Wild, Wild Mother of the Bride (3 page)

"Y'er comin’ with me, missy."

Under other circumstances, she might have found his gruff statement amusing and made a wry remark of her own. But there was nothing even remotely funny about the way he held her, wrists gripped tightly in his large, long-fingered hand.

He gave her a sharp shove and she stumbled forward. Her pulse ratcheted up a notch, causing her heartbeat to slam against her chest. Arousal traveled a swift path down the length of her body.

This was so much hotter than any fantasy she'd ever had. She hadn't known what to expect when she'd come up with the role-playing idea, but at that exact moment it had seemed so much easier to pretend to be someone else. Someone other than Eliza Webber, a woman who already embarrassed her daughter enough simply by existing. If Jacob had rejected her playful little game, it would have been easier to bear.

Maybe she could have even pretended he hadn't rejected
her
.

She nearly snorted at that. Who was she kidding? Offering herself up to a man twelve years her junior, while naked no less, was a hell of a risk no matter how she tried to spin it.

But Jacob hadn't turned her away. He'd played along, and judging by the way he now led her toward the darkened jailhouse, she knew the game was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

The safety of the inn fell away as soon as they stepped onto the dusty road. Tiny rocks grazed Eliza's bare soles and lodged between her toes. She quickened her step, hoping to reach the sanctuary of the shadowed buildings before anyone spotted them.

They were halfway across when Jacob yanked her wrists, bringing her to an abrupt stop. His fingers delved into her hair. He gripped a handful, tilting her head back.

The sudden restraint sent a sharp jab of pain into Eliza's scalp, but Jacob made no move to press his advantage. He was bigger, stronger. He could hurt her, but didn't.

Excitement mingled with apprehension, pummeling Eliza's ribcage with every rapid thump of her heart. Her gaze flew across the windows of the twin inns. Most were dark, but the weak glow of oil lamps spilled from within two of them into the dark Texas night. Anyone could be watching. One peek from behind the velvet curtains and she'd be spotted.

What would Marissa think? Or Gavin, or even Gemma, if they were to see her, naked and held captive in a younger man's unforgiving grip?

She should have been embarrassed. She knew that logically, yet she couldn't muster the emotion. She felt ...
wild
. Incredibly, insanely wild. And horny beyond belief.

"Sheriff?” she asked in a small, breathless voice. “What do you plan to do with me?"

He didn't answer. Instead, the fingers of his free hand drifted from her neck down her chest. The caress was so light and soft that for a moment she wondered whether he touched her at all. She glanced down, saw her chest heave, her breasts tremble. Moonlight painted them a glimmering silver color, but the tips of her stiff nipples stood out in dark contrast.

"You're mine, Eliza. Mine. And if I have to take you right here to prove it, then that's what I'll do."

He'd dropped the accent. That was the first thing she noticed. The next were his fingertips, squeezing first one nipple, then the other.

She cleared her throat. “Madam Eliza, please."

The game was
fun
. And she wasn't ready to relinquish the persona yet. Madam Eliza was bold enough to fuck the lusty sheriff in the middle of the damn road if she pleased. Eliza Webber? Not so much.

"Ah, yes.” He scraped his cheek against hers, and the rough feel of his stubble shot a stream of wanton pleasure to her clit.

She wondered what it would feel like to have his face buried between her legs, his stubble scraping the inside of her thighs.

"
Madam
Eliza.” He pinched her left nipple, hard enough to make her cry out. “You can call me Master."

"But Sheriff—"

She couldn't have anticipated the smack. It came fast and hard, causing a sharp stinging sensation to blossom in her right breast. She glanced down, startled. He'd slapped her breast! And God, her pussy had unleashed another pulse of cream, quivering in wanton surrender.

"Master, though sir will do, too.” He grazed her earlobe with his teeth before whispering, “Because for tonight, that's who I am. Y'er Master. I reckon you've given yourself to me to do with as I please, no?"

She nodded, her gaze still darting between the windows. “Yes, Master."

He cupped her breast, letting the weight rest in his hand. “Will you run when I release you?"

