The Ballad of Hattie Taylor Read online

  “I’ll never hurt you with it, Hattie.”

  She pulled back a little, looking up at him with troubled eyes. “It looks so . . . angry.”

  “Nah,” he whispered and picked up her hand, guiding it down his flat stomach. “Merely excited.” Carefully, he wrapped her fingers around him, then, keeping them captive beneath his own, moved them up and down a few times.

  Involuntarily, Hattie smiled. “Oh my goodness, how strange. It’s like hardwood wrapped in velvet.” Her fingers moved of their own accord in the manner Jake had just demonstrated. She marveled at the way the hot skin beneath her fist shifted fluidly over the inner rigidity.

  “Yeah,” he said hoarsely and pulled her hand away. Rolling her onto her back, he pushed up onto his palms above her, then bent his elbows to hotly kiss her.

  All the sensations that had dulled to a simmering throb in Hattie boiled over once more as Jake’s urgent tongue thrust and withdrew. His hands returned to her breasts, pressing, kneading, plucking at her nipples. Then one glided down, down, until it cupped the bright triangle of feathery curls between her legs. “Jake,” she protested, squeezing her thighs together.

  He removed his hand, but it hovered only inches away. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. It’s all right. We’re married.”

  “But I’m all . . . wet.” She was scarlet with mortification having to confess it. But if he touched her there, he’d discover it for himself.

  “Oh God!” Jake’s eyes slammed shut and he shuddered, yet even in her inexperience, Hattie could tell it was excitement motivating him, not revulsion. His eyes reopened and he leaned to kiss her fiercely. Raising his head, he said, “That’s good in this case, sweetheart. Wet is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.” Persistently, his hand returned.

  Hattie was far from convinced and kept her legs firmly pressed together as she protested once again. But when Jake’s rough-skinned fingers delved into her secret curls, found a slick, hidden little pearl, and strummed it, a world of sensation filled her. And in a different tone altogether, she sighed, “Oh, Jacob,” as her thighs went lax.

  His fingers slid up and down, crafty in their knowledge, and Hattie began to pant, to arch, her hips swiveling, reaching, searching for . . . she had no idea what. But it would be something huge—she was sure of it.

  Jake knew precisely what Hattie sought. Rolling to cover her, he gently kneed her thighs apart. Pushing up on his hands, he slowly penetrated his new bride, giving her time to accommodate to his length and girth. Hattie’s inner heat expanded to encase, then clasp his cock. He watched her for signs of panic. Her eyes grew enormous, but as he sank into her she shuddered with pleasure, not fear. Her eyelids slowly slid closed, and biting back a groan, Jake began to move.

  Hattie whimpered deep in her throat as Jake slowly thrust and withdrew. With each pump, it felt . . . Oh mercy, it felt so . . . She spread her legs, first just a bit, then wide, then finally wrapped them around his waist. Jake slammed into her convulsively, then stilled.

  “God,” he whispered rawly, “I want to move faster . . . love you harder.” He did so for several uncontrolled strokes before forcing himself to stillness. “So tight,” he muttered. “Does it hurt? Am I scaring you?”

  “No . . .” she whispered. Her husband—husband!—began to move again with that same rough force, making her moan. “Feels so . . .” She sighed. “Oh, Jacob, it feels . . . so”—tilting her hips, she drove him deeper—“amazing.”

  “Shit,” he muttered and lowered his head to feather one pouting nipple with the flat of his tongue. She contracted sharply around him and he pumped his hips faster, unable to help himself. The new pace made it difficult to reach her breasts at the same time. “Oh God, Hattie, I can’t—” His tongue swept the air just above her nipple, missing by centimeters. “Help me, baby, please.”

  She didn’t think twice. Arching her back, she cupped the underside of her breast and pressed it up. When Jake’s lips suddenly clamped around her distended nipple and sucked, she cried out at the explosive, shattering sensations detonating deep inside her, a convulsive, rippling clench and release around that hard man part of his. Thrusting her hips up, she froze, whimpering helplessly. Jake continued pounding into her, and the life-altering inner explosions went on and on, her body jerking slightly with each one. A bit mortified by her near-violent reaction, she opened her eyes.

