Promises Linger (Promise #1)

Chapter Five

Morning came damned early when a man had regrets about the night before. It wasn’t the first time Asa had realized this, but it was the first time he’d felt the regret so keenly. It might have something to do with the way Elizabeth was bustling around the small kitchen, a picture of wifely contentment. Damn, the woman was so green she didn’t even know she’d been shortchanged. He sipped his coffee and listened as she hummed. How the hell was he supposed to explain to her she was still a virgin? That he’d been so hot for her, he’d gone off like a firecracker? Hell, what man in his right mind even confessed something so humiliating to his wife?

Then again, how could he not? The first time they made love for real, she was bound to take note. Especially if first times were as painful as he’d heard. He looked Elizabeth up and down from her white shirtwaist to her black shoes peeking from beneath her navy blue skirt. Hell, there wasn’t enough of her to play in a strong wind. He’d probably about kill her if they ever did get around to a real first time.

Which brought him to another question winging around his mind. Where in hell had she gotten the notion to use her mouth on him? No woman had ever done that for him before. He didn’t expect it of whores, and he sure hadn’t planned on asking for it from a lady. Especially one as proper as his wife. Brent popped immediately to mind. The man was a bully, all right. He wouldn’t think twice about putting his own pleasure above a woman’s. Even on their wedding night.

Asa shot Elizabeth another sidelong glare. That was another thing he planned on his wife learning. He wasn’t a selfish man. Last night hadn’t been normal for him. She’d caught him by surprise, that was all. He blamed the novelty for his mad rush to the finish line.

He leaned back when Elizabeth came to the table to remove his plate. The sweet high curves of her breasts came into view. He imagined he could see her nipples through the material of her dress. He remembered how they’d felt against his tongue, round, hard, demanding. And realized he was aroused. Again.

He groaned under his breath. He was pretty sure Miss Penelope had all sorts of rules against husbands and wives coming together while the sun still shone.

He grabbed his coffee in disgust. He moved so fast, some sloshed over the brim. “Shit!”

The curse exploded into the air. Hearing it, Elizabeth took a steadying breath. Dealing with an angry man took patience. Control. Calm. Everything she didn’t feel at this moment. As far as she could see, her husband had nothing to be cursing about. That being the case, she’d much rather bring the frying pan down on his belligerent head, but, as she expected all she’d accomplish would be a denting of her best pan, she needed to come up with another plan. She turned away from the stove. It was immediately obvious why Asa was mad. He’d spilled hot coffee down his shirt.

“Are you okay?” she asked with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of wifely concern.

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

As if she hadn’t heard the anger in his tone, she handed him a napkin. “This may help.”

“Thanks.” He took it and had the grace to look ashamed for his curt answer in the face of her courtesy. At least, she preferred to assume it was shame. Thinking he had some sense of common decency made it easier to hold her temper. The man had been a bear ever since she’d brought him warm wash water this morning. He’d gone from astonishment when she’d carried it into the room to anger by the time she’d left with his dirty clothes. Her hopes that he was just grumpy when first up had been dashed when he’d come downstairs. He’d been pensive and snappy through three helpings of breakfast.

She watched as he tossed back the last of his coffee. She hefted the pot and carried it to the table. Maybe more coffee would improve his mood. “Would you like more?”

“No.” Apparently, coffee wasn’t the solution for Asa as it had been for her father.

She drew in another breath. The towel she’d wrapped around the speckled handle of the coffee pot fluttered as she strove for patience. “Would you care for more breakfast? There are home fries left and it would only take a few minutes to fry up—”

“I’m not hungry,” he interrupted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” At least, not as much trouble as his growl.

“I’m sure.” He shot her a look she couldn’t decipher, heaved a sigh that echoed hers, and then expanded in a more natural tone. “After three helpings, I’m not even sure I can move, let alone walk to the bunkhouse and meet the men.”

His attempt at humor came out more forced than funny, but she didn’t care. At least he was making an effort. It was a step in the right direction. “You probably have time for another cup.”

He probably had time for two or three. “No thanks. The day’s not gonna wait for me to get a start on it.”

He didn’t have much to worry about, Elizabeth thought, as she headed back to the stove. Especially if he was worried about meeting the hands. One thing was for sure, whatever time he got to the bunkhouse, there would be men aplenty for her husband to meet. Not one cowboy was going to miss meeting the man who’d put Jimmy in his place. A man who could take down a bully commanded respect.

