Tucker's Claim

She touched the demure white cap she always wore over her coronet of braids. Nothing like what was worn by the other women Tucker had known, she was sure. Tucker, with his big bones, big muscles and bold face with the aggressive slash of his cheekbones beneath his incredible silver eyes was a harshly exotic, handsome man. There was nowhere he went that women’s eyes didn’t follow. A dart of insecurity pierced her anticipation. Which meant he could have his pick.

She pulled the cap off slowly, watching in the mirror as it revealed the tightly pinned braids. Suddenly she hated the hairstyle and all it represented. Conformity. Control. Acceptance. Tonight, she wanted to be the woman that Tucker imagined. Someone as fanciful as a moonbeam. She studied the cap, her image. Tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted her. And tonight she wanted to be more than plain Sally Mae. Tonight she wanted to drown in the attraction between them and just bury the pain that festered inside beneath some sort of joy. Since that horrible night when the sheriff had brought her Jonah’s bloody body, along with his last words, she’d been silently screaming. She didn’t want to be silent anymore, locked in her mind with her screams. And tonight she didn’t have to be. Tonight she could give Tucker what he wanted and take a little for herself. No promises would be made. No one would be hurt. Just two bodies coming together to satisfy separate needs. And when it was over, she’d go back to her silence and plain ways and Tucker would go about his wild ones. There was no worry that he would gossip. The added benefit of taking a man with Indian blood as her lover was that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—say a word for fear of being strung up. She didn’t personally care about his heritage. God created all men and women equally, but societal issues did offer her that guarantee.

Another pause as she considered how selfish she was being, using a man to relieve pain. But then she remembered the look in Tucker’s eyes as he’d stood in the back of the cemetery on one of her recent visits. He had stalked over the rise like some wild cougar, his torn-off shirtsleeves and leather vest showcasing his massive chest and powerful muscles, giving him a primitive intimidation, making everyone and everything else seem insignificant. The ever-present bullet hanging on the leather thong around his neck completed the image of a cold, lethal predator. Until his silver gaze met hers. There hadn’t been any sympathy there. No pity. But as she stared into his eyes, understanding arced across the distance between them, and she saw the pain he, too, felt.

It would just be one other thing they had in common—an understanding of how pain too great to be borne had to be hidden, because to let it loose would destroy everything they were. At first, that had made her uncomfortable, but as the months passed there was comfort in knowing that her secret was shared. And now their relationship was going forward, down a path that had a predestined feel to it. An opening, Friends called it. An opportunity, presented by God, to grow.

Sighing, she put the cap on the polished vanity top.

She was going to take a lover. A man not of her race, not of her beliefs. A man who, supposedly, was built of nothing but violence and darkness. A man who had such bright, shining moments of goodness that it was very hard to reconcile his reputation with what she knew. A man with whom, tonight, she would share more secrets. Intimate ones in a step she’d accepted was meant to be. She wasn’t sure what God had planned for either of them, but tonight was right. Others might point a finger if they found out, but the same way she’d known since she was ten that Jonah was to be her husband, she knew Tucker was what she needed tonight.

The knowledge didn’t make her any less nervous. She had an incredible urge to slap the cap back onto her head, to go back into hiding, to let the pain grow until it got too big to fight anymore. To be the coward no one ever let her be. Instead, she unbuttoned her dress and quickly divested herself of her corset. It didn’t seem right to go to a tryst wearing one. She didn’t look in the mirror as she tossed it on the bed and rebuttoned the fastenings.

Running her hands over her stomach, she sighed. It felt strange to feel her flesh beneath her dress. Wearing a corset always made her feel more in charge, as if she had a second backbone to see her through when her own failed, but tonight, it was just her. Tucker had better appreciate it.

A glance at the clock on the wall showed more than an hour had passed since Tucker had left.

Don’t make me wait too long.

Or what? She hadn’t asked what, but nothing her imagination came up with made her feel better. He’d leave? She didn’t want that. He’d come get her? Even worse. The whole reason she was late was because that cantankerous, lecherous Lyle—her current patient—had proved demanding, wanting food and making insinuations while she’d served it. Thank goodness, by tomorrow he’d be up and about and gone. He made her nervous with his sly glances and free ways. While it was her duty to care for the sick, there were some patients she debated the wisdom of saving. Lyle was one.

Immediately, she felt guilty. All men were capable of change. The prompting came from within and there was every chance this last brush with a knife had opened Lyle’s heart. If Jonah was here it wouldn’t be so hard to believe that. She likely wouldn’t have slipped in the first place. Jonah had believed very strongly in God’s power to induce change.