  And saw Jake didn’t appear to mind. In fact, it seemed to drive him over an edge of his own. Mouth going slack around her nipple, he straight-armed his upper body to hover above her, his head thrown back, his teeth clenched, and his eyes squeezed shut. He buried himself in her with a final rough surge of his hips, and Hattie clutched his forearms as she watched the same powerful force that had driven her overtake him. Guttural sounds forced past his strong white teeth as he shuddered in release. Then seconds later his head dropped forward. Bending his elbows, he lowered himself gently atop her.

  Hattie wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him in a fierce embrace, grateful when his strong arms slid under her to grasp her in return. He was heavy, but Hattie didn’t care. She was too dazed by what had just happened.

  Jake rolled them both over, and Hattie found herself lying atop him almost before she had time to realize what he was doing. Raising her head, she gazed down at him, her hair spilling to the mattress to form a private cave around their heads.

  Jake rubbed his hands up and down her bare back. “You all right?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated, blushed furiously, then admitted with her usual forthrightness, “I had no idea it could be like that. When I lost my . . . on that awful night . . . well, thank you. You’ve shown me a marvelous aspect of this business I never suspected.” She didn’t have the words to express what he’d restored to her.

  Jake tightened his hold. The temptation was strong to press her again for the identity of her rapist, but he hung on to his resolve. Instead, he said lightly, “My pleasure.”

  Unexpectedly, she giggled. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” She buried her face in his neck, still laughing.

  Jake thought his heart might have just exploded. God, she was a marvel. “Hattie?” He threaded a hand through her hair and tugged her head up until he could see her face. “I’m sorry about the honeymoon.”

  It was a busy time on the ranch, and because the end of the school year was almost upon them, Hattie had been given special dispensation by the school board to finish teaching out the term. Consequently, their honeymoon had been reduced to this weekend. She smiled a little wistfully but merely said, “That’s all right. It’s not your fault.”

  It wasn’t, but he’d taken a perverse pleasure in her disappointment when he’d informed her it was impossible to get away, which shamed him now. “I’m still sorry. As soon as I can free up some time, we’ll take a belated one. Anywhere you want to go.”

  She smiled radiantly. “Oh, I would like that.”

  A long curl fell across his mouth when she moved her head and he picked it up, inhaling its scent before tucking it behind her ear. “Will you miss teaching?”

  “I will. I truly love it, and it was my first taste of being a part of the community.” She gave him a little smile and ran her fingernail up and down the crease in his cheek, eyeing him from beneath her lashes. “But maybe you’ll let me help with the horses? That would help ease the crushing disappointment.”

  “Maybe,” he said, knowing if she kept smiling at him as she did now, if she gave him more loving like tonight’s, he would probably let her do anything her heart desired.

  His cock had been shrinking inside her for the past several moments and suddenly slipped out. A rush of warm liquid followed.

  “Oh!” Hattie’s face registered profound shock and she tried to disguise her embarrassed dismay at the flow of liquid on her thighs. Jake roared with laughter. He lifted her off of him and settled her on her back on the mattress. “Stay there
. I’ll get something to clean you up.” He rolled out of bed, unconcerned with his nudity as he walked to the bathroom.

  When he emerged, Hattie tried her best to get an eyeful without seeming to be looking at him at all. She remembered how she used to think he was skinny. Boy, had she been misled! He looked lean and lanky in his clothes to this day, but out of them . . . Well, he was still long- boned and lean, but far from scrawny. Muscles moved under his skin with fluid precision, in his shoulders, his arms, his legs, all appearing carved in bold relief. Her eyes darted to his man place for a quick peek and she bolted upright, unmindful of her own nakedness. “Why, it’s teeny-tiny!” she blurted, staring openly. “What on earth happened to it?”

