Page 52 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
On weak legs, he went around the back of the cabin and picked up the water bucket from the porch, taking it down to the stream. There was a well with a pump behind the storehouse that Yeller used for watering the livestock. Gristle and the men used it for cooking, but here at the top of the stream was a small chain pump Bing Sun had built for him so they could have clean water for the cabin.
Virgil washed his hands and face in the bracing water, trying to cool his blood. His heart was still knocking around loose in his chest. His hand was imprinted with the clinging heat and wet hairs of Marigold’s pussy.
Don’t think about it, he ordered himself, but he couldn’t keep from imagining her silky, slippery lips riding his face. How would she taste? If he shoved his cock deep into her tight heat, would she come that same way? Nearly ripping his hair off his scalp while crying out his name?
Fuck, it had been exciting for her to abandon herself to him, but he was such a, “Stupid, fuckingasshole.” He berated himself aloud, slapping his icy hand on the back of his neck hard enough to sting.
When he carried the water back to the porch and set down the bucket with a clunk and a slosh, he glanced through the open door and saw Marigold sitting on the bench.
She quickly stood, all wide-eyed and wary in the shadowed interior.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked with a flash of concern at how subdued she seemed.
“No. I don’t think so.”
She didn’t think so? His brain caved in on itself as he tried to make sense of that.
“If I was being too rough, you should have told me to stop.” His stomach still ached at the force of his orgasm. Now a sick misgiving crept in. She had been moaning and sucking on his tongue. He thought that meant she was liking it.
“I just…” She folded her arms across her middle and hunched her shoulders toward her ears. “I didn’t know women could feel like that. That I could.”
His ears rang, he was so dumbfounded.
“Your husband didn’t ever…?” He really did want to bash the other man’s head in. Bastard cheated on her, stole her house, ruined her reputation, and never even got her off? What a monumental prick.
“Can we not talk about it, please?”
“Marigold, it’s okay.” He stepped over the threshold.
“No, it’s not.” She took a step backward, bumping into the bench and glancing behind herself, then looked back at him. She wore a cornered expression.
He gripped the edge of the doorway, growing more angry with himself by the second. He didn’t want her to beafraidof him.
“It means I’m…what they called me. Loose.”
“What? Don’t be foolish. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Even as he said it, he heard her scolding him minutes ago about women not being allowed to have their own feelings.
Fact was, he was ready to kick himself into the next valley for touching her, so he couldn’t fault her for having qualms about what they’d done.
Still, she shouldn’t be berating herself over it.
Nettie’s approaching giggle drew Virgil into taking a step back out the door. He glanced down the path to where Owen was carrying Harley toward the cabin.
Nettie skipped alongside him. When she saw Virgil, she ran toward him.
“Papa, Harley tried to get into Stoney’s bunk because he slept there before, and Uncle Owen said Harley is the wee baby bear who tried to get in the big bear’s bed. That’s not how the story goes, is it? Tell him.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how the story goes,” Owen teased her, stopping to set Harley on his feet.
“No. Ask Marigold. She’ll say it right,” Nettie insisted.
“Let’s all get on with our chores and save storytelling for bedtime,” Virgil said.
Nettie sobered, making him realize how hard his voice had become. He tried to reassure her with a gentle pat on her hair.
“Mick? Peas, Papa?” Harley toddled up to tug at his pantleg.
“I’m fresh out, kid.” Virgil showed him his empty hands.
