“Oooh,” she said, as she closed her hand around his hardness.
“Jada—”
She squeezed him lovingly and then pulled his hard cock out into the light.
“I knew when I saw you, and you said you was the owner of that beautiful horse, I just knew . . .”
“Knew what?”
“That you would be a special man,” she said, “and you are.”
She opened those pouty lips and slid his penis into her mouth, began to suck him wetly, moaning all the while.
“Oh yes,” she said, letting his wet penis slide free. “Antoine hardly ever gets hard anymore. It’s been a long time for me . . .”
She took him in her mouth again, at the same time yanking on his pants to get them down. He had to lift his butt off the chair so she could slide his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. His gun belt was on the floor next to him where he could reach it, but he was still worried that Antoine would come back while his pants were down around his ankles, putting him at a disadvantage.
But Jada didn’t give him time to think about that. She quickly got to her feet and kicked off her boots, peeled off all her clothes until she was naked. Her skin was dark, but her nipples were darker still. The hair between her legs was as black as it could be.
She leaped into his lap, pressing her breasts against his face. He opened his mouth to take her nipples in and suck them. They were hard, and as big as juicy berries. She rubbed her wet pussy against his hard cock as she kissed him, driving her tongue into his mouth and groaning deep in her throat. Finally, she lifted her hips and came down on him, taking him into her wet, steamy depths.
Her breath caught in her throat and she made a sound that, at first, made him think she was choking. He soon found that she would make this sound periodically during their coupling. It was a high-pitched gasp, a sound she made in between words, as she talked while she was bouncing up and down on his rigid cock.
“Oooh, yeah,” she said, “God . . . damn . . . yeah . . . oooh . . . oh . . . oooh . . .”
“Oooh,” was a major part of her vocabulary during sex, apparently. She’d catch her breath, and then say “Oooh” several times in a row, then catch her breath again with that high-pitched noise, then breathe noisily between her teeth as she rode him.
Clint had her ass in his hands, feeling her wetness there, making her slick to hold. So he stood and deposited her on the table, grabbed her ankles and spread her so he could fuck her hard and fast. On some level he realized his back was now to the door and if Antoine came in he was vulnerable—but he soon forgot about that and would only kick himself about it later.
He was fascinated by Jada’s face, which in the throes of passion became incredibly beautiful. Her lips seemed to swell and become even fuller, and when she bit them he almost expected them to yield juice, like ripe fruit. Her nostrils flared as she breathed raggedly. Her breasts were larger than he’d thought while she was dressed, her nipples swollen.
He held her by the hips and drove into her, testing the resolve of the table beneath her. It wiggled and leaped and moved across the floor as he fucked her.
And she got loud.
And louder.
He wondered how far away she could be heard. As far away as the stable?
He began to fuck her faster and faster, and she began to shout to him to go faster, and harder, and don’t stop.
Clint’s own breath began coming in rasps, though nothing as sexy as that high-pitched sound Jada was still making.
He finally decided that this had to come to an end for both of them, in case Antoine came back. He wasn’t really looking forward to killing his host.
As he felt her begin to tremble, he felt his own release coming to a boil and knew that this was going to be close, very, very close . . .
He hoped the table could take it.
NINE
Clint got dressed, said good-bye to Jada, and got away from there before Antoine could return. All the way back to town he was kicking himself for making himself so vulnerable. A great meal and a beautiful woman were nothing to die over—or to kill for. If Antoine had returned there would have been trouble, whether Jada was really married to him or not.
It was dark by the time he reached the hotel. He considered going up to his room, but decided to see if any other citizens of Miller’s Crossing were in the saloon.
When he got in there, he saw the bartender behind the bar and three other people—only one more than before. He studied the three of them, but couldn’t really tell if two of them were the same two from before.
At the bar he suddenly got the urge for a cold beer. Maybe none of these people could tell him where Organ Pipe was, but they could certainly tell him where he could find a cold beer.
“Just head for Yuma,” the bartender told him. “You’ll come to a town called Rosewood. They got two saloons, and both serve cold beer.”
“I guess I should do that tomorrow,” Clint said. “It’s been a while since I had a cold beer.”
“They got a whorehouse and a sheriff, too,” Benny said, “so ya better watch yerself while yer there.”
“I always watch myself, Benny,” Clint said.
“Sure ya don’t wanna stay awhile?”
“Why would I want to stay?” Clint asked.
Benny shrugged.
“Do me some good,” he said to Clint. “Yer my only cash customer.”
“Well,” Clint said, “I’m sorry about that, but I think I’ve got to be moving on.”
“Still lookin’ for that town?” Benny asked. “What was it? Lead Pipe?”
“Organ Pipe.”
“Oh, yeah,” Benny said, “that’s right.”
“Still never heard of it?”
“Ain’t nothin’ happened to change it,” Benny said.
“I was just wondering,” Clint said. “Folks around here seem to get nervous when I mention it.”
