She heard his quick intake of breath and then his rough, brown hands reached out and covered her white breasts and it felt as good as she knew it would. She smiled and arched her back even more, pressing her breasts against his hands so that he raked his thumbs back and forth across her pink nipples until she felt them swell with desire. She took a quick intake of breath herself and put her hands on top of his. “Take pleasure in these—they belong to you.”
In answer, he slipped his arm under her bare back, and brought her into his lap where she felt his manhood hard and throbbing against her. Then he put his open mouth on her breast.
She gasped with delight, never having known that a man’s mouth sucking her nipple could feel so exciting. Wannie reached up and caught his dark head, pulling his mouth hard against her breast, urging him to take it all into his mouth, urging him to tease it while she writhed in his arms. He sucked it until she was breathless with the throbbing of her swollen nipple. Then he went to the other one.
The thought crossed her mind that she was only a small, helpless toy made for his pleasure except that his touch and his mouth were giving her pleasure, too. Keso kissed between her breasts and left a hot, wet trail of kisses down her bare belly as his calloused hand kneaded and massaged her breasts.
Her whole body was on fire. “Keso, dearest, oh, don’t stop ... please, I’m begging you, don’t stop!”
“Not with a gun at my head,” he declared, his breath warm on her belly.
His bare chest was inches from her mouth. She reached out and embraced him, catching his nipple between her teeth. He gasped aloud and pressed her face against him. Encouraged, she nibbled and teased with her small teeth, then went to the other nipple while he urged her on with gasps and moans of pleasure.
“Do you like that?” she asked.
“Oh, Wannie, I could never get enough of you if I made love to you every night for the rest of my life.”
“For always?”
“For always!” he promised and kissed her hungrily again and again, running his tongue inside her lips, devouring her mouth for a long time before he returned to kissing her belly, moving lower each time she writhed and moaned at his touch.
Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her there! she thought with sudden horror as his mouth moved lower still. For a split second she resisted, keeping her thighs together. He raised his head, looking at her, breathing hard. “Remember you are my captive—I have won you and you must please me—and I intend to please you. Don’t resist me.”
That was right, wasn’t it? She was his to do with as he wished. She let her thighs fall apart and closed her eyes. Then she felt his hot breath on her bud of femininity and took a deep breath, arching her body with pleasure even as his tongue touched and caressed there. At that moment, Wannie forgot propriety, modesty, and everything else but the hot desire that swirled from his greedy mouth. She moaned aloud as she caught his head between her hands and held him against her, wanting him to kiss and suck and probe her with his tongue. For a long moment, she writhed helplessly under his mouth, shaking with the desire he was building in her.
After a long moment, he stood up and silently began to remove his loincloth. She lay there naked on the soft fur, looking up at his magnificent bronzed body in the golden firelight. His manhood was as large and swollen as a stallion’s. She felt a need to worship at this font of life and came up on her knees, embracing his lower body and pressing her bare breasts against his muscular thighs. She paid homage to his supreme maleness by kissing him there, taking him in her mouth in ultimate submission.
“Wannie, no . . .” But he didn’t tear away. After a moment, he caught the back of her head in his hands, pressing her face against his powerful body, letting her, urging her to taste and kiss him there. She wanted his seed, wanted to taste his life force, but he reached down and swung her up in his arms, her long black hair hanging over his arm like silken strands of the deepest night. His eyes burned with intense desire as she arched her back and he held her dangling from his powerful arms as he pleasured himself with her swollen breasts again. “Oh, Wannie; are you sure?”
She took his rugged face between her hands. “Very, very sure. I am a warrior’s prize and you have risked your life for this. I offer you my virginity—go out in tomorrow’s dawn with the true stain on your manhood!”
He needed no further urging. His hands shook with his own terrible need as he laid her down on the buffalo robe and knelt between her thighs. “I’m too big for you. I—I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
She felt desire burning like an out-of-control forest fire through her so badly she trembled.
