by Connie Mason
Her flesh was smooth and white, her breasts as firm as plump apples. Her waist was narrow, her hips slightly flared, her legs long and shapely. His gaze fastened on the fiery triangle between her legs, hiding a treasure that would soon be his. He didn’t touch her; he didn’t dare. Not yet, not with his blood pumping furiously through his veins, clamoring for fulfillment. Only a savage would throw his woman down and thrust into her again and again without a care for her needs, and he was no savage. With great difficulty he forced a calm he didn’t feel, his eyes never leaving hers as he tore off his clothing.
His shirt hit the ground with a thud, followed closely by his leggings. Hannah swallowed convulsively as his body emerged, golden and virile and utterly magnificent. With a flick of his wrist he released his breechclout, and her eyes widened. Thick and pulsing with a life of its own, his manhood thrust out from his body like a velvet-covered pillar of steel. Terror brought a gasp to her lips. She could never take all of him. Before this night was over he’d surely kill her.
Wind Rider’s silver eyes glittered with pleasure when he saw Hannah stare at his erection. “Do I compare favorably with your lovers? Is my sword mighty enough to satisfy you? Tell me, Little Sparrow, tell me you find me pleasing.” He grasped her shoulders, bringing her against him with jarring impact. The washboard ridges of his belly jerked in violent response.
“I’ve had no other lovers.”
He laughed harshly, rocking against her to demonstrate his need. The sensation of his smooth, hot flesh pressed against every inch of her breasts, belly, and legs was so exquisite, it was almost unbearable. “There is no need to lie. Your past does not matter. But if you give me reason to doubt your faithfulness in the future, I will kill you.”
Hannah blanched. He sounded so fierce, she was inclined to believe him.
“Give me your mouth, Little Sparrow. I long to taste it as I did before.”
“It’s called a kiss,” Hannah offered without thinking. “It is common practice in white culture. Most men find it enjoyable.”
“And women?” Wind Rider probed. “Do women find it enjoyable?”
Hannah had only that one kiss from Wind Rider with which to judge, but she could definitely say it had been a pleasant experience. “Yes, women find it enjoyable.”
“Then we will kiss.” His mouth came down on hers, stealing her breath and forcing her lips open. Then he tasted her, as he had longed to do, using his tongue to thrust and withdraw, savoring the sweet heat of her mouth. He groaned as if in pain and carried her down with him to the bed of furs at their feet.
Hannah shivered, but not from cold. “Wind Rider.”
His name on her lips was sweet music to his ears. “I am here, Little Sparrow. Forget the other men who have gone before me. Tonight we will find paradise together.”
“There were no others . . . oh . . .” The words died in her throat as Wind Rider’s lips slid down her neck to feed at her breasts. Sucking and licking, he moved from one to the other, nipping with his teeth, then soothing with the wet roughness of his tongue.
“Do you like that, Little Sparrow?”
He didn’t wait for an answer as his lips slid downward across the flat planes of her belly, stopping to gently tongue her navel while his hands sought the warmth between her legs that he craved with every fiber of his being. Parting the silken forest at the base of her thighs, his fingers slid into the moist crevice, the incredible heat of her tender flesh scorching him. With unerring expertise he found the swollen bud of her womanhood and massaged slowly, using the callused pad of his fingertip to arouse her.
Hannah cried out, stunned by a passion she never knew she possessed. She clutched at him in mute desperation, unable to prevent her hands from exploring the smooth golden flesh of his back and shoulders. The rippling sinews and suppressed strength of his big body raised her level of excitement to panting rapture. Her hands strayed lower, finding the taut mounds of his buttocks, wondering how something so hard could feel so smooth and supple. He moved between her legs, spreading them wide. Hannah steeled herself for the pain of his entry, but instead felt the slippery thrust of his finger inside her.
“You’re so hot and wet inside.” His voice whispered against her ear, low and intense, and so full of need she trembled anew.
