneath him a few minutes later.

He moved to the side, wiping his mouth.

“That’s one,” he told her. “Now roll over and present your pretty little ass. You’re my slave, and I want to spank your cunny until you come again.”

The day passed and they barely left the bedroom, though once Sebastian threatened to have her crawl down the hall on a little leash made of string tied to her nipples. He took her on the couch and the floor, bent over the bed after a round with the belt, thrusting hard into her hot ass and saying despicable, vile things until her cunt spasmed nonstop.

He made her suck him and hump his foot, then lay on her back on the rug while he teased her with a feather, with rope and tassel, with trailing fingers and finally his tongue. He gave her the humiliation she needed and the degradation she craved, knowing that it took more than a sweet session with his cock for her to orgasm. And, because he loved her, he’d be the master in the bedroom she needed him to be.

She orgasmed over and over, and once held onto his head so hard she ripped out some of his hair by the roots when she came. At times he could see her struggle in her face, as he ordered her to grovel or kiss his boot. But mostly she obeyed with a dazed, wanton look, drunk on her own desire. The trust she gave him was unreal. He marveled at the gift of her submission, and how powerful he felt playing her lord and master. It made him feel ten feet tall, more noble than he’d ever been in his entire life.

“There you are, darling,” he finally said, when she couldn’t move. He’d taken a break halfway to dash out for food, and let her nap a few times after cumming hard, before he made her cum again. Dusk came and she still hadn’t left the room. “I’ve done my duty as a husband for the day.”

“For the year,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His lips smacked her cheek.

“We did not do any chores.”

“Ana knows you need recovery. I dare say I would’ve tied you up before letting you lurch around in an exhausted state.”

“Now I am exhausted again.” But she smiled.

“Good. Then you will sleep.”

She sighed. “Tomorrow we will face our troubles.”

“Not necessarily,” Sebastian said lightly, even though he felt a pang of worry deep down. “The post may come with my father’s money, and then we will dance and sing like fools.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said. “Sebastian, I must ask you: do you believe I married you for your money?”

“I’m glad I had something to entice you, darling,” he retorted. “And I don’t mind, as long as you don’t mind that I married you for your perfect arse.”

She scoffed, but he continued before she could steer the subject back to any serious matter.

“I mean it. It’s size, shape, color—especially when I whip it. It really should be shown on world tour.”

Her body shook with laughter.

“Poems would be written, songs will be sung, all to the two delectable cheeks and the slice of heaven between. But it’s not to be. It’s mine, all mine.” He snuggled into her back.

She lay in his arms, and for a moment he thought he’d distracted her, but a few minutes later she asked in a serious voice, “Is that how you truly feel? That I married you only for protection?”

He rolled her to face him, joking manner gone.

“Francesca, I know the circumstances were intense, but you want me. Any woman who does the things you do for me…”

“There had better not be any other woman,” she warned.

“There is no other woman for me.” He found her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. “I pledge my life to you, my lady. Anything and everything I have is yours. You have but to ask.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” A wild light leapt into her eye. Her lips found his ear. “I want it all.” With a wicked smile, she worked her way down his body, and took the rest of the night to celebrate their love, both craven and pure.

*

The sound of breaking glass woke them the next morning.

“Ana?” Francesca muttered sleepily.

Sebastian was up, reaching for his gun, motioning for her to stay put. After the shooting, he wasn’t taking any chances.

The garden looked serene and beautiful in the morning light, but for the shattered glass on the kitchen’s door. Who would come and throw a jar at their front step? Was it a message or a warning? It didn’t make sense.

Gazing out over the field, he caught sight of a white shape in front of the apothecary door.

“What is it?” Francesca came behind him.

“Stay back,” Sebastian ordered, but of course she ignored him and ran towards her workshop.

“Oh no,” she cried.

Sebastian cursed under his breath, staring at the pitiful pile of white fur stained red. Someone had slaughtered the goat and left it in front of Francesca’s apothecary.

Francesca read the smeared Spanish word bruja, written in the goat’s blood, and gasped.

“What does it say?”

She translated in a stricken voice. “Witch.”

Holding his gun in one hand, he clasped his trembling wife to his side with the other. As she clung to him, his eyes scanned the horizon. Who was it this time? The Royal Mountain Gang? Bernardo? More likely one of the priest’s minions.

“What is it?” Ana came hurrying over the fields, blinking away sleep. “I heard something.”

Francesca stepped in front of the dead animal, but not before Ana caught sight of the white limb.

“No!” Ana gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”

“I do not know.” Francesca hugged the much shorter woman. “We will find out.”

As Cage hurried to join them from the barracks, Sebastian directed Francesca to take Ana away.

Cage saw the abomination and let out a low whistle.

“Where are the guards?”