“Nervous?”
“Yup.”
“Don’t know what they’d have to be nervous about.”
“Neither do I,” Clint said. “All I’m doing is looking for a town.”
“Well, there’s plenty of towns in all directions from here,” Benny said. “Like I said, Rosewood ain’t too far, probably just a day’s ride.”
If it had been a few hours earlier, Clint would have left and taken advantage of remaining daylight, but that wasn’t the case. He was kind of worried about Jada and Antoine, and what would happen if the man came home and realized his wife had had sex with him.
“Tell me something,” he said to Benny.
“If I can.”
“Antoine and his woman Jada,” Clint said. “Are they married?”
“Well,” Benny said, leaning on the bar and lowering his voice, “they’re supposed ta be, as far as anybody knows, but Antoine got drunk in here one night and told me he ain’t married to her. He just bought her from her daddy.”
“You mean . . . like a slave?”
“I s’pose,” Benny said. “I don’t much like to think of it that way.”
“Neither do I.”
“But she don’t seem ta wanna run away none.”
Clint nodded his agreement.
“She sure is a sweet-lookin’ little thing, though,” Benny said. “But that Antoine, he’s big and he can be mean.”
“But you’re bigger,” Clint observed.
“Don’t think I’m meaner, though,” Benny said. “I mean, I’m pretty easygoin’.”
“Is that a fact?”
Benny grinned.
“Long as ya don’t get me mad.”
“I’ll try not to do that, the rest of the time I’m here,” Clint promised.
As Clint pushed away from the bar, Benny asked, “Headin’ back to your room?”
“Might as well.”
“Ya wouldn’t be wantin’ a woman for the night, wouldja?”
“I don’t think so, Benny,” Clint said.
“Be better than the beer, I guarantee ya
.”
“It would have to be,” Clint said, “but I’ll just pass. Thanks.”
“Suit yerself.”
Clint nodded and went up to his room.
TEN
Clint was sitting up in his bed, reading, when there was a knock on the door. In fact, it was more than a knock, it was a pounding. That meant it was probably a man, and an agitated one. Clint was afraid he knew what man in town he had caused some agitation.
He grabbed his gun from his holster hanging on the bedpost and walked to the door.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“It’s Antoine, Boss. Lemme in!”
“It’s late, Antoine—” Clint said.
The man started pounding on the door again, demanding to be let in. He sounded drunk. Clint decided he had to let him in or he’d attract attention from downstairs—if there was anyone in the saloon at that moment.
“Okay, Antoine, okay,” Clint said. He opened the door and backed away, holding his gun behind him.
The big black man came staggering in, as if he’d been leaning on the door. He righted himself, then squinted owlishly at Clint.
“We gots ta close the do’,” he said. He put his finger to his lips and shut the door.
“What’s going on, Antoine?” Clint asked.
Antoine brought his hand up. Clint flinched for a moment, until he saw that the man was holding a mostly empty whiskey bottle.
“Ya wants a drink, Boss?”
“No, thanks, Antoine.”
Clint walked to the bed and holstered the gun, then turned to face the drunk black man. Antoine wasn’t acting as if he knew anything about Clint and Jada.
“It’s late, Antoine,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“It ain’t dat late, Boss,” Antoine said. “We could go downstairs and gets another bottle.”
“I don’t think so. Why don’t you just finish that one all by yourself?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He raised the bottle and drank down the rest of the whiskey. He staggered, and for a moment Clint thought he was going to fall, but then he righted himself and grinned. “Done!”
“And time for you to go home,” Clint said. “I’m sure your wife is worried about you.”
“Ah, she ain’t worried,” Antoine said. “And just between you an’ me, she ain’t really my wife.”
“What?”
“I bought her from her daddy in New Orleans and brought her here wit’ me. So believe me, she ain’t gon’ be worried about me.”
“Antoine, come on—”
“Besides,” the older black man said, with a wink, “I got somethin’ important to talk ta you about.”
“And what’s that?”
“I gots ta sit down,” Antoine said. “The room is sorta . . . spinnin’.”
“Here.” Clint got Antoine to a straight-backed chair against the wall before the man could sit on his bed.
“Thank you, Boss.”
Antoine sank heavily onto the chair, leaning his head against the wall.
“Antoine,” Clint said, “what is it you have to talk to me about?”
“Place,” the old black man mumbled.
“What place?”
“Place . . . you . . . asked about . . .” His head tilted forward until his chin rested on his chest.
“Antoine! Hey!” Clint snapped, grabbing the man’s shoulders and shaking him. “What place? You mean Organ Pipe?”
Antoine’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Clint. “Whatchoo doin’?” he demanded.
“Antoine, come on. What were you going to tell me?” Clint asked.
“About what?” The man squinted, looking around. “Where am I, Boss? I s’posed to be home.”
“Antoine, you’re in my hotel room.”
“How I got here?”