Unlike her. She glanced at her reflection again, noting the high color in her cheeks. The almost wicked anticipation in her eyes. The utterly proper braids above. She reached up and changed her mind halfway to her destination. She couldn’t walk out the door with her hair down. It was too brazen, too bold. It would leave her feeling naked.

Sally knew there was a wildness in her that could match the wildness in Tucker, but knowing it and experiencing it were two different things. To complicate matters, she had a tendency to be shy. If she got mad, that fell by the wayside, but she didn’t intend to be mad tonight. Raking her teeth across her lips to give them a bit more fullness and color, she turned away from the mirror. She would have to do as she was. Jonah had always enjoyed taking her hair down for her. Maybe Tucker would enjoy it, too. Smoothing her skirts, she headed down the stairs and into the sweetness of the night.

Tucker was waiting for her right where she expected. As soon as she stepped into the shadows of the trees, his hand reached out and snagged her arm, pulling her into him.

“You’re late,” he growled as his other hand cupped her head, tilting her head back. Before she could answer, his mouth was on hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise as his tongue plunged past her lips, all the wildness she’d ever sensed in him pouring over her in a shocking bath of fire.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, digging her nails into his nape, she let his passion sweep her up. Pulling him to her, opening her mouth wider, she begged for more as he made a rumbling noise in his chest. A growl? Had he really growled? She shivered with the possibility as he lifted her and walked her back until her shoulder blades came up against a tree. His chest came down against hers, holding her prisoner as his mouth continued to ravish hers.

She’d never been wanted like this. Never had a man come at her like he’d starve if he didn’t have all she had to give as fast as he could get it. It was surprisingly erotic. His thigh pushed between her legs as her knee came up and met the barrier of the fabric of her skirt. She strained forward. He was so close, so close…

That low rumble surrounded her again. His big hands left her back and reached down. His lips bit at hers. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Any less and I’d be naked,” she moaned as he worked his knee higher so it just grazed her center. Three yanks on the yards of fabric and he had her right leg free. She wrapped it around his calf, which was as high as she could reach. Another rumble, this one bit off in the middle by frustration. “What the hell’s wrong with naked?”

There was no way that 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 she’d planned. She took him faster, her hands working his balls and the base of his shaft. He didn’t protest, but this time his fingers pressed at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back as she withdrew until she held only the heavy tip balanced on her tongue.

“I’m not going to last too long like this.”

She drew back. Proof welled between them. A shimmering drop of desire bathed in white light. Pure and tempting. Another sign?

“Are thee only good for one time?” That would require an altering of her plans.

Tucker laughed and shook his head, his hair sliding across his shoulders in a pagan enticement. She’d love to feel that hair brushing over her skin. Her nipples tightened and a shiver went through her as her imagination provided an image to feed her passion. His eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be at you so much, you’ll be lucky if you can walk come morning.”

That sounded good to her. If he was “at her” she couldn’t think. Couldn’t mourn. Couldn’t long. “Prove it.”

His expression shifted, lost its neutrality. In its place was lust, passion and a wild emotion she couldn’t place. His beautiful lips barely moved as he said, “That was a mistake.”

She didn’t get a chance to ask why. And in the next breath, she didn’t need to. His cock pressed into her mouth, spearing strong and deep as he pinned her with his knees to her shoulders, holding her to the tree a willing prisoner to his desire. Holding her for the thrust of his cock, the pulse of his pleasure.

The passion in his eyes burned over her, finding an answering level in her, jerking it to the fore, causing her to gasp. Lovemaking with her husband had been proper and satisfying, but it hadn’t had this wildness. And she wanted it, every primitive wild pulse.

When Tucker tried to pull back, she leaned her head forward, doing a little imprisoning of her own, sucking and licking along the throbbing shaft, urging him on with her tongue and teeth, studying his reaction. Glorying in it. Glorying in him. His hand cupped her head in a subtle command to stay put.

“Unbutton your dress.”

She’d never known an order could be so arousing. Clenching her thighs together, watching him watch her, she did. Without being told, she untied her camisole, too, separating both layers until the taut fabric cupped her breasts, pushing them in and up. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, insecurity gnawing at her confidence, stilling her movements. She wanted to please him.

Tucker swore, his eyes glued to the sight, and then with a jerk, he tore his cock from her mouth.

“No.” She grabbed for him, finding only the hard muscle of his thighs.

“Hold still.”

