Chapter Four
No, Elizabeth decided as Asa stared at her bosom, he definitely wasn’t a hurrying man. She’d had her eyes closed for three counts of fifty, and he still hadn’t progressed past the looking part. She took a deep breath. It caught halfway down her parched throat and sent her into a coughing fit. She would have latched onto the distraction if her husband hadn’t decided to cure her fit with well-placed slaps between her shoulder blades, the first of which sent her straight into dangerous territory. The bed.
She hovered on the brink of indecision. The second slap sent her plopping down onto the mattress. The corn husks rasped in tune with her labored breathing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Asa’s concerned frown and upraised hand.
“Water,” she managed between chokes.
“Of course.” He was out of the room as quickly as he’d entered. In the seconds before he returned, she managed to yank up her camisole and wrap the coverlet around her torso. She took the glass he offered. The cool water eased her throat. She wished it could do the same for her nerves. “Thank you.”
She would have held onto the glass for whatever protection it offered, but he took it from her. “You’re welcome.”
His gaze fell to the coverlet hiding her bosom from view. She couldn’t read his expression, but not for one minute did she want him to think she was afraid. “I was cold.”
The way his lips quirked made mincemeat of her ruse. “Then why don’t you slide under the covers, darlin’?”
Because she was stalling, and they both knew it. “I wouldn’t want to start another coughing fit.”
“No,” he agreed, setting the glass on the bed stand. “We wouldn’t want that.”
The quirk of his lips was definitely a grin. She didn’t care. He could laugh at her all he wanted as long as he was willing to indulge her.
“Well,” she began, only to decide she didn’t know where to go with the conversation. She shifted her weight on the mattress. The corn husks whispered a protest. Asa took it as an invitation. Their protest was twice as loud when he sat beside her. Her breath caught when he slid an arm around her waist and she forced it out as he tugged her against his side. She would not be a coward about this. She’d made a deal and she’d live up to her end. She held perfectly still for his next move.
“I don’t suppose you’d feel any better if I told you that what’s going to happen between us is perfectly natural? That our bodies are made to fit together?” he asked.
“No.”
The side of his chest pushed against her shoulder as he sighed. “I didn’t think so.”
His hand pressed against her head. She resisted, but he kept at it until her cheek found the hollow of his shoulder. She didn’t know why the man thought that holding her close was going to soothe her, but he did.
“I’m not comfortable,” she said.
“Then relax.”
Since it was either that or have her neck snap, she did. A quick peek showed his gaze fastened on the flame of the oil lamp. His hand began stroking her hair. Gentle, light touches that started awkward but soon changed to comfortable. The silence stretched as tight as her nerves.
“I don’t have any choice in this,” he said, an apology coached in the bald statement. “You could wake up tomorrow and change your mind.”
“Yes.” And the ranch would go to the bank next month. She wouldn’t have her home. She would have failed in her duty, and she would have failed herself. Lord, she was weak enough to think, as a solution, it wasn’t so bad.
Beneath her ear, Asa’s chest rose and fell with his even breathing. His fingers slid from her hair and explored the tops of her bare shoulders. She controlled the urge to cringe.
The rhythm of his breathing broke as he sighed, “Damn, I’m a selfish bastard.”
“Why?”
“Because I could chance that you won’t change your mind and give you time.”
She looked into his face. His grim expression squashed her small hope. “But you won’t,” she concluded out loud before asking, “Why?”
He had to know she was looking at him, but he didn’t take his gaze from the steady flame of the lamp. “Three reasons. First off, if I do get killed holding onto this ranch, you’d be back where you started with your ranch up for grabs to whoever lands you at the altar.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with consummating our vows.”
His free hand cupped her belly through the bunched up quilt. “If you had a baby, the child would inherit when he grew up, not your next husband.”
“If there was anything left to inherit,” she pointed out.
The pressure of his fingers increased. For absolutely no reason, she found it protective. “There’s always risks, but it’s the best odds you’ve got.”
