tagNonConsent/ReluctanceSmall Town Secrets Ch. 04

Small Town Secrets Ch. 04



Abby wanted to laugh at his outrageous proposal and his even funnier justifications. She equally wanted to burst into tears at the mess that had become of her life. Most of all she wanted to run into Nana's arms, confide everything (well maybe not everything) and beg for forgiveness and advice that she knew she could count upon to hold the wisdom of the ages. But she could do none of those. Instead she sat and watched her hands fidget against her white slip. She bit her lower lip until the pain reminded her that this was neither a dream nor a nightmare, but very much her reality.

She tried to logically rifle through Jack's arguments. But her logical brain did not seem to be working worth a damn when that man was towering over her looking like the cover of one of Nana's dog-eared Western romances. She half expected the man to let out a war cry and throw her over his broad shoulders and spirit her away. And why did that idea make her body tingle with renewed need? Why this man? Always this man. And especially why now? When there was so much for her to deal with already.

She needed time to think. Away from him. She needed another cup of coffee. She wanted that bath he promised. But most of all she wanted to wake up to discover that this was just another one of her hot fantasies about the man. If the soreness and stickiness between her thighs was not enough of a reality check then the brownish red stains next to her definitely were.

She had slept with the man. Correction...she had had sex with him. Given him virginity that she had saved for twenty-six years in some alcohol fueled stupor. She hung her head in shame as tears filled her eyes. Perhaps the whispers of this town were not that far off the mark. Perhaps apples did not fall far from the tree. She supposed she should be thankful to him that he had not allowed her to drive home in that state. To destroy not only her life but others as well as her mother had. After a lifetime of being the 'good girl,' doing all that she could to live down her mother's reputation as a wild drunk, one night, one moment had destroyed it all.

She feared then that those tears would escape like flood waters during a spring downpour. The bed shifted under his weight. He gathered both of her hands in his. "Would it really be that bad, Abby? Being my wife?"

His fingers under her chin lifted her head. Their eyes met. And the smoldering inferno lit like fresh kindling thrown onto dying embers. Her nipples hardened painfully inside her silken bra. Every inch of her skin flushed and tingled, especially her face and hands where he touched her. She sucked in a deep breath as he slowly lowered his face towards hers.

His lips were soft, teasing as they moved against hers. But she remembered too well the fiery passion they offered. She whimpered like a lost puppy seeking the comfort of its mother's teat, begging for attention. Still he toyed with her, his tongue tracing her lower lip slowly from corner to corner as his hand moved up her arms and around to the back of her neck. He had her virtually imprisoned and yet still he only played at the kiss he must have known she wanted most. She whimpered again, louder this time. "Please," she begged into his mouth.

He drew back so quickly then that it left her dizzy. The smile on his face was cocky, arrogant, self-assured. She wanted to slap him, wipe that look from his handsome face. But it only got worse.

"That was completely sober. In broad daylight, Abby Jean. And if I had not stopped, you would be spread eagle on the bed with my cock buried deep inside of you within two minutes. Not only would you not have stopped me, you would have loved every single moment of it. You would have come apart at my command just like you did last night," he gloated.

Abby wanted to deny his claims but she could not, given the way her whole body screamed out for his touch. She tried to look away but his hand at the back of her neck would not allow it. He forced her to meet his bold gaze as it raked over her half naked body.

"You are a fucking Stradivarius. Your body makes the most beautiful music," as if to emphasize his point his hand cupped her breast. His thumb brushed across her nipple. It ached. Her body answered immediately as her chest arched into his touch, another moan wrenched from her dry throat. "But only a master violinist can release that song. In the hands of anyone else it is just another fiddle."

Abby tried to form a logical argument, respond in any way to his assertions. But that thumb kept stroking back and forth against the soft material of her slip. Her breathing was so shallow that she felt the room spin around her. Was it that simple? Had the problem been Stuart all along? Was it possible that she was not frigid as he had accused?

She needed to know for certain. Sober. In broad daylight as he said. She needed to know for sure if she could feel that way again...alive. "Show me, Jack."

