He got himself settled, lying on his side, facing the fire. Normally he went right off to sleep, but the girl was bothering him. She could have gone a month or more without getting him as fired up as she had. Well, he thought, maybe she didn’t know any better and was just trying to be nice. And then there was always Phoenix. They would both be heading in that direction, and a good opportunity might present itself to take the situation beyond a kiss that had been like liquid fire.
He squirmed around and tried to turn his mind in a different direction. He thought of Carl Lowe, wondering where he was and just what job he had been broken out of prison to perform. Maybe he hadn’t been assisted in the break, and even if he had, maybe it hadn’t been for a purpose. But Longarm was damn hard pressed to believe anything to the contrary. Somewhere, someplace up the road was a safe or a strongbox just waiting for Carl Lowe’s touch. Longarm felt extremely frustrated that all he could do was lie on the floor in a relay station and wait.
And then there was Doctor Peabody. Longarm could not imagine anyone, even a doctor from Baltimore, Maryland, trying to perform an examination on a passel of whores in a moving stage in the middle of the Arizona badlands. And doing it just before they were to get to a relay station where he could be conveniently put off the stage. He was supposed to have been drunk, but Longarm didn’t believe that anyone ever got that drunk.
He lifted his head off his saddle and shook it. Hell, either he’d had too much of Higgins’s bad whiskey, or he was getting an imagination like a five-year-old kid. He was jumpy, sure enough, and Miss Rita Ann hadn’t helped matters in the slightest with her kiss and her promise. Hell!
Just then a movement caught his eye in the dark. He raised his head again, peering through the dim light. He thought he’d seen the door to the Higginses’ quarters open, but his angle of view was bad.
Then something loomed into his vision. For a second he thought it was Mrs. Higgins. Then she spoke softly, and he realized it was Rita Ann, obviously wearing one of Mrs. Higgins’s sleeping gowns.
She came to the edge of his bedroll and looked down at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Then, as he stared mesmerized, she slowly pulled the flannel nightgown over her head and stood there before him, naked in the flickering firelight.
Chapter 4
In the glow of the flickering fire he could see her white skin as it was touched here and there by light and shadow. She started to kneel down beside him, but he said, “No, don’t. Stay like that for a moment. I want to look at you.”
He sat up, the blankets falling down to his waist, and his eyes focused on her. He let his eyes travel up and down her, savoring her erect breasts that were about the size of small grapefruits. But they came quickly to a shapely point, ending in small, dark nipples set in big, round rosettes. When the fire blazed up, he could see that they were crinkling and puckering, either with the chill of the air or with her excitement.
Her legs were long and straight. She was standing with them apart so that the place where they met ended in a little inverted U rather than a V. The V was her auburn-colored bush that ran at least three or four inches up her belly. She said, “I’m cold.” He threw the covers back.
She said, pointing, “You’ve got your jeans on. I thought you’d be ready.”
As fast as he could he unbuttoned the last of the buttons, and then began shucking his pants. She said, “What about your underwear?”
“Don’t wear any.”
“That’s good.” She knelt down beside him, took the end of the legs of his jeans, and jerked them off. Then carefully, she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. She said, “You just lay there. I want to do this the way I like.”
They were both whispering. He said, “What about the Higginses?”
“They’re snoring. You just lay there and let me do it. You don’t yell, do you?”
He was starting to have to grit his teeth, the desire was rising so strong in him. He could smell the musk of her even though she was three feet from his nose. He lay back with his head on the seat of his saddle. By looking over his cheekbones he could just see what she was doing. She had straddled his legs, down just above his ankles. He saw her bend over, and then a delicious thrill ran all through him, making him shudder, as she took him in her mouth. He let out a long, low “Aaaaaaaah.”
She lifted her head. “You like that?”
“Oh, yes,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Oh, yes, oh, yes.”
She whispered, “You’ll like this too.”
He felt his testicles suddenly go warm, and then felt sensations shooting through them, each in turn, as she took them in her mouth and bathed them with her tongue. He let out another sigh, straining to keep it as quiet as he could. He said, whispering, “You better not do too much of that.”
And then she was taking his member in her mouth again and slowly rotating her lips up and down it, and then half around and then back half around. He could feel himself swelling toward a climax. With an effort he fought down the feeling. “Oh,” he said, to warn her. “Oh, oh, oh.”
Silently she went to all fours and crept up his body. She came up to his face and lowered her lips to his, and for a moment locked him with her mouth and her tongue. He tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed them down. It was clear she wanted to do it exactly as she wished. He lay there, his arms at his side, the ache in his groin growing, the pounding in his temple increasing, the desire inside him about to burst out.
Then she slowly started back down him, kissing his chest and then his stomach as she moved. Finally she stopped and raised up. He could clearly see the curly thatch that protected the pink insides of her vagina right over his member. Then, with a quick movement of her hand, she guided him inside her and settled down on him, taking all of him, taking him into her wetness and warmth. He let out a gasp and clenched his fists. Then, supported on her knees, she began to grind up and down and around, sometimes going slow and then suddenly making little short quick bursts up and down. All the time she held his eyes with that smile playing on her lips.
It was as if she could feel when he was just about to explode. Just as he’d reach the top, feeling there was no stopping, she’d suddenly cease her motion and hold very still, watching him. When it seemed he had subsided, she would start bringing him back up again. The fire was warm, but it was not the heat from the fire that was putting sweat on his face. He had never felt such delicious, painful ecstasy in all his life. The woman was playing him like a cat would a mouse.
She suddenly went through a quick series of grinds and then a burst of thrusts. He opened his mouth, about to make a soundless scream, when she abruptly stopped. He thought that now he would really scream, with anguish. He couldn’t take it any longer. And then she smiled. She said, “Now!”
But she didn’t move her hips. Instead, she somehow began milking him with the muscles she had inside her vagina, pulling him up and pushing him down. Squeezing him and releasing him. He was so sensitized that it took no more than a half a minute of the massaging before the world suddenly went black and then exploded in a torrent of flashes of yellow and red and orange. He could feel himself tumbling, quivering, shaking, rolling over and over and over. He could feel himself thrusting his middle toward the sky, trying to reach some unattainable target in the heavens. He strained and he strained and he strained.
Then, spent, he suddenly slumped back. For a second his head whirled, so that he didn’t know up from down or front from back. But a few seconds later he opened his eyes. He was panting hard, but other than that, seemed unhurt. She was smiling down at him. “Did that feel good?”