Captivated

He grabbed the damp washcloth draped over the sink, then found the small crock of butter in the cupboard.

She was sitting up in bed, a dark silhouette against a slash of pale linen. 'What should I do?'

'Lie down on your stomach. Then lift yourself up onto your knees and put your head down on the pillow.'

'Have you… ever done this before?'

He reached out, found her nose, her chin, smoothed tangled hair back from her face.

His handshands that aimed a rifle with deadly precision were trembling.

'Never. You don't have to do this, you know.'

'But I want to. I want you to feel what I feel. I want to be your fantasy woman, Robert.Iwant you to give me everything you give to her.'

Robert threw his head back to study the darkness.

If he did this, he didn't know if he could ever go back to a life of killing.

If he did this, he didn't know if he could die, knowing what he was leaving behind.

If he did this, he didn't know if he could let go of Abigail when the storm ended.

The sound of the mattress shifting told him she had positioned herself.

He looked down at the dark silhouette, buttocks arched in the air, and knew that it didn't matter what the repercussions were he was going to have her.

The bargain had been everything, and everything was what he was going to take.

Leaning over the dark silhouette that was Abigail, he found the iron headboard, draped the wet washcloth over it. Then, reaching into the crock, he scooped up butter and smeared it along the length of his penis. Nine inches, she had said during her mock measurementhe felt like he was twelve inches long going on twenty, hard and powerful and never more aware of his masculinity. Scooping up more butter, he set the crock down onto the floor and knelt on the bed behind her.

He touched her lightly, reverently.

Abigail tensed.

'Relax, Abigail. This is part of the fantasy. To touch you everywhere.' Gently he worked the butter around and around her tight opening, rimming it over and over and over until unwittingly she thrust back toward him.

His middle finger slipped inside her.

She gasped.

He gasped.

She was unbelievably tight.

And hot.

Everything and more that he had imagined a woman to be.

Deep inside her the flesh ballooned out. He wriggled his finger. 'Does that hurt?'

'No.'

His voice was hoarse with desire. 'Do you take me, Abigail?'

Her voice, when she responded, was equally hoarse. 'I take you, Robert.'

Leaning down, he planted a kiss onto her upraised buttocks, her skin taut and cool on the outside, soft and hot on the inside, then slowly withdrew his finger. Carefully he cleansed it with the wet washcloth.

'I'll try not to hurt you.' Kneeling on the bed between her legs, he rubbed himself round and round her tightly puckered flesh, pressing inward, harder and harder with each circle until he felt it blossoming open, and then suddenly he was inside her and Abigail was crying out in the darkness.

He sucked in a deep breath and held still. Her flesh nipped and milked him. The soft mounds of her buttocks quivered against his groin.

Robert felt an emotion so strong that for a moment he thought he would be unmanned.

Lust. Tenderness.

He wanted to ram her so hard and deep that she screamed. He wanted to hold her until the tears passed and she never felt loneliness again.

Reaching out, he followed the trail of her spine until it merged into the nape of her neck, then reversed the trail, bringing his fingers back to the place where he was buried to the hilt.

She arched her back, drawing him deeper inside her.

Leaning over her, he cupped her breast with his left hand while, with his other hand, he found her right fist balling the pillow. 'Feel the two of us, Abigail.'

Threading her fingers with his, he relentlessly brought their joined hands to the apex of her thighs. 'Spread your legs.'

The motion brought him even deeper inside her. 'No, don't pull back. Here.' He found her slick, pouting nether lips, nudged them apart, rubbed their joined fingers back and forth until they were slick with her essence, until her body opened and accepted the first tentative thrust.

'RobertRobertI can feel you'

'Jesus.' He could feel himself, through the thin membrane separating the two channels. He could feel her flesh milking his fingers, her fingers, feel her other flesh milking his manhood.

Carefully, inexorably, he pushed their middle and forefingers more deeply inside her, prodding the sponge, wanting to feel her womb, wanting her to feel him inside her womb. And all the while that he pushed and pulled inside her vagina, he gently pushed and pulled in that other place, too, until finally they established a rhythm, their fingers pushing in, passing the hard ridge of his penis pulling out, then the fingers pulling out, rubbing the engorged bulb of his crown as he thrust into her other opening.

The pleasure of having her like this, of feeling her body at the same time that he felt his own body, was more than he could have imagined. Thoughts and images flashed before his eyes as if he was a dying man.

The Indian sun rising over the mountain and turning the sand blood red. Crimson-stained drumsticks quivering inside thesepoy's body. Abigail's tears as he recounted to her the twenty-two-year-old story. His own voice,Ifound out that I did not want to die without knowing what it is like to lose myselfinside a woman. Abigail's voice,Icame to say good-bye.

Who did you come to say good-bye to?

My dreams, Robert.

Without warning, Abigail's body tightened, locking fingers and manhood inside her. 'Oh, God, Robert. Robert, I can't stand it.' Her voice was agonized. 'Robert, please, God, take it out, do something, more, Robert,Robert '

'Promise me, Abigail.' Robert barely recognized his voice in the darknessit was a savage snarl punctuated with labored gasps and the slap of his skin against hers while thesepoy's whistling breath echoed in the ravine.

'Robert, please'

'Without your fantasies and your erotica you will be just like any other lady. And we would never have had last night and today. We would not be doing this, now. Would you give that up, too?'

'No, never!' she gasped, with pain, with pleasure, it no longer mattered, she was his and she was here to give up everything that had made his life bearable and hewas not going to let her do it.

'Promise me you won't give up your dreams!'

'Oh, God, God, Ipromise, Robert'

'Then let go.' Robert gritted his teeth. 'This is what kept me alive, Abigail,this dream. Come for me. I want you to feel what I feel when you come for me. I want you to take the pain and turn it into pleasure. I want you to comenow.'

In a quick motion he reversed the synchronization of their fingers and his penis, filling her simultaneously, faster, harder, deeper until there was no Abigail or Robert, only one body, one heartbeat, and it all centered there where their flesh was joined. Suddenly Abigail's entire body opened, taking their fingers and his manhood inside her more deeply than he would have thought humanly possible before clamping down in orgasm. Her muscles contracted around them, around him, until, with a muffled groan, he buried his face into the nape of her neck and came and came and came.

And knew that the storm had irrevocably changed his life.

Abigail had taken his pain and turned it into heart-rending pleasure.

Abigail had given back to him his soul.