Rowan said, “El Zeub isn’t a survivalist that I can tell. He stayed in a five-star hotel in Detroit.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to look like another whacky hunter,” suggested Perry, “by wearing that mountain lion on his head.”
Rowan said, “Or maybe it is another hunter. Don’t they use little caverns to stash their hunting gear?”
Sasha asked, “How far are we from Navajo land? Could the citizen have seen a Native American performing some ritual?”
Perry admitted, “We’ll be onto res land if we keep going, that’s for sure. And they don’t like me poking around in their affairs. El Zeub could know that. Fugitives have been known to hide on res land. But the citizen also would’ve told dispatch that he saw the bomber on res land. Around here everyone knows the boundaries. And sure, Navajo have ‘skin-walkers,’ witches who travel in animal form. They can wear the pelts of their animals—I’ve seen dudes with coyotes or crows on their heads running around, trying to scare people with their evil powers. So yeah, to answer your question. It could have been something like that.”
“Must get confusing out here,” said Rowan, “between hunters, skin-walkers, and Furries.”
“Well, the Furries are no problem,” said Sasha sincerely. “You can tell by their bright colors that they aren’t organic.”
Rowan thought Sasha’s literalness was adorable. She must have to be so completely sophisticated and scrupulous about everything she said for her job. One could not run around being misunderstood when dictating an autopsy report. Being spontaneous as she had been the past couple of days must have been exhilarating for her. “All right,” Rowan allowed. “But telling the hunters from the skin-walkers could be difficult, at a distance.”
“Oh, no problem, really,” said Perry. “The skin-walkers have glowing eyes.”
After another hour, they still hadn’t found the skeleton, and Perry pulled off onto a side road to show them some incredible vista. They had to walk up a steep red-orange sandy hill, and Perry would not leave Sasha’s side. He stuck to her almost as tenaciously as the bomb-sniffing Labrador that followed them. Rowan was irritated because he had something to give Sasha.
“Perry, how did you learn all that fire stuff?” he asked casually. He had taken one of Sasha’s arms and Perry took the other. Now they practically dragged her as though she were an invalid.
“Actually,” Perry said sheepishly, “I was always kind of a firebug. I love the rush, the excitement of watching the flames flicker. My father was always busting me playing with matches. I never set anything horribly on fire. I never let it get out of control because that was part of the fun—controlling the fire. I knew so much about how to put out fires I became a fireman when I was sixteen.”
“Wait a minute,” said Sasha. “You’re a conservation officer yet also a pyromaniac? Interesting.”
Rowan chuckled as Perry hastened to assure his girlfriend. “Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a pyromaniac, per se. How could I be? I’m charged with stopping fires, not starting them. I just think there’s a beauty in the luminosity, the sparks, the flames. It’s more a scientific interest.”
Rowan laughed fully now. He was glad that Sasha was studying Perry under the microscope currently, and not him. “Scientific, I see. And that’s how you learned how to make trails of fire up a woman’s chest?”
“In a way, yes. I never knew it was a thing until years later, but I was a teen when I started playing with fire and women’s bodies. I had a girlfriend once who could swallow a fire stick up her pussy.”
Sasha shook off both men’s guiding hands. “Oh, come now! The hair on her vulva would burn before you could get the fire inside her vaginal canal.”
“Well,” Perry said, “she did shave her vulva.”
Rowan reached for Sasha’s forearm again before Perry could get carried away rhapsodizing about the joys of conflagration. “I want to show you something.”
Sasha allowed herself to be led behind a rocky outcropping while Perry stood like an adventurer at the top of the dune. The sun was low in the sky, bathing him in heroic, amber tones. The dog even sat, posing in profile. Rowan realized he admired Perry for his outdoorsy, healthy lifestyle. The only time Rowan spent outdoors was when he had to stake out a target, and that rarely ever took place out in nature. More like sitting in a car by the side of the road inhaling exhaust fumes. “See?” Perry shouted. “There’s that monolith, standing by itself in the middle of the valley. It looks like god is giving everyone the finger.”
