Page 39 of Smart@ss Cyborg

I feel my lips curve up in pleasure.

Curious, I give Becky’s belly another brush of my lips.

The tadpole moves again, brushing me back, making me smile wider in wonder.

Not content to be ignored, Paco stretches his neck out and snatches my hat off my head.

Becky stifles a smile—then outright laughs.

I ignore the jackass, and smile in response to my mate’s laughter as I mount another step, eyes locked with hers. “Can we schedule one activity before we leave?”

She blinks. Then her gaze drops to my groin. “You… Rightnow?”

My hands land on her hips, and slide up her back. “I want to make love. If you do.” I search her face. “Whatdo you want?”

Planting her hands on my chest, she tips her head back and gives me a look that strikes me as being too solemn. She says, “We’ll make love, Will.”

***

Our foray into town is made possible because we affix a wagon behind Joel’s buttermilk horse, who is trained to drive.

As we roll out of the barnyard, Paco, secured behind a fence (for now) calls after us so forlornly that Becky suggests we tie him behind the wagon and take him along with us.

I’m tempted to agree to this, but Becky, situated with pillows beneath and behind her, is already uncomfortable, and to return for Paco and affix him to the rear of the wagon will only prolong her discomfort. Plus Paco’s shorter legs could mean our pace would be slowed as well.

Eyeing the sun rising ever higher in the sky, already intent on burning us alive, I adjust my donkey-chewed hat (I mistakenly allowed Paco to play with it while I lovingly serviced Becky) and shake my head. “He will be fine here.”

I don’t miss that my mate’s mouth purses with unhappiness.

Unfortunately, the ride does nothing to improve her outlook. Even with the pillows, the jostling wagon seat is rough for my Becky. She was massaging her lower back before our journey started—and she’s outright gripping it and grimacing now.

“Riding a donkey would have been gentler!” she claims when we hit a particularly deep rut and the wheels jump.

“How do you figure?” I ask, my eyes roving over her, outfitted in the periwinkle calico dress she changed into after our lovemaking. It’s ridden up enough that her legs are bared to my gaze and it's a pleasant distraction.

I’m wearing a brushed cotton vest the color of raw coal, cotton trousers in the same color, and a frontier work shirt the color of a poppyflower.“I look mighty fine,”I’d declared before we left.“Almost as fine as you,”I’d told Becky, and watched several areas in her brain flutter with color.

“Jesus’s mom did it,” she points out. “And Paco wanted to go to town.”

“Even if you weren’t gravid, for your safety we will need to secure a more trustworthy ass for you than Paco,” I murmur thoughtfully.

Becky looks up at me sharply. “‘Will’ need to? As in, you’re considering it for real?”

I give her a steady look. “If you express a need, it is my duty as your mate to provide what you require.”

She searches my eyes for a moment, her expression strange. “I don’tneeda donkey. I’m uncomfortable, so I’m complaining.”

“From my vantage, you have legitimate cause for complaint.”

We hit another bump and she stiffens, grimacing.

I feel my expression harden. “I think it might be a need after all.”

Unexpectedly, Becky places her hand on my arm. When I only look down at her in confusion, she exhales in a huff, reaches up and catches me behind the neck—and pulls me down.

To her mouth.

She kisses me.

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