“Gone,” Cage said. “We couldn’t pay them yesterday, so they left.”

“I told them the money was coming,” Sebastian muttered.

“Men like that need cash day to day to keep them in whiskey and tobacco.”

Sebastian gave him a furious look, and Cage raised his hands in defense. “I’ll go to town, see what I can find out about this whole business, and check if anything came from your father.”

Sebastian reined in his temper. “Thank you.”

The mess was cleaned up, but not much else had improved when Juan showed up.

“There is talk in the town,” he reported. “The Bishop is telling people there is evil in our midst. That mothers will not be able to have healthy babies until the threat is gone.”

“Tell them to go to the butcher’s house,” Sebastian growled. “There’s a baby there, alive and well. Francesca spent most of two days making sure of it.” Unable to stay any longer, he started striding towards the town.

“Where are you going?”

“To put a stop to all this nonsense.” His long legs carried him to the path leading into the marketplace, and then he slowed. The cathedral loomed over the sprawling village, a beacon of hope to the faithful. If he strode in there, demanding answers, he was likely to get booted out on his ass. Or worse, turn the town further against Francesca.

He stood in the center of the dirt road, ready to storm the castle, one knight against the rest.

“Señor, señor.” The butcher’s son, Pepito ran up to him. Tears streamed down the boy’s face. “It’s mama…she wouldn’t get out of bed, and papa made her, and now she is not moving, even though the baby cries and cries…”

Sebastian grabbed the boy’s hand. Together they ran to the hacienda.

“Francesca,” he bellowed. Both Ana and his wife burst out of the kitchen.

“What is it?” Ana asked.

Francesca took one look at the boy and paled. “No, no, no.” Picking up her skirts, she began to run.

Sebastian didn’t catch up with her until they were almost at the butcher’s house. From the street, they could hear the baby screaming.

Sebastian crossed the threshold and the smell of blood hit him. Inside the butcher sat in a chair, staring into the dead fire pit. A few women hovered over Camila’s bed. The sheets were stained as red as the doorstep outside of Francesca’s apothecary.

“Let me see her,” Francesca ordered in a shaking voice. One of the neighbors held the baby, trying to soothe the child.

“No,” the butcher roused enough to say. “Do not go near my wife.”

Ignoring him, Francesca pushed to Camila’s side, Sebastian just behind. People made room.

“Señora, she is gone,” one of the neighbor’s said.

“Oh, Camila, please.” Francesca’s hands danced over the woman, checking the woman. “I don’t understand. You were weak, but healthy. The babe was healthy.”

“There was too much blood,” Pepe said.

“The herbs I gave her would help. And did she nurse the baby?”

“She put the baby aside and would not take her.”

The baby still screamed. “Find a wet nurse, now.” Francesca waved furiously at the neighbors, before turning back to the mother.

A crowd had gathered in the house, people peeking in with faces curious and sad.

“Where were you when she needed you?” Francesca screamed at one of the neighbors, who hurried away.

“Darling.” Sebastian tried to soothe his wife. “It’s over. There’s nothing you can do.”

“She was fine,” Francesca cried. “She could have lived.”

A ripple in the crowd, and people parted for the large man in robes

“You.” The Bishop pointed a finger at Francesca. “The witch did this.”

Before Sebastian knew it, he’d crossed the room, and cracked his fist into the priest’s face. The man staggered back and almost fell into the street, but the neighbors caught him, their faces angry.

“Get him out of here.” Sebastian turned on his heel and went back in the room, feeling sick at the stench of death.

Francesca was on her knees next to the dead woman, covered in blood, moaning.

“Madre, please, no,” she prayed. “What have I done?”

“Francesca, darling.” He knelt and tried to draw her up. “It’s over, there’s nothing you can do.”

Pepito stood nearby, his little face stricken.

“No,” Francesca cried. “No, no, no, no.”

“Yes, it’s over. Please, my darling.” He tried to pull her away, and when she resisted, he lifted her in his arms.

He carried his weeping wife past the silent neighbors. The priest had disappeared.

As he crossed the fields to the hacienda, the church bells began to toll for the dead.

“Put me down.” Francesca pushed at him. He set her on her feet and watched as she took a few tottering steps ahead of him, then fell to her hands and knees. “Madre, madre, it cannot be,” she moaned, her hands ripping up the dirt.

“My darling, come here—” Sebastian crouched beside her.

“It cannot be,” Francesca wailed, raising her tear stained face to the sky. “She was alive she was well. Her babe was healthy. What have I done? Oh, madre what have I done?”

“Come here.” Sebastian scooped her up again, and loped on long legs the rest of the way to the hacienda. She shuddered in his arms.

“Help me, Ana,” Sebastian said as he entered the garden. “She needs us.”