The monolith and its brothers did resemble a miniature Monument Valley, the spires rising straight from the flat desert as though they had erupted through the earth’s crust. Rowan tugged Sasha behind a boulder so she could marvel at the rock formation.
“Here.”
Sasha took the tiny fossil. Rowan had purchased it from a Navajo guy selling stuff by the side of the road days earlier, before he had found Sasha again at the swimming hole—before he had impulsively sucked Perry’s dick against the hood of his company SUV. It seemed like years ago in terms of how much had changed emotionally. Now, love welled in his chest as he watched Sasha examine the little cephalopod with a critical eye. “A pyritized ammonite.”
“Exactly. I thought you’d like it because you’re…”
Sasha looked up at him. “Scientific?”
“Yes,” said Rowan, unsure of himself now. He had probably given her the fossil equivalent of a Justin Bieber album.
She smiled. “Don’t worry. Boyfriends have always given me every worm they pick up on the side of the road. No, this isn’t a worm, dear Rowan!” She moved closer and pressed her breasts against his shirtfront. “You probably didn’t even know I have an acute interest in mineralogy. Of course I’ve seen lots of azurite and malachite specimens here, but I’ve seen some watermelon beryl and lots of crystal-clear topaz.”
“There are silver mines up near Park City,” Rowan said uncertainly.
He was glad that the observation lit up her face. How dependent he already was upon her reaction to anything! That must be a sign of true love. “Yes! I did see that when I was at the Winterhawk—oh.” Her face fell as she looked out into the distance. Nobody wanted to think about the Winterhawk, but that was why they were there, after all.
Rowan took her by the shoulders. “I’m staying here as long as it takes, Sasha. I need a damned vacation anyway.”
“You shouldn’t have to track down criminals on your vacation time, Rowan. Don’t you get sick of doing it the other fifty-one weeks out of the year?”
Rowan leaned the woman back against the protective overhang of rock. He ran an arm up the rock’s face and encircled her with the other arm. “Of course. But I’m not being paid to do this, that’s the difference.” He plucked the ammonite from her fingers and dropped it into the pocket on the front of her shirt. It was adorable that she thought she had to dress like a Girl Scout in order to go out into the desert. Her shirt looked new, as though she’d purchased it in the Triple Play’s gift shop, and she even had a little bandanna knotted around her neck. “I want to do this. I was being paid to follow El Zeub to Atlanta, Cheyenne, and Detroit, but not anymore. The client thinks I’m following a bad lead, so they stopped paying.”
“Maliano’s campaign could pay you. We know you’re right. How could the GPS lie?”
Rowan stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sasha, I’d do this anyway. I don’t give a flying fuck whether I get paid or not. I’m going to find this motherfucker.” I shouldn’t swear in front of this woman. She’s a lady.
“I know you will, Rowan. I have no doubt of that.”
“He killed eight people in Atlanta, ten in Cheyenne, and seven in Detroit.” He shouldn’t have started this topic. He didn’t want to mention the five killed at the Winterhawk. “If I have to follow you back to Charleston, I’ll get this bombing stalker.”
Sasha rubbed her face against his hand like a cat. “Rowan, I truly believe you are capable of anything. You are so inc
redibly powerful. Just being in the same building as you brings all my femininity surging to the fore.” She reached for him, one hand clutching his shirt, the other twining in his belt loop. “You just ooze testosterone. My libido is in overdrive, Rowan.”
If that wasn’t a clear-cut signal that she wanted satisfaction, Rowan didn’t know what was. Never one to ignore a woman’s lust, Rowan bent at the knees and lifted the birdlike woman easily, setting her down on a little rocky ledge. “Sasha,” he said, brushing his lips against hers, “you are a gorgeous creature. You bring out my every protective instinct. I want to cover you with my body, shield you from the smallest harm. You’re not weak—you’re everything that’s feminine.”
“Oh, please,” Sasha whispered back, “cover me with your body.”
She really gave Rowan no choice. Sliding his mouth over hers, he slipped his tongue into her mouth as he crushed her to his chest. It was easy to embrace the delicate woman in his long arms, and she responded heatedly to his kiss. Already she whimpered with need as she licked his tongue, gyrating her shoulders so her breasts massaged his chest under the prim covering of her Girl Scout shirt.