As he was the best bet she had against losing it all. The similarity in their thinking was comforting. “You said there were three reasons?”
No mistake, the hand on her stomach was protective. And possessive. “The thought of a little one of my own has been nagging at me.”
“You want a son.” That she could understand. Her father had spent his whole life on two pursuits; building the ranch and getting a son.
“I’ll admit you dropping a delicate little girl first time off scares the beejezus out of me, but I expect I’d manage.”
She just bet it scared him. Men were obsessed with sons. “I’ll have you know, Mr. MacIntyre, women do not do anything as indelicate as ‘drop’ babies.”
“Well, you tell me the correct word and I’ll use it.”
“It’s not something that’s discussed.”
That got his attention away from the lamp. “If we’re not to discuss it, how am I to know when you get in the family way? Or if you need something when you do get that way?”
It was obvious he found the situation amusing while her cheeks were burning from the direction of the conversation. “I’m sure something will occur to me if the time ever comes,” she said through gritted teeth. “You mentioned a third reason?”
The corn husks rustled as he shifted to face her. His hands contracted in the quilt. “The only thing I’ve been thinking about since you laid out that fancy gambler is the way a man gets a woman pregnant.” The quilt started to loosen as he pulled. “And how much I wanted to do that with you.”
She closed her eyes. The time had come.
The tugging stopped. The loose hair on her forehead parted on his slow exhale. “That,” he admitted in a low voice, “and how much a bastard I feel for forcing this issue.”
She opened her eyes. Her gaze collided with his. He was going to stop. Instead of the relief she expected to feel, there was only an onslaught of terror. She couldn’t lose her home! Just as she couldn’t lose her last chance, because it suddenly occurred to her that, come morning, she wasn’t the only one who could walk away. While she loved this place with an intensity that went back to her grandfather, Mr. MacIntyre’s ties were only cemented in the nebulous hope of future profit.
She wet her lips and schooled her expression to calm. “You aren’t forcing anything.”
He shook his head and touched his index finger to her knuckles. “Darlin’, were you willing, you wouldn’t be popping the stitches in that quilt.”
She looked down. Her knuckles showed white through her skin. “I’m just nervous,” she explained. She counted to ten, and one by one, willed her fingers to relax. “I’m perfectly willing.”
He tugged on the quilt. She reflexively tightened her grip.
“I can see that.” His lips quirked again.
She straightened her spine and released the quilt. “I’m perfectly ready to uphold my end of the bargain, Mr. MacIntyre. I just don’t see why you insist on disrobing.”
His left eyebrow quirked up. “Because it’s more fun that way?”
She tossed her head. The quilt started to slip. “I fail to see where extreme mortification would be fun.” By widening her elbows, she was able to stop the quilt’s decent. “Until we get to know one another, do you think we could perform our duties modestly clothed?”
His expression went from amusement to shock and then back to amusement in the time it took her to take a hopeful breath.
“I see no reason why we need to abandon decorum,” she growled, piqued.
“Decorum?” he asked, his right eyebrow lifting to join the left.
She cautiously waved one hand between them. “Decorum. You know, a polite respect for each other’s sensibilities?”
“No. I didn’t know.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. Elizabeth had a sneaky suspicion he was hiding a grin. She set her chin a bit higher. She fully intended to hang onto her dignity and, the sooner he accepted it, the better.
He removed his hand from his mouth and rubbed it on his thigh. “Let me get this straight. You want me to perform my ‘duty’ fully clothed, holding onto my modesty and yours, and remembering my manners all at the same time?”
“You needn’t make it sound so implausible.”
“Darlin’, when a man sets to pleasuring a woman, he’s got enough to chew without adding more to his plate.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s clear enough.”
She ignored his interjection. “But I’m sure we can get through this with our dignity intact if we concentrate on the necessities.”
“I’m thinking our ideas of what’s necessary are about as far apart as a body can get.”