“You came on your own. You said you had something to tell me.”
“I gots ta get home, Boss,” Antoine said. He tried to get up, but couldn’t, no matter how much he struggled.
“All right, all right,” Clint said. “Let me get my boots on and I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks, Boss,” Antoine said. “Jada gon’ be awful mad at me.”
“Well,” Clint said, pulling on his boots, “let’s see how quick we can get you home, then.”
Clint grabbed Antoine’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Thank ya much, Boss.”
ELEVEN
When they pushed open the door to Antoine and Jada’s shack, the girl looked at them in surprise. Antoine was leaning on Clint, who was having trouble holding the large man’s weight.
“What happened?” she asked.
“He came to my room drunk,” Clint said, “and couldn’t get back here on his own.”
Jada came over to take Antoine from Clint.
“I’ll put him to bed.”
“Can you handle it?” he asked. “Do you need help?”
“No,” she said, “I’ve done it before. Please, you just wait here.”
She got Antoine into the other room with remarkable ease. Through the door Clint could see that there was just barely enough room for a bed in there. She dropped him onto it, then came out and closed the door behind her. She approached Clint with a lascivious smile on her face and cupped his crotch.
“You came back for more already?” she asked.
“Jada, no,” Clint said, swatting her hand away. “Not with Antoine in the next room.”
“He won’t hear a thing,” she assured him. “He’ll sleep like the dead till mornin’.”
“I need to talk to you,” he said, moving away from her. She had a powerful sexual presence that had his cock already hard, but he was determined not to give in. Not this time.
“Talk? About what?”
“Before he passed out,” Clint said, “Antoine said he had something to tell me.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t get it out of him,” he said, “but he mentioned the place I was asking about.”
“What place?”
“You remember,” he said. “I asked you both about a place called Organ Pipe. You both lied to me and said you’d never heard of it.”
“Organ Pipe?” she repeated. “I never have.”
“Well, maybe you haven’t, but I’m willing to bet Antoine and probably the longtime residents of this town have.”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t tell you anythin’ about that.”
“I want to talk to Antoine in the morning,” he said. “I want to find out what he knows. I’ll need your help.”
“If you want my help,” she said, “you will have to do somethin’ for me.”
“Jada, I said not here,” he said.
“Then where? Your room?”
“What happens if he wakes up and you’re not here?” he asked.
“I tol’ you, he won’t wake up,” she said. “When he gets like this, ya can’t wake him.”
“He dozed off in my room and woke up right away.”
“He ain’t dozin’ this time,” she said. “He’s dead asleep.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace where he couldn’t hear us if he wanted to,” she assured him.
He followed Jada to the livery stable. They went in through a back door and she hurriedly lit a lamp. Then she pulled off her clothes and stood before him naked. The golden light given off by the lamp made her look like she was glowing.
“I want you,” she said. “I want you to take me.”
“Jada—”
“That’s the only way I’m gonna help ya,” she said. “You’re gonna leave this town soon, ain’t ya?”
“Probably tomorrow.”
“Then this is my last chance,” she said. “Ain’t gonna be nothin’ like this for me after you leave here.”
She turned, went into one of the stalls, bent over with her back to him, and started fluffing up some hay. He couldn’t help
but stare. She had an exquisitely shaped backside, powerful thighs and legs.
When she turned back to him she put her hands behind her back, thrusting out her breasts, and stared at him.
“Ya ain’t gonna leave me here all hot, bothered, and naked, are you, Clint?” she asked. “That would be a terrible thing ta do to a girl.”
“No,” he said, resigned to his fate, “I’m not going to do that, Jada.”
TWELVE
When Clint went back to his hotel room, he was exhausted from trying to keep up with Jada. The girl had an insatiable appetite for sex, and Clint wondered how she managed to go without for so long.
He’d had to peel her off of him in order to get to his room so he could go to sleep. He warned her that she had better keep her part of the bargain and have Antoine ready to talk by the next morning.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “You gave me what I needed, so tomorrow I’ll get you what you need.”
When he woke the next morning, he quickly got dressed and walked over to Antoine and Jada’s shack. He found it empty. The furniture was still there, but all the clothes were gone. He walked around the building, then went over to the livery. There was an old white man there, about sixty, who looked up as Clint entered.
“Do you know where Antoine is?” he asked.
“Gone,” the old man said.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“Gone,” the man said. “He left. Him and the girl.”
“What about the livery stable?”
“He give it to me, along with the shack, only I ain’t moved inta the shack yet. Gotta do that later today, with my clothes and things—”
“Wait a minute,” Clint said. “He didn’t sell it to you? He just gave it to you?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
The man shrugged. “I dunno. He said him and the girl had ta leave. Say, are you the fella with the big black horse?”
“That’s right.”
“Beautiful animal. Ya gonna leave him here long?”
“No,” Clint said. “As a matter of fact, I’m taking him now.”
Message on the Wind Page 3
