his swollen cock marked by a wet spot and outlined inside the now taut pants. He dumped her from his lap, rejecting temptation. But, instead of leaving, she replied, “Not at all. They have no choice. I do."
The woman didn't know when to quit. He turned to look at her then. “So you'll trade your life for theirs?” He watched shock blanch the last of her color, before she answered quietly, “Yes."
Later, Charlie always remembered that as a frozen moment. Her word yes hung in the air between them, meaning so much more than that one sound. He broke the spell when he grunted his assent. “So be it."
Reaching behind her, he drew his knife from the straw and ordered, “Hold out your hand."
She closed her eyes and held up both palms extended toward him. Using his knife, he cut a thin line on his palm that instantly seeped blood. Then, his sharp blade tasted Naomi's flesh. Her eyes popped open and she looked at him, puzzled. “What?"
He pressed the cuts on both hands together. He said the necessary words in Kiowa, and fumbled a strip of cloth, binding their hands together.
"Now we talk.” She wiggled her fingers nervously in his palm, but he held her hand pressed against his until he was sure that their blood had mingled.
"Surely scaring me to death with a knife wasn't necessary,” her voice was close to a scold. “I thought you were going to kill me.” Her nipples tented the front of the ugly dress, and he couldn't look away.
He unwrapped their hands, releasing her to step back while he dropped his buckskins without further warning. “Have to do,” he muttered to himself.
"What are you mumbling about?” She didn't try to disguise the irritation in her voice. It piddled into quiet when she realized he was naked. When he reached out to pull her close, deliberately pushing his cock between her thighs, she seemed to forget her question altogether. Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy, and he smiled inside.
Holding her gaze, first he ground his groin against her mound, and then, lifting her slightly, he pushed his hard length against her dress material until it rode up into the vee between her legs. He held her still with one hand on her hip, while he languorously rubbed his naked cock against her nether lips.
He didn't dare linger there, or he would spill his seed without ever filling her glory hole. He wanted to pull up the skirt and take her. Instead, he watched her skin grow pale and her chest rise and fall rapidly in distress. Even so, she stared back at him steadily.
"Still sure you won't mind layin’ under a dirty Injun?” he queried, mimicking the saloon owner's words and tone.
"If you will use the water Mr. Wallace provided for your bath, you won't be dirty.” Her tart answer studiously ignored his body moving against hers. But the cloth that rode between them was damp, and her flesh, felt through the thick fabric of her dress, was heated. He quit trying to scare her, his anger easing under her calm practicality.
"Yes, ma'am,” he agreed and started to turn away. And then his original desire to test her limits revived, and he turned back. “Touch me,” he ordered.
"Whhhat?” He could have lit a cigar from the blaze in her cheeks. He took her hand and put it on his engorged flesh.
"I mean—touch me, like this.” He clasped her slender hand around him, even though her long tapered fingers didn't meet.
She looked down in astonishment and he knew that she'd never seen a man's naked dick before, then she jerked her gaze away from his flesh. But she couldn't remove her fingers because he wrapped his big paw around them, stroking her hand up and down his shaft.
She was trembling so much he was afraid she might fall down, but she didn't cavil or whine. When her odd-colored eyes blinked back tears, he hardened his voice, gruffly asking, “Think you can take a big man like me?"
She didn't answer his question, eyes staring at his chest, as though she'd never seen one of those before
The woman didn't know when to quit. He turned to look at her then. “So you'll trade your life for theirs?” He watched shock blanch the last of her color, before she answered quietly, “Yes."
Later, Charlie always remembered that as a frozen moment. Her word yes hung in the air between them, meaning so much more than that one sound. He broke the spell when he grunted his assent. “So be it."
Reaching behind her, he drew his knife from the straw and ordered, “Hold out your hand."
She closed her eyes and held up both palms extended toward him. Using his knife, he cut a thin line on his palm that instantly seeped blood. Then, his sharp blade tasted Naomi's flesh. Her eyes popped open and she looked at him, puzzled. “What?"
He pressed the cuts on both hands together. He said the necessary words in Kiowa, and fumbled a strip of cloth, binding their hands together.
"Now we talk.” She wiggled her fingers nervously in his palm, but he held her hand pressed against his until he was sure that their blood had mingled.
"Surely scaring me to death with a knife wasn't necessary,” her voice was close to a scold. “I thought you were going to kill me.” Her nipples tented the front of the ugly dress, and he couldn't look away.
He unwrapped their hands, releasing her to step back while he dropped his buckskins without further warning. “Have to do,” he muttered to himself.
"What are you mumbling about?” She didn't try to disguise the irritation in her voice. It piddled into quiet when she realized he was naked. When he reached out to pull her close, deliberately pushing his cock between her thighs, she seemed to forget her question altogether. Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy, and he smiled inside.
Holding her gaze, first he ground his groin against her mound, and then, lifting her slightly, he pushed his hard length against her dress material until it rode up into the vee between her legs. He held her still with one hand on her hip, while he languorously rubbed his naked cock against her nether lips.
He didn't dare linger there, or he would spill his seed without ever filling her glory hole. He wanted to pull up the skirt and take her. Instead, he watched her skin grow pale and her chest rise and fall rapidly in distress. Even so, she stared back at him steadily.
"Still sure you won't mind layin’ under a dirty Injun?” he queried, mimicking the saloon owner's words and tone.
"If you will use the water Mr. Wallace provided for your bath, you won't be dirty.” Her tart answer studiously ignored his body moving against hers. But the cloth that rode between them was damp, and her flesh, felt through the thick fabric of her dress, was heated. He quit trying to scare her, his anger easing under her calm practicality.
"Yes, ma'am,” he agreed and started to turn away. And then his original desire to test her limits revived, and he turned back. “Touch me,” he ordered.
"Whhhat?” He could have lit a cigar from the blaze in her cheeks. He took her hand and put it on his engorged flesh.
"I mean—touch me, like this.” He clasped her slender hand around him, even though her long tapered fingers didn't meet.
She looked down in astonishment and he knew that she'd never seen a man's naked dick before, then she jerked her gaze away from his flesh. But she couldn't remove her fingers because he wrapped his big paw around them, stroking her hand up and down his shaft.
She was trembling so much he was afraid she might fall down, but she didn't cavil or whine. When her odd-colored eyes blinked back tears, he hardened his voice, gruffly asking, “Think you can take a big man like me?"
She didn't answer his question, eyes staring at his chest, as though she'd never seen one of those before
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