Montana Men Complete Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

Chapter 3

3

ELLEN

We didn't speak as we walked across town. Was Mr. Graves as lost for words as I or was he the contemplative sort? Fortunately for me, August Point was small enough where a lengthy conversation was impossible. There was much to ask my new husband, however I didn't even know where to begin. How could I have found myself married to a lawman? The sun glinting off the star on his chest had me wincing, and not from the brightness in my eyes. What would happen to me if he found out what I'd done? Would he send me back? Put me in jail? No sheriff wanted to be betrothed to a murderer! He was on one side of the law, and I, the other. Even though it had been Allen that had assaulted me, I was the guilty party. The only person who knew the truth besides me was...dead. I could feel the heavy weight of the rock once again in my palm. Feel the sharp edges digging into my skin. I gulped down the panic that rose. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't tell him; it was out of the question.

Lost in my own thoughts, I hadn't realized we'd stopped at the door of a small, modest house. One story, it had neat wood siding painted a bright white, two windows flanked the front door. It was set back from the main street, with no neighbors directly beside. Only tall grass billowed between one home and the next. I could only imagine the amounts of snow that the wind piled high in the winter without the protection of other buildings or even trees. Fortunately, I had a husband now to keep me warm--as long as he never learned the truth.

He opened the door and let me enter first, then took the hat from his head and placed it upon a peg by the door. The interior was clean and somewhat spartan, perhaps because it was lacking a woman's touch. A bachelor sheriff did not require any kind of ornament or frill. This was the main living area and kitchen with a stove and pump sink beneath one window, a large stone fireplace flanking the entire side wall. A thick rug covered part of the wood floor with comfortable seating. A rifle was perched upon two posts above the mantel, reminding me that we were civilized people encroaching on the wilds of untamed land. I shivered at the thought.

A warm hand fell upon my shoulder. "Cold?"

Mr. Graves' warm breath caressed my nape, raising goose flesh across my skin. I shook my head as I wasn't the least bit chilled. Quite the contrary, in fact. I felt more for this man, this stranger, than I did over the weeks of courting for Allen Simmons. Just having a man such as Mr. Graves so close and we were alone had me overheated. No chaperones, no one to question any of our actions. We were married and legally allowed. All other thoughts vanished. His fingers ran up and down my neck as he spoke. "I have a bath ready for you."

I spun around at his words. A bath! It sounded like heaven on earth, but I hadn't seen a tub.

He must have seen the confusion on my face. "In the bedroom." He angled his chin toward the closed door along the back wall. "Mrs. Samuels, a woman in town who comes and cleans and cooks for me, knew you were coming on the stage and prepared a bath. The water should still be hot."

I moved in that direction, opened the door. A brass bed, large and covered with a dark quilt, filled the space. Mr. Graves was a big man and needed a bed of such size. Beside it was indeed a hip bath tub, filled with steaming water. "Oh," I murmured longingly. I hadn't seen a bath in weeks; the journey only offered brisk bathing by basin and washcloth.

Mr. Graves nudged my back, moving me further into the room, closed the door firmly behind us. "Come, let's get you undressed."

I froze in place at his words. His intention was to stay. To help. Oh dear lord! I'd never been alone with a man unrelated to me before, let alone naked. I wasn't adverse to the idea of the...things that happened between a man and his wife, I just didn't know exactly what it entailed. The general idea was familiar to me, but I wasn't naive enough to know there was so much more than what I knew.

Taking my lack of movement as invitation, he came around and slowly undid the buttons down the front of my blue dress. The garment wasn't filthy, however it was travel worn and definitely dusty. I was dusty. His knuckles brushed the sensitive upper swells of my breasts as he went and I sucked in a breath, surprised by the tingle upon my skin in his wake. When the last button was undone, he glanced up at me through his sandy colored lashes. His gaze held equal parts question and interest. There was no doubt he wished to continue, but was pausing long enough to gauge my reactions.

When I gave the slightest of nods, his hands lifted to my shoulders, sliding wide so the fabric slipped down my arms to pool at my wrists. He worked one sleeve, then the other, free. He was ever so patient, taking his time as if unwrapping a Christmas present. Once done, the dress slipped over my hips, down my thighs to pool at my feet. My undergarments remained; corset and drawers.

