by Arch Gallen
Chapter 7
On the porch, Deacon smoking while Rachel sipped coffee, the two looked out over her range, both pairs of eyes peering toward Lambertson’s ranch. The degree of satisfaction he had from the meal they shared astonished him, a fact he remarked on noting in particular the fluffy biscuits.
“Biscuits make everything better.” he’d commented in a rare moment between bites, “And not much else could make these eatings any better.”
Rachel smiled, her cheeks warm. “Most things a woman is meant to do, I do well.” she replied sassily, disappointed at his apparent lack of understanding despite noticing a faint blush on his face.
Sitting within a hand’s reach, she wanted nothing more than to take his and hold it but knew his mind was on Lambertson. Drinking her coffee, she glanced at him, inquiring softly, “You have a plan?”
Chance leaned forward on his knees, flicking ashes past the porch to the dirt. “Some of one.” he acknowledged, “Not flushed out quite yet.”
The setting sun drew arcs of pink and purple against thin, high clouds over distant peaks. She breathed in deeply, loving the view and country, wishing another way could be found.
“Would like there was some law around we could go to.”Deacon commented as if reading her thoughts, surprising himself at such a notion occurring.
Rachel bobbed her head. “Wrote the US Marshall down in Denver.” she told him, “Almost six months ago but heard nothing.”
He leaned back, giving her a side-long glance as warm night breezes toyed with her hair.“Much territory they’ve to cover and few doing it.”
She nodded sadly. “Will be a day we’ll have law handy.” she offered wistfully. “Not in time for us, I’m fearing.”
Deacon felt her want for order and peace, disturbed none at sharing it. The west had been run by those with the fastest guns and hardest fists too long already and would be for some time yet. Days of law and peace was years off or decades, he believed, understanding fully that it was the few men like himself who could make it safe for others and decided in an instant to do that.
“Will go down there at first light.” he advised, “Much can be done before they’re expecting me if handled right.”
Rachel tossed a puzzled look, liking the smirk he returned, his rugged face made softer, more attractive, by the laughing done over dinner and since.
Raising a brow to her, he waved his cup over the baked ground. “Always things a man does first when rising” he explained with modesty, “making it harder to draw a gun or shoot well.”
She giggled at his way, face suddenly warm at images drawn, when he continued, “There’s three to deal with so culling the herd by one betters my count.”
Frowning, Rachel stood. “You’re not afraid?” she asked gently.
Rising, standing close, Deacon admitted some fear. “Man with nothing to lose has no fear. Was like that most my years.”Turning, he accepted her fingers taking his, entwining them. “Believe I have some to lose now.”
She gripped his hand tightly, a funny grin on her face. Peering at him closely through deepening shadows, she set her free hand on his chest. “Then we should miss none more than has been already.” she suggested, lifting to her toes to plant a light kiss on his lips.
Chance stammered a bit as she lowered. “Am not so much knowing, Rachel.” he started, halting when she set a finger over his mouth.
“What you’re not knowing, Deacon, I’m teaching.” she answered, stepping past him toward the door, leading him by the hand. “An’ seems no better time to start lessons, is there?”
Following, Chance waggled his head, no words suitable arriving to him as she guided them past the long curtain covering her bedroom where she turned back to him, hands on his chest, leaning in. Head tilted, the half-foot difference in height no challenge to Rachel’s determination, she met his lips, pressing firmly while caressing below his curled hair. Unbuckling his holster, Deacon pulled away only long enough to connect the hasp and set the gun over a bed post, eagerly returning her embrace after.
Fingers working at loosening buttons of his shirt, Rachel felt her legs trembling, the unsatisfied ache of her body increasing in urgency. Letting her tongue tease his, she forced her pelvis tight against him then slid a hand down his torso, taking his from where he held firmly below her waist and brought it up behind her neck over the button there. Pulling his head back, Chance peered at her, seeing the hot demanding flash of her blue eyes as she nodded, a mischievous smile lighting her face. Returning to his shirt, the woman opened it to his waist, tickling his exposed chest while he smoothly freed her dress.
Caressing his muscled waist, Rachel slid eager fingers around, untucking his shirt then ran firm hands up to his shoulders, brushing back the garment when Chance dropped his arms letting it fall away. Drawing him close, heat building from expectation, she kissed him again, leading his hands down her neck and under the dress and slip she wore beneath, excitedly attacking the clasp of his pants while he hesitatingly brought her clothing down. She paused her effort only so long as needed to shake the dress from her arms, instantly returning quivering fingers to his waist and pushing his remaining covering over muscled thighs, attaching them back to what she wanted most to hold.
