The Legend Of Love

by Nan Ryan

  His lips brushing kisses to her quivering belly, he said, “I am, sweetheart. I am.”

  “Yes, yes and it’s … it’s wonderful, but I want … I need …”

  West languidly lifted his head and gave her a lazy smile. “I know, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need. What you want.”

  Her breath coming in short little pants, every muscle screaming out for the fulfillment his hard body could bring her, she whispered anxiously, “Then give it to me. Take off your trousers and—”

  “Ah, baby, baby. I can give you what you want without taking off my pants.”

  “No … you can’t,” she said frantically, and began slowly slipping downward, reaching greedily for the restrained male flesh he withheld. Her fingertips fluttering nervously in a half attempt to draw him free of his clothing, she said, “I want this. You’ll have to give me this.”

  West pushed her back up. “I don’t have to give you that now, sweetheart,” he said. “First I can give you my mouth.”

  “Your mouth?” she said, bewildered, still an innocent to all the ways there were of loving. “But how can … I mean … you can’t …”

  West placed a lean brown hand atop the triangle of flaming red curls between her pale apricot thighs. He said, “Move your legs apart, sweetheart.”

  Pressing her palms back against the cool stone wall of the crater, Elizabeth moved her bare feet a few inches apart. West gently raked through the tight auburn coils and then slipped his fingers between her parted legs. His lean middle finger touched her in that most sensitive of all spots and again he said, “I’ll give you my mouth, baby.” His finger lightly caressed her. “I’ll kiss you right here for as long as it takes to give you ecstasy.”

  Half horrified, half curious, Elizabeth squirmed excitedly, but shook her head. “No. You wouldn’t … you can’t do that.”

  “I would. I can,” he said, moved his hands to her thighs, and added, “I will.” And proceeded to show her.

  “West …” she gasped as his hands clutched her hips and his bearded face came back to her naked stomach.

  He was kissing her again. Over and over. His kisses went down her stomach, probing her navel, working their way along the insides of her thighs. Wet, hot, licking kisses. Then back up her thighs and slowly, as if in a dream, his bearded face moved directly to that flaming triangle and his hands commandingly gripped her buttocks.

  Straining with anticipation, Elizabeth watched with unashamed gratitude as that dark, bearded face sank lower. His bushy beard tickled and his breath was fiery hot and his lips, as they placed a gentle kiss on the swollen, throbbing flesh begging for his kiss, literally took her breath away.

  Her breath exploded from her tight lungs when his mouth opened possessively on her and his tongue began to stroke, to caress, to circle. Sharp jolts of incredible joy shot through Elizabeth’s entire body, and that tiny source of her pleasure which he so artfully tongued was on fire.

  West felt the immediate response of her shuddering body, the shocks surging through that hard little bud that shared with him all her darkest secrets, conveyed all her private fantasies, assured him that for now, for as long as his lips were fused to that glorious tiny nubbin of female flesh, she was his and his alone.

  Elizabeth was both frightened and elated by the heights of ecstasy she was attaining. At a fever pitch, she wriggled and gasped and clawed at the rock wall behind her. She closed her eyes, she opened them. She gritted her teeth, she bit her lip. She knitted her brow. She smiled foolishly.

  She stood naked against that rocky wall of their canyon crater while outside the wild thunderstorm raged and gathered ferocity. Great bolts of lightning flashed to light the shallow shelter with blinding brightness. Thunder rocked the valley, its booming sound reverberating off the canyon walls. Great torrents of water fell, splashing onto the stone apron of their cozy hideout.

  It was as violent a storm as Elizabeth had lived through. But its threatening fury was nothing compared to the wild love-storm enveloping her. Her pleasure-widened eyes lowered to the man responsible for the savage turbulence claiming her.

  She saw what seemed to her at that particular moment in time the most pleasingly erotic sight she had ever looked on. West’s dark, handsome face was sweetly buried in her, his thick beard a startling blue-black against the fiery auburn curls in which it was immersed. His eyes were closed, long black lashes feathered on his tanned cheeks. His strong hands were clasping her to him, as if he would feast on her forever.

