Untamed Journey (37 page)

Ruth felt Jackson glide the rough pad of one
finger along the crease of her backside, then slowly reverse his
touch, until coming within an inch of her throbbing flesh. He
stopped just shy of where she needed to be touched, thrusting his
tongue harder and faster into her waiting mouth, holding back his
caress.

Ruth’s body flushed with too much heat as he
continued to tease her, stroking lightly along the soft flesh where
her thighs met her torso. She knew his fingers hovered near her
humid, aching flesh, denying her release, while his mouth rained
hot kisses along her lips and neck.

She pulled Jackson’s unbuttoned shirt off his
chest, exposing his naked chest and arms to her touch. She stroked
her breasts hard against Jackson’s muscled front, straining against
the firm hold around her waist as she tried to rub herself back and
forth against his greater strength. She stroked her hands over his
shoulders and down his arms, until she settled her soft hands on
the fastening of his pants.

She undid him with fingers made clumsy from
need, exposing just enough of his flesh to stroke one delicate
finger down the length of him, until a glistening drop of his need
coated the tip of her finger. She relished the salty taste of him,
as curiosity had her licking the taste of Jackson off the pad of
her thumb.

Jackson groaned in denial as he forced
himself to grasp Ruth’s hands and pull her curious fingers away. He
was too close to the edge to feel her soft skin again without
flipping her on her back and thrusting into her madly.

“Sit back,” he ordered, breathing rapidly.
“Let me take your weight in my hands.”

Ruth’s eyes fluttered open in excitement at
his words. She complied, settling slowly into his strong hands, as
he began to knead her buttocks. She felt each of his fingers splay
out and separate her, holding her flesh gently open and exposed to
the cold air. Her body clutched tightly as the breeze played over
her too hot flesh, offering no real relief. Her mind obsessed over
the rough skin of his fingers, and where she would feel his touch
next.

Ruth thrust back again, demanding that he
move.

Jackson smiled slowly, as he let go of her
buttocks and let the flesh close in on itself, untouched. When she
groaned in protest, he repeated the caress, once again splaying his
fingers over her, to separate her swollen flesh to the feel of the
cool air.

Ruth clutched Jackson’s shoulders,
unconsciously biting into his back with her nails as he denied her
release. The throbbing between her legs burned and ached as she
stroked herself against him, seeking relief.

“Do you want more now?” He teased, as he
began the pattern of the caress once again, separating Ruth’s
flesh.

“Yes. Yes,” she cried out, wanting the waves
of pleasure he could give her.

“Where should I touch you?” Jackson asked, as
he lightly stroked one finger across her sex, reveling in the heat
and damp he had caused.

She felt herself rain wet over his finger as
he explored the folds of her body, gently caressing each surface,
sliding her milk over and around her. Her body heated and expanded
as waves began to undulate through her body, in rhythm to his
touch.

Jackson stroked three fingers across her,
over and over, until she thrust wildly against his touch, reaching
for the pleasure of release. He separated her flesh once again, to
glide first one, then two fingers up into her slick, hot flesh. He
paused, holding Ruth suspended in his hands as she faced him on her
knees, until she came undone.

She thrust her body uncontrollably against
his hand, wanting his fingers deeper and wider inside her, as her
body clutched him into its secret folds. When she felt Jackson
slide himself up against her clit, to settle in the wet folds of
her heat, she screamed in pleasure as wave after wave overtook her
– filling her body, her breasts, her lips with pleasure.

Pulling her more firmly into his lap, he
kissed her leisurely. He carefully removed the last of her
clothing, pulling her half-undone dress over her tousled brown
hair, before stroking the mass back into place. He pulled her
completely naked form up against him, as he leaned back against a
large oak for support. He once again stroked his hand down Ruth’s
silky hair, not stopping until he caressed the full length of her
backside. He repeated the motions, until he felt her stir against
him once again.

Ruth gazed with utter satisfaction into
Jackson’s dark eyes, still burning from his unfulfilled need. She
straddled his lap, where his need thrust hard and long against her.
She smiled slowly and placed his hands on her breasts, thrusting
against his warm palms until her nipples hardened in response. She
ached for his mouth on her.

