Read Online Pamela Morsi by Sweetwood Bride - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sweetwood Bride
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much-washed josey was thin, gray, and worn. It revealed as well as it concealed.
He covered the distance between them in haste, no longer even attempting to deceive himself about his own arousal. He could shag her once, he told himself. He’d always heard that a woman never got with child the first time. He could shag her once and enjoy himself. That was fair enough. She did trap him into marriage. She deserved it. And she was his wife, anyway. In truth, she wouldn’t legally be his wife if he didn’t. So in a way, it was his beholden duty to her to do it.
The width of the kitchen was only a few paces, but he was inexplicably out of breath when he reached her side. His instinct was simply to press her against thewall, spread her legs apart and bury himself inside her. Moss clamped down on that reflex and solaced himself with the idea of touching her.
His palms were sweating, and he wiped them upon his trousers before raising his hand to the narrow sleeve of the undergarment. Slowly he pulled it down, exposing inch by inch the pale flesh beneath it.
He glanced up into her wide, frightened eyes, but she could not hold his gaze. There were more amazing things to look at. The soft secrets of her womanly bosom was being unveiled before him, and the sight captured every fiber of his attention. Down, down the fabric came, displaying in the warm yellow glow of light an unexpected abundance of flesh.
Standing stiff as a board and, staring straight, she began once more to chatter like an old game hen.
“I’m not used to anything high-step of any kind. I told you I’m hardworking, but I’m also easygoing and thrifty. I’m very thrifty.”
The josey seemed to catch upon her upraised nipple as if reluctant to reveal her to him. Moss tugged slightly and down it came, uncovering her right breast. The firm, feminine mound was topped with a dark pink bud as thick and tempting as a brambleberry. A minute earlier he had been panting audibly; now it seemed he could not breathe at all The silence was broken by a strange, almost whimpering sound from her throat.
He looked up at her face. She held her chin bravely high, but her lower lip was trembling.
“Did I tell you I can pull a plow?” she asked. “When Daddy didn’t have no mule, it was me and Rans what pulled his plow.”
Moss eased down the other sleeve, baring her completelyto the waist. He swallowed. His body was screaming to touch her. He held himself frozen, as if reaching out for her might unleash passions he could never control.
The woman stood unflinching before him. But his hesitation apparently increased her anxiety.
“I know I’m too bony,” she told him defensively. “But my teats are good-sized for a thin girl.”
They were indeed. Moss was far beyond commenting on the fact.
Finally, keeping a tight rein upon the desires that urged him, he reached out to touch her. One sun-browned, work-callused finger caressed the rosy peak that protruded so prettily in the cool night air.
“Oh my!” She gasped sharply. “That feels very strange.”
He spread his palm upon her skin and held the full breast in his hand.
“I never imagined that it felt like … like this to be touched.”
He brought his other hand to grasp her other breast.
“It’s as if … as if my whole body is connected to this one place.”
Would the woman never shut up?
“I don’t think I—”
Moss angled his head and brought his lips down upon her own, effectively silencing her at last. The taste of her stirred his memory. She was sweet, almost treacly like she’d been sampling honeysuckle. Tonight he knew it to be her own special seductive savor. He reveled in it, sucking indulgently at her mouth as he stroked and fondled her naked bosom.
She made tiny, pleased and pleading noises at the back of her throat that coaxed him onward eagerly to the edge of his control.
He was hard now, hard and desperate to press her against him. He loosed her breasts to grasp her buttocks and
He covered the distance between them in haste, no longer even attempting to deceive himself about his own arousal. He could shag her once, he told himself. He’d always heard that a woman never got with child the first time. He could shag her once and enjoy himself. That was fair enough. She did trap him into marriage. She deserved it. And she was his wife, anyway. In truth, she wouldn’t legally be his wife if he didn’t. So in a way, it was his beholden duty to her to do it.
The width of the kitchen was only a few paces, but he was inexplicably out of breath when he reached her side. His instinct was simply to press her against thewall, spread her legs apart and bury himself inside her. Moss clamped down on that reflex and solaced himself with the idea of touching her.
His palms were sweating, and he wiped them upon his trousers before raising his hand to the narrow sleeve of the undergarment. Slowly he pulled it down, exposing inch by inch the pale flesh beneath it.
He glanced up into her wide, frightened eyes, but she could not hold his gaze. There were more amazing things to look at. The soft secrets of her womanly bosom was being unveiled before him, and the sight captured every fiber of his attention. Down, down the fabric came, displaying in the warm yellow glow of light an unexpected abundance of flesh.
Standing stiff as a board and, staring straight, she began once more to chatter like an old game hen.
“I’m not used to anything high-step of any kind. I told you I’m hardworking, but I’m also easygoing and thrifty. I’m very thrifty.”
The josey seemed to catch upon her upraised nipple as if reluctant to reveal her to him. Moss tugged slightly and down it came, uncovering her right breast. The firm, feminine mound was topped with a dark pink bud as thick and tempting as a brambleberry. A minute earlier he had been panting audibly; now it seemed he could not breathe at all The silence was broken by a strange, almost whimpering sound from her throat.
He looked up at her face. She held her chin bravely high, but her lower lip was trembling.
“Did I tell you I can pull a plow?” she asked. “When Daddy didn’t have no mule, it was me and Rans what pulled his plow.”
Moss eased down the other sleeve, baring her completelyto the waist. He swallowed. His body was screaming to touch her. He held himself frozen, as if reaching out for her might unleash passions he could never control.
The woman stood unflinching before him. But his hesitation apparently increased her anxiety.
“I know I’m too bony,” she told him defensively. “But my teats are good-sized for a thin girl.”
They were indeed. Moss was far beyond commenting on the fact.
Finally, keeping a tight rein upon the desires that urged him, he reached out to touch her. One sun-browned, work-callused finger caressed the rosy peak that protruded so prettily in the cool night air.
“Oh my!” She gasped sharply. “That feels very strange.”
He spread his palm upon her skin and held the full breast in his hand.
“I never imagined that it felt like … like this to be touched.”
He brought his other hand to grasp her other breast.
“It’s as if … as if my whole body is connected to this one place.”
Would the woman never shut up?
“I don’t think I—”
Moss angled his head and brought his lips down upon her own, effectively silencing her at last. The taste of her stirred his memory. She was sweet, almost treacly like she’d been sampling honeysuckle. Tonight he knew it to be her own special seductive savor. He reveled in it, sucking indulgently at her mouth as he stroked and fondled her naked bosom.
She made tiny, pleased and pleading noises at the back of her throat that coaxed him onward eagerly to the edge of his control.
He was hard now, hard and desperate to press her against him. He loosed her breasts to grasp her buttocks and
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