He shook his head, "No, sweetheart. When I make love to you again, it's going to be in king size bed with loads of pillows." He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She jumped. "You're going to be wearing that white dress you deserve. And my gold band is going to be on this finger," he lifted her hand to his mouth. First he kissed her knuckles like some chivalrous knight of old, then he drew her ring finger into his mouth. His tongue toyed with it. His sharp teeth scraped it. He sucked upon it for a long moment. It reminded her of how his mouth had felt on her nipple.

It popped loudly from his mouth like a balloon at a party. His gaze never left her face, "I could tie you to this bed. Make love to you for days. I could train that responsive body to the point that a look from me will set it on fire. I can and will break you if I have to, Abby Jean. Make you really beg. I trained as a SEAL, baby girl. I can hold out for as long as I must to accomplish my mission."

He chuckled, "I know you have heard the old saying 'why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free.' Well, that goes for bulls too and this one ain't going to cheap. If you want more, it will be as my lawfully wedded wife. So what do you say about a road trip to Vegas, Miss Monroe?"

Abby swallowed hard, fought back the tears. Shame. Need. Indecision. Insecurity. All swirl like a Texas tornado inside of her, picking up speed as went. She shook her head, "How can you be so sure?" Her voice cracked as she looked away, one tear managed to escape and cascade down her cheek, "What if it was just a fluke?" She choked on the next words, like vile bile rising in her throat they ate away at her soul, "What it if was all just the alcohol? What if I really am frigid?"


Jack would have laughed if it were not for the pain he heard behind those words. He swore under his breath and promised himself that one day he would have a very long talk with this Stuart fellow. Making her believe that his failings as a lover were her fault. Men like that should be shot. Then again that would be too good for him. But he had an idea for an even better punishment...in time.

Right now, he had a dilemma. He meant what he said; she deserved more, better than another quick fuck in a cramped single bed. Even if he did know he could make it good for her. Sometimes good was not good enough. He wanted perfection...rose petals, silk sheets, every girl's fantasy. As stupid as it sounded.

He had spent a lifetime protecting this country. Other people's rights. Their families. He had always assumed that all that was beyond his grasp. That the poor little Indian bastard did not deserve such 'normal' things as a wife and family. Even when he came back here after the old man died, it was just temporary. He would use the time to settle old scores, bury old demons. Then he would give the bar over to that charity and head back there as a paid mercenary this time.

But all that changed last night. Was it really just last night? Maybe he should have never given into the temptation to taste her lips. But then look at all he would have missed. The sweet way that her tiny arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her soft moans when he touched her just the right way. But most of all the way that she came apart beneath him, the way his touch could ignite her like lightening on the dry desert shrubs.

Thing was she really did not understand just how special that was. How unique the chemistry they shared could be. She lacked the experience to realize that this was a once in a lifetime kind of magic. Hell, a magic he had never thought he would have in his whole lifetime. But he was not about to let it go. Not about to let the head job that another man did keep him from having what he wanted.

"If it isn't, Abby? What then? If I can show that the magic was real, are you willing to give this a go?" He forced her to look at him again. He knew it made her uncomfortable, but that was what he wanted right now. "Will you surrender to my terms, baby girl?"

He watched her throat work convulsively. He heard her quick intake of breath on the word 'surrender.' He smiled as he thought where those games might lead. She blushed and bit that bottom lip. He wanted to bite it harder until it was swollen and red. He wanted to taste her blood even. Something primal was raging inside his blood. Something that demanded to be unleashed even as he drew back tighter on the reins of his self-control as he practiced patience.

"What do you mean? What are you saying?" she stammered. "Do you mean if we do it again, will I marry you?"

He shook his head, "No, I meant it, Abby Jean. I am not making love to you again in this pink nightmare, in a bed that is barely big enough for one, that I am afraid will break under our combined weight."

He smiled at the look of disappointment that shone on her face at his words. This woman wore her emotions on her sleeve as his grandfather would say. After a lifetime of conniving she-wolves, her innocence was refreshing.

