I Do It For You

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Roseanna came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the clearing. Her eyes darted left, then right, her body in full alert, ready to vanish into the trees at the slightest hint of danger. An owl hooted, sending a shiver down her spine.

She was sure her father hadn’t seen her steal away but didn’t know about her brothers. They would be only too willing to tattle on her. She should turn back while she still had the chance. Her father would not be pleased if he discovered her gone. She shook off her fears and kept moving. Shafts of moonlight filtered through the abundant foliage, enough to reveal a secluded cabin hidden amongst the trees.

Roseanna breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome glow penetrating the darkness. As she watched, the front door opened, silhouetting the tall figure of a man, rifle held in readiness. Johnse! He was here. Roseanna stepped from her concealment.

The young man’s whisper reached her ears. “Roseanna, is that you?

“Yes, it’s me, Johnse.” She scurried the short distance to the cabin.

Roseanna stopped in front of the man she had risked everything to meet. She found it difficult to believe this man, a man who could have any woman he wanted…and did…wanted her. His piercing blue eyes met hers and she forgot her fears, blocked out everything except him.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” Johnse held out his arms. “Your dad…”

“Shush, Johnse.” She caressed his cheek. “It would take more than my dad to keep me away from you.”

“Come in before someone sees you. My family wouldn’t be happy about this either.”

Roseanna crossed the threshold and entered the small, sparsely-furnished cabin, and stood basking in the warm glow of the fireplace. Johnse closed the door and came to stand behind her. He removed her shawl and set it aside. He gathered up her long locks in one large hand, baring her slender neck. She felt his breath quicken on her bare skin, then his mouth was on her neck, leaving goose bumps as he moved downwards. An unexpected nip caused her to inhale sharply.

He tugged her blouse to one side, enough to bare a shoulder, and resumed his scorching kisses and teasing bites. Her nipples tightened in response. She leaned back onto his solid chest for support. Johnse pull the pins from her hair, causing it to fall to her shoulders. His hands cupped her unfettered breasts through the soft muslin of her blouse.

She forgot who she was when she was with Johnse and ceased to care who he was. His kisses aroused her as no other young man. Her blood raced through her veins, heading to areas that had her moaning and mewling with need. Her breasts were swollen and achy, craving his touch. Her nipples came alive, begging his fingers to head there, chafing against the fabric as her breathing quickened.

Johnse unfastened her blouse one button at a time until she was quaking with anticipation. Her naked breasts were rosy in the amber glow of the stone fireplace, yet paler than the work hardened hands holding them. She watched as he rolled each nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her breath caught. She whimpered.

“My little wild mountain rose.” Johnse chuckled against her ear. He tugged and pulled both of her nipples as her breathy mews intensified. “I bet that little rosebud between your thighs is pert near standing up.”

Currents of carnal lust coursed from her nipples to her toes and back up again, pooling in her center. The heat from the fire caressed her legs as Johnse pulled up her skirt, seeking the aching nub he knew was there. His hands were hot and demanding against her inner thighs as his feet prodded her legs apart. Roseanna waited…waited…then cried out as he stroked her straining bud.

“Not so fast, little Rosie.” His growled admonishment divulged his lustful condition almost as much as the hard prodding on her bare behind. He urged her forward. “Lean forward and brace yourself on the fireplace.”

Her blouse hung open and her full breasts basked in the heat from the fire. Johnse reached out and tweaked a nipple with one hand while the other stroked her round derriere, inching downward to the beckoning wetness. She jerked involuntarily as he found what he sought, raised her hips higher. Her inner core pulsed and oozed with desperate need, craving what Johnse had to offer.

He pulled her skirt to the side. “You have such a beautiful arse, Rosie.” His voice sounded almost reverent.

Johnse paused a second to release his burgeoning erection. He lifted Roseanne by her hips, groaned as he slowly entered her. Once impaled inside, he resumed stroking her straining bud in concert with the rhythm of his thrusts. Tiny spasms started deep, building in intensity until she could stand no more. A keening wail burst from her throat as she exploded in glorious ecstasy. Roseanna bucked and danced, twisted and turned, raising herself up on her toes as she absorbed every single throb, twinge and spasm. Johnse stiffened, thrust deep, and then jerked as he spurted inside her.

Hours later, exhausted, Roseanna rose from the make-shift bed and dressed. Johnse lay sleeping, one hand slung above his head.

“I love you, Johnse Hatfield,” she whispered. “More than life itself.”

Without looking back, Roseanna McCoy started the long walk home.

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