Authors: Nikita Black
Too much! Too much! She pulled herself away, grasping his head, taking his mouth in a burning kiss. He ate at her, lathing her ravenously with his tongue.
"I can taste myself in your mouth,” he said, low and rough.
She reached down to gather more, to make him suck it from her fingers.
"Finish me,” he growled, “Finish me now, or I swear you won’ be able to walk tomorrow when I'm done wit’ you."
Excitement shot through her whole body at his demand. She'd pushed him to the limit of his endurance and was about to reap the carnal reward.
"Promise?” she whispered, reveling in the feral, untamed beast she'd unleashed in him. In herself.
"Oh, yeah. Dat's a promise."
His eyes followed her with a burning intensity as she knelt between his legs and brought her mouth to his cock. He groaned as her tongue caressed him, and kept groaning when she took him full into her mouth. His fingers dug into the bare wood of the chair, knuckles white with tension.
His whole body shook as she took him deeper and deeper, straining at the size of him, but wanting to give him more pleasure than he'd ever experienced in his life.
So he'd remember her.
When she couldn't go any further and still breathe, she slowly slid back up. Then repeated the process. On the third pass, his body suddenly went rigid, and he tipped back his head and roared. His cock shuddered, then began to pump wildly in her mouth. She took the head all the way to the back of her throat, as he'd shown her last night, so she'd taste his sweet flavor and not the bitter salt, and drank of his life's essence. She worked him until he stopped moving completely, limp and spent, a harmless kitten to the ferocious lion he'd been only moments before.
His head was thrown back, sweat drenched his chest. He moaned pitifully. “Better not untie me,
chère
. I've changed my mind about lettin’ you go tomorrow."
A smile curved her lips. “So you did enjoy yourself."
"In fact, I think I'll keep you for my depraved use forever."
She laid her head on his knee, stroking his soft inner thigh. “Does that work both ways?"
"Oh, yeah."
Suddenly, the front door burst open and a young man strode into the living room.
Jacque groaned where he sat. “Fuck, not again.” Why hadn't he ever noticed before how annoying the community habit of just walking in on people was?
"Hey, Jacque. How's it goin'?"
Sitting at his feet, Sahara shifted to cover herself and mumbled, “Doesn't anyone in this parish know how to knock?"
Banking his impatience, Jacque lifted his head and peered at the intruder. “Hey, Samuel. Not too bad. You'self?"
The newcomer shrugged, and appeared not to notice they were both naked and obviously in the middle of something. “
Ça va bien. Tchien
, dey wan’ you down at Pierre's."
Jacque endeavored to keep a straight face. “Uh, Samuel, I'm a bit tied up right now. Can't it wait?"
The young man made a moue of apology. “Dey say
aseteur
, right now.” His eyes skimmed over the restraints still holding him to the chair.
Merde.
Now it would be all over the parish that Jacque Cherchat let a woman tie him up.
Samuel nodded at Sahara. “An’ bring her, too."
Jacque sighed, giving in to the inevitable. “Okay, we'll be right along."
The other man shuffled on his feet.
"
Quoi
?"
"I'm s'posed to come wit’ you."
He digested that for a moment. A bit unusual. Everyone knew a personal summons to Pierre's Bar meant some kind of council meeting. No one ignored a summons like that.
"All right.
C'est bien
,” he said, then jerked a chin at his bonds. “Turn me loose,
chère
, and slip on your clothes. We'll continue dis later."
"You can't be serious!” Sahara glanced warily toward Samuel.
"Don’ you worry ‘bout him. Everybody around here's seen everyone else naked at some point."
At her disapproving frown, he gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear."
She chuffed out an angry breath and released him from the chair.
'Tite bête
—poor thing. Besides being embarrassed, he knew she had to be hurtin'. She must still be nearly as aroused as he'd been minutes before, and ready to claw his eyes out for leavin’ her unsatisfied.
He helped her to her feet and enfolded her in an intimate embrace, ignoring Samuel who stood watching them unabashedly. Murmuring in her ear, he told her exactly what he'd do to her when they got back home.
She slowly melted in his arms and, after an initial shyness, even let him pet her and touch her as he whispered. He almost forgot they weren't alone.