Angling his cock downward, he pumped it once, twice and then hot come splashed over her breasts, covering her nipples in an erotic bonding.

It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him in her mouth, a part of her. When he jerked and his cock came within reach, she tucked her tongue under the broad head, held his gaze as she wiggled it lightly, and let him see the final splash of his seed coat her tongue before slowly swallowing. Tucker swore and moaned. His still-hard cock forged into her mouth, filling her the way she wished it filled the place between her legs. She held him as he relaxed, cuddling her tongue to the softer shape, breathing through her nose as desire and satisfaction poured through her.

She thought it was over, but with a simple motion of his hand behind her head, Tucker took her with him. “I didn’t know you wanted my seed.”

She blinked at the apology. She wasn’t used to such plain speaking. His fingers cherished the curve of her cheekbone, followed the line of her jaw, tucking into the corner of her mouth with the same tenderness with which she cradled his cock. He held her to him as if he couldn’t bear to part. He reached down and cupped her breast in his big palm. The heat of his hand joined the lingering warmth of his seed, sending a shiver down her spine. His lips softened into a smile. “Did you like that?”

She nodded. She had and she wanted more. She wanted the whole experience of Tucker, no matter how shocking, how wild.

“Good.”

Those pagan eyes of his captured every nuance of her expression as he took a step backward, forcing her to creep along with him, and leaned back and sat down. She caught her weight on her hands as he spread his thighs, making a place for her. He clearly did not want her mouth separated from his cock. She didn’t have to wait more than a second to wonder why.

“Get me hard again.”

Chapter 3

It was the first time a woman had ever made him weak in the knees. Not to mention weak in the head. Threading his fingers through Sally’s hair, Tucker struggled for control as her mouth worked his cock. Tonight was his one chance to know the splendor of Sally and he’d already wasted enough time being a selfish bastard.

A simple flex of his muscles brought her up over his chest. Her face turned into his shoulder. He felt the graze of her teeth through his shirt. Lust went through him like a bolt of lightning, searing the ragged edges of his control. “I guarantee you, if you bite you’ll end up right back where you were.”

She looked up at him, her eyes liquid pools of silver in the moonlight. “And thee don’t want that?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead, as he fought to hold on to control. “Moonbeam, I’ll take you any way I can get you, but I want tonight.”

“If that makes me happy, what’s wrong with that?”

“It doesn’t make me happy.”

He felt a smile push against his chest. “Thee realize, of course, that I’m going to disagree.”

He stood, taking her with him. Her little gasp as he lifted her left him feeling more manly than he had a right to. After all, he’d just come on her breasts and not given her any pleasure at all. He’d earned a whipping, not bragging rights. Her breasts…A glance down showed them to be small and white, pert and gleaming with his seed. He couldn’t resist. He cupped her right breast in his hand, the hard nipple prodding the callus on his thumb as he slicked his seed across the tip, branding her as his. Her forehead grazed his cheek as she watched.

He let his thumb linger. She moaned. A fresh flood of desire whipped through him. “That’s a pretty sight, isn’t it?”

She looked up, her eyes soft and luminous. “Yes.”

He couldn’t help himself. He needed another kiss. Her lips parted expectantly. Damn, she was one sexy woman. He breathed into her mouth, “I think we should do it again.”

“Yes.”

“But this time you come for me.”

Her eyes darkened, and a shiver took her from head to toe.

“I see you like that idea.”

“Did thee think I wouldn’t?”

He laughed, tucked his cock into his pants and fastened the top button, keeping his mouth glued to hers, letting the uniqueness of the passion carry him through the mundane. When her knees sagged, he slipped his arm behind them and scooped her up. Her hands came around his neck and she shivered, making him glad for the years of hard labor that had built the muscles in his body.

“I like this, too,” she whispered.

“Good. Give me five minutes and I’ll give you something more to like.”

“Thee have it, but no more.”

The subtle attempt at taking control made him smile as he wove between the trees. He wondered what kind of man her husband had been. Not the doctor, who’d treated all with the same level of competence, but the man who’d lain beside her at night. From the way her fingers were working on the buttons of his shirt, he clearly hadn’t left her with a distaste for relations. The tiny brushes of her nails as she undid the first few buttons before slipping her hands beneath burned like hot sparks.

They broke into a small clearing twenty feet from the pond. The bed of quilts tucked into the middle of the area caught the pale gleam of the moonlight. Sally turned her head as they stopped. He felt her gasp in the expansion of her ribs against his chest.

“When did thee find time to do this?”