He shook his head. “You’re afraid, I won’t—”
“That’s not why I tremble,” she whispered, “I want you, Keso. I want your body deep in mine, I want you to own me. Breed me now—give me your son.”
He put one hand on each side of her bare shoulders. “Oh, honey, if you only knew how much I love you.”
“Show me,” she said, “make me your woman—possess me in a way that only one man can and only one time.” She reached up and put her hands on his sinewy back, urging him down.
He hesitated just a split second with the tip of his wet, pulsating manhood against the soft velvet folds of her femininity, then he plunged into her to the hilt, even as he covered her mouth with his own.
For a moment, she thought only of the pain, like a giant steel knife turning deep into her very being, tearing through her maidenhead as the warrior claimed that which he had won. She opened her mouth to scream and his tongue went deep into her throat. She lay helpless under him as he covered and dominated her, her mouth and her body subjugated to his need.
Very gently, be began to ride her dainty form and she was helpless to do anything except meld her curves to his hard body to provide him pleasure. She was his property and he could use her whether she agreed or not; yet she wanted to please him.
His hard strokes into her depths, his caressing the inside of her mouth with his tongue began to build pleasure in her even as his muscular chest rubbed against her sensitive, swollen nipples.
With a moan of submission, Wannie locked her legs around his naked, powerful hips; willing him to thrust even deeper. Her hands caught his powerful shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh as she arched her back, wanting even more of him.
She felt him thrusting deep within her, throbbing with the seed he had to give. He was big, all right, so big she was not sure she could take all of him and yet she wanted more and more. “Please, dearest,” she begged, “breed me! Breed me now!”
With a groan, he responded to her pleas, holding her close, thrusting hard, throbbing up under her ribs as he put himself even deeper into her body. She was wild with desire, wanting him as she had never known she could want a man. She kept him prisoner with her thighs, holding him in a frenzied embrace while her small body came up off the robe, bucking under him as they meshed and mated. He was holding back, she was sure of it, waiting for her to reach some kind of pinnacle.
She seemed to be moving toward some dizzying height that she couldn’t reach and she wasn’t even sure what it was her heart and soul demanded, her body ached for. “Now!” she commanded against his lips, using his big body for her own pleasure as she writhed under him, “Now, dearest!”
He rammed into her depths one more time with all the strength and power of his narrow, muscular hips, then paused deep inside her. She clung to him, feeling him throbbing in her belly even as he claimed her mouth again. She felt she was being swept into a whirling vortex of molten desire as she kept him captive with her arms and thighs, not willing to let him go until he satisfied her desperate need.
She felt him shudder and gasp as he began to give up his seed. It seemed to her she could feel it surging hot inside her waiting womb and she gloried in it, needing it to fulfill her burning emptiness, to make her complete. She was like a wild thing bucking under him, clawing his back and shoulders, biting his lips and pulling him deep inside
her as his powerful body went rigid. The feel, of that hot fluid in her depths pushed her over the edge and her body convulsed under him, clutching him hard, determined not to let go until her greedy womb had sucked every drop of life-bearing seed from his body.
She had never known a feeling like this—helpless with this sudden surge of emotion, this reaction that was as old as Time itself. Her body convulsed and locked onto his and she held him against her, demanding everything he had to give. He was putting his son in her belly, she was certain and she was glad. Time seemed to stand still and there was nothing but Keso holding her, shielding her, taking her to a high plateau of emotion she had never known.
After a long moment, Wannie came to gradually, gasping for air, Keso lying on her, both of them covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
“Oh, God, Wannie,” he gasped, “what have I done? I—I lost control. I’ve wanted you so badly.”
She smiled at him and reached up to brush his black hair from his eyes. “I love you,” she murmured and the silver ring caught the gleam of the firelight. “I’m your woman now, dearest.” She kissed his lips gently, then more passionately.