  Elizabeth watched for only a moment, then quickly closed her eyes. But it was too late. Her release was coming in a tidal wave that couldn’t be held back. Her head tossing to the side, her weak knees helplessly bending, she totally gave herself up to the frenzied ecstasy she couldn’t control.

  “Please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” she begged her kneeling lover. “Oh, darling, darling … don’t ever stop!”

  And he didn’t.

  West licked and lashed and loved her until Elizabeth screamed out, shuddering violently, clutching madly at the hair of his head, bucking her pelvis against his pleasuring mouth until the joy became so great, she couldn’t bear it for one second more.

  Frantically she gripped his hair, tore his mouth from her, and sagged gratefully down into his waiting arms, her slender body jerking, tears of sheer ecstasy spilling from her eyes.

  40

  WEST SAT ON HIS heels, knees spread, enfolding Elizabeth in his arms as she cried and trembled and clung to him. Soothingly he stroked her back and kissed her hair and softly murmured, “Sweet, so sweet. Sweet baby. There, there, it’s okay, darlin’.”

  When her bare, slender body quit jerking with tiny aftershocks, and her sobs of hysterical joy turned to soft sighs of serenity, West eased her head up from his chest and back into the crook of his arm. He brushed her damp, tangled hair off her face and smiled down at her.

  “You all right, sweetheart?” he asked, the timbre of his low, smooth voice further calming her.

  “Mmmmmm,” was all she could manage, but the expression in her shining blue eyes spoke volumes.

  He leaned down, kissed her, and Elizabeth tasted herself on his lips. But instead of finding it repugnant, it seemed somehow incredibly intimate and pleasing.

  When his lips left hers, West drew her back up into a sitting position between his knees. While Elizabeth clasped his ribs, he deftly spread his damp chamois shirt out on the stone floor. He kissed her again and gently urged her over, following her down.

  Totally relaxed, Elizabeth lay on her back, stretching and purring like a lazy cat. West lay on his side facing her, his weight supported on an elbow. For a while he caressed only her tousled red hair, her flushed face. Then his gentle hand moved down her limp body as his lips brushed kisses to her closed eyes, her hot cheeks, her delicate chin.

  It wasn’t long before Elizabeth was surging up to meet his gliding hand and her parted lips were lifting eagerly for his kiss. West continued to kiss her and to stroke her silky flesh until he knew he had her sensually awakened again.

  Abruptly he pulled away, rolled to his feet, and stooping, crossed to the crater’s adjacent wall, where the ceiling was higher. There he rose to his full imposing height, turned to face Elizabeth, and began swiftly undressing.

  Curling up onto her side, Elizabeth openly stared while he shed his wet boots, then hunched out of his buckskin trousers and underwear. Naked, West closed his eyes, took the discarded pants and blotted at the residue of moisture beading his shaggy raven hair and beard. Watching, Elizabeth decided he was surely the most physically magnificent man the Almighty had ever created. Splendidly perfect from any and every angle. The blood warm and syrupy in her veins, she rolled up from her stone bed.

  After only a careless attempt at drying his hair and beard, West opened his eyes and tossed the pants aside, ready to rush back to Elizabeth. But he immediately hesitated, his silver-gray eyes widening.

  Elizabeth, on all fours, was slowly, seductively crawling t
oward him, her blue eyes hot, her red lips parted, her pale breasts swaying. Speechless, unable to move, West stood there gaping. She was, he decided, the most exquisite woman that God had ever created. Breathtakingly gorgeous from the top of her fiery head to the tip of her cute little toes.

  Elizabeth crawled directly to him, purred teasingly, and sat back on her heels before him. West braced himself to keep his knees from buckling. Almost shyly he put out a hand and touched her cheek. Then, frantic with desire, he clutched her upper arms and drew her swiftly to her feet and into his close embrace. Anxiously he kissed her, his hands sweeping possessively over her silky skin, his heart thundering in his bare chest.

  After only one hot, lingering kiss, he tried to urge her back to the spread chamois shirt. Shaking her head, Elizabeth refused. Instead she pressed him against the wall and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

  Wanting her so badly he was almost ill with desire, West kissed her ear, slid his hand around and down between the firm cheeks of her buttocks and slipped his fingers between her legs. He found, to his relief, she was wet and ready.