“I don’t think so. We both want this ranch. Like you, I’d like children.” She hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. She needed to keep the upper hand and she hadn’t a prayer if she came off as namby-pamby. She cleared her throat and continued. “At Miss Penelope’s Academy for Young Women, the subject of marital duty was discussed.”
“This Miss Penelope’s Academy is a school?”
“Yes.”
“And this is where you got the notion that a man and woman bring their manners to their wedding bed?”
“You needn’t scoff, Mr. MacIntyre. The Academy is very respected. All the best families send their daughters there with complete confidence that, when they graduate, they’ll take their place in society as the wives of respected men. Why are you laughing?”
“Was this Miss Penelope a dried-up prune of a woman?”
“I always thought of her as properly reserved.” She recalled Miss Penelope’s impeccable dress, upswept hair, and modulated voice. “Dignified.”
The corn husks rustled louder as Asa shifted closer. “I hate to upset your apple cart, darlin’, but, if I aim to pleasure you, that dignity you’re so fond of is going straight out the window.”
His hand gliding around her waist dislodged the quilt. No matter how she widened her elbows, she couldn’t halt its descent. His fingers brushed the side of her breast. His calluses dragged across her flesh. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her as he nudged the edge of her camisole off her nipple. She closed her eyes.
“Mr. MacIntyre…”
“Damn, you’re as pretty as a wildflower.”
“Mr. MacIntyre.”
Amusement colored the rough tones of his drawl. “Seeing as I’m looking at your charms, don’t you think you could call me by my first name?”
“Asa!” His name ended on a high note as his finger traced a circle on her bosom.
“Right here, darlin’”
“Surely this isn’t necessary!”
“If by ‘this’, you mean my touching you, nothing could be more necessary.”
She caught his wandering hand by the wrist. When she opened her eyes, his face was inches from hers. For all the amusement in his voice, his expression was intense. Intimidating, but she clutched her conviction like a lifeline. “I don’t believe you.”
His resistance to her tugging halted. “You calling me a liar?”
She’d never be so idiotic as to call a man a liar to his face. “I believe you’re laboring under a misconception.”
“Want to lay it out a little clearer?”
“I don’t feel it’s necessary for you to touch me so intimately in order to perform your duty.”
“You don’t?”
The incredulity in his voice sparked her anger. “You tell me. Is it necessary for you to touch me so intimately in order to…complete the act?”
“Not for me—”
She cut him off. “Then I’d appreciate getting it over with.”
“It won’t be nice for you if I just ‘get it over with’.”
“It’s not supposed to be nice,” she muttered. Her bravado giving out, she redirected her gaze to the oil lamp. “It’s a duty, like any other chore, and I intend to get through it the same way I get through the wash.”
“Shi—I mean, shoot. I don’t think I want to hear this, but just how do you plan on getting through it?”
“At Miss Penelope’s, they suggested occupying our minds during monotonous chores by designing a new dress or planning a party.”
“And this Miss Penelope is an expert on the duty between a husband and wife?”
She heard the doubt in his voice. How dare he scoff at her education! The man had probably never attended school a day in his life. She gritted her teeth. “Miss Penelope would never lie. She’s a very responsible woman, dedicated to the education of the young women at her school.”
“And you’re dead set on sticking to her teachings?”
She met his gaze and that slightly raised eyebrow defiantly. “Nothing to date has made me question my education.”
“And you’re willing?”
“Perfectly.”
He motioned to the bed. “Then drop your death grip on that quilt, darlin’, and let’s get to it.”
Get to it? He wanted to get to it? Just like that? “Now?”
His eyebrow went up a notch, but he didn’t laugh at her stupid question. “Seems like as good time as any. And you were the one who wanted to just ‘get it over with’.”
“I may have been a little premature in my decision.”
He tugged on the sheet. “Nope. Seeing as how the night’s getting away from us and morning comes early, I think now is about perfect.”
For all of the seriousness of his expression, he was laughing at her. She knew it. And the knowledge stung.
“Let go the sheet, darlin’.”
