Barefoot Bride for Three Read online

  She stroked him, running his cover back and forth so his organ appeared and disappeared. It grew so long it couldn’t hide anymore. She grasped him in both hands, leaned over and licked the dark tip. He jerked under her grasp, but she held tight. She rolled his taste over her tongue. Salty and earthy. A drop had gathered again. She wiped it off with one finger and, watching his eyes, brought it to her mouth. She opened her mouth and slid her finger inside, slowly pumping as he had done to her a few hours ago.

  “You’re asking for it, woman.”

  His growled threat, rather than frightening her, made her bold. She turned her back, straddling him, and leaned over. She held him tight in one hand and pressed him into her mouth. He slowly pumped, her mouth making wet, sloppy sounds as he moved in and out.

  She got more comfortable, leaning farther over to take him deeper. When she stopped for a breath, he pressed his fingers into her. She jerked in surprise and delight.

  “Follow my lead,” he said.

  She did, sucking him deep when he plunged his fingers into her, flicking her tongue when he did the same to her. She widened her knees and slid back so he would have better access. Wantonly spreading her most intimate parts to him, she demanded satisfaction.

  He pulled out of her grasp, growling deep. She sat up and turned around, unsure. Nostrils flaring, he eyed her like she was food and he’d been starving for years.

  “Bend over. Hands and knees. Wide apart,” he ordered, every word crisp.

  She thought about sassing back, but he anticipated her with an upraised eyebrow. She would obey, but on her terms. She slowly did as he asked, carefully settling her knees far apart before bending forward.

  He covered her, his chest snug against her back, muscular thighs pressing against the back of hers. His manhood slid under her, spreading her folds wide. He grasped her breasts, squeezing them and rasping her nipples with his calluses. He slid one hand down her belly, pressing his cock hard against her, flicking her bud with his finger.

  She moved her hips restlessly, trying to make him slide his cock into her. Nothing mattered but her need for him.

  He finally pressed against her, easing his way in. She responded eagerly, pushing back until his groin rested snug against her. His balls swung gently to tap her sensitive flesh.

  He pulled out, dragging slowly before thrusting deeper than before. He pressed on her back, bending her forward until she rested her forehead on her fists, bottom high in the air.

  “Mmm, nice,” he murmured.

  It was. So very nice. Long, lazy strokes stoked her engine, coal by coal. He flicked his finger against her and she clenched, the spark igniting the coal. She brought her knees closer together, the better to hold him, to increase the sensations.

  He pressed a finger into her bottom. She hissed, tensing at the shallow invasion. The extra sensation broke her concentration. One hand on her breast, his cock deep in her, and now this new delight. He kept a double rhythm, cock and finger in and out. Just enough to tantalize, to grow the delicious frustration. It wasn’t enough.

  She rose up slightly and began moving, back and forth, controlling his thrusts.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

  She took him at his word. She slammed back against him, clenching hard. His balls slapped against her bud with every backward thrust. His finger drilled her, not deep but twisting. It wakened nerve endings, promising even more joy to learn.

  She pumped, wanting more.

  Her back cheek erupted with a smack of his palm. She screamed and he thrust hard. His thighs held him tight against her. Another few thrusts and she exploded. She heard distant grunts, sounding in time with her thrusts. It went on until, finally, he pulled her against his chest and collapsed sideways. She quivered, twitching, until the dark pulled her down.

  * * * *

  Trace held the softly snoring woman snug against him.

  What the hell had he done to deserve a wife like Beth? After years on his own, raising the twins after the MacDougals took the others to Texas, he had someone to share his life with. Brothers didn’t count. He, Simon, and Jack shared the work, got drunk, and fought together. He’d not known tenderness since Ma died. It caused a man to be weak. But he could be tender to his woman when she pleased him.

  But Beth was an Easterner—maybe his luck hadn’t changed. She could be great in bed but useless for ranch work, like Prudence MacDougal. His lip twitched at the thought of hiring an old widow to do Beth’s chores while she kept her strength for the bedroom. Or anywhere else he wanted to take her.