She felt his manhood began to swell inside her. “I want you again,” he said against her mouth, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
“We’ve got all night,” she said and offered her swollen nipples to his mouth again, “you can take me over and over.”
He bent his head and ran his rough, dark hands over her bare skin. “Believe me, I intend to,” he promised. “If they change their minds and kill us tomorrow, at least I will have had tonight and it’s worth it.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed and began to move under him. “Do it again, dearest, and again and again!”
He needed no further urging. As the night deepened, he made love to her over and over. Tonight might be all the time they would ever spend in each other’s arms, but the precious memories of this passion would last forever.
TWENTY-TWO
With the dawn, Keso awakened and glanced down at the petite girl asleep in his protective embrace. Oh Lord, what had he done? When Wannie awoke, was she going to regret the night of passion she had spent in his arms? Would she realize what she had thrown away with the wealthy young blade and his fortune? Perhaps if she did, Keso could help her pretend that nothing had happened so that the snooty heir to the Brewster fortune would still want her.
Keso’s silver ring gleamed on her left hand. Yet in the cold dawn of a new day, he was certain she would have regrets. Had he taken advantage of her innocence and trust? Perhaps she had been swept away with gratitude for his saving her from Coyote.
She moved in his arms and he leaned to kiss her forehead and pull her more tightly against him. There were other worries. This morning, the Utes might have changed their minds and with Ouray out of the camp, Coyote was still in charge and who knew what he might persuade the others to do?
Through the slit in the tipi, he could see Cleve tied up by the fire. The camp was coming awake and alive with noise and movement. He could hear dogs barking, children laughing, horses neighing as people came and went.
Wannie’s eyes flickered open and he marveled for an instant at how big and dark they were with long, smoky lashes. She looked up at him in puzzlement.
He held his breath, afraid of her reaction as she remembered last night. “Wannie, are you all right?”
She was still looking up at him, not moving in his embrace. How he wanted to lean over and kiss her full, soft lips, but instead, he only smiled down at her and held his breath.
Her brow furrowed. “Did I—did I dream last night?”
Oh God, she regretted it and it was too late. Keso hesitated. He who had fought for possession of her body and a night of indescribable passion in her embrace was now shy and awkward at expressing how he felt about her. “It was a dream come true for me—I’m sorry if you regret it.”
She seemed to tense, listening to the sounds outside. “We’re in the Ute camp, aren’t we? What’s happened to Cleve?”
Cleve. Always Cleve. Did she never think of Keso and his needs?
“He’s okay, tied up and grumbling at everyone who walks past him.”
“Oh, Keso, what are we going to do?”
He brushed her tangled long locks away from her face. “We’ll muddle through somehow.”
“Are you really planning to stay among the Utes?” Her small face mirrored concern.
“I’m not certain—I might.” She was his prisoner, he knew that and she must know that. If he wanted to live as a Ute warrior, she would have no choice; she belonged to him in body, at least. What he yearned for was her heart and soul.
She was staring at the ring on her hand. “I can’t believe what happened last night.”
“Believe it.” He tried not to betray any emotion in his voice. Keso had spent one unforgettable night in her arms, but if she regretted it and didn’t love him, he wanted to go back in time and erase that scene.
An old woman stooped outside their lodge, tittered, and called out something in a mixture of broken Spanish and Ute.
Wannie tensed. “What does she want?”
“She says everyone is waiting to see if I enjoyed my warrior’s prize.”
“You don’t mean—?”
“Look, Wannie, I don’t want to humiliate you or ruin your chances with young Brewster. I can pretend nothing happened and say I return you to the white man.”
She paused. “Will that bring you trouble?”
Keso shrugged. “Who knows? I might have to fight Coyote all over again.”
Wannie shuddered. “Coyote.”
So he had his answer. She might regret giving herself to Keso, but the other alternative was worse. He was already tying the skimpy bit of breechcloth around his loins. “Put your clothes on and we’ll go out and face them.”