A woman who accomplished the same goal commanded nothing. Bitterness seeped past her guard like a bad habit. She forced the anger back. She’d made her peace with the world when her father had died. From here on out, she was calling the shots in her life and, as the woman in charge, she didn’t want to be at war with her husband. She settled the coffee pot on the iron burner without a clank. “I imagine Jimmy informed everyone that there’s a new boss man and it isn’t Brent.”

“I had plans along those lines, but, if last night’s message didn’t get through, I’ll repeat it this morning.”

Was he planning on beating every hand on the ranch?

She replaced the towel she’d had wrapped around the pot on a peg over the stove. “You could still have problems.” The towel threatened to fall. With a deft move, she flipped it back in place, wishing she could fix everything so easily. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll go with you.”

“No need,” he answered. “I’m not so feeble that I need to hide behind a woman’s skirts before passing on orders.”

She gritted her teeth against the humiliation of being dismissed. “I merely thought the common courtesy of an introduction was called for.”

“You women may put a lot of stock in formal introductions, but I’m not courting a gal, I’m running a ranch. Any how-de-do’s that needed saying, I took care of last night.”

“When you beat Jimmy?”

“When I taught Jimmy a lesson on what’s tolerated around here.”

“Jimmy was never tolerated around here.” At least by her. Her father had been a different story altogether.

“Apparently, he didn’t get the message.”

“Apparently.” She grabbed the skillet full of bacon grease and poured the fat into the lard can. The action gave her an excuse not to look at Asa while she tried to make her point without getting him growling again. “Still, there may be some trouble. The men might not take you at your word. If I come with you, I could make sure they know you have my backing. It might ease things.”

“The bunkhouse is no place for a woman.”

She placed the skillet in the wash basin. Patience, she reminded herself while she counted to ten, was a virtue. “I’ve been down to the bunkhouse plenty of times.”

“You have a husband now, darlin’.” A loud grating squeak announced his chair shoving back. “What kind of man would I be if I married up with you and then left you to handle my job as well as yours?”

She bit her tongue. She gripped the cutlery, struggled to hold onto her patience, and tried again. “I don’t mind this one last time.”

“There’s always some testing of the new boss. Might as well get it out of the way.”

“I don’t doubt you’re a capable man—”

“Capable enough that you don’t have to take time from your work to do mine,” he stated flatly.

The last of her fragile hope died that he might want her as a partner. The cutlery hit the dishpan so hard, the sound echoed around the room and water splashed everywhere.

The chair squawked again as he shoved it back under the table. “You mind telling me what you’re so mad about all of a sudden?”

Instead of turning, Elizabeth started wiping up the water. “I’m not mad.”

Not that she was admitting, because then he’d want to know why, and she didn’t think she’d be able to keep from killing him if he laughed when she told him she was as knowledgeable as a man when it came to the ranch. Or worse, that he might want to listen to her opinions. She set to scouring the skillet with zeal.

“Glad to hear it, darlin’, but would you mind gentling your grip on the cookware until I see if we can afford the trip to town to replace it?”

She was banging the pots. Anger, she realized, was a devil of a hard habit to break. She immediately relaxed her grip. “Of course.”

“Now, would you mind facing me and answering my question?”

“No.” Not until she got herself under control.

“No, you don’t mind facing me, or no, you don’t want to answer my question.”

No to both, but she supposed she couldn’t evade either.

The face she presented as she turned around was totally composed. As put together, Asa decided, as her dress and ruthlessly smoothed back hair.

“Are you ordering me to answer your question?” she asked calmly.

Now there was a thought. “You know, darlin’, when a woman’s as trussed up tight as you are, she shouldn’t walk around picking fights.”

The only hint that his comment annoyed her was an almost indiscernible tightening of her lips. “I asked you a relevant question,” she said calmly.

“That wasn’t a question, that was a dare,” he answered just as calmly.

“It was and is a question which you’ve still failed to answer.”

“There you go again, daring me.” He couldn’t resist. The more sweet calm she threw his way, the more he wanted to devil her. This act she had of always being sweet and unruffled was so much bull, it practically reeked manure. She was as mad as all get out. If he needed proof, he’d find it in her chin. If that sweet, stubborn curve got any higher, the woman would be stuck with a permanent crick.

“I fail to see, Mr. MacIntyre, why you’d want to turn an innocent question into a battle.”