  Huskily, he said against her ear, “Oh, baby, please, please let me. Give it to me. Make love to me, sweetheart.”

  “I am making love to you,” Elizabeth whispered, undulating against him, kissing his shoulder, biting him playfully.

  “I know, I know, and it’s great, but … I need this.” His fingertip touched her. “I want it.”

  Elizabeth tipped her head back. “I know exactly what you need. What you want.”

  The blood pounding through his veins, every nerve and muscle crying out for the satisfaction her soft pliant body could bring him, West said raggedly, “Then, give it to me, baby. Let me put it—”

  “I can give you what you want without—”

  “No, no you can’t,” he interrupted hoarsely, the tip of his finger slipping up inside her. “I want this, baby. Give me this.”

  Elizabeth wriggled free of his gently probing finger. “I don’t have to give you that now,” she said sweetly, “first I can give you my mouth.”

  “Ah … no … no … baby,” West shook his dark head. “You can’t do—”

  “Move your feet apart,” she commanded and slowly sank to her knees before him.

  Refusing to obey, West reached down and took her arm, meaning to pull her up. But Elizabeth deliberately laid her cheek directly against his throbbing erection and said, “I’ll give you my mouth. I’ll kiss you here for as long as it takes.”

  “Oh, God, Elizabeth,” his trembling fingers left her arm, settled gently atop her head. “Don’t, sweetheart … you can’t … Jesus, honey …”

  His words trailed away and he sagged back against the rock wall as her pert nose nestled in the crisp black hair of his groin and she murmured, “I would. I can. I will.”

  Her hands gripped West’s hard thighs and her face came up to his stomach.

  And then she was kissing him, over and over, and her soft, sweet lips on his burning flesh felt so good he was helpless to stop her. Her feathery kisses moved over his tight abdomen, probing his navel, then moved downward, working their way along the inside of his thigh.

  His breath labored, his perspiring palms flattened against the wall, West anxiously moved his feet apart when she kissed her way along the insides of his taut thighs. Warm, sweet, plucking kisses. Then back up his thighs and languidly, as if in a fantasy, her lovely face moved directly to his straining erection and her soft hands assertively clasped him.

  Tense with expectation, West watched with frank appreciation as that beautiful face bent to him. Her soft lips pressed a kiss to the tip of his pulsing flesh and he groaned. When she opened her mouth and cautiously touched her tongue to him, West’s hands went to her head, tangled in her hair.

  Elizabeth felt the immediate response of his tall, trembling body, the power jolting through that shaft of hard male flesh that shared with her his secret desires, transmitted his confidential dreams, guaranteed her that for now, for as long as her lips enclosed him, he was hers and hers alone.

  West allowed himself only a brief sweet moment of the delicious torment. His feet apart, he stood against the rock wall as if in a beautiful dream. He vaguely was aware of the howling winds whistling through the canyon, of the deep rumbles of thunder. Of the close bolts of lightning illuminating the rocky crater with blinding brightness.

  His molten eyes lowering to the pretty woman kneeling between his legs, he was rewarded with the most carnally pleasing sight he had ever seen. Elizabeth’s beautiful face was pressed to him. Her large blue eyes were shut, the spiky lashes resting on her fragile white cheekbones. Her soft pink lips enclosed him warmly. His hands, entwined in her hair, drew long strands forward to brush his lower belly. The sight of those fiery tresses mingling with the black hair of his groin was electrifying.

  West closed his eyes, reluctantly jerked her loving mouth away, and bit the inside of his jaw to inflict distracting pain, knowing he was dangerously close to exploding release. Forcefully, he drew Elizabeth up into his arms, kissed her hotly, and maneuvered her back to his spread shirt.

  The smell of the fresh rain was heavy in the air when they sank anxiously to the stone floor. Throbbing in full erection, West eagerly rolled Elizabeth onto her back and moved between her legs. Before he came into her, a radiant bolt of lightning illuminated his dark-bearded face, looming just above hers.

