Speak My Love Read online

  The Road to Perdition or Ian's Good Intentions

  Ian Alwin had come to call on Priscilla Murray with the best of intentions, to sing the praises of Milo Stanton. Over the past weeks it had become increasingly difficult for him to keep his distance while extolling Milo's many virtues when what he ached to do was take Prissy in his arms and speak of his own passionate need for her. Alas, he must never do that. Milo trusted him and respected him. That was more than his father had done. Milo had opened his home to Ian. His own father had driven him out and condemned him to life as a fugitive. In many ways Milo had become Ian's family. What kind of man would betray such trust and benevolence?

  Ian would look back later and realize that it was Priscilla's admission that she had a headache that drove from his mind all good intentions and set his feet on the road to perdition. Even as he explained to her that massages can be very therapeutic, he had known that truth disguised an ulterior motive. It was even more painful to look back later and admit that he would have lied three times over for the chance to touch the lovely creature who sat beside him.

  All those thoughts would come later. This was now. As Ian fingers moved along the softness of her silky skin, his body hardened and erotic fantasies played through his mind. Much more of this and his stiff penis would need massaging.

  Priscilla's announcement that her headache was gone stirred a host of mixed emotions, so much so that Ian had trouble breathing. He should state Milo's case and get out of here before his desire prevailed over his devotion to duty. He might have managed to do just that if he hadn't been fool enough to give Priscilla a foot massage.

  Ian was never quite sure just when the foot massage moved to a more intimate leg massage. He would recall later telling Priscilla, "For a proper leg massage you should be lying on your back."

  Priscilla lay on the couch and Ian knelt beside her. As he lifted one of her legs, he explained, "The massage would be more effective if I could work around your body."

  Priscilla sat up and pulled her robe about her. "You could, if you built a fire in the fireplace and we spread a blanket on the floor." She slid off the settee and hurried toward her bedroom, saying as she went, "I'll fetch the blanket while you build the fire."

  Ian clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "Priscilla..." He had every intention of telling her to forget the blanket, then speaking his piece, saying goodbye and being on his way.

  Turning, she smiled at him,"Yes?"

  Ian's good intention retreated again, this time in the wake of the passion that shook through him. "Bring some oil, something sweet smelling."

  Priscilla nodded her head and hurried away. She returned as the fire in the fireplace began to radiate warmth out into the room.

  Ian spread the blanket on the rug in front of the fireplace. He was feeling the heat from the open fire. Or was it the heat his own body was generating that made him shed his coat and push up his shirt sleeves? "Lie down here." Even as he vowed that he would not overstep the bounds of propriety, he knew that he had already gone far past the dictates of modesty and good manners. "The massage will be more effective if you remove your robe." God almighty, what was wrong with him? This had to stop and now.

  Without a moment's hesitation Priscilla took off her robe and let it fall to the floor. Her gauzy gown revealed more than it concealed. Ian shuddered at the sight of the rosebud tips of her breasts, the rounded curve of her hips and the soft contours of her buttocks. She lay on her back and rotated her head around in a little circle. "I'm ready."

  The vial of oil smelled of cloves and other fragrant spices. Ian poured a few drops into his hands and rubbed it along one of Priscilla's ankles and up her leg. Using a fair amount of pressure he massaged up to her knee and turning worked back down to her ankle once more. Then he lifted her other leg and repeated the procedure. All the while his heart was beating wildly and his penis was swelling to its full and enormous size.

  Priscilla sighed. "That feels so good."

  Ian had trouble concentrating on his massage techniques and keeping his eyes off the thatch of curly dark hair between Priscilla's legs. Inanely, he repeated for at least the tenth time, "Massages can be very therapeutic."

  "I do feel some release from tension," Priscilla admitted as she stretched like a sensuous cat. "But not nearly enough, I still feel so..." Her voice faded.

  Ian wanted to ask what she felt, he didn't dare. He was in enough trouble from asking how she felt. As he pulled her gown down over her legs he made a last desperate effort to stop this madness. "I really should be going but before I do I must tell you that Milo...."