“Not until you blow out the lamp.”
“I like the light on.” A quick tug on his end of the quilt had it slipping from her grip. She tried to catch it, but he tweaked it away. Damn. He was fast.
“I am not participating until you blow out the lamp,” she informed him as she lunged for the trailing corner of the quilt.
“Seems to me you’re not the one calling the shots here.”
She caught the quilt, but leaned too far over and Asa caught her. She was forced to continue her argument from an undignified sprawl across his lap. “I mean it, Mr. MacIntyre. I’m not participating in anything with the light on.”
“Too much light interferes with your planning?” His hand passed across her posterior and she yelped. She squirmed to get up, but his forearm across the small of her back kept her pinned.
“I have no idea,” she gasped as he touched her intimately again.
“Then I think we’ll leave it on.”
“No!” The heat from his hand permeated the thin cotton of her pantaloons. She didn’t want to picture the image she presented in her current position. “Let me up.”
“I like you like this.”
As if to prove his point, his hand moved in a circular motion. He traced the seam of her buttocks with indecent accuracy. Her protesting wiggle only served to give him more ideas. On his next pass, he pressed harder, causing the material to catch embarrassingly between her cheeks where his finger probed. She froze, mortification drying her protest in her throat.
“Damn, you’re something, darlin’.”
“Let me up,” she hissed. His finger traced the crease he’d created. Despite her determination to lie still, her hips bucked, driving his hand firmly between her legs.
His “not just yet” sounded alarmingly gruff to her straining ears. Something poked her in the side and, ranch girl that she was, she knew what it meant. Her husband was aroused. The hand across her back shifted so his elbow had her pinned and he could use that hand to separate her thighs. His fingers wedged deeper, until he could cup her woman parts.
Oh God, she thought, there was no reprieve. He took his hand from her back, slipped his forearm under her chest and turned her across his lap. His fingers between her legs supported her weight. The hand across her chest kept her pinned against his arm. As he moved it to cup her breast, she looked into his face. There was no softness. No sign that he shared her distress or even noted it. There was only an intense concentration as he watched his hand engulf her breast.
“The light…” she whispered, blinking to fight back tears. He didn’t seem to hear.
“Part your legs,” he ordered.
“I can’t. The light.”
His gaze met hers. No mercy there. “You promised me two things—willingness and obedience.”
She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then kept on going.
“That’s an order, Elizabeth.”
How could the man expect her to keep her word in circumstances like this? She parted her legs a spare inch. He took a mile. When she felt his fingers slide through the slit in her pantaloons to slip between the folds of her female flesh, it was too much. She turned her face into the hollow of his throat and prayed for her Maker to take her then and there. Beneath her cheek, his chest rose on a shuddering breath.
“Guess I’m going too fast for a student of Miss Penelope’s, huh?” he asked on the exhale.
She guessed he was going too fast for the women who lived over Dell’s, but she wasn’t going to risk losing his compassion by saying so. “I’m sure it would be easier on both of us if we blew out the lamp.”
In response, he stood, leaned over, and blew out the lamp. The fact that he didn’t moan or even shift his grip convinced her that struggling would be useless, even if she wanted to forsake her word. As darkness enveloped them along with the stench of kerosene, he gave her a little toss that switched his grip to her waist.
She dangled in his arms as he asked, “You still planning on making a dress while we do this?”
“Yes.” He had no idea what her complacency was costing her.
“You’re going to cut and stitch while I do whatever I want?”
“You said you wouldn’t hit,” she hastened to remind him.
“We’ve already established what I’m set on doing. What’s up for grabs is whether you plan on joining in.”
Was he questioning her integrity? “I know my duty, Mr. MacIntyre.”
“Asa,” he reminded her.
“Asa,” she dutifully repeated. She crossed her arms over her chest as a compromise between encouragement and obedience. “Could we please get on with this?”
“You in a hurry?”
“I’m scared to death.”
“I can feel you trembling.”
There was a long pause in which he did nothing.
“Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“I’m trying to figure a way to make you less nervous. Any particular worry you’re gnawing on?”
She thought about it. “I don’t like not knowing what you’re going to do next.”
“Seeing as how I’m a talker, I could probably manage a warning or two.”
Having her inch, Elizabeth decided to go for a mile. “I also don’t like it when you handle me sooo…intimately.”
“That,” he said, a smile in his voice as he brought her breasts back against his chest, “you’re going to have to get used to. Any more questions?”
It was hard to think with the threat of his big body so close to hers. Through the lingering odor of kerosene, she smelled his scent. She wanted to dislike it, but he smelled of soap, fresh air and blackberries.
“Well?” he prompted in the wake of her silence.
“I guess not.”
“No need to sound so discouraged, darlin’. We’re going to do just fine. Put your arms around my neck.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to feel your breasts against me.”
Shock at his bald pronouncement held her frozen for the two seconds he waited before pretending to drop her. Reflexes threw her arms around his neck. She felt his smile against her hair. “That’s the way.”
“I’m not sure my sensibilities can take any more warnings,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Then why don’t you stuff them under the mattress?”
“What?”
“Your sensibilities and all that other starchy stuff Miss Penelope taught you.”
“I can’t.” The words ended on a small squeak as he tossed her again in order to shift his hands to the backs of her thighs.
“Then, darlin’, you’d best get to stitching because the fun’s about to begin. Wrap your legs around my waist.”
She was too smart to ask why this time. She just did as ordered. He took a step back and sat on the edge of the bed. If she thought the humiliation of having him touch her was bad, it was nothing compared to the humiliation of straddling his lap. When he suggested she move to the right, she had no illusions as to why. His manhood pushed heavily against her inner thigh.
“I can’t,” she confessed. “I’m not breaking my promise, I swear. I’m doing my best. I just can’t.”
“Guess that stitchin’ isn’t getting you too far, huh?”
She shook her head. It might have been her imagination, but she thought his lips brushed her hair. “Could we just get this over with?” she asked.
“You always in this much of a rush?”
“Please? I’ll beg if you want. I—”
His finger across her lips cut off the rest of her plea.
She pulled back. “Is that a yes?”
“A man wishes his whole life for a woman to beg for his lovemaking. Guess when she does, the least he could do is honor the request. Lie on the bed, darlin’, while I shuck these clothes.”
For a man about to get his wish, he didn’t sound enthusiastic, but she was too beset by her own problems to care. Nausea rolled in her stomach, her hands shook, and, as she scrambled to do as he asked, she thought she’d further humiliate herself by throwing up. Remembering his earlier explanation of what he preferred, she lay on her back. After careful consideration, she placed her hands at her side. Lying in the dark, she listened to the rustling of his clothes. A soft thunk indicated his belt hitting the floor. She took three deep breaths, swallowed her nerves and said, “I don’t suppose you could remain dressed for this?”
He cursed beneath his breath. The chair legs rocked as he threw something over the back. “I’m willing to forsake a lot of things out of respect for your sensibilities, Elizabeth, but I’ll be damned if I’ll come to my wedding bed dressed for work.”
The disgust in his voice flicked her pride like a whip. “It was only a suggestion.”
The mattress sagged as he knelt on it. Over her. His breath blew across her face as he growled, “Well, it was a damned poor one for a wife to be making.”
The fact that he swore in her presence told her more than she wanted to know about his feelings. His legs slipped between hers. The planes and curves of well honed muscles were rock hard and alien against her softer flesh. With his knee, he pushed first one thigh and then the other to the side. Instinct had her resisting, but his strength brooked no denial. He wasn’t satisfied until she was spread wide, more open and more vulnerable than she had ever been in her life. The feeling was alien, but in the dark of the night, with the heat of his body reaching out to cover her in an intimate blanket, not as terrifying as she’d expected. His breath blew across her cheek. The sheets rustled as his hands shifted near her shoulders. Fear and a foreign sense of anticipation caught her breath in her throat as he slowly lowered the length of his strong body over hers. He was all muscle where she was soft. Rough where she was smooth. And hot. Very, very hot.
