Wild, Wild, Mother Of The Bride Read online

  "Oh!” she cried out as understanding slammed like a bolt of lightning into her addled head. Her knees took on the consistency of day-old Jell-O and she nearly staggered.

  No, that was most definitely not a pistol. Against all odds, Jacob Clarke seemed very happy to see her.

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  CHAPTER 2

  "Why, Sheriff, I do believe you're packing heat."

  Jacob glanced down into the shadows hiding Eliza's face. She stood about a head shorter than him, but when she tilted her chin up and glanced over her shoulder like that, he could almost make out her chocolate-colored eyes.

  Holding her felt surreal. For the last eighteen months, the woman had driven him half-mad with desire, and now here she was, naked, snuggled in his embrace. He held his breath, half-afraid she'd pull away if he squeezed her tighter, pressed her closer, nipped the sweet spot at the curve of her shoulder like he wanted to.

  "What are you really doing out here?” His voice came out husky, coated with unrestrained lust.

  "I was...” She hesitated, still staring into his eyes. When she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and nibbled lightly, he wanted to crush his mouth to hers. He resisted, barely.

  "Yes?"

  He wanted to hear her say the words, whatever they were. Maybe she was meeting someone, and he'd showed up just in time to spoil her plans. The thought of Eliza in another man's arms made his gut tighten in instant protest, but he had to know. If he wasn't welcome, he'd leave. He'd just turn around, walk right back to his house and pretend none of this ever happened. All right, so he'd probably have to down an entire bottle of whiskey to even dim the memory of Eliza's lush body beneath his hands, but he'd rather do that than make a fool of himself.

  Eliza cleared her throat. She tilted her chin a fraction of an inch, stark determination written on her beautiful face. She'd clearly decided something in the last two seconds. Would she tell him what it was? Or would she let him figure it out for himself?

  Either possibility made him slightly nervous, threw him a little off-kilter. Oddly enough, that felt about right. He was always a touch off-balance around Eliza, never quite sure what to expect.

  She was sexy as hell, but her lush physical attributes didn't account for his complete and utter fascination with the woman. He loved the way she carried herself, as though constantly thumbing her nose at the world. On any given day, she wore leather pants and dyed hot pink streaks in her pixie-cut dark hair. Black lines of expertly-applied makeup rimmed her brown eyes, making them look huge, yet he'd never seen her wear any other cosmetics. No hint of lipstick ever marred the fullness of her soft pink lips, and her face always looked freshly-scrubbed. He loved that he could see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. He wanted to kiss her there—and everywhere.

  She was so unlike anyone else he'd ever met. And she certainly didn't look like any of his friends’ mothers, for God's sake. Eliza Webber was a walking wet dream. And to his growing frustration, she was off-limits—at least as long as the wedding plans remained ongoing.

  When Gavin had asked him to be his best man, Jacob had made a promise, one he intended to keep. He'd vowed to perform the role to the best of his abilities. He didn't know all the rules regarding wedding etiquette, but as far as he could tell, that meant not fucking the mother of the bride.

  He'd done a pretty decent job of keeping his distance. All right, so he'd found a few excuses to see her more often than was absolutely necessary, but in all those long months, he'd barely even touched her.

  Until now.

  Jacob swore inwardly. Damn it, he needed to keep his hands to himself for just one more day. Then the wedding would be over, and he could ask her out on a date. A real date, with dinner and coffee and dessert, the kind that came with whipped cream he could spread all over her body—

  "I've been a bad girl, Sheriff."

  Jacob's head snapped up and his cock jerked against the flap of his trousers. He couldn't have heard right.

  He opened his mouth to ask her to repeat that, but she chose that moment to shift in his arms. Before he knew it, Eliza's bare breasts were plastered to his chest and she stood on tiptoes, twining her arms around the back of his neck. Her lips hovered less than an inch away from his, so close he could feel her warm breath caress him when she spoke again.

  "I know you closed down my brothel weeks ago, but a woman's gotta make a living.” She leaned closer and nipped at his bottom lip.