  "Not again, please." Priscilla yanked her gown up to her waist where it bunched in little folds. "I still feel so hot and bothered. Perhaps if you massaged my body it would help."

  Did this woman think he was made of steel? He wasn't. Did she know what she was asking of him? He decided that she didn't. "I don't know if I should. I came here to…."

  Priscilla sat up, pulled her gown over her head and threw it to one side. Seeing her bare body sent Ian into a frenzy of desire. His good intentions once more receded to the back of his mind as he unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside. "It's a little warm in here."

  "And you are so tense," Priscilla replied. "But I have the remedy for that." Reaching for the sweet smelling oil, she poured a few drops into her hand. "Turn around and I will massage your back. I may not be as good at this as you are but I'm learning fast."

  That was certainly the truth. Ian forgot everything but the warm room, the firelight and the nude woman beside him. He turned his back to her and sighed as Priscilla's soft hands massaged his neck and shoulders. As she worked she asked, "For a proper massage, shouldn't you be lying down?"

  The firelight danced, time stood still and the world receded as Ian lay on the blanket and turned on his stomach. Priscilla sat beside him and rubbed a residue of oil across his back. "You have such strong and smooth muscles." Abruptly, she stopped her massaging. "Turn over."

  He must have done her bidding for the next thing Ian knew Priscilla was running her slick hands across his chest and over his shoulders. His last sane thought before he surrendered to the sheer erotic delight of her touch was that he must be out of his mind to let this situation get so out of control.

  Priscilla unfastened his belt buckle and undid the buttons of his fly. His erect penis made that quite a chore. After several struggling moments she completed her task. Then she quickly moved to a position between his feet. Standing, she grabbed one pant leg in each hand and jerked hard. Ian's trousers slid over his hips and all the way to his knees. One more yank and he was free of clothing except for his drawers. Priscilla tossed the trousers aside and stooping jerked his drawers to his ankles. His penis, in all its rigid splendor, stood stiff and throbbing. Priscilla gasped. "Oh, you are so beautiful."

  Ian used his toes to push his drawers over his feet and then he kicked them to a far corner. Sitting up he pulled Priscilla into his arms. The warmth of her satiny skin against his bare chest moved him to escalating heights of passion. He slid his slick hands over her back and felt her shiver.

  She put her arms around his neck and lifted her face for his kiss.

  Ian lips touched hers, gently at first and then with ever increasing pressure that threatened to bruise and demanded admission. He opened her mouth with his tongue and gently entered the damp cavity. Fire erupted in his chest as his penis stiffened and pulsated to the beat of his rising ardor.

  The sudden sound of the grandfather clock in the hall startled Ian back to reality. He pulled himself from Priscilla's embrace and tried desperately to suppress the need that burned in his loins and clawed through his stomach all the way to his chest. Laying his hand over his huge erection, he turned away from Priscilla. "I am so sorry."

  On a caught breath she asked, "Why?"

  "I came here to speak for Milo."

  Priscilla moved nearer and put her hand over his making his heart pound and his penis long for relief. In a vo
ice that was acerbically sweet, she asked, "Why don't you speak for yourself, Ian?"

  Chapter Eight

  Fortune's Favor or the Fickle Finger of Fate.

  Priscilla couldn't believe she'd been so brazen as to offer to give a man a massage. She was displaying all the attributes of what Miss Hockley had always referred to as a hussy. What made the offense even worse was she didn't care. Not even to herself could she admit that she was enjoying her wanton behavior.

  When she should have been repulsed, instead she had watched spellbound as Ian unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it down over his shoulders. The muscles in his arms coiled and rippled as he wadded the shirt into a ball and cast it aside. She thought he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She wanted to touch and feel every inch of him. Desire made her bold enough to suggest that Ian lie on his back so she could continue her massage.

  Massaging his chest didn't ease the ache inside her. She needed to see more of him and feel more of him. Shamelessly she had set about the task of getting him out of his trousers and drawers. The sight she beheld was worth her effort. Ian lying nude on the blanket with his rigid, throbbing penis extending almost to his belly button made her pulses quicken and her mouth feel dry.