He watched her dress, wanting to take her in his arms and make love to her all over again. That memory of one unforgettable night would have to last him forever... unless he stayed among the Utes and kept her as his captive.
Holding hands, they stooped and went out of the lodge and out into the camp circle. There were dozens of Utes about who now fell silent and waited.
In a mix of Spanish and broken English, Keso boasted the girl was now his in every sense of the word. Men nodded with satisfaction and women giggled and exchanged sly smiles.
Only Coyote and Cleve Brewster scowled.
Cleve twisted where he was tied. “Wannie, you slut! Are you out of your mind? Do you think I’ll want you now if you’ve let that savage—”
“Shut up, Cleve,” Wannie said, “I may have saved your life ... at least, temporarily. Give that some thought.”
Cleve’s thoughts seemed to return to his own safety. The morning light gleamed on his beautiful yellow hair as he looked at Keso and begged, “Please, can you get me out of this? Are they going to kill us?”
“Brewster, for once in your life,” Keso said through clenched teeth, “try not to panic or show fear. We’ll have to play this moment by moment with Ouray gone.”
“That’s right.” Coyote grinned, but there was no humor in his dark, ugly face. “I am in charge here with no chiefs in camp. The Chiefs son had better watch his back!”
Keso glared into his eyes. “I will tell my father you said so when he returns.”
Coyote shrugged. “Ouray is sick and failing; anyone can see that.”
“The people would never let you lead them,” Keso said.
“We will see,” Coyote promised. “The people are confused and afraid. They will listen to a strong leader in this war against the whites.”
“That is exactly what the Utes should not do,” Keso bristled. “Hostile action is the excuse whites need to exile our people to the hot, dry Indian Territory.”
“We would rather die fighting,” Coyote promised. “This is how the Great White Father repays us for sending scouts to aid them against the Lakota and Cheyenne after they wiped out Yellowhair
Custer.”
“I cannot deny that,” Keso sighed and rubbed his chin, “but to fight gives them the reason they need to steal the rich Ute land.”
A rider galloped into camp, shouting, “Bluecoats! Soldiers coming from the north!”
Coyote frowned and nodded. “You see? They are already making their plans.”
A crowd gathered around the rider as he dismounted, a buzz of angry excitement filling the air.
Keso held Wannie against him protectively as he confronted the rider. “What is this you say? Is this only a rumor or have you seen these soldiers?”
“I have seen them,” the man nodded. “I was hunting with Colorow and some of the others. Many soldiers come from the north through Yellowjacket Pass and Coal Creek Canyon.”
Major Thornburgh, Keso thought. With the hostility of the Utes growing, Meeker had panicked and sent a message for troops. “Perhaps the soldiers are not marching to fight.”
“Then why would they come?” Coyote demanded as he folded his arms and glared at Keso. “There is nothing but the White River Agency.”
The messenger said, “The officer says he will leave his troops and bring only five men to parlay.”
An angry, frightened murmur ran through the crowd and women hugged their babies closer. “Remember soldiers’ surprise attack at Sand Creek. They are never to be trusted.”
“Let us not panic,” Keso raised his voice to the crowd. “You know the Indian agent—he is an old man of faint heart. If there is no trouble, the soldiers will march back up to the fort.”
“Ha!” Coyote sneered. “Suppose they lie and plan to put us in chains and take us away to the Indian Territory where even now, the Nez Perce sicken and die? Will we do better there than Chief Joseph’s people who, like us, love the high, cold mountains?”
With a murmur of angry agreement, the stolid faces frowned at Keso, no longer thinking of him as a beloved chief’s missing son. The attitude of these people toward him could change at any moment. He and Cleve and Wannie might be killed by an aroused mob while Ouray was away from the camp. “I, too, am Ute,” he said, “and like my father, I want what is best for our people.”
Warrior's Prize (Panorama of the Old West Book 15) Page 29