He folded his arms across his chest and settled his weight onto his good hip. “It does make a body wonder why anyone would set out to do that, but, sure as shooting, you’re itching for a fight.” When she didn’t rise to the bait, he continued. “Seems all I did was ask what had you slamming pots around and, you went all poker-backed on me.”

“I did not go poker-backed on you, MacIntyre, whatever that means—”

“Poker-backed means you couldn’t pull that spine any tighter unless you wanted to pop it in two.”

“I simply placed the pots in the basin to be washed,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “If that doesn’t meet with your approval…” She ended on a shrug.

The way she stood, all sweet and gentle, looking as calm as a daisy sitting in a meadow of sunshine, was irritating as hell, but knowing that she was doing it on purpose to aggravate him took the edge off his bad humor. It was a strange and new thing, not having a woman run from his scowl. Kind of fascinating in an irritating sort of way. “So, I’m supposed to believe you were placing pots in the sink hard enough to crack ‘em because you like the way the sun’s shining this morning?”

“You, Mr. MacIntyre, can believe whatever you want. No doubt you’re eminently capable of handling any testing sent your way.”

“You got that right.” Asa smiled. “Which brings us to the question of why any new wife would want to test her husband?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

And pigs would fly before noon. “You don’t?”

“No.” Her weight shifted slightly, suggesting she might be digging in for another round.

“Seems to me it all started when I didn’t need you to introduce me to the hands.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t make sense as one of the reasons you married me was to handle the ranch.”

“The men,” she corrected a little too quickly to be polite.

He hid a smile and pretended he didn’t hear. “My part of the deal was that I took over the men so you could get back to your needlework.” He hadn’t seen any needlework around the house, but, from talk he’d heard, needlework was a woman’s passion.

Just maybe not Elizabeth’s, he decided as her face immediately turned beet red.

“I assure you, Mr. MacIntyre, there’s more to a woman than needlework.”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. It’s no never mind to me if you can’t make those fancy little pillows.”

“I’m perfectly accomplished at needlework!”

“I didn’t mean any slight,” Asa continued in the face of her anger. “I’m a plain man and plain pillows suit me fine.”

The man was anything but plain, Elizabeth thought, unless she considered him plain aggravating. “If you want a house full of fancy pillows with cute sayings on them, I’ll make them for you.”

“That’d be nice. I always had a hankering for one that said Home Sweet Home.”

“Fine, then that’ll be first on the list.”

“Well, I thank you. Now, do you want to tell me why you’re so angry?”

“No.”

“Then come here.” He pointed to the floor in front of him. He didn’t give her time to budge before he repeated himself. “I said, come here.”

She would have, too, if he hadn’t snapped his fingers. Instead, she planted her feet, arched her chin up, and matched him stare for stare. In a pissing contest, he had an advantage, but, when it came to a battle of wills, she could hold her own. “I’m not a dog, Mr. MacIntyre.”

“You call me Mr. MacIntyre one more time, and you’re going to wish you were.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She threw up her hands before slamming them down on her hips. “What possible objection can you have to being called Mr. MacIntyre?”

“Plenty. I’m your husband.”

“And I’m your wife.” She bet he used that frown to scare people. Well, not her. “It’s a sign of respect for me to refer to you as Mister.”

His right brow took wing, landing somewhere in his hairline. “Who in hell told you that?”

“All proper—”

“Is that another one of those idiotic rules you learned at that da—darned school?”

“It’s not an idiotic school.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Let’s get something straight! I don’t care what you learned in that fancy school. I don’t want a wife who walks around trussed up tighter than a Christmas goose, who wears more clothes to bed than she wears around the house, and I definitely don’t want a wife who calls me Mr. Anything!”

When he was done shouting, she was right in his face, matching him yell for yell. “Well, what do you want me to call you?”

“How about honey, or sweetheart, or hey, here’s a thought…” He pushed his face in hers. “What the hell is wrong with Asa?”

On that note, he shoved past her and slammed out the door.

Elizabeth stared at the closed door. “Nothing’s wrong with Asa. I just find jackass preferable.”

The door flew open so quickly, she dreaded he might have been listening. From the set of his shoulders, she guessed the few seconds of fresh air hadn’t improved his mood. “Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“This.”