  Now as Ian pulled Priscilla into his arms and slid his slick hands over her back. A shiver of delight shook through her. She laced her arms around his neck, lifted her lips and waited for his kiss.

  Until this moment Priscilla's experience with kissing had been a peck on the cheek or a brush across her lips. When he pushed his tongue into her mouth a volcano of desire erupted in her stomach and spread through her body.

  The sudden sound of the grandfather clock in the hall made Ian drop his arms and move from her. Laying his hand over his now huge penis, he turned away from Priscilla.

  He couldn't stop now, not when she was having all these wonderful new feelings. Priscilla's passion was tempered by anger. How dare he, at a time like this, think of Milo Stanton? She asked in a sweetly cynical voice, "Why don't you speak for yourself, Ian?"

  Ian groaned deep in his throat. "Oh, Prissy, my love, I can't betray a friend."

  So his reluctance was because of some misplaced sense of loyalty that he felt toward Milo Stanton. Priscilla was discovering that she possessed a purely feminine power that was both persuasive and potent. And she was just daring enough and desperate enough to push that new-found power to the limit. Leaning so near Ian that the hairs on his chest teased her sensitive nipples she whispered, "Please, Ian." Her hands moved seductively down his stomach and touched the head of his penis. "Milo has no part in this; it's between you and me."

  Ian convulsed in a spasm of pleasure. "Please, Prissy, I am only human. I can't take much more of this."

  Priscilla wrapped her slick fingers around his stiff penis. "I feel the tension here." She massaged gently.

  Ian's resistance crumbled. He swept Priscilla into his arms and smothered her with passionate kisses. His lips moved over her face down the side of her neck and stopped at the cleft between her breasts. His hands covered those firm mounds. "Oh, Prissy, you are so beautiful. Allow me to massage your lovely breasts."

  "Yes, oh yes," Priscilla breathed as she moved her hand from Ian's penis to his testicles. "And may I massage here?"

  Ian chuckled. "Yes. But only very gently."

  The previously cold room became heated and steamy. It couldn't compare to the heat inside Priscilla as she explored, investigated and teased various parts of Ian's anatomy.

  After a long interlude of teasing and pleasing, Ian touched the inside of her ear with his tongue and whispered, "I am going to make you mine, sweet Prissy." He licked around the outside of her ear and then brushed his lips across her eyelids. She shivered with delight when he lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his warm mouth. His magic fingers waltzed down her chest, danced over her stomach and stopped at that magic spot between her thighs. Heat infused Priscilla's skin. Her insides knotted with desire

  Ian laid her on the blanket and came down beside her. "Prissy, my love, I will be gentle."

  She stared up into his beautiful blue eyes and saw a flame burning there. "What are you going to do?"

  Ian's fingers slipped inside her vagina. "I'm going to massage the inside of your sweet little pussy with my cock."

  Priscilla clenched her hips as jolts of sweet anticipation spread down her legs and through her stomach. "Miss Hockley referred to that part of my anatomy as my womanhood." She giggled. "I like pussy better." Another jolt of pleasure shook through her. "Oh, Ian, massage my pussy."

  Ian climbed astride her. "I have the perfect massager." He moved his penis along the lips of her vagina. "Do you like that?"

  Priscilla loved it and she said so and then added, "Will you put it inside?"

  Ian's control was astounding. Oh so gently he pushed the head of his penis a short distance into Priscilla's pulsating vagina and then stopped and was very still. "Does that hurt?"

  Priscilla moved beneath him. "No-oo-oo!"

  Ian inched a little farther and nudged a thin obstruction. It gave way with another gentle push and Ian buried his penis deep inside her. "How does that feel?"

  Priscilla thrust her hips upward as her desire splintered and exploded inside her. "Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!"

  Ian's strokes were rhythmic and slow as he moved in and out, in and out. Priscilla thought she might die from the pleasurable pressure that was building inside her. She moved her hips as she met each plunge with a need for more and more and more….