She eyed the door to the inn, which stood less than ten feet away. She shook her head, boldly determined to tell the truth. “Not a chance."

"Good."

He loosened his grip. She brought her arms to the front of her body and rubbed aimlessly at one wrist, soothing the sore flesh where his fingers had dug into her skin.

"Now touch yourself for me."

Eliza trembled. Her tongue snaked out to wet her suddenly parched lips. “Here?"

"Right here,
madam
.” She didn't miss the way he uttered the false title, with a mixture of arousal and surly contempt. Right in character, just like she wanted.

She could have said no. Could have bolted for the inn door anyway, despite what she'd told him. But if she did that, Eliza had a feeling she'd never get a second chance with Jacob. And she'd wanted him too much for far too long to let something as silly as pride get in the way of being with the man of her dreams.

His arms came around her waist and he pulled her close, palms cupping both breasts. I'm here, his touch seemed to say. Now do it.

She took comfort in the gentle embrace and made a small, involuntary noise in the back of her throat. If they were going to get caught, they'd both have a lot of explaining to do. As best man, Jacob had as much to lose as the mother of the bride.

The thrill of potential discovery ignited a deep, dark hunger inside Eliza. She'd been with a number of men over the years, but none had made her feel like this. So exposed. So vulnerable. So completely and utterly protected.

"When was the last time you came?"

His slow, easy drawl made her squirm in his embrace. “Two weeks? Longer, maybe.” And much, much longer than that since she'd come with a partner.

"Past time to change all that."

Eliza took a deep, shuddering breath and brought her hand toward the front of her body. She pressed the heel of her palm against her mound and slipped two fingers into her folds, parting darkly matted curls.

"I aim to watch,” Jacob murmured, releasing her without warning. He strolled to stand in front of her, then dropped to his knees in the dust.

His mouth poised mere inches from the hand buried between her legs. Eliza's pussy pulsed with molten heat, desperate for his touch.

But he wouldn't let her have it. Instead, he folded both hands on his broad thighs and waited, his gaze fixed intently on her throbbing cunt.

Heart beating a mile a minute, Eliza bit down on her lower lip and slid both fingers through her folds. Her body reacted on instinct, pebbling her nipples even further. Her stomach muscles rippled and her thighs tensed as her inner walls clenched, protesting their empty state.

She wasn't sure where to look. At the windows, which now felt like they held a thousand pairs of eyes all fixed upon her? Or at the man kneeling before her, devouring her pussy with his gaze?

She chose the man. Her fantasy cowboy. Now her Master.

She performed for him. Only for him.

Her fingers splayed her folds open, revealing the pink, fleshy inner lips to his hungry eyes. She explored the length of her slit all the way to the back, where her fingers prodded the dark crevice between her buttocks. Would he take her there, too, before the night was over?

A shuddering tremble shook her limbs. God, she hoped so.

Her boldness grew along with her arousal. Each time she touched her clit, sparks of fearless courage lit her veins. She stroked herself faster, while still keeping her pussy spread open so her audience of one could get a good look at what she had to offer.

Moisture slicked her hand, dripped between her thighs. Her pussy felt hot, molten with arousal. When she slipped a finger inside herself, she nearly staggered from the blinding pleasure shooting through her system.

Jacob, she noticed, wasn't unaffected by her performance. His nostrils flared with each breath and his eyes widened, barely blinking. His cock appeared huge as it pressed against the fabric of his trousers. For a moment, she thought about taking pity on what looked like a painful erection, then remembered he'd wanted her to obey him. He hadn't said anything about having her release his cock.

Yet.

Pleasure built and built, fueled by Jacob's ravenous gaze and the thought of all those people potentially watching her from the anonymous shelter of their rooms. Perversely, Eliza found herself wanting to be watched. By everyone but her daughter, of course. She was eccentric, not depraved.

But the others ... She pictured them all gaping at her boldness, her lack of inhibition. The women envying her for commanding the attention of a gorgeous man who should want nothing to do with her, but obviously did. The men wanting to be Jacob, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal, watching her fuck herself with such desperate fervor.