He stepped into the room, bringing the fresh scent of morning with him. Beneath his hat, his storm cloud eyes glittered with emotion. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She searched the small kitchen for a weapon. Unfortunately, in order to secure a pot or knife, she’d have to come within his reach. Where was her brain this morning, angering a man to the point she’d needled Asa? If she wanted to be so stupid, the least she could have done was to arm herself while she was at it.

He stopped when they were toe to toe. Her feet betrayed her resolution to show no fear. She took a step back. Asa took a step forward. Her rear collided with the kitchen table. His hand reached out. She closed her eyes and braced for the blow.

It was the longest time coming. In the eternity in which she waited for his fist to make contact, his scent surrounded her. The heat of his body scorched her nerve endings. His chest brushed against hers. The briefest of contacts and then nothing. No pain, no bruises. Just nothing. She opened her eyes.

“I forgot my lunch.”

“Oh.” For the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. She felt her heart pounding. No doubt her pulse was visible in her throat.

“I forgot something else.” Slow and easy, his drawl made a mockery of the fear that parched her throat.

“What?”

He shifted the sack containing his lunch to his left hand. His right came up to slide slowly around the back of her neck. His smile was as lazy as his drawl. “I forgot my goodbye kiss.”

“Oh.”

He tugged and she went. His thumb tipped up her chin. His head came down. She closed her eyes when his lips touched hers. There was none of the force she expected. No probing with his tongue. There was just the sweet, light rubbing of his lips on hers. He eased back. Disappointment at the separation tripped over her defenses. Opening her eyes, she looked into his. His gaze was intent. His thumb pulled her lower lip free of her teeth and slid across the moist interior. “You want to kiss me back?”

Did she? She slid her arms around his neck as her breasts swelled and plumped in anticipation. “Yes.”

His thumb slipped into her mouth. Her lips closed reflexively around it. His groan vibrated against her hardened nipples. His eyes were glued to the sight of her lips wrapped around his thumb. “Damn, I love your mouth.”

“You said that before.”

He smiled, moving his thumb in and out of her mouth, sending tingles down her spine. “You’ll probably hear it a time or two more.”

She caught his thumb with her teeth. Holding his gaze, she sucked lightly on the salty flesh.

“Damn!” There was a soft thump as his lunch hit the floor.

He didn’t look mad anymore. Elizabeth couldn’t contain her smile as she swirled her tongue around the rough pad. It wasn’t her imagination that he jerked against her.

“Jesus! Do that to my cock and I’ll be your slave for life.”

Two things hit her at once. Shock at his wording and satisfaction on finally knowing what men called their things.

“You liked it last night when I kissed you there?” The question obviously threw him for he stared at her open mouthed, but not a word passed his suddenly tight lips. She dragged her hands to the buttons on his shirt and slipped her fingers between the flaps. The hair on his chest tickled her fingertips. “You liked my lips on your…cock?”

His breath drew in harshly. He released it on a rough laugh. “Yeah.”

“Then why did you pull me away?”

She popped the top two buttons of his shirt and her smile broadened as he seemed to freeze into a statue. Against her stomach, his cock pressed demandingly. Above her head, his breath sawed in and out of his lungs in desperate anticipation. His hands fell from her face. They landed by his sides, briefly touched her hips, and fell back to his sides again. He clearly didn’t know what to make of her boldness. She kissed his chest through the vee of his shirt. She decided she liked him off balance.

With the tip of her tongue, she tasted his flesh. He tasted as fresh as he smelled. He tasted of pure, unadulterated, clean masculinity. His big hand came up and cupped the back of her head, pressing her against him.

“You’re killin’ me darlin’.”

“I’m just kissing you back.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

She cut him a glance through her lashes. “Not yet, but I intend to.”

His hand never left her head as she kissed her way down his torso on her slow drop to the floor. Until her knees hit the wood planks, she wasn’t really sure she was going to go through with it, but when she saw the extent of his desire for her, remembered the night before, the power that had been hers those few brief moments she’d had him in her mouth, she knew what she wanted. His fingers clenched in her hair, stopping her from moving forward.

“You don’t need to do this.”

It was a long trip up to his face. A long pleasurable trip. Her husband was one finely put together man. She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Don’t you like it when a woman kisses you there?”

His eyes closed and his head tipped back like he was struggling for control.

“I’ve never asked a woman to do that.”

She paused, returning her gaze to the front of his pants. “I was the first?”

She might have imagined it, but his cock seemed to be reaching for her through the heavy denim.

His “yes” was a harsh hiss of sound.

