“What brings you here so early, Morgan?” Callie Mae asked, pulling her robe tighter around her.
“I wanted to see you and I brought these,” he said, thrusting the flowers into her hands and setting the wrapped rolls on the table. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?” Sweeping off his Stetson he took a step closer, as his eyes traveled over her. In her cotton gown, with her hair in a long single braid down her back, she looked very young and he reached out to stroke her soft cheek.
“You’ve hardly given me time and to tell you the truth, I found your proposal quite shocking,” Callie Mae replied. Turning, she went to the cupboard, ignoring Morgan’s snort of disbelief. Taking a jelly jar, she stuck the flowers into it and added some water.
“Am I to believe you thought my interest in your activities was purely based on friendship?”
“Yes,” she insisted. Glancing back to look at him, she realized he’d silently positioned himself close behind her.
“I see. Well let me clarify a few things for you, Callie Mae. I don’t kiss my friends,” he said softly as he moved his hand to the back of her neck, cupping the base of her head. Taking the jar from her hand, he set it on the cupboard and wrapped his other arm around her waist, bringing her to her tip-toes as he moved closer still.
“I also don’t spank my friends,” he murmured, stooping to brush her lips with his before nibbling along the side of her jaw. “Although I may make an exception in your case if you give me too much grief and refuse me, honey.” Moving to her neck, he bit lightly under her ear before kissing away the pinch.
“Morgan,” Callie Mae gasped out, powerless to shove him away as her head fell back.
“Besides, much as I enjoyed feeling your beautiful bottom under my hand, there are so many more ways I want to touch you, Callie Mae,” he whispered, nudging her nightdress out of the way and trailing his lips down her collar bone. He could feel her trembling, but she made no move to stop him. Straightening, he released her for a fleeting moment and used his hands to untie the dainty ribbons on the front of her gown.
Rooted to the spot, Callie Mae found she couldn’t protest, despite what her mind was telling her to do. She felt weak, dizzy, and overheated. Her heart was racing like a run-away train. When he slipped one of his big hands inside her bodice and cupped her bare breast her knees started to buckle.
“Hmm, it’s all right, I’ve got you, baby,” Morgan whispered.
His arm was back around her, offering support and also holding her bottom as he lowered his mouth to her breast. The first swipe of his rough tongue across her peak had her crying out and when his lips fastened on her and began to suck she thought she was going to faint with the pleasure. Once again she was leaking that strange fluid from between her legs.
“This isn’t a very comfortable position, is it?” he noted after releasing her nipple with a pop. Sweeping her into his arms he moved to the table, kicked out a chair, and sat, draping Callie Mae across his lap and supporting her just under her shoulders, causing her breasts to thrust forward.
Callie Mae made barely a squeak as his wicked mouth descended again, attending to her other nipple. His other hand held her securely on his lap and she could feel the hardness of him pressing against her bottom. Oh, sweet Jesus, this was madness, she thought as her tummy tightened.
Morgan slid his hand up her leg, skimming her gown with it. She was so soft, so responsive he almost forgot what he was about. Lord, he wanted to undo his pants, turn her to face him and take her right here, but that would not do. When he reached her upper thigh and found the slick moisture, he nearly crowed with delight. The pretty little preacher’s daughter in his arms wanted him as much as he wanted her. A couple of inches higher and he could bring her off in a matter of minutes, he was sure of it. On the other hand, if she didn’t know what that magic little button was for, he certainly wasn’t going to show her. Hell, what would she need him for?
Women in his time made it well known they could satisfy their own needs. He’d be damned if he made himself obsolete.
Callie Mae almost cried when he stopped that wondrous sucking. Her nipples were red and pouty, aching with need. When Morgan pulled his hand from beneath her gown, he cupped her apex and gave it several pats, sending a jolt of pleasure through her that led her to believe there was more, much more to this whole coupling thing. Sitting her up, he closed her nightdress and kissed her deeply while rubbing her back. His tongue delved between her lips, claiming her mouth in an extremely intimate way that had her wiggling her bottom against his lap.
“All right, Miss Walker, I think we’ve gone far enough this morning,” he said, kissing her forehead as he stood and set her on her feet. Turning her in the direction of the stairs, he gave her a light smack on her bottom. “Go and get dressed, I’m taking you to the Blue Bonnet for breakfast.”
“But I…”
“No buts, little lady,” he insisted with a smile, taking her shoulders and moving her forward. “I’m the expert here and I say we need sustenance.”
Callie Mae took two stairs and stopped, turning around.
“You’re an expert?” she asked weakly, taking a firm hold on the banister.
“Yup,” he replied with a wink.
“Oh. How did you get to be an expert on this?” she asked, sweeping her hand toward the chair.
“Practice, lots and lots of practice,” he teased.
“Hmm, I don’t know if I even like the thought of that,” she said thoughtfully, wondering how many women it would take to make a man an expert.
“Don’t worry, honey, you will.”
Upstairs, Callie Mae took several deep breaths as she washed and dressed. As she fastened her corset, she couldn’t help noticing how full her breasts seemed, the delicate nipples poking through her chemise. Purposely, she chose a modest high-necked shirtwaist and a dark blue skirt. She secured her hair in a severe high knot and plopped a straw hat with blue and white flowers on her head. Dabbing some Essence of Violet under each ear, she immediately thought better of it and scrubbed it off. That man was dangerous. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself in front of Reverend Simms, saying ‘I do’ just to satisfy her curiosity.
What happened in the kitchen could not be repeated. Her face flamed just thinking about the liberties she’d allowed Morgan, and all without a single protest. What if that was all there was to it? He seemed to enjoy it and she couldn’t deny she felt as weak as a kitten when he released her, but if coupling was all about aching for…she didn’t quite know what…she wasn’t sure she was interested. He’d said there was more; the question was, for whom? From what she’d been able to gather over the years, eavesdropping on the matrons in her father’s congregation as they gathered for quilting bees and such, it appeared to be pretty one-sided. It seemed marital relations were fun for the man and at best annoying for the woman.
Straightening her hat in the mirror, she pinched her cheeks by habit before quickly rubbing the blush away. If the opportunity ever presented itself, she would ask Laurie Dixon. They’d become friends and Laurie would tell her the truth, she was sure. Scowling at her reflection, she plastered a stern look on her face and went downstairs.
