Tucker's Claim. Sarah McCarty
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he could do anything with her skirts like this, but she could feel how hungry he was, how fevered with need. Because of her. Power and wonder joined desire. “Someone would see.”
“Who cares?”
“Thee would.” She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.
Fabric ripped and his hands closed over her thigh. Heat seared through her skin. “Yes, I would.” He squeezed. “Only I get to see you like this.”
“Thee can’t see anything.”
This time the rumble was anticipation. “Yet.”
Yet. Such a powerful word. She shuddered. Bark rasped against her back as he shifted his grip. As if she weighed nothing, he lifted her higher, snuggled her tighter. The muscles of his thighs flexed against hers. He was so different from her. Pure muscle and temptation.
He bent his head. There was no evading his mouth. No wanting to. She loved the way he kissed. The way he tasted. She wanted to taste him more intimately. To feel all that muscle flex at her command. She pressed against his shoulder in a silent request.
He shook his head, his hair tickling the sides of her neck. His hat brim shadowed her face as his denial grated into her mouth. “No.”
“Yes.” She pressed harder. “Let me go.”
For a second she didn’t think Tucker heard, but then his chest heaved against hers and he stepped back, his hands settling on the tree beside her head. Still keeping her within the circle of his arms. His mouth was set in a straight line. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes slitted. A shiver of awareness swept over her skin. This wasn’t the man she knew. This was the man outlaws feared and women desired. He looked like he’d kill to have her back in his arms. Oh, she liked that.
His mouth twisted. “I’m sorry.”
Licking her lips, she caught the lingering salt of his kiss. “For what?”
His hands drew up into fists, scraping across the rough bark. “I usually save the rough stuff for a little later in the game.”
It took her a minute to understand his meaning. He thought she was afraid? The harsh line of his jaw drew her touch. His skin was smooth without the constant roughness of impending beard that her husband had had. Did Indians not have facial hair? “I like that thee want me like this.”
His teeth closed over the tip of her finger. “Good, because I feel like I’m about to go off like a firecracker.”
She slid down the tree, the bark pulling at her hair, smiling when his hand automatically came between her head and the tree, protecting her even as his breath came in a hard sigh. “Then maybe we should do something to ease the worst of thy hunger.”
She held her breath as she reached for the button fly of his pants. Jonah hadn’t liked her to take charge. Tucker merely took a step back, giving her a bit more room. “Sally Mae…”
There was enough light to see the bulge of his erection pressing hard against his pants. She leaned forward. His fingers twined beneath her braids. To pull her away or hold her close? “What?”
“You’re living dangerously.”
Her smile deepened as she brushed her lips across the broad tip where it rested above his hipbone. His breath hissed in as she opened her mouth and encompassed as much of the broad head as she could through the thick cotton of his pants. “Thee have been telling me that for months.”
“You might want to listen.”
“Not tonight.”
This time when she pushed, he took that step she needed, his eyes shining like silver fire in the new moonlight as she knelt in front of him and unbuttoned his pants. His skin was hot and damp, enabling the slide of her hand down beneath the material. She held his gaze, not bothering to hide how he made her feel. Tonight was about pleasure. “I like knowing I can affect thee like this.”
His laugh rumbled softly around them. “Good, because there isn’t a chance in he—hades after this that I’ll be able to pretend that you don’t.”
She liked that he modified his language for her. She liked even more that, when she slid his underwear down, his cock fell into her hands. Big, surprisingly thick. She curled her fingers under the head, sliding her hand down, her grip widening as his cock thickened until she got to the base. Hair tickled her fingers. He didn’t move as she cupped his balls, rolling his testicles gently between her fingers as she slid her hand back up. Once again as she worked her hand down, her fingers were forced open. She paused, studying his cock—the dark color of the flared head, the sheer size, taking in the enormity of what she was doing.
She was going to sleep with a man other than her husband, going to take him into her body. And once she did, there’d be no going back. She’d no longer just be Jonah’s widow, her future defined by her past. She’d be Sally Mae Schermerhorn. A woman whose future stretched…endlessly…in front of her. She closed her eyes. She felt as though she were perched on the edge of a cliff. One way was disaster. One way was safety. She just didn’t know which way to go. Forward or back. Life or death.
Dear God, I need a sign.
Tucker’s cock flexed in her palm, drawing her attention. His fingertip under her chin pulled her gaze to his. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the vastness of the night sky. It was scary and exciting all at once. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of with me, moonbeam.”
It was the moonbeam that got her. That silly, fanciful name he called her should have offended, but it didn’t. Because it very much fit how she wanted to see herself. She wanted to be silly and fanciful. To be the woman who truly felt as if she could take on anything, especially Tucker’s passion.
“Thank thee.”
Watching his face as she was, she couldn’t miss the smile that twitched his lip at her politeness. She couldn’t blame him for the humor, but laughter wasn’t going to give her what she needed. She needed passion. A lot of passion. Passion so bright it burned her from the inside out. With a swipe of her thumb across the sensitive head of his cock, she banished the humor. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. His mouth settled into the familiar straight line that gave him that dangerous look. Her pussy flexed and her breath caught. Yes, that was how she wanted him to look. Dangerous and ready.
She opened her mouth, letting him watch as she angled the tip downward, not immediately taking him into her mouth, teasing him with the heat of her breath, the sweet agony of anticipation. Pressure on the back of her head pulled her forward. She resisted, just another second, for no other reason than she could, but there was no fighting Tucker. He was a force as elemental as the night, as unstoppable as the wind. As soon as her lips slid over the crown, a drop of hot liquid coated her tongue. Salty. Earthy. Good.
Tucker groaned and his grip on her skull tightened convulsively. “Shit.”
If her mouth hadn’t been full of him, Sally would have smiled. She intended for him to lose a lot more control before morning came. Tonight he was her dream come true and she wasn’t missing a minute of it.
Bobbing her head up and down the length of his cock, she adjusted to his width by stretching her mouth as far as she could until he hit the back of her throat. It was her turn to moan. No matter how hard she worked, she could only take half of him. It wasn’t enough. She wanted all he had to give, wanted to give him everything, more than any other woman ever had. As she caressed his cock, she realized that she wanted to be memorable. To him. Dear heaven, she was breaking her own rules.
His big hand cupped her cheek, his fingers caressing behind her ear as she struggled with the urge to gag.
When she met his gaze, he shook his head. The swaying ends of his hair created slender shadows around them.
“Don’t force it. Just let it happen.”
Everything in her rejected the suggestion. It couldn’t just happen. It had to be right. The way