  “Wait,” Elizabeth said, her hands pressing on his bare brown shoulders. “There’s something I have to tell you.” Thunder boomed loudly and she had to shout to be heard above it. “I didn’t murder that Southern officer back in Shreveport, West.”

  “Baby, I don’t care,” he said hoarsely and thrust forcefully into her.

  She felt him fill and stretch her and his handsome face came closer, his molten silver eyes looking into hers. Forgetting everything but him, Elizabeth looped her arms around his neck, longing for this perfect melding of flesh in flesh to go on forever. But both were far too hot for it to last. In a matter of seconds both were in the deep throes of ecstasy, the sounds of their mutual joy carried away on the winds of the raging rainstorm.

  But it was not the end.

  Both knew that there was only one way to put out the fire consuming them. Even as Elizabeth moaned in orgasmic delight and West spasmed with rapture and the scent of sex mingled with that of the rain, they knew they had not had enough. Not nearly enough. Trapped in a passion beyond their control, they had firmly decided to do something about it. Neither had the slightest intention of stopping until they had enough—no, too much—of each other.

  So the uninhibited pair spent the stormy afternoon making love. Equally amazed at how soon they could again become aroused by a few well-placed caresses, a few hot kisses, each proved the ideal match for the other. They made love in any and every way imaginable, shocking and thrilling each other so much neither noticed when the turbulent summer storm ended.

  They had no idea what time it was. Had no conception of how long they had been there. They were so enraptured, so single-mindedly focused on the pleasure their bare willing bodies could give and take, they never even noticed when the hot sun came out to flood their high canyon retreat with bright, intrusive daylight.

  Hours might have passed. Or perhaps it had only been minutes when Grady called loudly to them. At that moment West was stretched out on his back with Elizabeth astride, grinding her pelvis to his, both very near a climax.

  “Sonny, you and missy okay? Storm’s been passed for half an hour. What you a-waitin’ on? Want Taos to climb up there and help ya’ll get down?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened with horror and indecision. Her head told her to leap up at once and get dressed, her body told her she couldn’t leave West before … before—

  “No, Grady,” West shouted calmly, his hands gripping Elizabeth’s waist, holding her where she was. “We’re on our way. Be down in ten minutes.” And West’s lean hips kept lifting and thrusting, as he whispered softl
y, “It’s okay. Just relax. Plenty of time, sweetheart.”

  He continued to make love to her, giving her all he had, guiding her hips with his hands, looking into her eyes. From the canyon below came the sounds of the men stirring about, their voices loud and clear as they shouted to each other, rounding up the loose horses, taking inventory of what had been lost in the flood.

  Ignoring the activity below, West whispered encouragingly, “Ah, baby, baby, that’s it. Yes, oh yes. That’s good. So … good. Let it all out, sweetheart.”

  “West … West …” she breathed, and he swiftly wrapped a hand around her nape, drew her face down to his, and covered her mouth with his lips. He kissed her until their final shared ecstasy ended.

  Once it was over, they broke apart. Frantically they dressed, their limbs still weak from pleasure, their hearts pounding. Within minutes they had dressed and scaled down the canyon walls.

  Edmund anxiously stepped forward, glanced at West, put an arm around Elizabeth’s slender shoulders, and asked, “Are you all right, my dear? Did West take good care of you? Are you unhurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, avoiding his questioning eyes, “just fine.”

  41

  TWILIGHT ON THE TRAIL.

  Through and out of the Guadalupes, the contingent descended the final low cliffs of the eastern foothills. The sun had set behind the mountains. Open desert again stretched before them. It was eight-thirty in the evening and darkness was falling fast.

  Stopping, they made camp on a long, timber-fringed spit of land overlooking the desert floor. A clear, narrow brook spilled down from the higher elevations, broadened and splashed over variously sized boulders, trickling between grassy banks in a shallow stream.

  The afternoon’s flash flood had left the Mexican crew quiet and upset. But Grady pointed out that despite the loss of time, horses, and equipment to the raging flood, the important thing was that not a single human life had been lost. Even the terrified peasant whom they’d all seen being washed away, had been found later, clinging to a clump of spindly sagebrush two miles down canyon, battered but alive.