She watched him separate his fingers,
exposing her nipples to his tongue. He gently licked first one and
then the other tip, circling each until her breathing became rapid
and short.

He pushed her onto her back, where she could
feel the smooth touch of long, cool grass against her now naked
skin.

Jackson rained tiny, biting kisses down the
full length of Ruth’s torso, not stopping until he reached the
center of her heat. He stroked lightly over her mound, until he
carefully separated her lips, exposing her naked flesh to his
tongue.

He kissed her with an open mouth, reveling in
the taste of her as she moaned her need beneath him.

Ruth arched her back to the open sky,
surrounded by the cool meadow grass at her back, the warm sun
stroking her face and caressing her breasts, and Jackson’s burning
tongue on her sex. She stroked her hands down her breasts, as a
more languid heat pulsed through her body. She unconsciously spread
her legs to his probing as he sought entrance to her body, lightly
thrusting the tip of his tongue at her opening.

When she felt his rough tongue glide into
her, Ruth’s body responded with a rush of liquid pleasure, flooding
her body with unfulfilled need. She stretched her arms over head,
clutching the grass and cool earth in her fingers, as she felt his
tongue pull out, then thrust back in, reaching further inside her.
She responded freely to Jackson’s exploring tongue as it pulsed in
wicked rhythm to her body’s needs. She felt the surge of pleasure
return, anticipating his touch and the release he would bring.

As he pulled out from inside her and stroked
his soaking tongue up and over her clit, she felt the first wave
touch her insides, and thrust her hips eagerly forward,
uninhibited.

Jackson sat up, and quickly pulled Ruth back
into his lap, so she was once again straddling him, this time with
no cloth barriers between them. He caught her languid gaze with his
dark eyes, fully-dilated, as he slowly pushed himself between the
soft folds of her skin.

She felt every hard inch of Jackson enter
her, stretching her aching body into a tight fit. Her body clutched
around him, flooding their union with more heat, more wet. When he
grasped Ruth’s roaming hands and placed them on her breasts,
encouraging her to stroke herself as he watched her pleasure.
Mindlessly obeying, she began to thrust her hips in need against
Jackson, riding him as he groaned, fully encased in her.

Grasping her hips, he urged her pace faster –
pushing her higher and closer to release, as she stroked his
hardness between her thighs and her swelling breasts in her hands.
When Jackson could hold back no more, he pulsed into her one last
time, giving his body and his future completely to this woman.

Ruth cried out in completion as she felt
Jackson’s release enter her body, pushing her into orgasm. Her hips
relentlessly clutched him inside of her, pulsing over and over
until Ruth’s body slid in pleasurable exhaustion into Jackson’s
waiting embrace.

S
ue and Ruth returned
to Fort Lyon in triumph, delivering a full three-month supply of
feed to Colonel Roe, and another one-hundred pounds to the local
stable owner. The women each drove their own wagon, with the
Mormon, Thomas Minor, bringing in the last of the delivery later
that day.

The Colonel was so eager to get all his
officer’s mounts onto the new diet that he agreed, with little
fuss, to Sue’s insistence that he provide all the man power to
unload her delivery. This left Sue and Ruth free to roam the Fort
for the afternoon, while the Colonel’s rank and file did all the
heavy lifting.

“Truth be known, I was three snow days away
from pushing my last husband under the nearest moving carriage,”
Sue confessed to Ruth, as they crossed the muddy street. “If the
fever hadn’t taken him, God rest his miserable soul, I would surely
have done something rash.”

Ruth couldn’t hide her quick intake of breath
at Sue’s shocking words.

Sue just laughed as she took the girl’s arm
in hers and headed toward the only saloon the Fort boasted. “You’re
young yet. And in love for the first time, would be my guess.”

At Ruth’s telltale blush, Sue nodded. “You go
through three husbands on the frontier, my dear, and then come talk
to me again. You’ll have a hard time summoning up a good blush,
that’s for sure.”

Sue continued to chuckle as she led the young
Ruth into the Ladies Tea Room and introduced her to the owner.

