“I love your neck,” he said, nipping it softly, and then lapping it with his tongue. He moved down, kissing the ivory skin of her breasts and then taking the swollen rosebud of her nipple into his mouth and sucking it hard.
“I love your breasts,” he said.
He moved down, kissing his way down her stomach. His kisses were sweet fire burning into her flesh, and in the heat of the day she trembled beneath him. She wanted him with every cell in her body, craved his touch.
He dipped his tongue into her navel and swirled in a slow, teasing circle.
“Cooper,” she choked out.
“I love your stomach,” he said.
Then he moved down and spread her legs with his hands.
He kissed her soft inner thighs, nibbled at them, ran his tongue over her skin, and she felt the throbbing in her pussy grow urgent and desperate.
“Please. I want you inside me,” she begged.
In response, he grabbed her hand, and placed it on her breast. “Do you feel how beautiful that is? How silky smooth your skin is? How soft and warm you are? I could bury myself inside of you forever,” he said.
He ran her hand down her stomach. She flinched.
“No, Josephine, your stomach is beautiful. You’re beautiful. This is what a woman should look like. Not skin stretched over bones.”
He put her hand between her legs. “I want you to touch yourself while I’m taking my clothes off. I want to watch. I want to see you love yourself and your body.”
With a whimper, she began stroking her clitoris with her index finger, rubbing it as he peeled off his t-shirt. She looked at his broad muscular shoulders, at his sculpted biceps and flat stomach, drinking in the beauty of him, and forced herself to slow her pace down, delaying her climax.
He reached in his pocket to fish out a packet of condoms, then kicked off his shoes and dropped his underwear and jeans to the ground.
Never taking his eyes off her, he rolled the condom on the massive length of his erection. She moved her fingers faster now, unable to wait any longer, and her climax built and built until she shattered into a million shards of light and cried out, closing her eyes and arching her back.
Then Cooper was down on the ground, his head between her legs, and as the last shudders of orgasm rolled over her, he sucked her tender, swollen clitoris into his mouth, and thrust two fingers inside her, stroking the spot on the inner wall of her vagina that made her scream with pleasure.
A white hot sheet of flame enveloped her and she clutched his hair in her fingers as climax after climax wracked her body, leaving her gasping and sated.
Then he slid up until he was covering her with his body and gently nudged his way between her legs.
Grasping her face in both hands, he slid inside her with a sharp thrust, making her gasp.
“Keep your eyes open,” he ordered her. He began pumping hard, the rhythm of his hips picking up pace, his testicles slapping against her buttocks.
Gasping, she wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing hard, urging him in. She couldn’t tell if her orgasm had ended, because she felt as if her body were filled with a million tiny sparks that sizzled along her nerve endings, and as his breathing grew faster and faster, she thrust up to meet him until he cried out, and she joined him in a final climax.
Chapter Eleven
Betsy glanced at her watch for the dozenth time, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she stood outside the Hellhole.
When she, Josephine, Cheyenne and Carlotta had hatched their plot to ditch Cooper and distract Lorenzo this morning, she’d told them that she had a good lead on the location of the treasure. She just hadn’t told them that Jason would be joining her to help her find it.
Or would he?
She’d been waiting for twenty minutes. She’d given him very specific instructions on where she’d be, and he’d assured her he’d have no problem finding it. He was late. Was he going to stand her up?
Here she was, finally breaking out of her shell, finally doing something that would shock and horrify her strait-laced family and her friends who thought she was the most boring, uptight female on the planet…and her handsome bandit hadn’t even bothered to show.
Dejected, shoulders slumped, she turned to go – and ran right into Jason. She let out a small shriek, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve been scouting out the area with my binoculars. Nobody followed you here.”
“We should get in the cavern quickly, anyway. Just in case,” she said.
He looked around, and looked back at her, quizzically. They were standing in an area that was nothing but tall trees and thick undergrowth.
“Patience,” she said.
She opened her backpack and pulled out two lanterns, which she switched on. She handed one to Jason. “I’ve got extra batteries and extra flashlights just in case. Stay with me at all times. I’ve been caving many times, but for a novice, It’s easy to get lost. There are pits in the floor that you could fall into and break your neck.”
She pulled out a piece of fluorescent chalk. “I will be marking our trail as we go in.”
She turned towards a wall of thick vines on mounded earth, pushed at it, and crawled inside.
She had to stoop to get in, as did Jason, and she walked bent over for a few dozen feet, downhill, until the tunnel leading into the main cave room opened wider and they were able to stand up straight.
Jason looked around him in astonishment. “How did you know about this?”
“This is all part of a huge underground cave system, but this particular entrance is only known to locals. There’s a woman in town that I know that literally knows every bit of gossip and family history about the founding families of Crooked Creek, all the way back to the days the first settlers came here. I asked her about that thing about the left horn, and where Levi hid from his father’s wrath. Apparently his father was a drunk who beat him, and this cavern is where he was known to hide out. The cave entrance is called the Hellhole, because of people who fell in and died. And there’s a big cavern that’s like the devil’s head, and then there are two tunnels leading off from it that are the horns.”
