Wild, Wild Mother of the Bride (5 page)

He was close. She could feel it in the impossibly hard length of his shaft inside her, in the way his fingers dug into the curve of her hip. His grunts grew more frenzied, less restrained, louder.

And just when she thought he'd come, drench her in his cum and scream her name so it vibrated off the walls of the jailhouse, someone rattled the front door's handle.

In a flash, Jacob pulled out of her, leaving her empty and bereft. A sob caught in her throat and a new, fresh wave of tears spilled over her lash line.

Before she knew what was happening, Jacob had untied her wrists and pulled her against the muscled length of his body.

"Come on,” he urged, yanking her behind him as he fumbled with the cell key. “We have to get you out of here."

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Jacob led them out the back way, through a narrow door that opened to let in a stream of early-morning fog. Pink streaks along the edge of the horizon signaled the blushing dawn, but the moon still ruled the dark sky, shedding its silvery light along the path snaking in the neatly-mowed grass.

Eliza trembled as he pulled her along beside him. The temperature had dropped significantly in the last hour or so, and now a chill morning breeze swept over her skin, puckering her bare nipples.

She couldn't blame the unwelcome shivers entirely on the weather, though. The front door had been flung open just as she and Jacob rounded the corner into the back room. Eliza hadn't dared turn around to find out who'd been nosy enough to prowl around in the wee hours, but she didn't think it mattered much.

Whoever it was had to have seen her—or at least her rounded behind—as Jacob yanked her out of view. Odd that she hadn't cared if someone saw her pleasuring herself in the middle of the road, but now it seemed imperative she hide before her nighttime adventure became public knowledge—and the source of all gossip at the wedding.

Jacob veered left. Eliza stumbled and ground her heels into the dewy grass. “The inn's that way,” she said, jerking a thumb in the opposite direction.

He tossed a narrow-eyed glare over his shoulder, toward the jailhouse. His nostrils flared, and when he spoke she detected a hint of fury in his clipped voice. “That's where I'd look first if I wanted to find you."

"Oh.” She swallowed hard. “My clothes are there."

Jacob's dark eyes softened as his gaze traveled over the length of her body, settling on her stiff nipples. “Here,” he said, shrugging out of his shirt and draping it over her shoulders.

A smile played around the corners of Eliza's mouth, even as her heart gave an unexpected lurch. She shoved her arms through the soft cotton sleeves and burrowed in the warm fabric, inhaling the spicy scent of man and cologne.

"Thank you,” she murmured, unable to tear her hungry gaze from his cock.

The gentlemanly gesture had left him completely naked. His shaft thrust boldly against his stomach, the tip reddened with unspent arousal. A thick vein throbbed along the underside, and a creamy bead of liquid had gathered in the tiny slit.

Eliza's inner walls squeezed, remembering how good his rod had felt inside her. She wanted more ... and he still hadn't come.

"Not the inn ... So where?” she asked, glancing around. The brothel had beds, but it was too close to the inns for comfort. She supposed the saloon would make a good hiding spot, or even the barn. At least for a little while, until Eliza could go back for her clothes.

"My place,” he said, curling his fingers around hers. “It's not far from here."

She fell into step beside him, her breathing growing shallower the closer they came to the house at the edge of Cowboy's Hideaway's property lines. Situated just beside the tall iron fence that ran along the perimeter of the large lot, it stood silhouetted against the rapidly lightening sky.

She'd seen the house while driving in, but hadn't paid much attention to the whitewashed walls, the wraparound porch draped with vines of white jasmine, or the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. Now, knowing she'd get a private glimpse inside Jacob's life, she found her pulse quickening.

The wooden porch squeaked under their weight, and Eliza shifted from one foot to the other, her gaze scanning the area around the house. Whoever had come snooping could have followed them here, but she couldn't see anyone, even when squinting into the distance.

Jacob released her hand long enough to kneel and retrieve a small key from beneath the welcome mat. A few seconds later, she crossed the threshold into the air-conditioned house and smiled.