Lust surged through Rowan as he kissed the woman. Sasha did more than bring out every last manly urge that lurked in the recesses of his psyche. I’m in love with this woman. And there’s not a damned thing I can do about it. Except perhaps impress her with his sexual prowess until she became unable to give him up, too.
It seemed like a matter of seconds before Rowan’s face was buried deep in her cleavage. Her starchy shirt seemed to part magically, the buttons slithering undone between his fingers. Soon the shirt was on the sandy ground and Rowan popped one bullet-like nipple into his mouth. He laved it with his tongue, but he didn’t remotely foresee the effect this would have on her. She thrashed wildly, her shoulder blades anchored to the rock behind her, but her limbs cartwheeled as though she swam for salvation through a stormy sea. Gripping his skull, she alternately pushed and pulled him to her as though unsure which one she wanted.
“Rowan!” she cried at last. “You’re driving me wild—my head’s going to explode if you keep that up!”
So Rowan kept it up. His mouth moved to the other nipple and nibbled there, to find out which breast she favored. When his teeth clamped around her right nipple she cried out as though wounded, and he knew he’d found her sweet spot. Now she pummeled his back with her fist, but it had the effect of a bug. Nothing would sap Rowan’s drive to nail this fine woman to the cliff wall. So he slurped and nibbled at the erect nipple, knowing that with every slash of his tongue he was riling her higher and higher. Some women’s nipples were like a direct pathway to their cunts, but never had Rowan witnessed a reaction this sensitive. As he sipped and chewed lightly at the stiff nubbin, Sasha took a little leap, twining both ankles around the small of his back, urging his crotch to hers.
Now she ran her palms over his hair as though fixing to rub off what little of it was left. “Rowan!” she nearly shrieked, pumping her pubic bone frantically against his bulging crotch. “You simply must penetrate me—now!”
“I have no condoms.” He gasped the first stupid thing that came into his head and went back to his suckling.
“Oh—God!” As though fed up with a child’s antics, Sasha removed one hand from Rowan’s skull and slapped it to her hip. He heard her fumble for something, a zip, then a rustle. “Here!”
She had a link of foil packets in her fanny pack. Leave it to a medical doctor to be prepared. Her uniform should have tipped him off. Rowan had never ripped open a condom as fast as he now did. He achieved this feat nearly one-handed as he fumbled beneath her short khaki skirt to hold aside the thin strip of her panties. Her lovely pussy was so slick with arousal his fingers practically slipped off the thong, but the next thing he knew, his cock was seated deeply inside of her tight channel.
He nearly came off immediately. He had anticipated this moment since first seeing Sasha’s long shapely legs crossed under the table of the Winterhawk coffee shop. He’d never envisioned that he would first fuck this stunning beauty up against the rough face of a boulder in the middle of the desert.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!”
With every thrust of his hips Sasha let loose with a high-pitched wail. He thought he might be hurting her—she was awfully tight, and probably hadn’t been properly fucked in awhile. For this reason, and also to prevent the mortifying likelihood that he’d come right away like a bumbling teenager, Rowan slowed his pace.
Sasha’s wails slowed, too, like a deflating balloon, but she cried stubbornly, “Give it to me, Rowan! Don’t be afraid—I can take it! I’m tough, and I want to feel your big cock deep inside me!”
Rowan paused, his forehead nearly touching hers. Why was he trembling? His balls were tense with seed, and every little clutching of her inner pussy around his cock nearly made him lose it. A fine tremor ran up the front of his thighs as he held her against the sandstone wall. “I know you won’t break,” he panted. “I just didn’t want to—”
“Hurt me?” Sasha displayed her need by giving him a few deep lunges of her hips. She whispered fiercely against his mouth. “I need you, Rowan. I need to feel every cell of your essence as far deeply inside me as possible. Now.”
Rowan was about to oblige the poor woman, but he was startled mute by an unexpected occurrence.
“It’s all right, buddy.” Suddenly Perry stood behind him, alternately slapping his ass and fondling it. “Just ignore me. Keep fucking Sasha. I’d do the same in your shoes.”