She liked knowing that. With one finger she reached forward and traced the contours of his shaft. His hips bucked helplessly beneath her touch. A woman could get addicted to having a man react to her like this, she decided.

“I liked it,” she confessed in a barely discernible whisper.

“What?”

A quick glance determined she had his full attention. She didn’t know if he truly hadn’t heard or was shocked at what she’d said. She did know, however, that she wanted to taste his cock again. This time at her pace, without his interference.

“I liked it,” she repeated clearly.

She was lifted from the floor by two large hands on her upper arms. She looked up to find his dark eyes glittering with emotion, the dark almost swallowing the silver.

“What?” she asked on a twinge of unease.

“I’m thinking I might like it, too.”

In the time it took her to blink, he had her up and sitting on the table top. It was going to be tough to accomplish what she wanted from here. It took all her composure to point that out without stammering or crumpling into a ball of embarrassment. He didn’t appear to notice. He merely flashed a grin and chuckled when she groaned. For once, he didn’t argue her avoiding his gaze. It should have warned her, but she was too caught up in mortification to pay attention until it was too late.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when his cool hands captured her ankles. As she scooted back, she asked, “What are you doing?”

With a tug, he undid her efforts and had her posterior teetering on the edge of the table.

“Thought I’d have a bit more breakfast,” he answered, stepping between her calves, completely unconcerned with her skirt riding up past her knees.

She tried to push the material down, but she wasn’t too effective as she had to use one hand to balance on the table top. “This isn’t seemly,” she pointed out desperately as he stepped between her splayed thighs. Her skirt continued its upward climb.

His “I wasn’t going for seemly,” was completely unconcerned with the fact that her skirt was now above her thighs and sunlight was highlighting every wrinkle in her pantaloons.

He paused. “Now there’s a problem.”

What on earth could he be seeing as a problem. Down there?

On second thought, she didn’t want to know.

The jiggle he gave her legs as he reached for something in his boot upset her balance. With a gasp, she felt her arm give out and she landed on her back.

“Now that’s a sight.”

She was sure it was. It wasn’t every day a woman found herself laid out on the kitchen table in broad daylight, with her skirts hitched up around her waist and a fully dressed man standing between her thighs staring at all there was to see. She squeezed her eyes shut. The one corner of her soul that wasn’t writhing in mortification wished heartily she’d put on her fancy underwear this morning. The silk ones with the expensive lace.

Something cool and narrow touched her thigh. She jerked upright only to immediately fall back. “Is that a knife?”

“Yup.” His drawl was unconcerned. His hand on her midriff stopped her next lunge.

“Just lie still darlin’ and we’ll be getting this problem out of the way.”

“I assure you I don’t have any problem down…there.” At least, she hoped not.

The knife began an upward slide. She heard the hiss of material parting, and suddenly had an excellent idea of what he thought was a problem.

“Are you crazy?” she gasped.

“Nope.”

“I can’t be naked in the kitchen!” There was a light tug as the knife hit the thickness of the drawstring waistband, and then the cool waft of the morning air on her hip.

“I wasn’t shooting for fully bare assed.”

As if that was some comfort. “I absolutely refuse to allow this to continue.” The knife slid under her opposite leg and slid through the cotton like it was nothing.

“It’s a little late to be complaining.”

Not in her book. While he was distracted returning the knife to its sheath, she wiggled toward the side of the table and freedom.

He stopped her simply by using his grip on her legs to pull her hips back toward him. “Hold still, darlin’. I’ve never done this before and I’m real interested in getting it right.”

She glanced at his face and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was looking at her. There. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as if she could somehow block out the image of his expression. Hard. Intent. Lustful.

Nothing could block out the sensation of his calloused fingertips drifting up her sensitive thighs until they reached her hips. She couldn’t suppress a shiver and the goose bumps that sprang up along the path his hands had taken. His thumbs drew circles around her hipbones, grazing the creases in her thighs. With each pass, little sparks of sensation migrated inward from the spot. Her woman’s flesh felt tingly and started to swell. The only thing that saved her from complete mortification was the fact that her pantaloons still preserved her modesty.

She hadn’t even gotten the prayer of gratitude formed in her mind before that thin cotton was whisked away. Her eyes sprang open. Out of the corner of one, she saw the white fabric drift to the floor.

“Oh my God!” she gasped in shock, her hands flying to cover her privates. “What are you doing?”