The place looked nothing like she'd imagined. She figured a bachelor would live a bachelor's lifestyle. She'd expected a house filled with dirty dishes, men's magazines littering the coffee table, clothes strewn everywhere.

To her surprise, the place looked neat and orderly. A little smaller than she'd figured, too. A large-screen TV took up the length of one wall in the living area, while a brown leather couch sat against the other. Between the two items, she could make out a mahogany coffee table. The brightening morning light streaked along deep scarring across its surface, and Eliza figured it had to be an antique. Judging by the crude edges and thick, square legs, she pegged it as an authentic Old West piece.

The front door snicked shut behind her, and Eliza jumped, whirling to face Jacob as he neared. He stopped a few steps away and watched her from beneath impossibly long, dark sooty lashes.

"What do you think?” A gesture of his large hand indicated the space around him.

"It's lovely,” she said, meaning it. Charming and quaint, it fit Cowboy's Hideaway—and Jacob—perfectly.

"It's yours."

Her jaw dropped open. A torrent of protests settled on her tongue, but before she could give voice to any of them, Jacob stalked toward her, wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her off her feet.

Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him. She hadn't bothered to button the shirt and it came loose, baring her breasts. The tip of his cock nudged the opening to her pussy, sending a shimmering burst of pleasure into her core.

"I'm yours,” he whispered, then fused his mouth to hers.

Eliza moaned, closed her eyes, and parted her lips for him. He delved inside and the flavor of his mouth drowned out the protests still hammering through her head. She was vaguely aware of moving, of being carried like precious cargo and placed on a soft blanket atop an even softer mattress. Her abused buttocks gave a slight throb of protest, but quickly settled into a faint tingling sensation, not at all unpleasant.

Through it all, Jacob's mouth never left hers. She kissed him back with all the hunger she still possessed, all the dire, desperate need that continued to rake at her insides, demanding
moremoremore
.

He trapped her waist between his large hands, positioning his lower body perfectly between her splayed legs. The long length of his cock nestled against her slit, not at all insistent or demanding. She'd expected him to be half-wild with the need to come by now, but when she opened her eyes and looked into his, she found nothing but raw emotion in the dark gaze.

Jacob broke the kiss and pulled just far enough away so she could take in the entire span of his gorgeous face. His full lips glistened in the peach-colored sunrise.

Stunned by the startling image he presented, Eliza vaguely took in their surroundings. Dark walls, matching furniture. A king-sized bed. Checkered curtains that hung on either side of a wide-open window like twin columns holding up the roof.

"Stay with me.” Jacob curled his hips, sliding his cock through her folds until she arched her back and gasped. “After the wedding ... after everyone leaves. Stay with me."

She trembled beneath the assessing strength of his gaze. Tonight had been nothing like she'd anticipated. Jacob had shown her so many facets of himself. He'd opened his soul to her, revealing his dark, dominant side, his caring, tender side...

His loving, devoted side.

How could she do anything less?

"Yes,” she murmured, not because she'd thought through his offer, but because she didn't have to.

She knew she'd need to explain her decision to Marissa, which wouldn't be easy. She'd have to bear endless gossip about her relationship with a much younger man. She'd be forced to endure the stares of scandal-mongering tourists.

Jacob released a long breath. A grin curved his mouth and he looked at her with so much happiness it nearly stopped her heart.

"You're different, Eliza. Not at all what I expected."

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from her throat. He'd astonished her with his dominant tendencies and the seductive way he flogged her to fiery release, with his sweet, slow lovemaking and his willingness to open his heart.

"Looks like we're both full of surprises,” she said, running her palms down the lean lines of his back.

Cupping his taut ass, she pulled him forward, nudging the tip of his cock into her eager channel. When he slipped inside, they gasped as one.

He went slow again, which should have frustrated her, but didn't. There was something almost reverent in the way he glided all the way into her pussy, then pulled out again. Their gazes locked, held. He pushed inside her, nestling in her heated core before withdrawing one more time.