  Jake snorted and dropped down beside her on the bed. He flipped back the covers, which had pooled around her waist, and gently used the warm cloth he’d brought from the bathroom to wipe away all traces of his loving from her thighs. As he looked up from his self-imposed task, one corner of his mouth tilted up in an ironic smile as he met her wide, curious eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything quite so deflating as having a woman point to a man’s pride and joy and proclaim it ‘teeny-tiny.’”

  Pride and joy? “All right,” she corrected, “not really. But it sure is a lot smaller than the last time I saw it, and it looks so soft and defenseless now. Before it looked sorta mean. How do you do that?”

  “For heaven’s sake, girl, you’ve been around the breeding pens enough to know—”

  “Oh, certainly,” she interrupted, “as if you ever allowed me near any animal being bred.” Briefly, she remembered the time she’d seen a stallion covering a mare, but it had been so many years ago now, the details had blurred.

  “Okay, fair enough.” His smile was wry as he regarded her, torn between chagrin at having his cock considered small by the woman whose admiration he desired above all others, and amusement at her lack of tact. One thing he’d always known about Hattie Murdock was she would say whatever popped into her mind. She was curious and outspoken about things certain to send another girl into a swoon. It was one of the first things he’d loved about her. “In any case,” he declared firmly, “I want you to repeat after me: Jake Murdock has the biggest damn straight shooter you have ever seen—”

  “Jake!” Hattie blushed crimson, but she had to press her fingers to her lips to hide a delighted grin. “Do men actually care about that sort of thing? I retract the ‘teeny-tiny’; it’s really not all that small. It’s just, compared to the way it was before . . . Well, believe me, it was certainly large enough then! In fact, I was kinda worried it would be far too big, but it fit quite . . . well, you know.” Heat pulsed in her cheeks and she wished she’d taken a moment before speaking.

  Jake enjoyed watching her, knowing she was embarrassed by her words, yet unconscious of her nudity as she sat in the middle of the rumpled bed, dressed only in blushes. He wanted to keep her unaware, to prevent her from diving for her discarded nightgown. So, he picked her hand up in his and placed it on his thigh, inches from the quiescently curled product of her scrutiny. “Want to make it grow?”

  “Ja-cob Murdock,” she breathed, shocked, but oh-so-clearly tempted.

  “Hat-tie Murdock,” he mocked, sitting very still, watching her.

  She stared down at her fingers on his hard, warm thigh and the object they almost touched. “That is a scandalous suggestion.”

  “I’ve got a million of ’em.” He grinned when her whiskey-eyed gaze flew to meet his in interested speculation. She blushed and ducked her head again. “C’mon,” he urged. “It’ll be educational.”

  “It certainly would be that,” she muttered. Her fingertips itched with the temptation. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Sure you should. It’s allowed. We’re married.”

  “Well, that’s true.” Tearing her gaze away from the object under discussion, she glanced up at his face, half-afraid he was making sport of her. But his expression was hopeful, not mocking at all. Hesitantly, she stretched out her fingers.

  “It feels different like this,” she whispered, “so . . . sweet.” She stroked it experimentally and it pulsed. “Oh!” She snatched her fingers back, but rampant curiosity trumped modesty and her hand returned to carefully grip him. His . . . straight shooter . . . pulsed again, its contours rapidly losing any semblance of sweetness. Then again.

  “Ho-ly,” she breathed in awe. The corners of her mouth tilted up, and feeling wicked and daring she looked up into her groom’s face and whispered, “Jake Murdock has the biggest darn . . .”

  “Oh, Hattie, girl—” Jake pulled her into his arms and held her in a grip that nearly squeezed the breath out of her.

  Hattie could live with that. Because her big strong man’s voice was half moan and half laughter. And he was putty—er, steel in her hands.

  36

  By the time Jake and Hattie checked out of their suite, neither remembered their wedding-day qualms. The closest reminder their union was different from some was when Jake cut himself with his straight-edge razor and allowed the blood to drip on the hotel sheet as they were packing to leave the room. His dark eyes met Hattie’s puzzled gaze. “People talk in this town,” he murmured in masterful understatement.