"Undo your corset, wife. Slowly. Show me what's mine," he said, his voice dark, his gaze intense as he stepped back to watch. Focused solely on me. At this moment, I was his whole world.

I should have been appalled at his choice of words. Show me what's mine. But I wasn't. Quite the opposite. My skin heated even more, as if I were already in the tub. My stomach flipped, nerves tangling with arousal. His words enflamed me, made me feel like I belonged. That I really was his. My lips parted, my ragged breath escaping in little pants, the top swells of my breasts rising and falling in time.

There was no reason to resist, no possible diversion for hesitancy. He was my husband. It was his right. A powerful thought came to me. It was my right to show him my body. I could offer it to him freely, without repercussion. I no longer needed to protect my virtue. It belonged to him and I was going to give it to him freely. My nervous fingers moved of their own accord to the top clasp of my corset, his eyes riveted to my actions. Undoing one stay, then the next, his jaw clenched tight, a ruddy flush came to his cheeks. With each bit of corset I released with the slowest of motions, the air between us heated even more, crackled with energy like just before a lightning strike.

Finally, finally, it was undone and I let the garment fall to land upon my dress. As if he couldn't resist a moment longer, he raised his hand to my breast, one blunt finger brushed over the turgid tip. I gasped at the illicit touch, my head falling back, eyes closing.

"More, Ellie. Take off the rest." His hand fell away and I felt bereft.

My name had never been shortened, never taking a fancy to be called Ellie before. Until now. The sound was more endearment than nickname. Fortunately, I'd chosen a false name that shortened in a similar fashion. When he called me Ellie, I felt like myself, not an interloper. I stood solely in my drawers. Face heating at the thought of Mr. Graves seeing my breasts, I kept my gaze averted as I undid the drawstring, then let the only remaining covering join the pile at my feet.

"Oh, Ellie," Mr. Graves murmured, just before his head lowered for his mouth to close over one n****e.

I almost fell backward with my surprise, having not expected his action. One arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place as his raspy tongue licked, just before he sucked. Hard. I cried out at the intensity of the pleasure coming from just my n****e. I had no idea such intense pleasure could be found there. And with his tongue, no less! Mr. Graves growled in the back of his throat just before releasing me.

"Into the tub with you." His voice was rough like tumbled rocks, his jaw clenched. If I hadn't heard the pleasure in his voice at the sight of my nakedness, I'd think he was angry with me.

I carefully climbed into the tub, the water hot. It was my turn to make sounds of pleasure, although I was just pleased to be enveloped in such warmth. Submerged to my neck, I felt covered, however the bath water did nothing to hide my body from his view. But in this moment, reveling in the feel of the scented bath water, I would never take for granted the idea of getting clean, completely so, ever again.

Mr. Graves knelt beside the tub, cloth in one hand, a white block of soap in the other. "Let's get you washed because I want to make you all dirty again."

Instead of the look of hard intensity there moments before, now I saw...desire.

"Mr. Graves, I--"

"Ryder. My name is Ryder." He lathered the soap onto the cloth, then started to wash me, my shoulders, then lower to my breasts, cleaning me with a little more thoroughness than perhaps necessary. But I wasn't complaining. The feel of the cloth was so sensitive, the scent of the soap citrusy and fresh. "Considering the things I plan to do to you, I think we can eliminate formalities."

What did he plan to do to me? I could only imagine what he had in mind.

"I have many plans," he replied, and I realized I'd asked the question aloud. "For today, I plan on learning every inch of your body, discovering what makes you whimper, what makes you scream. By then, I won't have to take your maidenhead, Ellie. You'll be begging to give it to me." His hand at this point had moved between my thighs, the cloth sliding over every fold, again and again. I lifted my hips, arching into his ministrations. It felt so good! Sadly, he stopped, shifted around the tub to kneel at the very back and washed my hair, his long fingers working the tangles free of my long tresses, massaging my scalp.

The water heated, or perhaps it was my skin, but it was becoming too much. I relaxed my muscles and reveled in his touch.

"Oh no," he murmured, tugging me up none too gently beneath my arms to pull me to my feet. "We can't have you drown." Grabbing a towel, he dried me, ever so slowly, being thorough to get the most water from my long hair. "Peaches and cream," he murmured.