The rock-hard muscles beneath Eliza's fingers bunched and tightened. She knew he couldn't hold out much longer and urged him on with small undulations of her hips, which brought her clit into hard contact with his pelvic bone.

An unexpected orgasm coasted through her so hard and fast, she barely had time to brace herself for it. Her limbs shook and she tightened her hold on Jacob's waist while he continued to plunge into her, thrust by rhythmic thrust.

His large hands framed her face. He stared deep into her eyes, watching her come. She couldn't help the shuddering awareness that traveled from her cunt to her ass, and she let out a low, whimpering moan.

"Eliza,” he whispered, and stilled.

He came with all the wild, feral glory she'd hoped for, and she got to watch all the emotions that had been bottled up inside him break free and etch themselves across his features. A strangled grunt escaped his throat and his jaw tightened, drawing the tendons in his neck taut. Wetness slicked Eliza's inner walls, setting off another torrent of pure pleasure deep in her cunt.

But she remained fascinated with his face. She saw bliss blaze in his eyes as he stared at her, and she memorized every line of strain, every pulsing vein throbbing with the force of his release.

And then, another unexpected miracle. His lips parted. She followed the soft curve of his mouth as he uttered words she never thought she'd hear.

"I love you."

She smiled, letting herself bask in the blissful joy that swirled inside her at the sound of those words. How could she have considered denying herself the pleasure of being loved, and loving in return?

"I love you, too.”
Sheriff. Master.
“Jacob."

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Marissa Webber stood on the front porch of Jacob's house, right hand poised to knock. In her left, she balanced three paper cups of coffee stuck inside a cardboard tray. Hers was black, just the way she liked it. Despite being a few months away from finishing her pastry chef degree, she'd never had much of a sweet tooth.

She'd lightened the coffee beside hers with a double shot of cream, just the way Jacob liked it. For the past two years, she and Gavin had met Jacob at the small diner just across from their apartment every Saturday morning. She'd watched him prepare his coffee enough times to know how he took it. She'd always figured paying attention to detail would come in handy. And seeing as how she was about to get the man out of bed, well, she might as well bring him coffee to make leaving warm, tangled sheets worthwhile.

The third overflowing cup contained more sugar than strong, dark brew. She'd even rimmed the top of the paper cup in sugar crystals. Just the way her mother liked it.

Marissa shook her head, marveling once again at how different they were from one another. While Eliza had lived her life trying her best not to form attachments to anything that demanded more care than a plastic cactus, Marissa had fallen head-over-heels in love with her high school sweetheart. They'd gotten engaged on her twentieth birthday, and now here they were, getting married.

She dropped her hand from the door and straightened one of the cups in the tray. When Gemma had barged into her room just as dawn was breaking this morning, she'd expected Marissa to be as outraged at Eliza's conduct as she was.

Her future mother-in-law had wasted no time regaling Marissa with sordid details of Eliza's depraved behavior. Apparently, she'd woken in the middle of the night to find Eliza missing, and she'd snuck around the slumbering village in search of something to be outraged about.

Why, it's disgraceful that the mother of the bride should behave in such a.. a ... shameful manner. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this on your wedding day, Marissa, but your mother is a strumpet. A whore!

The silvery sound of joyful laughter drifted through one of the open windows. Marissa tilted her head, listening for another lilting giggle. Ah, yes, there it was. Her mother's voice, filled with joy and something Eliza had never heard directed at anyone but her.

Love. Unmistakable, unreserved love.

Is she now? Huh. Good for her.

Marissa grinned, remembering the way Gemma's face had drained of color. She probably shouldn't have taken so much pleasure in the older woman's discomfort, but damn if it didn't feel good to stand up for her mother like that.

Especially since Eliza had just given Marissa the only gift she'd wanted on her wedding day—her mother's happiness, found in the arms of a man who'd cherish her and wipe away all traces of panic and self-doubt. Like all artists, Eliza struggled with fear of rejection. Marissa hoped Jacob could prove those fears unfounded—at least when it came to giving her heart to someone who'd protect it with as much care as he'd give his own.