  Two weeks later, school closed for the summer. Hattie bid her students a final farewell and went home to the Murdock Ranch to take up management of the ranch house. When that didn’t take up enough of her time, she worked in the garden. Gradually, Jake also found chores for her involving the horses, and she spent her days in a haze of happiness so intense it was almost scary. Surely, feelings this wonderful could not last.

  She had always held strong feelings for Jake. She’d loved him for rarely treating her like a child even when she was one, and for his conversation, which had never been condescending—despite her female status and lack of years. She’d loved him for showing respect to her opinions, and for his sense of humor. Not in her wildest dreams, however, had she expected him to restore her confidence as a woman.

  Hattie always knew she wasn’t a beauty. Occasionally she’d wondered if the town’s opinion of her might have been different had she been. Personal doubts of that nature were rare, however. Mostly she’d simply possessed a headstrong confidence originating from something other than a pretty reflection in the mirror. Then Roger Lord assailed her unassailable sense of womanliness and stole something from her more precious than her virginity.

  Jake gave it back. He made her feel wanted with an intensity she’d never experienced. Made her feel needed. He talked to her. He listened to her. He made her laugh. His desire for her was insatiable and honored no timetable.

  Hattie assumed when they returned to everyday life, lovemaking would be reserved for the hours after dark. Jake quickly disabused her of the notion. With the feeblest pretexts, he often returned to the ranch house in broad daylight and once there didn’t even bother maintaining the charade. He just grabbed her by the hand and hauled her up to their room. He woke her in the morning with his mouth and his hands; he loved her at night. Praising her all the while.

  For the first time in her twenty-one years, Hattie felt it was desirable to have red hair, because Jake thought it beautiful and constantly said so. He extolled the beauty of her eyes, the desirability of her lips. He paid tribute in embarrassingly frank detail to her body. He flattered her outrageously, yet with a patent sincerity that made her feel like the loveliest woman on earth. His words, his hands, and his body healed what another man had wounded.

  Through Jake’s brand of loving, she discovered sex between a man and a woman could sometimes be violent. But it was a leashed violence comprised of shocking words, gripping hands, escalating sensations, and a demanding mouth with no apparent boundaries. Never from a desire to hurt. Even at Jake’s most uncontrolled, he was aware of their differing strengths.

  Hattie was secretly convinced that many of the things he did to her were assuredly sins.
They were simply too bold and felt much too good to be otherwise. Jake, however, insisted they weren’t. And when she questioned the propriety of a touch or the placement of his mouth, he had a way of just forging ahead and finishing what he’d begun. And it felt so good—felt so right—she never questioned him twice. After all, as he so often whispered, it was allowed. They were married.

  Truly, though, who did he think he was fooling? She doubted a quarter of the married people in Mattawa did a fraction of the bedroom things Jake dreamed up.

  Jake believed he was fooling Hattie. Not making a fool of her—hell, never that. But rather simply taking advantage of her naive trust. God, she was a miracle, so honest and genuine. And so. Damn. Enthusiastic.

  Hattie believed she was plain, but Jake found her a feast for the eyes, unequaled by the greatest beauties in the world. And her responsiveness when they made love was the biggest miracle of all. Her experience with the rapist could have scarred her for life. God knew, Jane-Ellen had feared and repulsed Jake’s advances with far less reason. But Hattie turned into his arms at the slightest touch. She kissed him back; she denied him nothing. He knew he’d shocked her more than once in the ways he touched her. Yet as soon as he told her it was allowed, they were married, she offered herself up with renewed gusto.

  It made him grin and feel cagey as a fox in a henhouse. Hell, he had dozens of new ideas to make her explode in pleasure, and eventually he’d use them all, with his handy refrain readied for backup should she fear once again it was sinful. His standard justification was so perfect, because who was she going to ask? Luckily for him, women didn’t discuss sex with each other. Or so he thought. Until the day he came back to the ranch house for a little unscheduled loving and found Hattie and Nell deep in discussion in the parlor.