  The sensation shot a bolt of liquid fire through Jacob's bloodstream. His hands glided down her back until he cupped her buttocks and pressed her firmly against his erection. “What on earth are you up to?” he murmured against her luscious mouth.

  "I've been doing business on the side, Sheriff, without your knowledge. You'd have figured it out eventually, smart man that you are. So I figured, why not turn myself in?"

  She winked at him, but there was something beneath the playfulness in her gaze. By the silvery light of the moon, he could make out a flicker of indecision, of apprehension. He recognized a pleading look when he saw one. She was putting herself out there, completely vulnerable to him. Naked in body as well as intention, she feared he'd reject her. Unless he was misreading her completely, she desperately wanted him to go along for the ride.

  And damn, even though he had at least two good reasons not to do this—both of them sleeping in the twin inns just a few feet away—he knew it would take more willpower than he possessed to turn her away.

  "Y'er saying I better do my job and punish you right well, then.” He fell back on the deep Texan accent he used when giving tours or speaking to tourists about the history of the area. If Eliza wanted him to be Sheriff Clarke for the night instead of just plain old Jacob, then that's exactly who he'd give her. For now. Later ... well, later she'd learn who he really was. And if Jacob was very lucky, she wouldn't run away.

  Relief suffused her features, followed by something else he recognized—pure, unabashed lust. She fisted her hands in his shirt, and the knowledge she wanted him as much as he wanted her thrilled him to the depths of his soul.

  A warning skittered around the edges of his mind. Having her here, playing the role of fallen madam, felt too good. Too right. He could easily picture her as a permanent fixture around Cowboy's Hideaway, long skirts swishing down the dirt road, tight red bodice pushing her full breasts up on display.

  Damn. That sight alone would draw tourists like no other marketing ploy he'd tried. But beyond that, he wanted her coming home to him each night. He could already imagine peeling off the costume from her beautiful body every evening, revealing the creamy skin beneath one velvety inch at a time.

  A groan slipped from his throat. He had to rein himself in. Eliza Webber was not the type of woman who settled down with a guy. Marissa had told him as much in no uncertain terms—starting with the fact she didn't even know who her father was, nor had there been a male figure who'd featured prominently in her childhood.

  As for Jacob ... Well, he'd grown tired of one-night stands long ago.

  Determination lit a fire in his gut. He stared deep into Eliza's eyes and cupped her face in his hands. “Sure y'er ready for this?"

  He saw her throat work as she swallowed hard before nodding. “I deserve whatever you do to me."

  A shiver passed through his body as the depth of meaning in her words sank in. His balls tightened, drew up close to his shaft. Raw need clawed at his groin.

  God ... Did she know about him? No, she couldn't have ... No one knew about his preference for dominant lovemaking. Not even his best friend.

  Perfect. She was absolutely fucking perfect.

  On a rush of euphoric energy, Jacob lowered his head the remainder of the way and crushed her mouth with his.

  No, Eliza wasn't going to be just another one-night stand. By the time the sun rose over the horizon, Eliza would be his.

  Forever.

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  CHAPTER 3

  Jacob
smelled like leather, and earth, and mowed grass. Funny how Eliza had never noticed those things before. She guessed she had to be kissing him to pay such close attention, and it had taken her so damn long to get here.

  But oh, the wait had been worth it. Every breath now flooded her with irresistible hints of his masculine tang. His scent teased her nostrils, while his taste—cinnamon and the faint flavor of red wine—filled her mouth.

  Pulsing heat spiraled through Eliza's body. His lips were soft yet insistent, coaxing quiet moans from her throat. He swirled his tongue, swiped it along the top of hers. Heat blossomed in her lower belly and traveled swiftly to her pussy, where it blazed like a fire raging out of control.

  Jacob broke away first. He pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss to her lips, then followed it down along the line of her throat. Eliza tilted her head back, giving him greater access to pursue his leisurely journey.

  He stopped when he reached the hollow at the base of her throat. So quickly she barely registered what was happening, Jacob grabbed both her wrists, then yanked them to the small of her back using an iron-hard grip. He stepped around her, pressing against her once more.

  "Y'er comin’ with me, missy."