She released the sheets from her death grip and slowly brought her hands up to his forearms. The dark was kindness itself, giving her courage she couldn’t find in the light. Tentatively, she curled her fingers around the hard flesh. He was so very different from her. The hairs on his arm were more prominent than hers, denser. They tickled her skin. Experimentally, she slid her palms up and down, playing with the sensation.
Asa moaned. “That’s right, darlin’. Hold on.”
She didn’t see where she had much choice. Especially when he brought his mouth to the side of her neck. His lips were soft where she’d expected them to be firm. As she contemplated the newness, they found a spot beneath her ear that sent goose bumps spreading out from her neck, over her torso and amazingly, shockingly, concentrating in her breasts. The longer he nibbled at her neck, the more intense the feeling became until her breasts felt swollen and her nipples actually ached. Instinctively her torso arched up, pressing those sensitive points into the solid wall of his chest. The relief was exquisite. Asa’s chuckle vibrated against her ear. New shock waves shivered down her spine. The heat seemed to transfer from his body to hers, pooling between her legs. When his tongue trailed from her neck up to her ear, swirling around the edges, she gasped out loud.
She held her breath until he did it again. And again. Her hands slid higher, her fingers skimming his flesh, following the muscled grooves in his upper arms until they naturally embraced the solid bulk of his shoulders. Muscles she didn’t know she had clenched between her legs, and her insides wept with a hungry longing that demanded relief.
It came in a manner she wasn’t expecting. Something broad and large wedged against her intimate flesh. Asa soothed her initial start with a soft murmur. His left shoulder slid out of her grasp as he leaned away. His teeth nipped her earlobe. The pain was sharp and swift, and unbearably pleasurable. The ache between her thighs blossomed into full-fledged need. He reached between their bodies and began rubbing his penis up and down the wet folds of her woman’s flesh. She tried to hold still, but it was impossible. With each glide of that large head across her flesh, the sharp bite of need was soothed and nudged higher. On the next pass, he did something way up that drove a spike of ecstasy through her body. Her moan was uncontrollable. His response was immediate.
“Let’s try that again.”
With slow deliberation, he pushed his manhood against that special spot. The breath she’d been holding whooshed out. He held himself there, just massaging that special spot until she thought she’d go mad if he continued. Suddenly he stopped, and she knew she’d go mad from that alone. She strained upwards with her hips, seeking the connection she needed, but she struck only air. Following the demands of her body, she wrapped her legs around his thighs, using all her strength, she pulled, wanting him back. Needing him now.
“Easy, darlin’,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ll give you what you want.”
His manhood probed between her thighs. Not where she wanted it, but lower. He slid easily through the wetness there, seeking, searching, until he nestled into a soft welcoming valley. A whole new host of sensations immediately clamored for attention. And her body tensed in eager anticipation. Bedding a man was nothing like she’d been told.
At first, the pressure was light. Little pulses that tripped lightly over her skin in an intriguing invitation. Following his lead, she pushed up when he pushed forward. It was pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe not for him either, because beneath her hands, his skin became slick with sweat and his breath was no longer controlled and even.
His “Hold on” was enticement itself.
His thigh muscles bunched beneath her grip before he surged against her.
Suddenly what had been pleasurable verged on pain. She couldn’t prevent her instinctive flinch. “Easy, darlin’.”
On the next surge, she gasped.
Asa swore.
On the third attempt, she pushed against his shoulders and twisted away. This was worse than anyone had warned her about.
Asa threw himself to the side. The mattress rocked and his curses echoed through the darkness.
It was only when she felt him throw his legs over the edge of the bed that she realized what she’d done.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she heard the rustle of his denims. “I’m ready.”
“Forget it. This whole idea is crazy.”
Panic of a different sort took root in her chest. “No. It’s an excellent idea. I’m just more nervous than most, I guess.”