As she watched, he lowered himself to his knees. His face was just above her hips, within inches of her most private place. Between the curves of her breasts, she met his hot gaze. Before her scandalized eyes, he tipped his hat back, and smiled. “Why darlin’, I’m planning on getting acquainted with your sweet little pussy.”

“You most certainly are not!” She jerked to a sitting position, aided by the way his big hands anchored her thighs.

He glanced up as she propped herself up on her elbows. “You planning on watching?”

“Oh my…no!” She took a swing at him. All she accomplished was to knock off his hat.

“A pity.” He was totally unrepentant. “I think I might have enjoyed that.”

As she glared at him, he leaned forward. She felt his breath on her…pussy a second before the touch of his tongue.

He touched, swirled, and then slid through the soft folds in a leisurely lap.

It was like watching a train wreck happen. Her dignity and reputation were going to hell in a hand basket, and all she could do was stare. Fascinated.

She thought he would be repulsed, but instead he seemed enthralled. Looking up at her, he ran his tongue around his lips, as if collecting every morsel of her flavor. His gaze was serious. He held hers as he leaned forward again. And very slowly, deliberately, he stuck his tongue out. It seemed to take forever for his tongue to reach her. Her breath caught in her throat as he rested it against the pink flesh swelling at the top of her pussy. She stopped breathing altogether when he fluttered it there, shooting a maelstrom of sensation from her groin through her body. She tried to shift away, but he followed, sucking the flange of flesh into the heat of his mouth. Her world reduced to a spiral of sensation that started out narrowed and intense, and spread outward like wildfire throughout her body. She wanted to pull away. She wanted to shove closer. She settled for a combination of the two, alternately pushing toward his mouth and then pulling away when the feeling got too intense.

“What are you doing to me?” It took a tremendous amount of concentration to get the question out.

He lapped at her pussy, delving, swirling and dipping through folds as if searching for every drop of moisture. “I’m making you feel good.”

Lord was he making her feel good. “This has got to be a sin.”

“Maybe.” He slipped his big hands under her rear, and pulled her down until her hips rested on the edge of the table. “Come here.”

“Why?” She should have known the man would answer with complete embarrassing honesty.

He tilted her hips up. “Because I want to lap up all the delicious cream I can convince you to give me.”

“Oh God.” The back of her head made a soft thunk as it fell back to the table, just one more sensation in the cacophony going off in her body. “You can’t be serious.”

She’d barely survived what he’d done so far.

As if to prove he was serious, he ran his tongue from the base of her pussy to the top. Once. Twice. On the third pass, he paused here and there to wiggle, press and nudge. His voice, when it came to her, was muffled. “Never been more serious in my life. You, Mrs. MacIntyre, are one tasty treat.”

And he proceeded to eat her from top to bottom. One excruciating inch at a time. She should have been appalled at what was happening. At the hot words he muttered against her creaming pussy. At the whole indecency of the situation. At the way she wanted him to go on. Instead, she closed her eyes and decided she was going to go up in flames. Her skin felt stretched too tightly to contain her body, while her woman’s flesh throbbed and ached with an unrelenting emptiness.

His focus went from nibbling at her entire pussy to concentrating at the top. His tongue lashed a particularly sensitive spot, and the breath left her body in a soundless scream. He did it again, a firm wet tap, and she jerked up straight to fall back and writhe as he lashed it over and over. With every pass of his hot tongue, molten need poured through her body, until she was gasping his name with each breath. Pleading for something he kept withholding from her.

“Just a minute darlin’,” he soothed, kissing her creaming flesh gently.

She wasn’t waiting for anything. With a burst of strength she latched onto his hair and pulled his face back to her aching, sopping pussy. Acting on instinct. His laugh vibrated just to the left of where she needed it. She wiggled frantically, needing his lips and teeth to release her from this torment.

His big hands stilled her hips. “No need to snatch me bald. I get the idea.” He blew against the sensitive knot of flesh.

“Please…” He was killing her, leaving her stretched out on this burning, unfamiliar ledge.

“I like you like this,” he murmured, lapping delicately at her folds, swirling his tongue in the thick juices weeping from her hungry slit. “All soft and generous.” He lapped again. “Needing.”

He pressed his tongue against that one spot high up. Lightning streaked through her body arching her back off the table, driving her pulsing flesh closer to his face. Closer to paradise. Her hands clenched on the side of the table as he did it again. This time, her scream was a strangled plea for more. He didn’t give it to her. When her spine reconnected with the table, he pulled back and asked, “You liked that, huh?”