“I wasn’t about to stop,” Rowan protested, but gasped when he felt Perry’s warm, firm cockhead nestled against his asshole. Was this mild-mannered boy next door really proposing to fuck him? Perry must have unsheathed his cock in the flashing of an eye, too, for Rowan felt the rubbery squeak of the bulging glans nudging against him. It angered him that he hadn’t heard Perry approach, he was so wrapped up in the good doctor’s embrace. How could he have allowed that to happen? Rowan had to be honest with himself—El Zeub driving by at the moment wasn’t particularly troubling him.
“Perry,” Sasha panted. She spoke in a conversational tone around the side of Rowan’s shoulder. “Convince Rowan I won’t break. Tell him he can fuck me. Hard.”
That bastard game warden snaked a hand around Rowan’s abdomen, caressing his pubic mound. He seemed to take pleasure in feeling the root of Rowan’s cock buried deep inside the sexy lady. His nimble fingers slithered all around the stiff, fat base, tickling the sensitive channel that ran the length of the underside.
Perry bit Rowan’s neck. “Fuck her, you moron. You of all people should know that women don’t break if they want it. Look at her. Does she want it?”
“I want it,” Sasha practically growled.
Rowan hissed in air. He was afraid to move. The clenching of Sasha’s pretty pussy around his prick, the prodding of Perry’s bursting glans, the snaking sensuality of Perry’s fingers, it was all too much. “What are you doing, you bastard?”
Perry chuckled lightly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never—”
Rowan whipped his head to one side. “Of course I have! What kind of inexperienced moron do you take—”
Rowan had to choke on his own words when Perry entered him. Well, it had been awhile since he’d taken it up the ass, and he had to remember to breathe deeply, slowly. The fluttering, ecstatic sensation of Sasha’s pussy surrounding him was a complete contrast to the sudden invasive penetration of Perry’s fat cock. After the initial shock, he was able to relax enough to give Sasha a few short jabs as she mewled for more. She was so wide open, so limber her knees were up by his underarms, and he squished her to the rock face with the power of Perry’s penetration.
“That’s nice, Perry,” Sasha said appreciatively now. “I’ll bet his ass is tighter than any pussy.”
“Incredibly,” Perry sighed against the back of Rowan’s neck. He, too, made short eager stabs, his breath coming short and fast.
“Keep reaming him.�
� Sasha encouraged the younger man like a teacher. “I know a man must like it, being impaled up the rectum like that. Keep fucking him, Perry. You like that, don’t you, Rowan?”
“Yes,” he gasped. It was always enjoyable to be drilled like this by another stud. But the sensation of being fucked while buried deep inside Sasha was something else altogether. “Do it, you bastard. Oh, God. Do it!”
Perry gave him a few thorough thrusts now, his cockhead sliding past the sensitive prostate. Rowan’s abdomen tensed, a fluttering went through his balls, and his cock was splashing deep against Sasha’s womb. He fucked the woman with deep circular lunges of his hips, pinning her to the wall. She clung to his neck, hyperventilating against his ear as his cock spurted with the intense pleasure of fucking and being fucked.
Perry’s strangled cries told him that his friend was coming, too. Perry stabbed him, his cock jerking, massaging the prostate to milk a few more drops from Rowan. In the warm evening air that feathered his skin, Rowan must have been sweating with the fierceness of their workout, for Sasha lost her grip on his neck and fell back against her ledge, her legs splayed, balancing on the toes of one foot against the sand.
Rowan touched his forehead to hers, still feeling Perry’s cock twitch and gush.
Sasha smiled weakly. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Which?” panted Rowan.
Sasha twirled a circle against Rowan’s upper lip with her fingertip. “Well, I know you like fucking me. So I meant being impaled up the ass by another man.”
“Oh, that,” said Rowan lightly. “Of course I do,” he had to admit. He also felt pride that he was obviously Perry’s first anal sex. It stoked his ego to know that he was being fucked by a virgin. He started to kiss the good doctor then, but another interruption took place. This interruption was probably more baffling than the first.
The Grass Is Greener [McQueen Was My Valley 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 12