Edna Vale, gossip columnist for the Telegram, was surprisingly good about keeping secrets when it came to helping out a friend. And she was a priceless source of historical information.
“So have you been in this particular part of the cave before?”
“No, which is why I’m marking everything very carefully.”
They began making their way down the tunnel, with Betsy pausing to mark the wall with an arrow.
Soon they emerged into a large room like a domed amphitheater. It was cool and damp inside, and pitch black, and Betsy and Jason stood in pools of light cast by their lanterns. Jason held his lantern up to look around the space, at the jagged walls that glistened with moisture and the rock that flowed down the wall in rippling sheets.
He pointed the lantern at thin, translucent sheets of rock with alternating stripes of dark brown and tan that hung from the ceiling like curtains.
“It’s beautiful,” he said quietly.
“Cave bacon,” Betsy said.
“What?”
“Cave bacon. That’s what they call those areas of striped darker and lighter brown. It’s caused when water containing calcium carbonate flows over limestone…” she stopped and shook her head in frustration. What was wrong with her?
“I’m sorry. I’m so boring. I’m the world’s biggest nerd.”
“Actually, you’ve kind of got that hot librarian thing going for you.” He bent down and set down his lantern, and then turned to face her, standing so close that he was brushing up against her.
“I do?” Betsy breathed, and suddenly, despite the chill, damp air of the cave, she felt hot and flushed.
“You totally do. You’re like this perfect, sweet, squeaky clean girl. It makes me want to throw you down on the ground and make you dirty.”
; “Really?” her voice came out in a squeak.
She turned and pointed at the left of the two tunnels on either side of the back of the cavern. “First we should look at - I’m pretty sure those are the devil’s horns. As injured as he was, it makes sense that he didn’t venture too far into the cavern. If the treasure is located in the left horn, it means we’re maybe a few hundred feet away from it.”
“Later. We’ll get it later.” He choked out the words, breathing hard, and then he took her face in his hands and plunged his mouth onto hers, his tongue probing deeply, sweeping inside her mouth.
Betsy melted into him, her knees weak, and he wrapped his strong arms around her and crushed her to his chest as he ravaged her mouth.
She tipped her head back to accept his kiss, and wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her back to push herself up against him. She could feel the length of his hard cock against her stomach, straining at the fabric of his pants, and she wanted him inside her more than she’d ever wanted anything.
He moved against her, and moaned at the friction he was causing.
Betsy broke away from the kiss. “Take my clothes off,” she breathed against his cheek. “Make me dirty.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. His fingers flew, unbuttoning her shirt, yanking her jeans down, and then following suit with his own pants, and then they were on the cavern floor and he was on top of her.
He peeled open her shirt and bent down to kiss her chest, nipping at her pale blue lace bra, teeth scraping against her nipple.
“Oh, God,” she gasped. “More. I love it when you do that.” A distant voice, far away, scolded her; Betsy Finkelstein! Nice girls don’t say things like that! And then the voice was drowned out by the roaring of blood in her ears as he pushed aside the lace fabric and sucked her nipple into his mouth, engulfing it in the wet heat and sweetly tormenting her tender flesh with nips and laps of his tongue.
Her trembling hands grasped his shoulders, fingers sinking in to his flesh as he cupped her other breast in his hand and ran his thumb across her engorged nipple.
Then he slid up again, kissing her neck, and she slid her hands down his sides, pushing at the waistband of his boxers and yanking them down.
He groaned, reached into his pocket, and fumbled free a condom, which he quickly rolled on.
As he did, she lifted up her butt and slid her panties off. She was pressed against the cold wet cave floor but she didn’t care; he moved so the head of his thick, hard cock slid in between the wet pink petals of her pussy, nudging her lips apart.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Please.”
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He paused for a minute to stroke her face tenderly, looking her in the eye as he slid inside her, pushing into her tight, wet tunnel.
She spread her legs open wider and he drew back and thrust hard with his hips, plunging all the way in.
Then he paused, holding perfectly still, swelling inside her, filling her almost too full with his thickness.
“Please do it,” she moaned, and struggled to move against him, but he pressed her tight into the earth, holding her still.
“Do what, Betsy?”
“F-fuck me. Please. Make me c-come,” she stammered, her cheeks flaring red.
“God, you’re sexy, my little librarian,” he grinned, and began moving his hips slowly, and Betsy thought she might burst into flames.
“Ohhhh…yes…like that….” She wailed.
He moved faster, and he never stopped staring at her. His eyes held her trapped, mesmerized, and her lips parted as heat burned through her body from head to toe, threatening to consume her.
Then the heat exploded inside her, burning down her nerves to the tips of her fingers and toes, and she felt herself pulsing inside, clamping on his thickness in rippling squeezes until he moaned and joined her in climax.
Breathless, they pulled apart.
“Sit up. On your knees. I want to do something,” Betsy said.
When he complied, she quickly rolled the condom off his cock and, before she lost her courage, bent down and ran her tongue across the purplish head, wrenching a groan of pleasure from him.