My mind felt like it was lost in a fog, my thoughts unclear, muddled, my focus solely on Mr. Graves--Ryder. His words, his hands. I didn't even mind that I was unclothed while he was still fully dressed. "What?"

"Your skin. It's like peaches and cream. Let's see if you taste the same."

The room spun as I found myself on my back, the cool yet soft quilt beneath, the hard body of Ryder above me. His head lowered to my breast once again, licking, swirling, sucking. His mouth was doing wicked things that had me arching my back, threading my fingers through his hair. Was I holding him in place or pushing him away? The feelings he brought about were so intense they made me burn. How did his mouth upon my n****e make the place between my thighs tingle, pulse even? Whatever he was doing, I didn't want him to stop.

Moving his head from one n****e to the other, he persisted. His hand came up to mold, shape the breast being neglected, and he took the tip between his finger and thumb, tugging it. When he gave it a slight pinch, I cried out.

He lifted his head, looked down at me. One sandy lock fell over his forehead to add to his rogue-like, wicked look. Grinned. "Like that, do you?"

Like it? I couldn't describe how I felt about it, so I could only nod. He winked at me and did it again, giving the n****e a strong tug, then a sharp pinch.

My head fell back, eyes closing. I was surprised my damp hair didn't steam from the heat that surrounded us.

"My wife likes it a little rough," he murmured, his hot breath fanning my skin.

I didn't like it, I loved it. Why did I like it from the very first hint of rough with Ryder and when Allen had touched me--

Ryder lifted his head, gazed up at me with his light eyes. "Where'd you go, baby?"

I stiffened in his hold as the thoughts of how Allen had touched me came flooding back. He hadn't gotten me naked, only ripped the bodice of my dress a little. His hands had roamed over my body, fondling my breasts. One hand had been sliding up my calf, but hitting him had stopped that and whatever else he'd planned.

"Sorry, I...you frightened me for a moment." I licked my lips, suddenly dry.

He moved his head from side to side very, very slowly. "Being a little frightened is good. Makes you anticipate what might come next. But remember this, I will never hurt you." His gaze became as serious as his words. "Do you believe me?"

"I barely know you." I looked down at him, the soft mounds of my breasts framing his face.

"Then let me prove it to you." He grinned wickedly, shifted back on the bed as he rained kisses down my belly, lower and lower as his large hands pushed my thighs wide. "Right now." His breath fanned over my woman's core, his fingers slipping through my curls that hid it. "I wondered the color here." He gave my hairs a little tug, and with it came a slight hint of pain.

"Ryder, I've never--" My fingers tangled in his hair once again.

"I know, baby, and that makes me very happy." His tongue darted out, licked at the spot that I'd played with, alone and in the cover of darkness. Right now he could see me there, see it all. The feelings I'd felt when I'd touched myself back in Minneapolis had been wonderful, luring me to do it again and again, night after night as if addicted, but this.... This was something else entirely. "I love that the first place I'm kissing you is your pussy."

My...?

As Ryder settled in--and that's what he did, placing his broad shoulders against my thighs keeping me wide open--he put his mouth on me in wicked, scandalous ways I'd never dreamed. His mouth! All the while, he murmured to me. So beautiful. You taste so sweet. I love seeing you spread so wide. You're almost there, aren't you? Come for me.

I was lost, completely and totally lost. I wasn't nervous; he didn't give me another chance to feel that way. His mouth was getting me to that familiar brink so quickly, yet when he slipped a finger inside me, I went right over the edge, like hurtling off a cliff. Soaring, flying like a bird, before tumbling back to earth. I came. I didn't know that was the word for it, but it happened. So hard, my inner muscles clenched down on his finger greedily. I cried out his name, my hips shifting, lifting trying to eek out every last bit of pleasure he wrought.

He continued to lick, to work his finger within me until the last tremors left my body. Then, and only then, did he lift himself up. I couldn't move, my body felt as if it were boneless, as if I'd melted into the bed.

Levering over me, he kissed me, his tongue prodding my mouth to open. This wasn't a simple peck on the lips, but an outright assault on my senses. His lips were demanding, his tongue plundering and taking. I had no doubt this was the way it would be with him, using me to get what he wanted, all the while giving me exactly what I needed. I might have come, but I wasn't done. I wasn't the least bit sated; he'd ensured that. I tasted myself on him, surprised by the blatant carnality of the action. It seemed there would be nothing between us. This would not be a marriage of fumbling beneath the covers.