  Under other circumstances, she might have found his gruff statement amusing and made a wry remark of her own. But there was nothing even remotely funny about the way he held her, wrists gripped tightly in his large, long-fingered hand.

  He gave her a sharp shove and she stumbled forward. Her pulse ratcheted up a notch, causing her heartbeat to slam against her chest. Arousal traveled a swift path down the length of her body.

  This was so much hotter than any fantasy she'd ever had. She hadn't known what to expect when she'd come up with the role-playing idea, but at that exact moment it had seemed so much easier to pretend to be someone else. Someone other than Eliza Webber, a woman who already embarrassed her daughter enough simply by existing. If Jacob had rejected her playful little game, it would have been easier to bear.

  Maybe she could have even pretended he hadn't rejected her.

  She nearly snorted at that. Who was she kidding? Offering herself up to a man twelve years her junior, while naked no less, was a hell of a risk no matter how she tried to spin it.

  But Jacob hadn't turned her away. He'd played along, and judging by the way he now led her toward the darkened jailhouse, she knew the game was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

  The safety of the inn fell away as soon as they stepped onto the dusty road. Tiny rocks grazed Eliza's bare soles and lodged between her toes. She quickened her step, hoping to reach the sanctuary of the shadowed buildings before anyone spotted them.

  They were halfway across when Jacob yanked her wrists, bringing her to an abrupt stop. His fingers delved into her hair. He gripped a handful, tilting her head back.

  The sudden restraint sent a sharp jab of pain into Eliza's scalp, but Jacob made no move to press his advantage. He was bigger, stronger. He could hurt her, but didn't.

  Excitement mingled with apprehension, pummeling Eliza's ribcage with every rapid thump of her heart. Her gaze flew across the windows of the twin inns. Most were dark, but the weak glow of oil lamps spilled from within two of them into the dark Texas night. Anyone could be watching. One peek from behind the velvet curtains and she'd be spotted.

  What would Marissa think? Or Gavin, or even Gemma, if they were to see her, naked and held captive in a younger man's unforgiving grip?

  She should have been embarrassed. She knew that logically, yet she couldn't muster the emotion. She felt ... wild. Incredibly, insanely wild. And horny beyond belief.

  "Sheriff?” she asked in a small, breathless voice. “What do you plan to do with me?"

  He didn't answer. Instead, the fingers of his free hand drifted from her neck down her chest. The caress was so light and soft that for a moment she wondered whether he touched her at all. She glanced down, saw her chest heave, her breasts tremble. Moonlight painted them a glimmering silver color, but the tips of her stiff nipples stood out in dark contrast.

  "You're mine, Eliza. Mine. And if I have to take you right here to prove it, then that's what I'll do."

  He'd dropped the accent. That was the first thing she noticed. The next were his fingertips, squeezing first one nipple, then the other.

  She cleared her throat. “Madam Eliza, please."

  The game was fun. And she wasn't ready to relinquish the persona yet. Madam Eliza was bold enough to fuck the lusty sheriff in the middle of the damn road if she pleased. Eliza Webber? Not so much.

  "Ah, yes.” He scraped his cheek against hers, and the rough feel of his stubble shot a stream of wanton pleasure to her clit.

  She wondered what it would feel like to have his face buried between her legs, his stubble scraping the inside of her thighs.

  "Madam Eliza.” He pinched her left nipple, hard enough to make her cry out. “You can call me Master."

  "But Sheriff—"

  She couldn't have anticipated the smack. It came fast and hard, causing a sharp stinging sensation to blossom in her right breast. She glanced down, startled. He'd slapped her breast! And God, her pussy had unleashed another pulse of cream, quivering in wanton surrender.

  "Master, though sir will do, too.” He grazed her earlobe with his teeth before whispering, “Because for tonight, that's who I am. Y'er Master. I reckon you've given yourself to me to do with as I please, no?"

  She nodded, her gaze still darting between the windows. “Yes, Master."

  He cupped her breast, letting the weight rest in his hand. “Will you run when I release you?"

  She eyed the door to the inn, which stood less than ten feet away. She shook her head, boldly determined to tell the truth. “Not a chance."