Hannah twisted restlessly, adjusting to the discomfort of a foreign object inside her body. The movement succeeded in driving his finger deeper, and the discomfort turned to pleasure, a kind of pleasure she’d never known before. His gentle thrusts sent her senses soaring as her body began to tingle and burn, seeking a mysterious goal she had never before achieved. Wind Rider’s assault continued, allowing Hannah no respite as her body tingled and vibrated to the tune of his talented hands. When his mouth took hers, adding another dimension to her torment, the tingling became so intense, she felt herself starting to disintegrate.
Suddenly the pressure eased and Hannah felt as if she would die if she didn’t find what she was looking for. “Wind Rider, please.”
“Please, what?” His voice was as strained as hers, his need as great.
“I want.. .”
“What do you want, Little Sparrow?”
”I-don’t know. Please ...”
“Spread your legs. I will not withhold what you seek.”
His manhood prodded against her belly, huge and throbbing and frightening. She stared at it, fearing he would break her in two if he tried to put it inside her. He placed the swollen tip against the slick portals of her womanhood and she began to shake.
“No! I can t! You’re too big!”
“I am no different from any other man,” Wind Rider said, proud of his size and strength despite his modest words.
“Don’t do this.”
“You are my wife, Little Sparrow. Besides, it is too late.”
And it was too late. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him, felt the discomfort of his entry as he pushed forward.
“You’re incredibly tight,” he said, perplexed at the resistance of her narrow passage.
Hannah whimpered, passion dying as quickly as it had been born. Then her whimper turned to a startled cry of agony as Wind Rider thrust his hips and broke through her maidenhead. He stilled, waiting for her body to adjust to him, then he moved slowly and deliberately, trying to reconcile himself to the startling revelation that Hannah was a maiden who had never lain with a man. He had not expected it, would not have believed it if he hadn’t felt the barrier of her virginity himself.
“It won’t hurt for long, Little Sparrow, I promise. I will finish quickly to ease your pain.”
He was so close to the edge, it took little effort to stroke himself to a shuddering climax. A sigh of blessed relief issued from Hannah’s lips when he withdrew and settled beside her on the mat.
“Did I hurt you badly?” he asked once his breathing slowed to a normal pace.
“Yes.” Her sullen reply was not just the result of the pain, but also of disappointment. For some reason she felt let down, as if there should have been more.
“Next time will be easier, and you will feel pleasure.”
“Does there have to be a next time?”
“You will wish it as much as I.”
Hannah watched warily as he rose and found his breechclout, which he wet thoroughly, using a pitcher of water sitting in a corner. He returned and knelt beside her, spreading her legs and washing her as gently as he would a babe. Hannah’s face turned crimson. It never occurred to her that a man would perform such an intimate task. When he finished he lay back down beside her. Then, with slow deliberation, he aroused her anew, using his mouth, hands, and tongue to bring her to the peak of passion.
When at length the hot tip of his tongue touched the throbbing bud nestled at the juncture of her thighs, shock turned her rigid and she cried out in protest. “What are you doing?”
“I will not hurt you,” Wind Rider said, pressing against her belly with the palm of his hand to hold her still. “I wish to bring
you pleasure.”
He bent his head, laving her tender, swollen flesh with his tongue. Her body jerked reflex-ively, and the burning began, deep inside her most secret passages. She felt on the verge of explosion. His tongue pursued her relentlessly, and when he thrust his finger inside her she went up in flames, shattering into so many pieces, she doubted she’d ever be whole again. Lifting his head, Wind Rider watched her climax, his expression that of a hungry wolf.
Hannah could not suppress the shudders traveling the length of her body, nor understand the unbelievable ecstasy pouring over her. Then she knew no more. When she came to her senses, Wind Rider was leaning over her, regarding her with wonder.
“I did not want to cheat you this time.”
“You didn’t. I’ve never ... I didn’t know . ..”