The sense of danger excited her even more. She slipped two fingers inside herself, then added a third, gasping when her channel ached at the thick intrusion. Was this what Jacob's cock would feel like?

No, she decided as she began to thrust in and out with a slow, torturous piston motion. It would feel better. So much better.

But she'd make do with what she had for now. She'd come for him, just like he wanted. And then perhaps he'd reward her efforts.

She quickened her strokes, thrusting faster, deeper. She squatted slightly, giving herself more room to play. Sweat broke out over her temples, coated her chest, trickled in the valley between her breasts.

She was close. So close.

Her teeth clamped on to her lower lip as she gave in to the ecstasy coursing through her veins. When her thumb touched her clit, she shattered. The first wave of release crashed into her, sweeping through her body with the force of a hurricane.

Jacob had no intention of letting her ride it out. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand, forcing her fingers out of her pussy. She lost her rhythm, lost her balance. She staggered, reached out for his shoulders to steady herself. Through it all, her climax continued to assault her sex, making her inner walls tremble.

Before Eliza could find her next heartbeat, Jacob's mouth fused to her needy cunt, his tongue toying with her clit, his fingers replacing hers.

A second wave of pure pleasure crashed into her, ripping a sob from her throat. She clung to his head, her fingers fisting in his hair, pulling him close to her body. He licked her with expert swipes, slow and gentle but determined.

She couldn't stop coming. Her body shook from head to toe, ripples of ecstasy coursing through her limbs and culminating in electric sparks that blazed deep in her pussy.

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, couldn't even trust herself to stand on her own two feet, Jacob rose and hooked an arm around the back of her knees.

He lifted her, pressed her close to his chest, and, without a word, resumed their journey to the jailhouse.

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Jacob could feel every hammering beat of Eliza's heart. Each delicate pounding throb traveled from her chest into his, filling him with a tumult of emotion he found difficult to unravel.

There was lust, of course. His cock would tear apart the flap of his trousers if he didn't do something about the painful erection. But there were other emotions, too. Stronger ones, which both amazed and terrified him. How could anything feel more powerful than this all-consuming, desperate need for the woman in his arms?

Yet there they were, crude sensations that assaulted him one by one, forcing him to face the truth.

First, there was reverence and wonder at the radiant way she'd done what he'd asked without protesting. He'd expected fussing, the occasional whimper, or just outright refusal. Eliza had surprised him once again by revealing her deepest, most intimate self to his whims without as much as a sneer. She'd exposed much more than her pussy when she decided to bare herself to him and a whole lot of potential witnesses.

She'd bared a part of her soul. The unwavering, effortless trust she'd showed him shook him to the core.

Incredulity warred with disbelief inside his muddled mind. Ever since he'd opened the front gates to Cowboy's Hideaway, the only women who'd warmed his bed had been thrill-seeking tourists looking to add a little spice to their lives during a few days of vacation. It didn't take long before he grew tired of the one-night stands, no-strings-attached type of sex. Sure, it was fun for the moment, but none of those women took the time to get to know him. They wanted Sheriff Clarke, not Jacob.

Despite Eliza's insistence that they keep up their role-playing, he knew she wanted
him
. The man beneath the costume. The one who wanted to claim her. Possess her.

Love her.

The thought slammed into him with the force of a lightning bolt. Two feet from the front door of the jailhouse, he stumbled. As he fought to regain his balance, Eliza stirred in his arms and buried her fingers in his hair. He swallowed hard, unable to avoid her candid, searching gaze.

Raw emotion swirled from the depths of his gut, through his chest and into his throat, where it settled like a vise threatening to choke him if he didn't utter the words searing permanent marks into his brain.

Before he could make a fool of himself, Jacob bent his head and placed a soft kiss on Eliza's mouth. She sighed and opened to him willingly, sliding the velvety tip of her tongue along his.

A groan escaped him. The musky flavor of her pussy, which still filled his senses, combined with the darkly seductive essence of her mouth. Her cream slicked his lips and when he drew back, it glistened on hers, too, branding her with her own desire.