"Uh, Jacque.” Samuel cleared his throat. “They'll be waitin’ on us."
"Yeah,” he said reluctantly, and gave her a final kiss.
They tugged on their clothes and in Jacque's boat followed Samuel to Pierre's, a run-down bayou bar on stilts, straight out of a beer commercial, frogs and all. The structure was old and rickety, but bigger inside than the narrow facade would lead one to believe. Only the long jetty filled with dozens of floating craft gave a clue as to how many people could comfortably fit at the two dozen tables jammed inside, and the huge wooden dance floor next to them.
Jacque glanced at the packed jetty and whistled. “What's goin’ on?” he asked Samuel, who lifted a non-committal shoulder.
"
Connais pas
."
"Must be important for so many people to come."
It looked like most of the parish had turned up. Jacque scoured his brain for possible topics of discussion, but came up blank. Probably some environmentalist group trying to kick them out of the swamp again. Happened regularly, since they lived in some of the wildest wetlands left in Louisiana, or the whole country for that matter.
When they got inside, no one else knew what was up, either. So he bought a couple beers for himself and Sahara, then introduced her around. The women were reserved, but the men eyed her appreciatively. He kept a proprietary arm around her waist, so there was no mistaking to whom she belonged. She might be leaving in the morning, but tonight she was his.
Only his.
After a few minutes, there was a stir at the door and every head turned to see who'd arrived. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw who it was.
Mama Breaux!
What was she doing here? She hadn't been in Pierre's since ... the last time they'd held one of those shotgun weddings.
The sting of slow panic washed over him, like poison from a cottonmouth.
Non
. It couldn't be. She wouldn't. She wouldn't
dare
.. Not to her favorite grandson, she wouldn't.
Okay, so maybe he'd become a little obsessed with Sahara, had actually contemplated keeping her against her will for a few more days. But he wasn't in love with her. And he really would let her go. Soon.
He certainly didn't want to marry her. He hardly knew her.
He pulled Sahara tight against him and widened his stance, bracing his feet on the floorboards. The crowd parted like a bad hairdo between them and Mama Breaux.
Sahara glanced up nervously. “What's happening, Jacque? Who is that?"
"Mama Breaux,” he quietly answered, watching the old witchy woman hobble toward them. “Dis could get interestin'."
"Mama—” Her eyes widened in apprehension. “What does she want?"
"I expect we'll find out shortly.” He let Sahara go to kiss his grandmother's cheeks. “
Bonjour, me'mère.
"
Her wizened fingers stroked over his face. “
Mon fils.
"
Her ancient eyes darted to Sahara and, when he followed her gaze, it was just in time to see Quint and Samuel each grab one of her arms and haul her forward to stand next to the old lady.
She called to him, struggling against their hold. “Jacque! What is this? Do something!"
He clamped his jaw tight and faced the interfering old witch, reining in his temper. “
Me'mère
, let her go."
Mama Breaux pointed a bony finger at Sahara. “Is dis the woman, the
étrangère
, who has dishonored you?"
His heart stalled in his chest. It was the standard line, the one that always put the shotgun wedding into motion.
Well, he wasn't about to go along with it. “Dishonored? What the hell you talkin’ about?"
Her fiery eyes flashed in warning. “Don’ you swear at me, Jacque Cherchat. Don’ forget, I wrapped your skinny behind in diapers, and you ain’ more important dan me down here, not yet you aren't!"
Instantly contrite, he held up a hand. “I didn'—"
"Da woman seduced you,
non
?” she interrupted. “Filled your body with lust and made you do wicked things?"
A few feet away, Sahara gasped loudly and objected vehemently to the charges.
Well, in all honesty he couldn't’ deny the last two, but Sahara certainly hadn't been the guilty party in the seduction. He opened his mouth to protest her innocence, but too late.
Mama Breaux took his hesitation as acquiescence and forged ahead. “An’ your brother, Quinten, too, I hear."
She looked at Quint, who reddened and shot a glance at his wife, who loudly voiced her one word opinion of the
étrangère
who'd nearly caused her man to stray.
Jacque let out a foul curse. “Tell her, Quint,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “The way it really happened."
