“You want to taste me, lick me. You want me to taste you. You want me all around you.”
He groaned, and she increased the pressure of her motions, along with the pace. And then she slowed, and then quickened again. He was gasping now, one hand gripping her wrist, the other squeezing her shoulder.
“You want me to spread my legs for you.”
“Yes.”
“You want to fuck me.”
“Yessss!”
He jerked, and she thought she’d gone too far. But then he was moving faster, assisting the pressure of her hand, thrusting his hips so that the tip of his member strained against her belly. And just as she noticed glistening drops of perspiration on his brow, he pressed forward and every muscle of his body stiffened.
He pulsed in her hand, against her belly, and warm liquid trickled over her wrist. He grunted and moaned and then all but fell limp against her.
A full minute passed before he glanced up and met her gaze. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Hush.”
But he shook his head and then clumsily handed her a linen, ducking his head and stepping out from behind the screen.
“Rock?” she called out to him, dabbing the linen in some water and wiping his seed from her night rail.His seed.
“I’m going downstairs.” His voice barely reached her.
She swiped one last time. “Wait!” She’d wanted to talk to him before, and it seemed even more important for them to talk now. “Rock?”
But when she stepped around the screen, the door clicked shut.
He was already gone.
He must have been very upset because he hadn’t ordered her to lock the door behind him.
She climbed into bed alone, feeling as though she’d done something very wrong.
Archie hopped onto the mattress and curled up beside her.
“It wasn’t wrong, Archie,” she whispered, stroking his butterfly soft skin. “It wasn’t.”
So why did she feel ashamed? Why couldn’t he look at her?
When he returned much later, she feigned sleep.
She had to stifle a sob when he climbed beneath the covers. Because rather than curl up behind her, he all but clung to the opposite edge of the bed.
Chapter 18
Love?
Early the next morning, Tabetha huddled beside Rock as a thick grey mare pulled them along the rutted road, the leather reins resting loosely in his capable hands.
Their functional vehicle was a hodgepodge of designs with two large wheels, a wooden seat, and a hood to protect the driver and passenger from the elements. He’d told her before that a local farmer had sold the vehicle to him—before the incident behind the screen—that was
A wheel landed in a rut, and she clutched the edge to keep from sliding.
She felt worse today than when she’d opened her eyes after her fall, not knowing who she was or where she belonged.
Not worse physically but emotionally. Because for the first time, she felt alone.
