The Lawman (Montana Men Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Vanessa Vale
clenched. If I hadn't heard the pleasure in his voice at the sight of my nakedness, I'd have thought him angry with me.
I carefully climbed into the tub, the water hot. It was my turn to make sounds of pleasure, although I was just pleased to be enveloped in such warmth. Submerged to my neck, I felt covered, however the bath water did nothing to hide my body from his view. But in this moment, reveling in the feel of the scented bath water, I would never take for granted the idea of getting clean, completely so, ever again.
Mr. Graves knelt beside the tub, cloth in one hand, a white block of soap in the other. "Let's get you washed because I want to make you all dirty again."
Instead of the look of hard intensity there moments before, now I saw desire.
"Mr. Graves, I--"
"Ryder. My name is Ryder." He lathered the soap onto the cloth, then started to wash first my shoulders, then lower to my breasts, cleaning me with a little more thoroughness than perhaps necessary. But I wasn't complaining. The feel of the cloth was so sensitive, the scent of the soap citrusy and fresh. "Considering the things I plan to do to you, I think we can eliminate formalities."
What did he plan to do to me? I could only imagine what he had in mind.
"I have many plans," he replied, and I realized I'd asked the question aloud. "For today, I plan on learning every inch of your body, discovering what makes you whimper, what makes you scream. By then, I won't have to take your maidenhead, Ellie. You'll be begging to give it to me." His hand at this point had moved between my thighs, the cloth sliding over every fold, again and again. I lifted my hips, arching into his ministrations. It felt so good! Sadly, he stopped, and shifted around the tub to kneel at the very back so he could wash my hair, his long fingers massaging my scalp as he worked the tangles free from my long tresses.
The water heated, or perhaps it was my skin, but it was becoming too much. I relaxed my muscles and reveled in his touch.
"Oh no," he murmured, tugging me up none too gently beneath my arms to pull me to my feet. "We can't have you drown." Grabbing a towel, he dried me, ever so slowly, being thorough to get the most water from my long hair. "Peaches and cream," he murmured.
My mind felt like it was lost in a fog, my thoughts unclear, muddled, my focus solely on Mr. Graves – Ryder - his words, his hands. I didn't even mind that I was unclothed while he was still fully dressed. "What?"
"Your skin. It's like peaches and cream. Let's see if you taste the same."
The room spun as I found myself on my back, the cool yet soft quilt beneath me, the hard body of Ryder above me. His head lowered to my breast once again, licking, swirling, sucking. His mouth was doing wicked things that had me arching my back and threading my fingers through his hair. Was I holding him in place or pushing him away? The feelings he brought about were so intense they made me burn. How did his mouth upon my nipple make the place between my thighs tingle, pulse even? Whatever he was doing, I didn't want him to stop.
Moving his head from one nipple to the other, he persisted. His hand came up to mold, shape the breast being neglected, and he took the tip between his finger and thumb, tugging it. When he gave it a slight pinch, I cried out.
He lifted his head and looked down at me. One sandy lock fell over his forehead to add to his rogue-like, wicked look. He grinned. "Like that, do you?"
Like it? I couldn't describe how I felt about it, so I just nodded. He winked at me and did it again, giving the nipple a strong tug, then a sharp pinch.
My head fell back, eyes closing. I was surprised my damp hair didn't steam from the heat that surrounded us.
"My wife likes it a little rough," he murmured, his hot breath fanning my skin.
I didn't like it, I loved it. Why did I like it from the very first hint of rough with Ryder and when Allen had touched me -
Ryder lifted his head, gazed up at me with his
I carefully climbed into the tub, the water hot. It was my turn to make sounds of pleasure, although I was just pleased to be enveloped in such warmth. Submerged to my neck, I felt covered, however the bath water did nothing to hide my body from his view. But in this moment, reveling in the feel of the scented bath water, I would never take for granted the idea of getting clean, completely so, ever again.
Mr. Graves knelt beside the tub, cloth in one hand, a white block of soap in the other. "Let's get you washed because I want to make you all dirty again."
Instead of the look of hard intensity there moments before, now I saw desire.
"Mr. Graves, I--"
"Ryder. My name is Ryder." He lathered the soap onto the cloth, then started to wash first my shoulders, then lower to my breasts, cleaning me with a little more thoroughness than perhaps necessary. But I wasn't complaining. The feel of the cloth was so sensitive, the scent of the soap citrusy and fresh. "Considering the things I plan to do to you, I think we can eliminate formalities."
What did he plan to do to me? I could only imagine what he had in mind.
"I have many plans," he replied, and I realized I'd asked the question aloud. "For today, I plan on learning every inch of your body, discovering what makes you whimper, what makes you scream. By then, I won't have to take your maidenhead, Ellie. You'll be begging to give it to me." His hand at this point had moved between my thighs, the cloth sliding over every fold, again and again. I lifted my hips, arching into his ministrations. It felt so good! Sadly, he stopped, and shifted around the tub to kneel at the very back so he could wash my hair, his long fingers massaging my scalp as he worked the tangles free from my long tresses.
The water heated, or perhaps it was my skin, but it was becoming too much. I relaxed my muscles and reveled in his touch.
"Oh no," he murmured, tugging me up none too gently beneath my arms to pull me to my feet. "We can't have you drown." Grabbing a towel, he dried me, ever so slowly, being thorough to get the most water from my long hair. "Peaches and cream," he murmured.
My mind felt like it was lost in a fog, my thoughts unclear, muddled, my focus solely on Mr. Graves – Ryder - his words, his hands. I didn't even mind that I was unclothed while he was still fully dressed. "What?"
"Your skin. It's like peaches and cream. Let's see if you taste the same."
The room spun as I found myself on my back, the cool yet soft quilt beneath me, the hard body of Ryder above me. His head lowered to my breast once again, licking, swirling, sucking. His mouth was doing wicked things that had me arching my back and threading my fingers through his hair. Was I holding him in place or pushing him away? The feelings he brought about were so intense they made me burn. How did his mouth upon my nipple make the place between my thighs tingle, pulse even? Whatever he was doing, I didn't want him to stop.
Moving his head from one nipple to the other, he persisted. His hand came up to mold, shape the breast being neglected, and he took the tip between his finger and thumb, tugging it. When he gave it a slight pinch, I cried out.
He lifted his head and looked down at me. One sandy lock fell over his forehead to add to his rogue-like, wicked look. He grinned. "Like that, do you?"
Like it? I couldn't describe how I felt about it, so I just nodded. He winked at me and did it again, giving the nipple a strong tug, then a sharp pinch.
My head fell back, eyes closing. I was surprised my damp hair didn't steam from the heat that surrounded us.
"My wife likes it a little rough," he murmured, his hot breath fanning my skin.
I didn't like it, I loved it. Why did I like it from the very first hint of rough with Ryder and when Allen had touched me -
Ryder lifted his head, gazed up at me with his
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