Later, she’d smack him for sounding so smug. Right now, she needed him to do it again. “What was that?” she gasped, her hips helplessly lifting and searching.

He stroked her softly with his tongue, as if to soothe the flesh he’d just driven insane. “That was your clit.”

She could barely feel those tantalizing sweeps of his tongue. “My what?”

He rested his chin on top of her mound. His morning beard pricked her sensitized flesh. The relentless demand in her body subsided to a dissatisfied howl.

His smile was pure male satisfaction as he explained. “Your clit. A very tasty, sensitive little button that, apparently, likes to come out and play.”

“Oh.” Now that the furor inside had died down, she was beginning to feel embarrassed again.

Her feelings must have shown on her face, because he got a real determined look and said, “Oh no you don’t.”

She didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant, as he moved his face. His prickly, bearded chin brushed her clit, and she almost leapt out of her skin.

“Asa!”

She only had time to register the surprise in his eyes as he paused. The tiny pricks of sensation were excruciating. Locked somewhere between pain and pleasure, she held her breath.

“Easy, darlin’.”

Asa trapped her hips tightly in his hands before he cautiously shifted his chin again. The effect on Elizabeth was immediate. Her fingers clenched tighter in his hair, dragging him closer.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Harder,” she begged. “Oh please, harder.”

He did it again, tentatively adding a bit more pressure. He could tell from the way her head tossed that it wasn’t enough, but damn, her woman’s flesh was so delicate, he didn’t want it cut up.

Catching him by surprise, she yanked on his hair and threw her hips up at the same time, driving his chin into her swollen clit. “Yessss!”

He almost came at the sound of her gratification. Using one hand to steady her hips, he slid the other down to his pants. He let her ride his chin however she wanted, while he pulled his cock free. He paused for a heartbeat to smear his hand with her copious juices. Wrapping his fist around his painfully aroused flesh, he started pumping while grinding his rough chin against her hard clit. He worried about hurting her, but she liked it rough, and anything less had her sobbing in frustration. Suddenly, with no warning, her body convulsed and she arched her hips into his face, grinding and screaming, her body jerking in powerful spasms. It was all he needed for his own orgasm to crash over him. As his seed jetted out onto the floor, he twisted his face into her pussy, capturing her little clit between his lips, holding it firmly as he sucked it while the crashing waves of pleasure took him out of himself. He felt her struggle to get away, but something primitive in him refused to let her deny him anything. Least of all, the taste of her satisfaction, the way he wanted it.

He sucked harder. She screamed again and the spasms began again, throwing her cunt against his mouth before she tried to jerk away, but he wasn’t letting her get away. He clamped his lips down and followed the bucking of her hips. He would never let her leave him. She was his.

It was her sobs that got his attention. And her pleas for mercy. He came back to himself to find her jerking under his mouth.

“Shhh, darlin’,” he murmured, reluctantly releasing her clit. It made a little popping sound as it sprang into the air.

She groaned and shuddered.

He pulled back and assessed the damage. Her beautiful cunt was swollen and red. Her entire pussy looked well loved. Her scent enveloped him. A combination of satisfied woman and vanilla.

He stood. She curled onto her side. Her ribs heaved with her efforts to breathe. It was almost a rejection. He pulled her dress down and leaned over the table to see her face.

“You okay?” he asked, stroking her wild tangle of hair.

She groaned again, and then grabbed his thigh. Before he could figure out what she had planned, she dragged herself around until her mouth was lined up with his groin. His knees buckled when she took his softening cock into the heat of her mouth.

He froze, not knowing what to do. She seemed content to hold him in her mouth, suckling him gently while her breathing slowly returned to normal. He stroked her hair and murmured soothing nonsense, until with a soft sigh, she released him. His cock waved enthusiastically in the air, clearly up for another round. She stroked him lazily with her hand.

“When you put him in my mouth, what’s that called?”

Of all the things he expected her to say, that hadn’t been it. “You’re sucking my cock.”

She frowned, squeezing him lightly and smiling when his cock jerked in reaction. “No. What’s it called when you do it to me?”

He cleared his throat. “Fucking your face.”

She looked him straight in the eye, her gaze slumberous and heavy lidded. She tugged his eager cock toward her and said, “Fuck my face, Asa.”