A mysterious smile stretched the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t ever recall being so pleased at anything. “Sleep, Little Sparrow. We have plenty of time to get to know one another. In seven suns I will know every inch of your white body, and you will know every inch of mine/’
Hannah smiled and stretched her hand across the mat, expecting to encounter warm, vibrant flesh. Sunlight filtering through the open smokehole stabbed relentlessly at her face, bringing her abruptly awake from a most pleasant dream. Her body ached in places she never knew existed, and movement brought a small groan from her lips. Her face glowed hotly when she recalled what had taken place last night and once during early morning, when Wind Rider had awoken her with nibbling kisses against her breasts and stomach. Abruptly she became aware that she was alone on the mat. Her hands touched the place where he had lain, still warm from his body, and she sat up, calling his name.
There was no answering response. Panic seized her, and she crawled to the open flap. Had Wind Rider abandoned her already? Had she done something to displease him? Then she saw him, and the breath slammed from her lungs. He was standing in the river, bathing, his golden body glistening in the morning sun. He sensed her eyes on him and turned slowly, a wide smile stretching his lips.
“Come and join me.” he invited, holding out a sun-bronzed hand.
Realizing she was naked, Hannah turned back to don her tunic but changed her mind. The beautiful white dress was the only one she had, and she didn’t want to ruin it in the water. Besides, Wind Rider had seen every part of her; she had nothing more to hide from him. Ducking through the entrance, she walked toward the river, her face flaming when she noted the intensity of Wind Rider’s silver gaze on her naked form.
The water was cold but not unbearable. In fact, it felt wonderfully refreshing as she washed the scent of Wind Rider’s lovemaking from her body. When she reached Wind Rider’s side he slowly, gently, began washing her with soap plant.
“Did I hurt you last night?” His question took her by surprise. She’d had no idea he would even care.
”A little,” she admitted, blushing.
“Finding you a maiden was something I never expected. But it pleases me to know my wife gave me the gift of her virtue.”
“If you’d listened to me, you would have known.” Her back tingled where his hands plied the soap plant. He turned her around and stroked soap over her breasts and stomach.
“I’m listening now. Why did your master call you a whore?”
Hannah sighed, the slow movement of his hands so arousing, she could barely concentrate. When his hands dipped down between her legs her thoughts scattered like leaves before the wind. ”I-I. . .”
“Never mind; you can tell me later,” Wind Rider said as desire spilled through his veins like thick, sweet honey. He slipped a finger inside her, and Hannah cried out, grasping his shoulders to keep from falling.
“What are you doing?”
“I want you again, Little Sparrow. You make me forget the restraint practiced by my people. When I am near you I cannot control myself. You make me crazy with the need to thrust myself into you again and again.”
His words acted like an aphrodisiac to her senses as Hannah felt herself grow hot. An ache began in her loins, and she pushed against him, loving the feel of her soft breasts against the hardness of his chest. She knew she was acting in a brazen manner but couldn’t seem to help herself. Wind Rider was turning her into a savage, just like he was. Or was he a savage? Intuition told her that no Indian blood flowed through his veins. It wasn’t something anyone had said but rather a gut feeling she could not shake.
Grasping her buttocks, Wind Rider pulled her into the cradle of his loins, his manhood rising hard and heavy between them as he rubbed against her, letting her feel what she did to him.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said in a strained voice.
Hannah obeyed without hesitation, unaware of what he intended but trusting him implicitly. He raised her slightly, then thrust into her, filling her so completely, Hannah felt his hardness stretching her and feared she would burst.
There was no pain, only a full sensation that was not unpleasant. When he licked and sucked her breasts the rapture was so great she moaned in response.
Moving her up and down the extended length of his staff, Wind Rider felt her tightness surround and squeeze him and nearly exploded. He couldn’t believe his reaction to Hannah, for he’d never before lost control with a woman. Cool and detached, he’d always made certain the woman felt pleasure, but he’d never immersed himself to the extent of letting his need rule his mind or body. But with Hannah he was like a rutting animal who could not get enough.