"But there are other ways. Things I can show you. Prove to you that last night was no fluke. It was just the beginning." He met her gaze full-on, "Put plainly, Abby Jean, I want your word that you will marry me today...when I make you come again."


Abby did laugh then at his ridiculous proposition. Or was it a bet? Ironic that the casino owner would play such high stakes games. Although she supposed they were not that high stake for him. What did he have to lose? Why did he really want to marry her anyway?

The word was out before she could stop it, "Why, Jack?"

"Why what?" he looked puzzled.

"Why do you want to marry me? Why not just enjoy the free milk as you say?" she asked boldly squaring her shoulders.

He shrugged casually, "My grandfather wanted to know that the Greywolf line would continue. That the casino would remain a family business if I took it on. Honestly the old codger probably just wanted me back home I suppose. His will stipulates that to keep control of the bar and casino I need to marry within a year of his death."

His eyes captured hers in a heated gaze. "I had decided until last night that I would hand it all over to that charity of his before I was forced to marry." He drew in a deep breath before he continued but he met her stare with firm resolve, "If you want the truth, I am kind of particular about what I want in a wife. I honestly never thought I would find it." His eyes held hers, dared her to look away it seemed, "Until last night."

Abby's throat was too tight. So were her nipples. She could see the honest passion in his face as much as hear the practicality. But marriage was way more to her than a chore to be done to appease an old man's dying wish. It was forever, which she realized now was probably why she kept putting Stuart off for so many years. She had been such a fool.

Hell, she still was for even considering his proposal. If she had half a lick of sense as Nana would say, she would throw this man out the front door on his gorgeous butt. But this was Jack. Her every fantasy rolled into one. And damned if last night the man had not lived up to every last one of those fantasies. Was she seriously contemplating this? Sure, she had gotten into real trouble in fourth grade for writing Mrs. Jackson Greywolf all over her desk during boring math class. But was she really considering this man's cold and calculating business deal of marriage?

"What do you mean particular? And what makes you think I'd fit the bill?" It seemed she was.

"Your choice of clothes for one. The flowery fifties dress was feminine and classy." Abby blushed and dropped her eyes. It was a bad move considering that her eyes now took in the bulge in the front of his jeans. "But the slip, stockings and garter belt was a fantasy come true, baby girl. They don't belong with a thong though. So from now on unless there is a damned good practical reason not to, you don't wear panties at all."

Abby swore she would suffocate then. She truly could not breathe as her whole body flamed to life at the sound of authority in his voice. There was no mistaking his words for what they were...a command. One that expected to be obeyed. If that was not bad enough, her eyes were playing tricks on her as she swore that the bulge in his jeans thickened and moved with his every word.

She was helpless to stop herself as her hand covered the short distance between them. Her fingers traced the hardness. Had that actually fit inside of her? She wanted it to again. Almost needed. She felt him shiver beneath her fingers, heard his sharp intake of air. It was the only warning she got before his large hand covered hers, stilling it, but trapping hers at the same time against the throbbing reality of what they had shared.

"And that is the other reason, princess. I want that classy lady to the world. But I want her to be a total whore. For me. Just for me. The way your body responded to mine last night said all I needed to know," he lifted her hand then and placed it back in her lap.

She shook her head, "So we are back to that. What if it was just the alcohol? Some fluke?" she whispered almost in tears.

His hand slowly and lightly caressed the full length of her arm to her shoulder. He pushed gently there, forcing her back onto the bed. His body rose over hers with a smile as his hands continued their torturous exploration. His fingers brushed the straps of her slip and bra back before tracing along the edge of her pale pink lace bra. He followed it all the way to the deep V in the middle and back up the other side. Then he pushed it aside and her breast popped free.

Abby bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. She knew that her barely B-cup tits were nothing special so his next words shocked her, "Perfection." But before she could question his sanity, his hot mouth on her turgid nipple stole hers. He sucked and licked and even nibbled at the peak for several long moments until she was undulating on the bed, arching against him, her body pleading without words for release.