He shifted away. Her panic burgeoned into full life. “I can do this.”
“It’s okay, Elizabeth.” He sounded utterly weary. “A yahoo like myself had no place hooking up with a lady.”
He was leaving. Walking away from her and their deal. Oh God, she had to do something! She couldn’t let him leave. She had to prove to him she could be a wife. More than that, she had to do it now. Immediately in a way he couldn’t ignore. She remembered what Brent had tried to make her do. How he’d wanted her to put her mouth on his manhood, hitting her when she refused. He’d said it was what all men wanted. What they craved. The lust on his face as he’d forced her mouth toward his groin had made her believe every word he’d said. Maybe Asa was like Brent in this one way. Maybe if she did this, he’d reconsider. There was only one way to find out. If she were wrong, it wouldn’t be any more embarrassing than having to face the town people when husband number two up and left.
She scrambled to her knees as Asa stood. Reaching out, her hands connected with his bare chest.
“I can do this, Asa. I can.”
His hands caught hers. “It’s all right. I don’t think any less of you.”
But he did, otherwise he wouldn’t be leaving her bed. Other women did this daily. It was only her own cowardice that held her back. She would not lose everything to cowardice.
With a moan, she launched herself at Asa, trusting his grip to keep her from falling. The air left his lungs in a surprised oof as her nose smashed into his hard belly. His arousal brushed her cheek, and she offered a prayer of thanks that he still wanted her. All was not lost. Before she lost the opportunity, she opened her mouth and turned her head. Her aim was off. His manhood brushed the corner of her mouth. So was her estimate of his size. She forced her jaws as wide as she could, and took him into her mouth. To her surprise, it wasn’t repulsive.
He lay heavy and hard against her tongue, with that breathless immobility that signified deep horror or agonizing anticipation. With the tip of her tongue, she experimented tracing the flared head. The flesh was hard and yet intriguingly resilient. She pushed tentatively in the center. The effect on Asa was like a bolt of lightning striking his body. He jerked upright, almost unseating his manhood. To keep him trapped, she wrapped her lips as tightly as she could around his impressive width and sucked hard.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Asa’s curse rang harshly above her head. His grip on her hands tightened painfully. She fought the upward pressure. She had his attention. For once, Brent had been right about something. Asa wanted this. With a bob of her head, she took him deeper. While his hands pushed her away, his hips followed wherever her mouth led. The helpless surge of his hips as he pressed his manhood deeper, was a balm to her pride. She could do this. She flicked the tip of his manhood with her tongue. His hips jerked reflexively. When she swallowed him deep, he moaned and pushed harder. Obviously wanting more. And she took it. Every thrust, every moan, every hard surge because this was what she wanted, too. To know she was woman enough to hold him. To keep him. To do what needed to be done. To know she wasn’t hopeless.
The battle of wills ended before she was ready. Her strength was no match for Asa’s, and the battle for supremacy was over when he said it was. One second she was winning, and the next she was flat on her back, trying to sort up from down as Asa dragged her to the edge of the bed. Her legs dangled helplessly. His hands anchored hers at her shoulders. She held her breath as he wedged his huge manhood between her legs. Like before, he nestled into that sensitive valley. The only sound in the room was his labored breathing as he rubbed the thick head over her moist flesh. His movements were rougher now. Less controlled. His push was more of a shove. She bit her lip against the pain. She wrapped her legs around his hips and whispered, “Make me your wife, Asa.”
As if she’d applied spurs to his flesh, he swore and jerked against her. His fingers dug into her hips as he yanked her toward him. Once, twice, and then his hot seed poured over her woman’s flesh. With a groan of her name, he fell against her, his chest squashing her with every labored breath. It was done, she realized, shifting under his weight. The marriage was consummated. Waves of relief swept over her. She’d pushed aside her feminine weakness and done what was necessary. Asa was no more free to walk away than she was. The land was safe, and so was she. She shuddered and let the darkness come.