His hat was the last to go, and then he stood there in the fiery light of a desert sunset. I had never seen such a beautifully formed body before, and my eyes ate him up. The curly dark hair lay along his wide shoulders, ruffled and framing a sun-kissed face. His body was lean and hard, as if he had chiseled it from some perfect, dark stone. The smattering of hair across his chest made my fingers curl in their ache to touch, and I followed it down past his flat belly to the curl of dark hair that highlighted his jutting member.
"Say cock," he said, his eyes laughing at my obvious interest.
I raised my chin. "Cock," I said, almost proudly. My husband had often used the word, so I was used to that one, if only in the privacy of the bedroom. He tipped his head at me, pleased and amused.
"Why is it," he asked, stepping close to the bed to trail a finger along my ribs, "That men get to be so proud, and women are told to hide away?"
I shook my head, not sure what he was asking.
"You knew the word cock, enjoyed knowing it, from the look on your face. But the word pussy almost defeated you. The word pussy was dirty and shameful. Why is that, do you think? Who teaches women that?"
I didn't answer. It was an interesting question, but I couldn't focus on it, because the heat of his hard, bare body was so close, and his fingers were making tiny circles over my belly and distracting me, then moving lower to slip into my folds and then out again, over and over. By the time he stopped and flattened his hand against my skin, I was eaten up with fire again, trying to get his hand to move lower.
He stood very still until I quit arching into him and looked up, almost whimpering with frustration. When he spoke, his tone told me to pay attention.
"Your body is beautiful, Beth. Don't ever be ashamed of it."
I nodded and swallowed, and a smile curved across his handsome face. His voice dropped. "Now – tell me what you want, little darlin'."
And then suddenly it all clicked. His words, his actions, all of it. The way he handled me had been designed to show me the force of my own desires, to show me the power of asking for what I wanted without tripping over my own tongue or hiding my needs. With this man, whoever he was, I was free.
The words, so shameful before, fell from my lips in a rush. "I want you to fuck my pussy, Sam. Please fuck my pussy and make me cum. Please?"
He groaned and came down to me, kissing my eyebrows and cheeks, trailing his mouth along my throat and collarbone and shoulders until I was ready to scream for him to hurry. His hands were all over me, kneading my breasts and belly and thighs and driving me to ask the question again and again, until I was helplessly writhing, working my body against his harder, stronger one.
Frantic for him, my hands broke away from the headboard and fell onto his hot skin. I froze, afraid it would make him angry and even more afraid that he would stop. When he didn't, I began to explore, touching everywhere I could reach and then clasping his broad shoulders to pull him closer. I wanted every inch of his body against mine, until there was no light or space to speak of.
I heard him growl and he shifted, pushing me back into the mattress. I shivered, missing his heat when he sat back and simply looked down at me, his eyes blazing as much as my body. I reached for him, but he pushed my hands away and began to kiss my belly, moving slick lips lower and lower until he flicked out his tongue to taste me. I shuddered and arched up to meet these new kisses, as he knew I would.
His hands widened my thighs and his tongue drove deeper, stroking me from bottom to top, making my thighs tremble under his fingers.
When his hands slid up to separate my folds, I whimpered. When his lips found and fastened on that tiny hard bud of nerves, I cried out. My fingers found his head and curled in the soft dark hair, urging him on. I was close, so close, about to tumble over the edge of my bliss, when he suddenly pulled away. I cried out again, this time in frustration.
His hands slipped under my rear to lift it off the bed, and with a single predatory growl he sank into me. His full length stretched and pushed until he was entirely sheathed inside of me, throbbing and hot. I panted through my body's struggle to adjust.
I clutched at the quilts, unable to even think as my body worked to take him in and then grind against him as best I could. I had no control over myself anymore, had no ability to tame my limbs as my fingers sought purchase somewhere, anywhere, and my legs struggled to pull him in deeper. I was afraid of my own violence – I wanted all of him, everywhere. I wanted to devour him, absorb him into me and feel this way forever.
His fingers gripped my ass harder, and everything stopped. Everything – my writhing, his thrusting. All of it came to a standstill. I was impaled on his cock, my pussy fluttering around its length. I stared at him, panting, my eyes searching for some clue on his face, but his gaze just studied me hungrily.
I was aching for him to continue, but he took his time looking at me. If I hadn't needed him so badly, I would have been ashamed of the way his eyes burned into my skin, but right now I didn't care. Right now I just needed release. I needed to cum.
Finally he moved, running one of his hands from my ass, down the length of my leg, to my knee. He lifted it and slid it higher until it was over his shoulder, and then did the same with the other.
The result allowed him to settle that much deeper into my pussy. Satisfied, he began a slow thrust into me, making me groan with pleasure.
"Tell me what you want," he growled, his voice quivering slightly.
I didn't hesitate, and there was no shame in the words as I asked this beautiful, dangerous man for what I needed. "Fuck my pussy, Sam. Fuck me hard and make me cum." My voice sounded small, but determined. I meant every word.
He slammed into me again, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure, and then snapped. My shoulders and head sank into the blankets as he bore down on me, and all I could do – all I could think to do – was grasp what I could and take him, again and again, as he took his pleasure.
My own need built as well, and the swirl of heat exploded into my entire body, spinning me into an ecstasy that left stars bursting behind my eyelids. I screamed out his name, fearing I would shred to pieces as my blood burned under my skin and he thrust into me one final time.
I felt the hot thump of a final thrust and then his fingers were digging deep in my skin, holding me while he swelled and filled me with his cum. We both growled like animals, clutching at one another to prolong the heady feeling that we were inseparable, one body, fused by the rocking climax that held us in its grip.
He didn't let go of me right away. His hands roamed my oversensitive skin, and I squirmed under his touch and his soft murmurs of satisfaction. Finally, he pulled away and gently nestled me in the bed, but he didn't go far. Wrapping his arms around me instead, he laid beside me and pulled me into his chest, resting me against him.
"Who are you?" I whispered, when my breath had finally slowed and I could think again. My muscles still tingled deliciously, and I turned my neck to look up at him.
"A friend. Your husband knew me well, and he asked me to keep an eye on you."
I blinked in confusion. "My husband died five years ago."
"Yes."
"Then…?"
"Yes," he said again. "I've been watching, making sure you had everything you needed. After five years, you needed this."
He spoke so simply, so gently, that I couldn't argue. I wanted to, but knew that he was right. Still, I was stunned that my husband had thought to do this, and amazed that I hadn't had a clue about Sam through all these years. How had I not seen him? Why had he been so faithful to watch over me? I wasn't sure I would ever know.
I put my head back down on his chest, content with his answer and feeling very much protected and cared for. It was a wonderful feeling. We drifted in and out of sleep, my body snuggled warm and happy against him.
I awoke in his arms, with my body nestled against his and my cheek on his chest. It was still late, or early. I wasn't sure which and at the moment I
couldn't care. My day, this day, had been a life changing whirlwind, a lifetime of emotions all crushed into a tiny sliver of time. I would never forget, but I still hoped that my outlaw would be here when I woke again.
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