But he would not give it. Instead he lifted his dark head. His hair shone blue black in the sunlight drifting through the curtains. "Do you still think it was a fluke, Abby Jean?" He pinched her exposed nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugged her breast upwards. She moaned at the pleasure/pain. It was a heady combination.

Abby was beyond thinking. Her body was once more a single massive nerve cell that seemed incapable of anything other than responding to this man. "Please, Jack," she whimpered.

He shook his head and smiled like Satan in the Garden of Eden. "Please what, baby girl?" His fingers brushed the straps on the other shoulder aside, bared that breast for his inspection. His smile said that it too met his standards. He pinched the already hard nipple. "Can't have her feeling left out can we?" he growled as he once more lowered his dark head and resumed the torture.

Her body was no longer her own. It was as if her soul had been plucked up and transplanted into some foreign one, one that seemed alive as she had never imagined possible. It was almost surreal. An out of body experience. She could feel and respond to everything this man was doing to her. Yet some part of her mind was watching from above, detached and in awe of what she witnessed. This creature was everything she was not...sexy, desirable, responsive, wanton even.

"Jack, please," she half whimpered, half growled.

He lifted his head again. That cocky smile annoyed and reassured her. "Please what, Abby? Tell me what you want. What you need."

She felt herself redden, knew she was blushing a deep scarlet. Until that moment Abby would have never thought herself capable of such boldness. Capable of the passion and desire of one of the heroines in her books. But she was...and more. Need could do strange things to a girl. "Make me come, Jack. I need to come," she pleaded with her words and her body as it danced against his. She wished away the rough denim, wanted so desperately to feel him buried inside of her again. "Please, Jack!"


Jack swore he was insane. He had the hottest, sexiest woman he had ever been with underneath him, begging for him to fuck her. He knew she would not resist. He could feel that she wanted him almost as badly as he wanted her. And he was actually going to deny them both what they wanted.

He hated himself then. In that moment he realized that he was that fly caught in a web of his own making. But unlike the Old Man he was not settling. He would play her, use her need, her innocence to get what he wanted. Even if it damned his soul to hell.

"And when I give you what you need, Abby Jean?" He caressed her cheek softly as he spoke. But her body was aroused that even that simple touch had her moaning and writhing beneath him. "Look at me!" He waited for her eyes to meet his fully, waited until he knew that he had her full attention. "When I make you come, you are MINE. Do you understand me?"

Her sharp intake of breath at that word told him more than the simple nod of her head. "No more arguing. We leave today for Vegas. You will marry me. Be my wife in every way that matters. Cook my meals. Do my laundry. Have my babies. Fall asleep in my arms every night and wake up in them the next morning."

He knew that his words were harshly real. Perhaps on some level they were as much for his own benefit as hers. But the truth was that he wanted this bit settled. Here and now. He wanted her surrender. Total and complete. He smiled, well, that part he might have to work on a bit more. His games were a bit advanced for virgin school marms, even super-hot ones that were meant for his loving.

"For better or worse. In sick and in health. Forsaking all others. Until death do us part, Abby Jean. This is no game. It is very much real...and I always play to win. You agree to my terms?"

Jack wondered for a moment as the silence stretched on if he had not overplayed his hand. What if she called his bluff? Could he really just walk away? After watching his grandfather's pain, how could he not? He swallowed convulsively as seconds seemed like days. Damn, why was this so important to him? And why especially did it have to be her? Why did the perfect woman he had waited a lifetime to find have to be that woman's granddaughter?

He closed his eyes against the pain as he faced the possibility of walking away or becoming like his grandfather, settling for scraps from her emotional table. There was no real choice. He pulled back, started to lift his weight off her.

Those tiny hands clutched him. Just like they had last night. Like what started it all. "No. Don't go, Jack," she pleaded.

"I have to, baby girl. I won't settle. I can't," he wanted to explain but he couldn't. "I want it all and I want it now. Maybe if I was a better man, a less damaged one, I'd give you time. Dinners. Movies. Flowers. Court you proper, Abby Jean. But I can't take that risk." He laughed, "You've kept one man on the string for five years. I ain't the type to dance to your tune like that."

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