  The kitchen table. Against a few walls. On the grass in the sunshine. By the creek on the soft moss. In the creek…He swelled, again, just thinking about it. Had he gone that long without release that he was eager for more already? A new bride got sore, didn’t she? He’d leave it up to Beth. He didn’t care if he rubbed himself raw as long as it gave her pleasure.

  He’d ordered a hot bath for the morning. He planned to wash every delicate inch of her gorgeous body while the sun shone. He would investigate those intriguing gold-fuzzed folds hiding her womanhood. Hot baths weren’t something he and his brothers worried about. A quick wash in the cold stream was the usual. But women needed a bit of pampering to keep them sweet-tempered. Pa made sure he knew about that. The older boys stoked the stove and filled its reservoir with water every Saturday night after supper. After Ma bathed the little ones, he’d fill it again before bed.

  With a woman coming home, he’d better buy a few things. He might as well rent a wagon and get everything they needed for the summer. It was Simon’s turn after Trace to head to town and he could return it. After all, he couldn’t very well haul Beth behind him on Sailor. Not that he wouldn’t mind her breasts warming his back. He’d take off his shirt and make her open her blouse. Skin to glorious skin. His cock swelled against Beth’s backside. His little man had saluted more times since he saw Beth than in the last ten years.

  Beth stirred. He forced thoughts of washing in the stream during early spring, the water full of snow melt. It cooled his need, temporarily.

  Yep, Simon could return the wagon. At least he and Jack were allowed back in town now that he was married and all. And won’t that set a fox in the henhouse.

  Even covered head to toe, her golden hair braided into a crown, Beth oozed sex. Demanded it. He had to get her out of town before Big Joe saw her. All cleaned up and with that knowing, just-been-pleasured look on her, every single man and most of the married ones would be cursing his luck.

  Frank told him there were two names in the mayor’s hat that night—Big Joe and Old Walt. The only man with enough balls to stand up to the town bully was a grizzled prospector with a sweet tooth. He’d have Patsy give the man a box of fancy chocolates in consolation and thanks.

  Thanks for trying to save Beth from Big Joe, and consolation that Trace got her instead.

  He had her to himself for now. How long did he have before his brothers demanded their share? And what if Beth refused? He wouldn’t force her, so he’d have to get her used to being relaxed around them. That meant showing her even more pleasure, proving that her body craved a man’s touch. Everywhere.

  Hell, maybe he’d better send the twins to town together. Let them expend some frustration at Miss Lily’s and leave him alone with his beautiful, sexy wife.

  The moon had set, dawn not arrived. He really should be sleeping. He pulled Beth close. She sighed and snuggled back, her bottom tight against his eagerly awakening cock.

  Go to sleep, he told it, and took his own advice.

  * * * *

  “You’ve got a tiny brown freckle right…here.”

  Trace touched his tongue tip to the beauty spot high on Beth’s inner thigh. They’d bathed and eaten without leaving their room and now he explored her.

  Again.

  He had to teach his new wife it was nonsense to keep her body covered just because the sun was up.

  Nope, if he was awake, he wanted her. He couldn�
��t imagine a time in the next thirty years that he wouldn’t want her naked beneath him, spread forward over the table or riding his brother while he entered that sweet little asshole.

  The last one would take some working up to.

  “I see your choice of weapon is armed and ready. Again.” She pouted but her nostrils flared in invitation.

  “You complaining?” He nipped her clit with his lips and she hissed, lifting her hips to him. He rewarded her with a sensuous kiss right on her button.

  “Who, me? Wives don’t complain, right?”

  “Not when their husbands have them screaming—how many times so far?” As expected, she flushed. The knowing giggles and hearty congratulations when food and hot water were brought in earlier had Beth hiding in the bed, mortified.

  “Shall I wince while walking to the mercantile, then bat my eyes at you? Sophie said Nettie Crabbe does that to all the men in the hotel dining room when she brings their food.”