Hannah felt the tremors begin deep in her loins as wave after wave of ecstasy pounded through her. Her cries triggered Wind Rider’s climax and he shuddered violently, releasing his seed in a gushing torrent. Afterward they washed again in the river and returned to the lodge. Hannah was surprised to find that someone had left food for them while they cavorted in the water. They ate ravenously, then sat outside in the sun to rest and renew themselves. Hannah had donned her dress, but Wind Rider wore only a brief breechclout.
“I want you to tell me how you came to be owned by the white eyes,” Wind Rider said lazily. “You said you came from a country that lies across a huge sea.”
“The country is called Ireland. I come from a poor family and have many brothers and sisters. The potato famine left thousands of people starving, my family among them. I left home so my father would have one less mouth to feed.”
Wind Rider’s brow wrinkled. “So you sold yourself to another? It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s not exactly right. I sold my services for seven years to pay for my passage to America. It’s called indenture. Upon arrival in Boston, the ship’s captain sold my indenture to Mr. Harley. We left immediately for Independence and joined a wagon train. We left the Oregon Trail at Julesburg and traveled south to Denver, where Mr. Harley intended to open an inn.”
Wind Rider digested all this thoughtfully. “White people are strange. Why did your master call you a whore?”
“Mr. Harley is a cruel man,” Hannah said bitterly. “He wanted me to bed the men who came to the inn, but I refused. When he insisted I ran away. The law will punish me if I’m caught and return me to Mr. Harley to serve out my indenture.”
“What happens after your indenture is served?”
“Then I am free to pursue my own life. I hoped to save enough money to send for some of my brothers and sisters. But Mr. Harley has made that impossible.”
“You looked so pitiful the first time I saw you. I knew the man must have starved you, beaten you, and worked you excessively. I will kill him if I ever see him.” His words were spoken with such utter lack of emotion that Hannah believed he could kill Harley without a shred of remorse.
“My appearance was partly my doing,” Hannah admitted. “I tried to make myself as unattractive as possible so as not to attract attention. But it didn’t work. Mr. Harley decided to clean me up and offer me to his customers despite my lack of appeal. That’s why I ran away. Most likely he has notified the authorities and they are looking for m
e right now.”
“He cannot have you.” Wind Rider spoke with such heat and conviction; Hannah was amazed that he cared so much.
“Tell me about yourself,” Hannah said quietly. “Was your mother white?”
Wind Rider hesitated so long, Hannah thought he hadn’t heard. She was about to repeat her question when he said, “My father is White Feather. My mother, Gray Dove, was killed by white soldiers from Fort Lyon.”
Hannah stared at him. His silver eyes and white features disputed his claim. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?”
Wind Rider remained silent, considering his answer. Sooner or later Hannah would hear the truth from someone. Many Sioux spoke the white man’s tongue.
Hannah tried another approach. “You mentioned a sister. Is she still with the Cheyenne?”
Wind Rider’s features softened. “Tears Like Rain lives near Denver with her husband, Zach Mercer. He is white, but I believe he loves her.
He calls her Abby. It was her name before .. .”
Hannah’s attention sharpened. “Before what?”
Wind Rider let out a harsh breath. “Before White Feather adopted us.”
“I was right; you are white!” Hannah crowed delightedly.
Wind Rider stiffened. “I am Cheyenne. Never forget it, Little Sparrow. I do not belong to the white world. Since the age of ten I have lived with the Cheyenne. Their world became mine; I adopted their customs. I know nothing about white society. White eyes drive us from our land and kill our people. They slaughter innocent women and children and try to force us to live on reservations, where the land is poor and no buffalo remain.”
“How do you know you can’t live in white society? Obviously your sister made the transition successfully.”
“It was not easy for Tears Like Rain. She fought against our father’s decision to return her to the white world. If I know my sister, she fought Zach Mercer every step of the way.”
“Is she happy now?”