  "Good."

  He loosened his grip. She brought her arms to the front of her body and rubbed aimlessly at one wrist, soothing the sore flesh where his fingers had dug into her skin.

  "Now touch yourself for me."

  Eliza trembled. Her tongue snaked out to wet her suddenly parched lips. “Here?"

  "Right here, madam.” She didn't miss the way he uttered the false title, with a mixture of arousal and surly contempt. Right in character, just like she wanted.

  She could have said no. Could have bolted for the inn door anyway, despite what she'd told him. But if she did that, Eliza had a feeling she'd never get a second chance with Jacob. And she'd wanted him too much for far too long to let something as silly as pride get in the way of being with the man of her dreams.

  His arms came around her waist and he pulled her close, palms cupping both breasts. I'm here, his touch seemed to say. Now do it.

  She took comfort in the gentle embrace and made a small, involuntary noise in the back of her throat. If they were going to get caught, they'd both have a lot of explaining to do. As best man, Jacob had as much to lose as the mother of the bride.

  The thrill of potential discovery ignited a deep, dark hunger inside Eliza. She'd been with a number of men over the years, but none had made her feel like this. So exposed. So vulnerable. So completely and utterly protected.

  "When was the last time you came?"

  His slow, easy drawl made her squirm in his embrace. “Two weeks? Longer, maybe.” And much, much longer than that since she'd come with a partner.

  "Past time to change all that."

  Eliza took a deep, shuddering breath and brought her hand toward the front of her body. She pressed the heel of her palm against her mound and slipped two fingers into her folds, parting darkly matted curls.

  "I aim to watch,” Jacob murmured, releasing her without warning. He strolled to stand in front of her, then dropped to his knees in the dust.

  His mouth poised mere inches from the hand buried between her legs. Eliza's pussy pulsed with molten heat, desperate for his touch.

  But he wouldn't let her have it. Instead, he folded both hands on his broad thighs and waited, his gaze fixed intently on her throbbing cunt.

&nb
sp; Heart beating a mile a minute, Eliza bit down on her lower lip and slid both fingers through her folds. Her body reacted on instinct, pebbling her nipples even further. Her stomach muscles rippled and her thighs tensed as her inner walls clenched, protesting their empty state.

  She wasn't sure where to look. At the windows, which now felt like they held a thousand pairs of eyes all fixed upon her? Or at the man kneeling before her, devouring her pussy with his gaze?

  She chose the man. Her fantasy cowboy. Now her Master.

  She performed for him. Only for him.

  Her fingers splayed her folds open, revealing the pink, fleshy inner lips to his hungry eyes. She explored the length of her slit all the way to the back, where her fingers prodded the dark crevice between her buttocks. Would he take her there, too, before the night was over?

  A shuddering tremble shook her limbs. God, she hoped so.

  Her boldness grew along with her arousal. Each time she touched her clit, sparks of fearless courage lit her veins. She stroked herself faster, while still keeping her pussy spread open so her audience of one could get a good look at what she had to offer.

  Moisture slicked her hand, dripped between her thighs. Her pussy felt hot, molten with arousal. When she slipped a finger inside herself, she nearly staggered from the blinding pleasure shooting through her system.

  Jacob, she noticed, wasn't unaffected by her performance. His nostrils flared with each breath and his eyes widened, barely blinking. His cock appeared huge as it pressed against the fabric of his trousers. For a moment, she thought about taking pity on what looked like a painful erection, then remembered he'd wanted her to obey him. He hadn't said anything about having her release his cock.

  Yet.

  Pleasure built and built, fueled by Jacob's ravenous gaze and the thought of all those people potentially watching her from the anonymous shelter of their rooms. Perversely, Eliza found herself wanting to be watched. By everyone but her daughter, of course. She was eccentric, not depraved.

  But the others ... She pictured them all gaping at her boldness, her lack of inhibition. The women envying her for commanding the attention of a gorgeous man who should want nothing to do with her, but obviously did. The men wanting to be Jacob, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal, watching her fuck herself with such desperate fervor.