“Never mind, Small Stones. Just a stray thought, that’s all.”
Small Stones giggled and rocked back and forth, hugging his knees to his scrawny chest and looking like he wouldn’t be partying much longer. Another drink or two and he’d probably join the rest of the band in the numbed, snoring stupor that had already claimed most of them.
Longarm looked around the ring of firelight—much smaller now that the blaze had been allowed to die down— and realized that he and Small Stones seemed to be the last two still upright and mobile.
And a few seconds later Small Stones gave in to the whiskey, and Longarm found himself alone in what little was left of the night.
Longarm left his young friend lying where he was and stood, knees slightly rubbery after sitting for so long.
He stretched hugely and set off in the direction Spotted Fawn had indicated hours earlier in the evening.
He wondered if she would still be awake and waiting for him as she’d promised.
Chapter 17
The inside of the waist-high brush arbor was as dark as a whore’s soul, and Longarm could see nothing as he dropped to hands and knees and crawled in on top of the pine-and-blanket bed that had been made there, occupying virtually the whole of the cramped interior space.
The tiny arbor was utilitarian, he supposed. It did what it had to do. But it sure didn’t give the room or the comfort of a proper lodge. Nor the light, as there was no room there for a fire to be laid.
Longarm did not have to see, however, to know that Spotted Fawn was indeed awake. The girl’s arms rose to embrace him, drawing him down beside her with what sounded like a glad sigh.
“Sorry, Long Arm, I was sleepy. Here, let me help.” He felt her fingers brush lightly over his shirt and down to his trousers as she unbuttoned and unbuckled and helped him shed his clothing. Longarm placed his Colt, the holster wrapped in its gunbelt, at the head of the small bed while Spotted Fawn was busy pulling off his boots and socks. Within moments he was naked, and once more he felt the warmth of her embrace. God, she felt good in his arms.
It occurred to him to ask, “Where’s the child?”
“With a friend. It is well, Long Arm. We are alone here, you and me.”
He kissed her, Spotted Fawn’s lips every bit as soft and warm and fluid as he remembered them to be. He felt the intrusion of her tongue into his mouth as she explored between his lip and gums, then dueled briefly with his own eager tongue.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, meaning every bit of it. “I’ve never forgot you.” And that too was mostly true, even if he thought of her seldom. A girl this lovely could not be forgotten. Not really.
He kissed her thoroughly, then pressed her down onto the soft pine boughs, his hand gently probing the vee at her crotch, fingers playing in the curly brush there. She gasped as he penetrated the veil of hair and found the already wet and receptive entry he wanted.
“Yes,” the lovely girl whispered. “Yes, Long Arm.”
He kissed her again, and ran his tongue down over the shelf of her jaw, across the incredible softness of her throat, and onto the hard planes of her breastbone.
He tongued her breasts, first one and then the other, and was rewarded with the faintly sweet flavor of her milk. Longarm had forgotten that Spotted Fawn was nursing. He grunted an apology, but Spotted Fawn laughed and placed her hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him tighter to her nipple and raising her chest to meet him. “Suck, Long Arm. It is good that you drink from my body.” She chuckled. “Did I not drink from yours in the past? Now it is your time to drink of me.”
That seemed a fair enough proposition. And yeah, this girl had swallowed his seed more than once in the past. If she wanted him now to take milk from her body, well, there was no harm in that.
He bent to her, took one distended nipple into his mouth, and gently sucked. The warm milk flowed from Spotted Fawn with a slow, sweet languor, and he allowed it to fill his mouth, savoring the taste of it for a moment before he swallowed.
“Yes, more, please, and here. Oh, yes, Long Arm my beloved, yes.”
He suckled that breast for several minutes, taking the milk from her. Then Spotted Fawn laid her fingertips against his temple and urged him to the other side, where he was pleased to repeat the process.
“Do you know what this means, Long Arm?” she whispered in the darkness.
He shook his head.
“If a man takes the milk from a woman’s breast it means he can never forget her. He will always love her.”
Longarm grinned. “Yeah, I think I can go along with that all right, Spotted Fawn. For sure I won’t ever forget you. Not that I could’ve anyhow.” He kissed her, then let the pretty girl roll him onto his back.
“Now,” she said, “it is my turn, no?”
“Now,” he agreed, “it is your turn, yes.” And soon he felt the cool, refreshing brush of her hair as she moved over on top of him. He felt her mouth on his nipples, sucking and pulling much as he had just done, except this time the object was not the getting of milk but the giving of pleasure.
The sensations she gave to him burned through his belly and deep into his groin. After a few minutes Spotted Fawn’s tongue busily roved over his belly, dipped for a moment into his navel, and traveled further south until the soft touch of her hair fell onto his balls and he could feel the heat of her breath on his cock.
She held herself motionless there for a time, teasing him with her nearness, but withholding her touch until the anticipation drove him into a pulsing, yearning near-frenzy. He wanted her. Needed her. Now. He took hold of the back of her head and pushed, but Spotted Fawn would not let him off that easily. She went rigid, resisting his touch and making him wait long seconds more.
