10
Fargo went to kiss Rebecca again but she put a hand to his chest and nervously glanced toward camp.
“Not this close. Someone might hear us.”
Fargo couldn’t see how, since most were asleep. But he took her hand and moved deeper into the dark.
“Let’s not go too far,” Rebecca whispered. “I want to be able to see the fires.”
“Make up your mind.”
Sixty feet from their camp, Fargo stopped and pressed Rebecca against a tree. She responded to his kiss but her body was tense and stiff. “What is it now?”
“I’m nervous, I guess.” Rebecca looked anxiously about as if she expected a shrieking warrior to come rushing out.
“Relax. We’re safe. The Sioux stick close to their lodges at night.” Fargo didn’t add, “except when war parties go on raids.”
“You’re sure? What about bears? Or cougars?” Rebecca swallowed. “I don’t like these hills at night. I don’t like them at all.”
Fargo ran his fingers through her hair and placed his other hand on her hip. “Animals won’t come this near to fire,” he assured her, which wasn’t entirely true. A bear might, out of hunger or curiosity. A cougar might, too, if it caught the scent of the horses.
“If you’re sure,” Rebecca said uncertainly.
Fargo sensed she might change her mind. To prevent that from happening, and to take her mind off what might be lurking in the dark, he cupped her breast while at the same time he slid his other hand between her thighs. She stiffened, and gasped.
Gradually, Rebecca relaxed. Her body molded to his. Her kisses became delicious wellsprings of passion. She sucked on his tongue. She ground against him. Her fingernails scraped his skin.
Fargo relaxed, too. Making love to women had long been a favorite pastime. He would rather poke a willing filly than do just about anything else. He liked it so much that when he went without for more than a week or two, the need built in him until he was fit to explode.
Fargo never could savvy men who swore off women, whatever their reasons. Priests, for instance. Or those who were content with a poke a month, if that. It had surprised him considerably when it dawned on him years back that some men didn’t feel the same need he did. For him, the treats a woman offered were a slice of the best the pie of life had to offer, and any gent who didn’t care for a taste must not have any taste buds.
Fargo thought of that now as Rebecca continued to warm to their caresses. She pried at his shirt and his belt to get at his pants. He helped, and presently his gun belt was on the ground and his pants were down around his knees. His manhood had become a rigid pole. He shivered when she lightly clasped him and commenced to stroke. He thought he would explode when she cupped him but he was able to contain himself.
Fargo got her robe undone and delved into her charms with ardent zest. He licked her neck. He sucked and nipped an earlobe. He traced the tip of his tongue from her throat to between her breasts and then to a nipple. Inhaling it, he swirled it with his tongue and it became a rigid tack. She groaned when he cupped her other breast. Her hips thrust hard against his member. It was plain her fruit was ripe for the plucking.
Fargo lathered her tummy and stuck his tongue into her navel. He ran his hand from her knees to the junction of her legs. She was burning hot for him. She was wet, too, as he found out when he parted her nether lips with the tip of a finger and ran it over her tiny knob.
Rebecca arched her back. She mewed. Her whole body melted against him in wanton need.
“I’ve wanted it for so long.”
It reminded Fargo of her claim that she hadn’t enjoyed much in the way of lovemaking for the past thirteen years. He suspected she wasn’t telling the truth, but it was hardly worth bringing up, and definitely not then and there.
Fargo slid a finger into her velvet sheath. He stroked her, and her inner walls rippled. He added a second finger and stroked harder. It aroused her no end; she became an inferno of desire, her lips and hands everywhere.
Fargo drifted on tides of lust until he reached the point where he couldn’t wait any longer; he parted her thighs, rubbed the tip of his manhood on her slit, and rammed up into her. Her mouth parted wide and for a moment he thought she would cry out but instead she sank her teeth into his shoulder hard enough for it to hurt.
Fargo devoted his hands to her breasts and his mouth to hers. For a long while he was content to slowly thrust. But as their mutual need mounted and she cooed and squirmed and moaned, he couldn’t hold back. He pumped his hips harder and faster and she pumped hers in kind.
The woods blurred. The stars receded. Fargo felt his need to release build and build. Then she gushed and writhed in ecstasy, and it triggered his own explosion. For a while he lost all sense of time, all sense of anything save the addicting pulse of pure pleasure.
The yip of a coyote brought Fargo back to the here and now. He pulled up his pants and strapped on his Colt while she wrapped her robe around herself, and coyly smiled.
“That was wonderful. Thank you.”
Fargo grunted.
“Was it good for you? I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience so I don’t know if I pleased you or not.”
“Cut it out,” Fargo said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re not the poor deprived woman you make yourself out to be. Do me a favor and don’t think I’m dumb enough to think you are.”
Rebecca frowned. “So you have me all figured out, is that it? I’ve got news for you. You don’t have anyone figured out. Not me. Not Fulton. Not even little Gerty.”
“If you say so.” That she was so prickly about his remark proved to Fargo he had struck a nerve.
“I know so. Take Fulton, for instance. Do you really think he came all this way to hunt buffalo and bear?”
“Not just any buff or griz. He’s after the biggest, the best, to hang on his trophy wall.”
“He has you hoodwinked.”
Fargo couldn’t see how. Senator Keever was paying him good money—paying Owen and Lichen and the others, too—and had spent a lot more on horses and supplies and ammunition. If he wasn’t there to hunt, he was putting on a good show. “I’m thickheaded. You need to spell it out.”
“I don’t know as I will,” Rebecca said tartly. “Not after that crack you just made.”
“I was only saying.”
“I never claimed to be a virginal maiden. I only said I don’t get to do it as often as I’d like.”
“You’re making a fuss over nothing,” Fargo said, and knew it was a mistake the moment the words were out of his mouth.
“Oh, really? I trusted you, I confided in you, I gave myself to you, and it’s nothing? You don’t care how miserable I’ve been? How very lonely?”
Oh hell, Fargo thought. “You didn’t have to marry him. It was your decision, so live with it.”
Rebecca straightened and folded her arms. “I would like to go back now, if you don’t mind.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Alone? In the dark? In these woods? A gentleman like Fulton would never let a lady go by herself.”
Fargo was tired of her carping. “What gave you the notion I’m a gentleman? I live in these wilds you dislike so much. I have more in common with a mountain lion than I do the man you married.”
“Fulton has a lot of faults but he’s always treated me with courtesy. He has a few other traits I admire, too. He’s terribly devious, as you’ll find out soon enough, to your sorrow.”
“There you go again. Dropping hints. If you have something to say, come right out and say it, damn it.”
“Temper, temper,” Rebecca taunted. “I was thinking about telling you but then you went and insulted me. Now you’ll just have to find out on your own. I only hope I’m there to see your face when you discover how you’ve been tricked.”