With swirls of her tongue, she worked her way down the length of his phallus, and delicately traced the length of a thick vein with the tip of her tongue.
Then she took his cock in her mouth again, sucking hard, swallowing, taking it all the way in. She could taste the salty sweetness of his cum, and he moaned as she swirled her tongue and sucked until he climaxed, and finally exploded in her mouth, flooding the back of her throat with a warm gush of ejaculate.
Slowly, she let him slide out of her mouth.
“That was incredible,” he breathed.
“Was it? I’ve never done that before. So I wasn’t terrible?”
“Terrible? You just made me come twice, in a matter of minutes. I can’t believe you’ve never done that before.”
She shook her head. He smiled and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Then you’re a natural.”
She looked down at the wet, glistening cave floor. “I was engaged once,” she said suddenly
“You were engaged, and you’ve never given a blowjob before?”
“Sex with my fiancee was pretty much quick, missionary style, in the dark…I figured out why one night when he blurted out the name of his best friend while we were in bed.” She paused. “His best male friend.”
“Ouch. That sucks.”
“Yes, it did. The only person I ever had sex with, and it was terrible.” She began buttoning her shirt. He grabbed her hands, took a long look at her small, perfect breasts, and then let go. “Okay, now you can get dressed,” he said, and she laughed.
“Please don’t tell anyone. He’s not a bad person; he just has the kind of old school parents who would never accept a gay son. Right after that, we broke off the engagement and he left town. So did his best friend. They’re in Miami together, and they’re happy.”
“Trust me, my lips are sealed.” Jason looked over at her. “God, am I a selfish jerk.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a nice person and I’m dragging you into my mess.”
“I pretty much blackmailed you into letting me join you in your mess. So, when you think of it, that probably means I’m not such a nice person. I hope.”
“You hope?”
She scowled. “I’ve been a nice girl all my life. Nice equals boring. I want to be exciting.”
Jason shook his head. “You can be nice and exciting at the same time.” He glanced at the tunnel up ahead, picked up his lantern, then reached out and grabbed her hand. “Shall we?”
They fell silent as they walked down the tunnel. “Look,” Betsy said, staring at the ground. “Footprints.”
“They’ve got to be recent. Those can’t be footprints from 1872.”
“Actually, yes. Cave ecology is very delicate. Simply touching a wall or floor in here, with all of the oils from our hands, or stepping on it, with the bacteria from the outside world, is enough to leave a permanent mark on it. The minerals in the speleothem are changed by any contact with it.”
“Spele-what?”
“That’s the secondary deposits formed by water containing various minerals, including limestone. It preserves marks it so well it’s like a crime scene investigators wet dream.”
She stared at the floor. “There’s multiple footprints here. And drag marks.”
“Those round dark drops that go with one set of footprints. They could have been drops of blood.”
On the other side of the passageway were two sets of footprints – one set was small and came from someone wearing a pointed shoe, like the boots that would have been worn by women. The other set was much larger and came from a shoe with a rounded toe.
They followed the winding passageway, turned a corner, and stopped in an empty cavern.
The footsteps and dark round drops led to a large rectangular spot on the floor, where the trunk containing the gold must hav
e once been placed.
Jason and Betsy looked at the empty spot, and his face fell.
The other footsteps leading to the trunk told an interesting story. First they led to the cave wall. There was a large pair of handprints on the glistening wall surface, up high, and then lower, there was a small set of handprints, in between the large set.
“There was a man and a woman in here,” Jason said slowly, voice dull with disapointment. “And they got busy right here in the cave, with her facing the wall and bracing herself, and him standing behind her, also bracing himself on the wall.”
“I thought that Levi’s wife came to get the treasure. Would she have been in here having sex with a man right after her husband died? And what happened to the trunk?”
Jason’s shoulders sagged and he looked gloomy. “It’s gone. I guess we’ll never know.”
“Not so fast. He told his wife about the treasure, so I am guessing that’s the woman’s footsteps. So she and someone else came and got the treasure. Something happened to her right after the treasure was found; I have to go do some more research to find out what. She died right after her husband died – so she might not have had a chance to do anything with the treasure. If we can trace what she did on her final days, we still might have a shot.”
“You really think so?” Jason looked dejected.
“I’m sure of it.” Betsy tried to sound cheerful and reassuring. “I’ll call you as soon as I get a chance to do a little more research. This treasure hunt is far from over.”
They trudged back to the mouth of the cave and climbed out, pushing at the vines and blinking in the sunlight. Jason glanced regretfully back at the cave entrance, then turned back to Betsy. Suddenly he broke into a smile; he tipped her head back and kissed her. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Even if I never find the treasure, I’m still glad that I came to Crooked Creek, Betsy Finkelstein.”
Chapter Twelve
That evening…
“Why are you packing?” Cooper leaned in the doorway, arms folded, frowning.
Josephine was pulling her neatly folded clothing from the dresser drawer and putting it in her suitcase.
Curvy Girls: The Big Girl and the Bounty Hunter Page 9