Quint avoided his eyes, and nodded to their grandmother. “
C'est vrai
, Mama Breaux. It's true. She tried to seduce us both. Luckily, my dear wife arrived jus’ in time to save me. Jacque wasn’ so fortunate. Wit’ him, she succeeded."
"Quint!” Sahara cried, panic rife in her voice.
"
Arrète
! Stop it, for Chrissake!” Jacque barked furiously, throwing up his hands in disgust. “
Ça c'est fou
! Quint and I have fucked half the women here, mos’ of dem together! I'm hardly a blushing virgin!"
"You were!” Mama Breaux said, with eyes narrowed and once again pointed her finger at Sahara. “You were! Until
she
came along."
It was a railroad job. Pure and simple. It didn't matter that everyone in the room knew the truth, Mama Breaux had it in her head he was to marry this woman and dat was dat.
Nobody disobeyed Mama Breaux.
Nobody.
"I haven't been a virgin for twenty years,” he asserted half-heartedly, the fight going out of him.
With defiance in her beady gaze, Mama Breaux demanded, “So you deny she forced you?"
Sahara sputtered.
"Of course I deny it!” he said.
"Samuel!” Triumphantly, Mama Breaux turned to Sahara's young guard. “Tell everyone how you foun’ dem when you went to get dem tonight!"
Jacque shut his eyes and groaned.
They were so screwed.
"The woman had him tied to a chair.” Samuel began, pausing dramatically as a murmur spread through the crowd. “Naked."
The murmurs turned to chuckles and bawdy comments until Mama Breaux shushed them all. Samuel concluded, “She'd just finished—” his cheek twitched and he shot Jacque a nervous glance “—er, going ... um, doing things to him."
"Had Jacque said anything to her before dis?"
"He tol’ her to stop, dat she was killin’ him."
Mama Breaux turned back to him, moving in close. “You deny dese words?"
"No.
Non
.. But—"
"Ah! Den there is nothin’ else but she must make it right. She must marry you, to save your honor!"
"No!"
Sahara's angry cries echoed through the room as she fought to free herself from her captors. “
No
!"
She looked so sexy in her furor, hair flying, her eyes sparking fire and her pretty breasts bouncing enticingly under her thin T-shirt. For a split second, he was so entranced the thought hit him how lucky he was to have such a lusciously exciting bride.
Merde
, he was as crazy as the rest of them!
Her yelling continued. “This is ridiculous! I refuse to be a part of this farce! I can't marry anyone, I have a home! A job! You can't make me!"
A man in a smart khaki uniform stepped forward. “I'm afraid we can, young lady,” he said sternly.
Police Chief Legrand.
The old bat had gotten the law on her side. And the fact was, there were real laws against the sort of thing they'd been accused of. Unmarried fornication, certain acts of sex considered by some as unnatural—there were any number of local ordinances against such moral offenses. Forced marriage as a punishment wouldn't be found in any law book, but a judge in these parts had wide discretion in meting out justice. Jacque noticed Judge Thibodeaux standing right behind Chief Legrand and clamped his jaw tight.
"We will proceed with the ceremony,” Mama Breaux crowed in triumph. “Remove her clothes!"
Sahara let out a strangled gasp. “This is barbaric!” She appealed to him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
He licked his lips, all of a sudden torn between cool reason and an unexpected, fierce selfishness that exploded over him. He realized with scary intensity that he wanted this woman. Wanted her with an obsession he'd never before experienced.
Maybe, if she were forced to stay for a while, she'd change her mind about him. About the life she'd planned. That she'd grow to want him more than her prestigious career and fancy three-story mansion on the water.
Again, his hesitation was duly noted. Mama Breaux squeezed his hand and peered up into his eyes.. “Search your soul,
mon fils
. Do you wish to have this woman?"
Le bon Dieu mait la main
. God help him, he did.
She looked at him slyly, then limped to Sahara and lifted her T-shirt a few inches. She placed her wrinkled hand on Sahara's stomach. “An’ do you wish to have the black-eyed child I see in her belly?"
A child!?
His gaze dropped to Sahara's exposed abdomen, then darted up to her astonished eyes. A child would change everything. There was no way he'd let her go if a child were involved.
She shook her head vigorously. “I'm not pregnant,” she rasped. “You know I'm not. We've been careful. Jacque, please, don't do this to me."