  “She’s never done it to me.” He grazed her belly with his morning beard, delighted at the way her skin rippled in reaction to his touch.

  “She’d better not make cow eyes at you.”

  “Jealous already, are you, wife?” He couldn’t wait to show a clean, well-satisfied Beth off, but he’d not expected her to react the same.

  “I’m not!” She pressed her lips together and glared. When her features relaxed into a cat-ate-the-cream smile, he braced himself.

  “What if I smiled at a few men in the dining room, hmm?”

  “I don’t suggest you do that,” he replied.

  “Why not? Fair’s fair.”

  “Then don’t blame me if Sophie loses her hotel after I shoot all her regulars for flirting with my woman.”

  “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”

  Her nipples hardened and a flush rose up her body. He pressed her legs apart and slid right into her hot center. She moaned and looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “You can take it any way you want. But you are my woman.” He thrust again. “My wife.” Again, deeper. “Mine!”

  He stopped her reply with his lips, thrusting his tongue as he surged into her below.

  Chapter Six

  “What’s that?”

  Sheet tight to her naked front, Beth stared at the bulky parcel in Trace’s hands. When she didn’t move, he tossed it onto the bed. It landed beside her with a soft thump. New string wrapped around the crisp brown paper.

  “Open it and find out.”

  She clutched the sheet even tighter. “It’s for me?”

  He nodded. The morning sun lit the squint wrinkles around his eyes.

  “I got it from Patsy Tanner at the mercantile last night. She fixed it to fit you so I can’t take it back. It’s too big in the chest for anyone but Miss Lily’s gals and they like things fancier.”

  He tilted his head at her and rubbed his newly-shaven chin. Beth squirmed when she remembered what his chin had done to her early that morning. Heat rose from where his stubble temporarily branded her with a pink blush.

  “Don’t go to thinking those things or we’ll never get breakfast.” He rubbed his belly. “If you don’t want it—”

  He took a step toward the bed. Beth snatched the package away and pulled it into her lap before he could touch it. Too late, she realized she’d dropped the sheet. Ignoring his wicked grin, she dropped her hot face and untied the string.

  She smoothed back the paper. She blinked, suddenly light-headed. White lace, silk ribbons, and a froth of fabric lay before her. She lifted up a lovely cream dress with small pink flowers sprinkled all over. Dark rose silk ribbons made it even fancier. She caressed a flower, then ran the back of her hand over a soft ribbon.

  “It’s for me?”

  Trace sighed. “All you’ve got is an ugly gray dress. The even uglier brown one is only fit for rags.” His voice rose. “Who else would I give this to? Of course it’s for you!”

  Beth rolled her lips and bit down. She blinked fast but the tears couldn’t be stopped. She pressed her hands over her face so he couldn’t see. The bed squeaked as it dipped with his weight. He lifted her present aside and hauled her onto his lap. He pressed her head against his chest and rocked her. His strong, warm arms held her snug while muscular thighs supported her own. She cried silently, throat too choked to speak.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head, still rocking. “Patsy Tanner was sweeping when I came past with your flowers last night. She saw you sighing over the dress before you got locked up, so I bought it. I thought you’d want something pretty.”

  “Oh, Trace!”

  A dam let loose and she burst into sobs. That dam held back all the tears she never shed when her sisters got pretty things. She never got bright hair ribbons, lace-trimmed petticoats or fancy dresses. She didn’t cry all those times they said she was too tall and loud to go to parties. Her mother and older sisters would flounce out the front door into a carriage, their practiced laughter tinkling. For the first few years she watched from her window as they left. Then she learned to wrap herself in dignity and ignore her ugly clothes. Her father wouldn’t waste good money when she’d only get dirty doing chores. She had no beaus so didn’t need fripperies.

  But this man, her husband, thought of her first. He got her a store-bought dress before taking care of his own comfort. He thought about what she wanted and made it happen. No matter what, she would do whatever she must to be a good wife to him.