Seamus O’Malley, Sue explained, was the
illegitimate son of an Irish potato farmer who had charmed his way
into a haystack with the landed gentry’s favorite daughter in
County Clare. When the infant O’Malley’s presence could be hidden
no longer, the doting father sent his youngest girl to the care of
the nuns. The mewling babe was then handed over to his handsome
father, along with pre-paid passage to America – for two.

O’Malley’s father turned his good looks and
glib tongue into a successful saloon in Boston proper. O’Malley and
son slept in a two-room apartment above the saloon, with the only
female influence coming from the frequent lady friends his father
brought home. The women never stayed long, but were forever doting
on the handsome father, and his poor, motherless son.

O’Malley was barely seventeen when his father
met an untimely end at the hands of a suspicious husband with a
pickax. His son took over the business, but set off for greener
pastures within a year after being paid a visit by the local
police. They demanded a second payment – on top of the normal
protection O’Malley Senior had been paying for sixteen years – to
look the other way when they learned that O’Malley Junior was too
young to hold a liquor license. O’Malley quickly sold the place to
a competing Scotsman three blocks down, and staked himself in a
new, much rougher establishment on the edge of the frontier.

O’Malley found that he liked the freedom
afforded the average man on the frontier. So every ten years, as
the number of rules increased with a growing population, he would
pack up and move further west. This had brought him to Fort Lyon
nearly three years ago.

He immediately set up shop, serving good
imported whiskey and cheap local beer to the men of the Fort.
O’Malley soon learned that the Colonel didn’t tolerate alcohol on
duty, and so found himself with a roomful of empty chairs at least
two days each week during the inconveniently timed duty
rotations.

After three months of lackluster profits,
O’Malley had come up with the idea of serving the women of the Fort
– some of whom liked a spot of whiskey, strictly for medicinal
purposes.

It was the first and only establishment of
its kind for three hundred miles. It was only open Tuesday and
Thursday afternoons, so as not to overlap with the off duty time of
the men. And the Tea Room was strictly for ladies. O’Malley was
respectful of the women’s privacy, and would turn away the
occasional traveler who would show up on a Tuesday in search of
O’Malley’s famed whiskey.

Happily, Sue said, she had timed their
delivery on just such a Tuesday afternoon. She pulled Ruth along
with her, as she headed in search of a small congratulatory
whiskey.

Ruth had to carefully weave her way through
an uncontrolled melee of wagons, mounted riders, foot traffic, and
scurrying children, all swarming across the muddy street. When Sue
hitched up her long skirt and advised Ruth to do the same, they
made a dash through the mud and muck of a busy work day.

“Whatever you do, don’t stop,” Sue advised.
“Most of the Cavalry is still sauced from last night’s cavorting,
and the wagon drivers are too overloaded with cargo to swerve and
miss you.”

Ruth didn’t question Sue’s wisdom, and
followed her darting path at a quick pace until they safely reached
the wooden planks that served as the Fort’s only pedestrian
walkway. As Ruth was pulled out of the teeming street by the
laughing older woman, she felt an insistent tug on her other arm.
She turned to see who was behind her.

“Ruth? Ruth Masterson?” an unfamiliar voice
called out.

As Ruth was rather forcefully swung about,
she came face-to-face with a large, stocky, and very irate man.

“Well, speak up, woman. This is you, isn’t
it?” Frank Masterson thrust a small photograph next to Ruth for
comparison, satisfied he’d found the right woman.

Ruth recognized the photo as one her aunt had
arranged less than a year ago.

“I’ve been looking for you close to a month
now. Where did you disappear to?” Masterson asked, paying no mind
to Ruth’s companion, who still had a firm grip on his wife’s
arm.

Sue demanded her own explanation. “Ruth, do
you know this man?”

“Well, I –” Ruth could barely find her voice,
the shock was so great. She had just about convinced herself that
her future lay with Jackson, and had not thought about her proxy
marriage in weeks.

“I’m her husband, Frank Masterson. And who
might you be?” He deliberately took a step toward Sue, expecting
her to back up and release Ruth’s arm.