"See? So sweet." His hand brushed a wayward curl from my face, then skimmed over my heated flesh and back between my thighs, slipping not one, but two fingers within me. I arched up to meet him, my head pressing into the pillow. "You're so wet. Dripping."

I blinked. "Is that...is that a good thing?"

"Oh baby, it's your body telling me it's ready. My c**k is going to slide right in." He was still dressed, his clothing rough and abraded my sensitized skin. Pressing deeper, he worked my swollen tissues with expert precision. "I can feel it, baby. Your maidenhead. Right there. Are you ready to give it to me?" His lips pressed into a very sensitive spot behind my ear.

I nodded, his nose nuzzling against my nape as I did so.

He sat back on his haunches, his knees between my thighs. Quickly, he tugged off his vest, freed the shirt from his pants, undid the buttons, tossed it to the floor.

Oh my. His chest was muscular and broad, a smattering of hair looked soft to the touch and tapered into a thin line trailing down to his pants. Climbing off the bed, he stood, undid his belt and removed his pants. Before I had an opportunity to glimpse his naked form, he was back between my thighs, propped on his forearm by my head. I glanced down his tanned body. His other hand was holding his...cock in a firm grip, sliding up and down. "I know I said I'd never hurt you. But this might hurt, but there's no way to avoid it. Remember, I'll take you later, but right now you're giving yourself to me."

He guided himself to my entrance as I thought about his words. I was too muddled to understand the difference. When I felt him slip inside, stretching me wide, I stopped thinking all together, just felt him opening me up.

I started breathing hard as I adjusted to him, pushing my hands against his unmoving shoulders. I could feel the springy hairs on his legs tickling my thighs. "Ryder, you're too big. It's too much."

Inch by inch he filled me, slowly, but I couldn't accustom myself fast enough. Shifting my hips, I tried to accommodate all of him, but he was so large!

"I'll fit, baby. You were made for me. I can feel your maidenhead." He nudged forward ever so slightly. Our breaths mingled. His scent was strong, pine and outdoors. He was watching me, his light eyes intent on my face. Sweat dotted his brow, his arms rigid and tight with solid muscle, holding himself aloft. We touched only in the most intimate of places. He was being patient. I could tell his restraint was costing him, allowing me time to accept him. "All right?"

"Yes," I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. I felt full, consumed by him.

"Lift up your hips. Give over, baby."

I took a deep breath, my hard n*****s rising on the inhale to brush against his chest. I felt it all the way to my toes. Doing as he bid, I lifted my hips off the bed and he pushed forward, thrusting deep in a quick rush.

My head arched back at the exquisite fullness, the stretching, the openness and the burning of being claimed. For this is what it was. A claiming. I was Ryder's and there was no way I could ever forget.

He kissed my cheek, my closed lids. "There now. Was it so bad?"

"No," I breathed. "It didn't hurt, just...uncomfortable." I relaxed my clenched muscles, finally acclimating to his possession.

Once I did, he pulled out a small amount, easing the fullness, but slid home once again. I felt my body relax even more as he rubbed against some place, some secret spot hidden behind my maidenhead. It was even better than when I touched myself, the intensity of the pleasure. Touching myself alone would never be enough now that I knew there was more. So much more.

He moved again. I moaned.

Again. I clenched my knees about his hips.

Once more. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders.

"Ryder, please!" I begged. Exactly for what, I didn't know, only that he alone could give it to me.

Gone was the slow, gentle touch. In its place was a man who was overcome with his baser needs. Pulling almost completely out, just my lips parting and clinging to him, he rammed home. Over and over. His head lowered to my breast, his tongue flicking and tugging on my n****e. All at once I came, my inner walls clamped down on his probing c**k, wringing as much pleasure from him filling me as I could. I screamed and dug my heels into the backs of his thighs, lost, overwhelmed. Turned inside out.

With one deep thrust, Ryder buried himself deep within me, body rigid. He practically growled his pleasure as I felt him pulse again and again, filling me hotly with his seed. Lowering himself to one forearm, he kissed my damp brow, ran his hand over it to brush away my damp curls. Instead of pulling free as I'd expected, he rolled us so I lay atop him, still joined.