  Ian's control shattered as he moved nearer and nearer toward a climax. He was a driving force pushing deeper and deeper until she could stand no more. An orgasm of gigantic proportions grabbed her. Ecstasy exploded between her legs and detonated ripples of pleasure that ran through her body like a flow of hot lava. She screamed her delight. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Her body was floating somewhere in space where a thousand bright lights were pulsating to the beat of her expanding bliss.

  Ian discharged a stream of hot liquid inside her setting off a second seizure of delight and sending her rocketing once more to soaring heights.

  Slowly and reluctantly Priscilla's mind reconnected to her body. With descent came the knowledge that Ian was sprawled atop her, limp as a rag and breathing heavily. She touched the side of his face with her slick fingertip. "Ian?"

  He rolled over and lay beside her. "Priscilla, my love, are you all right?"

  Priscilla had never been better and she told him so before adding, "You took me to a place I've never been before and I want to go there again."

  Ian smiled. "In due time, my love, in due time, but you must give me time to recover."

  Priscilla rose on her elbow and looked down at him. "Recover from what, are you ill?" For a moment fear threatened her euphoric haze.

  Ian's laughter was a welcome sound. "I never felt better." Sobering, he sat up and took her in his arms. "We have a problem."

  Leaning back Priscilla looked up at him. "I know, Milo."

  Ian sighed. "I am in love with you, Prissy. I want to marry you if you'll have me."

  If she would have him? Priscilla wanted nothing more than to be Ian's wife. "I love you too. I would be honored to be your wife."

  Ian ran his hands over her back in a comforting caress. "When he comes home we will have to find a way to tell Milo of our decision."

  To Priscilla, Milo's homecoming seemed far away. "Of course we will but for now let's concentrate on us."

  Ian was more than willing to do just that.

  The next two weeks were blissful ones for Priscilla. Each morning she prepared lunch for Ian. Each day at noon he came to call. The loving couple ate a leisurely meal and spent the afternoon making love on a blanket before an open fire and making plans for their future together. Priscilla thought that it was like living in paradise. But it was a paradise that was brought to an abrupt end all too soon.

  Early one morning three weeks to the day after her father had ridden away with Milo's posse;
Priscilla was awakened by a persistent banging on the front door. She hurried to answer thinking that Ian must have decided to call early.

  When she pulled the door open, much to her chagrin, Beulah stood on the other side with a brown bag in her hand and a suitcase sitting beside her. "I'm back." With that terse declaration she pushed past Priscilla, came inside and paused to catch her breath. "Has there been any news from your papa?" She waddled toward the kitchen.

  Priscilla followed after her. "No, I haven't heard a word." The last thing she wanted was Beulah hanging around interfering with her love life. "You can take some more time off if you'd like. I am managing quite well on my own."

  Beulah set her suitcase on the floor and put her brown bag on the table. Her beady eyes narrowed as she studied Priscilla's flushed face. "What happened to you?"

  Guilt made Priscilla defensive. "Nothing happened to me. Why do you ask?"

  Beulah's heavy jowls shook as she moved her head from side to side. "You look different."

  Priscilla was different. In the space of two short weeks she'd moved from being a girl to being a woman. She didn't care to discuss her transformation with Beulah. Ignoring the question, she repeated, "You can take some more time off if you'd like."

  Beulah snorted, "Oh, I'd like alright but I can't. Thanksgiving is only a week away and I have scads of work to do before then. Besides I calculate that your papa will be home before sundown."

  Priscilla frowned. Unless Beulah had recently acquired some sixth sense, and Priscilla questioned the likelihood of that being the case, she had no way of knowing when Rawhide would be home. "And just how did you acquire this insight?" She was being caustic and ill-mannered but she wanted Beulah out of here and the sooner the better.

  Beulah lifted her suitcase with one dimpled hand and grabbed the top of her brown bag with the other. "I know your papa. He ain't gonna spend Thanksgiving Day away from hearth and home." With a heavy tread she moved across the kitchen and opened the door to her quarters. "So I'll be unpacking and getting supper started."