  “Dammit, Beth. I thought you’d like it.” She moved with his chest as he inhaled deeply, and then sighed. “Shit. Shows what I know about women.”

  His self-condemning words broke through her remembered pain. Her sobs turned into hiccups. “But I do,” she said between gasps.

  “You like my present?”

  She lifted her face to him and nodded. He exhaled, dropping his forehead against hers. “Women,” he muttered. “Cry when they’re happy. Cry when they’re sad.” He lifted his head. His face looked blurred due to her tears. “This is a happy cry?”

  She nodded, trying to smile.

  “Good.” He reached out a long arm and snagged the towel he used to dry her off earlier. He dabbed at her tears.

  “I don’t remember the last time I got a present,” she said between hiccups.

  “Well you better get used to it. My wife gets the best I can give.” His hand rose and caressed her breast. She shivered at his soft touch. “I want you to feel good, inside and out.” He pinched her nipple lightly. She inhaled and thrust into his hand. He chuckled.

  “This present isn’t just for you, sweetheart. All those men who wouldn’t stand up to Big Joe and put their name in the mayor’s will be cursing when they see you. They can look all they like but you’re mine.”

  She moaned when his lips touched hers. He kissed her gently and then broke contact. She gasped when he stood and dropped her on the bed.

  “Save that for later. I’m hungry and I want to show off my pretty wife.”

  Beth climbed off the bed and smiled at her gift. She lifted each precious piece and laid them on the bed, one by one. Bodice, petticoats, stockings, and dress.

  “You forgot drawers,” she said. He snickered. She turned to him and frowned at his cocky grin. “You purposely missed drawers!”

  “You won’t need ’em.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I got plans, wife.”

  He stepped close. She looked up into his laughing eyes. He slid his hand over her belly. One finger eased between her legs, rubbing against her clit. She pressed her thighs apart to encourage more.

  “My wife is a wanton hussy.” He stroked her wetness. “Yep. Drawers get in the way.” He smacked her bottom with his palm, laughing when she squeaked in response. “Stockings, boots, and one petticoat. That’s it.”

  “I can’t wear a dress with nothing underneath!”

  “Why not?”

  “Everyone will be able to see these.” She pointed to her hard nipples. “They stick out
when you’re near me.”

  “Yep, they do.” They tightened even more as his eyes caressed her. “Is that a problem?” His bland face didn’t fool her.

  “I’m not leaving this room with only one layer of cloth between me and the world.” She crossed her arms, hiding his view. His belly rumbled loudly. He rubbed it and finally nodded.

  “Wear your blue coat. But once we leave town, it comes off.”

  * * * *

  Beth stirred her tea, careful the silver spoon didn’t scratch the precious flowered teacup. She was the only woman sitting in the dining room. She felt unsettled from the way air swept past her nakedness as they walked down the stairs. He escorted her to a table and, when they sat, his leg rested against hers under the table as if staking his claim.

  All during the meal, anytime she accidently caught a man’s eye, he nodded courteously. She sighed. A few whiskey-laced words over a black book and her status changed from slattern to honorable wife.

  “Ah, yes,” said Trace loudly. “That’s what a man needs after a busy night and morning.”

  He pushed back his second plate of breakfast with a sigh and patted his stomach. He stretched his legs under the table, jostling her in the process. He winked, eyes smiling in a way she’d already learned meant he wanted her for more than conversation. Her breasts tingled, already swelling to receive his touch.

  When they rested in each other’s arms and talked early that morning, she told him about her worries of fitting in. Trace said that in the West, respect had to be earned. Finding gold helped, but he and his brothers had strong fists and a quick draw. Therefore, they had high standing in town. He said he didn’t care what anyone thought, that Elliotts always carried themselves with pride. He winked and said she’d fit in just fine.

  She muttered that it would be the first time. He overwhelmed her with kisses at that point. Twelve hours since they married and already he knew how to control her. One touch of his hand—even one look—and she melted.