Stepping out of clothes piled over their feet, the couple moved as one to the bed, Rachel sitting first while taking his hands then firmly bringing him next to her. Unsteadily, she closed her eyes, neck stretching back as he brushed through her hair. Lying alongside, kissing her deeply, his calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle while stroking her naked breasts, stomach and below. Swinging her legs to the bed, Rachel raised one knee, inviting further explorations, responding to his forceful kiss with a probing tongue as spasms shook her from toe to head until she could wait no longer, sliding under his lean, tall frame and grasping his back as he joined with her in shared, heart-pounding ecstasy. Gripping tightly, they energetically coupled, waves of joy crashing through Rachel as Deacon proved his strength and stamina, driving his own desire to meet hers as they arrived together in a moment of bliss neither had dared to dream possible.
Heart pounding, holding her head in the hollow of his neck, Chance leaned close, nibbling on her ear as she wrapped her legs between his, sweat pouring over them both. Quietly, he whispered, “Would have it last longer if I could.” astonished when she cocked her head, dancing eyes barely visible in the fading light.
“Will next time” she promised, giggling through radiating intensity, “with that soon enough.”
Embracing her, passionate kisses given him with increasing desire, Deacon toyed over every inch in his reach, liking her quaking responses as he touched and tickled until she rose to an elbow then put a commanding hand on his chest. Laying him back, Rachel flicked a knowing, leering smile then began with a lick on his chin, continuing motions over his neck and chest, fingers active ahead of her tongue. Sweaty brow knitted, he never considered a decent woman would do as a barmaid might with her mouth before his hips began involuntary shuddering at the pleasure she brought.
Only minutes passed until Rachel could wait no more, tremors between her legs demanding she spread herself over him, lowering deliberately, taking in every inch of exquisite delight. Guiding a pillow from under his head, she raised him in a manner most suitable to satisfy her wants and folded it under. Fingers interlaced, they balanced in an increasingly frenetic dance of fire, his legs churning rhythmically with her pulsing form, the two blending as one.
Gasping, Rachel dropped forward, still for a moment, her soaked hair draped over those on his chest. Leaning forward, she lifted her waist then rested on both knees, eyes close to his. Voice rasping, long, sharp nails slicing down his side in a delicious gesture, she cooed, “Every woman wants a stallion, Deacon. I’m wanting you to be mine.” turning herself suitably so he could give what her body required.
A second of confusion replaced by understanding, Chance slipped to his knees, propping himself to one side until properly placed then determ
inedly coupling, cupping each breast in his large hands and massaging both inside and out to her loud, uncontrolled gasps and squeals. Alternating force with small, electrifying squirms, he answered her every move with stimulating response, inciting madness in the woman’s mind matched by enthusiastic agitation from her body until both, spent and exhausted, fell to a tangled heap of legs, arms and hair, laughter mixed with desperate panting for air.
Slowly their hearts returned to normal pounding, small shivery kisses mixed with hugging and much playing of fingers and tongues over wet, perspiring skin. Holding him, never wishing to move from this spot, Rachel looked through the dark, able to see nothing as she stroked his face, chest and arms, in this moment more pleased and grateful than had been for a long while. Unable to think except of her weak legs, trembling hands and rewarding feelings he gave, she realized happily her eyes were drooping and he, also, was dozing. Permitting nature its course, she accepted sleep without objection, satisfied.
Waking with Rachel nestled closely over his arm, her damp, tousled hair draped on him, Deacon tried to ease out without waking her, already alert to what had been planned for the day but found her suddenly aware, stretching over him as she kissed him deeply. His soft reminder of their intent for him to leave early was slapped down by Rachel’s comment, “That man’s taken enough from me, he’s not taking this morning, too!” a response working greatly in favor of his natural desires to satisfy her wants and his as well.
Eventually, the morning well along, they rose, Rachel donning only her night robe while Deacon dressed, his mind already turning to duties laying before him. Silent except for spontaneous outbursts of titters and giggles from her met by reddened cheeks and embarrassed chuckles from him, they shared a pleasing breakfast, the oppressive heat of mid-morning less bothersome to either than was true just a day before. Finally, reluctantly, Deacon rose, meeting her worried gaze with calm.
“Will be back before nightfall.” he offered with assurance. “All will be over then.”
Frowning, her flushed face tight, Rachel gave him a hard look. “Better be back, Deacon Chance.” she ordered, “As if you let him kill you now, I’ll hunt you down an’ do it again.”
With an astonishing hearty laugh, he kissed her forehead then strode out, saddling his horse while thinking through what little plan he had. Mounting, he left the Loftin range headed southeast, a long low wash he’d spotted near Red Rock seeming to curl back toward Lambertson’s place a likely approach. Focused harshly on the man he hunted, a grim expression etched itself across his lean face as he rode understanding at last what it was to have purpose.