Tucker’sClaim by Tucker's Claim

Author:Tucker's Claim
Language: eng
Format: epub

Three hours later, Sally Mae could completely understand the frayed nerves that led people to violence. Her body, which she’d always thought such a wonderful, stable gift from God, had turned traitor. Under Tucker’s tutelage, the hum of arousal was her constant companion, egged on by the clamp. It swung with every move, maintaining her desire at a restless pitch with each erotic tug. And, with every shift, the toy reminded her of Tucker’s possession. Despite the fact that she could end her torture with the removal of both devices, she didn’t, couldn’t. She was a wanton and a sinner, but she was also Tucker’s. Nothing proved that more than the heightened state of her senses as she awaited his return. She slapped the dust cloth on the parlor table as she watched for him through the window. The man would be lucky if she didn’t knock him to the floor and have her way with him as soon as he walked in the door and to heck with whatever plans he had. Lord, why didn’t he return? To take her mind off the agonizingly slow progress of time, she started to sing. And then stopped just as abruptly when she realized it was a hymn.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

She spun around, her body reacting wildly to the sight of Tucker, standing so big and tall in the doorway, his hair loose about his rough-hewn face, his silver eyes studying her with all the heat she could wish. The table rattled as she bumped it.

“I did not hear thee come in.”

“Good.” He smiled, revealing even, white teeth. She wanted to run her tongue over each of them. He stepped into the room. Not for the first time, she marveled at how gracefully he moved for a big man. He reached over and tugged the curtains closed. There was power in the line of his torso, the flex of his buttocks. She bit her lip as fresh cream coated her thighs.

“What will the neighbors think?”

It was a pitiful defense and he obliterated it with simple logic, encased in a knowing smile. “That you were up late with a patient and are taking a nap.”

Very deliberately, he placed two fingers against his thigh. She dropped her dusting cloth. When she hesitated, his smile faded, and he made the gesture again. Feeling awkward, exposed and vulnerable, she turned and leaned over the padded arm of the dark green couch.

“That’s a good start.”

The rough edge of his drawl caught on her wild side, bringing it forward. “Now, pull those skirts up and present yourself for my pleasure.”

Oh, dear God, he’d meant it. Balancing herself on her hips, breathless with excitement, Sally Mae reached back and started pulling up her skirt. It wasn’t easy. Between her skirt and her petticoat there was a lot of material. She expected Tucker to get impatient, but he didn’t. For all the minutes it took to gather everything up—first past her calves, the backs of her knees, then her thighs and finally, those last six inches, which exposed her fully—she could feel him watching.

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