Molding Clay (18 page)

metal. Davy screamed and threw it down. It sizzled and hissed as it hit the damp

ground.

“Now,” Rusty said with a smirk at Davy, “here’s how it’s gonna go. You three are

gonna sit down right there on the porch while Clay and I call the sheriff. And if you try

to run…” She looked around at the wolves and then shrugged. “Well, you get the idea,

right, Davy? After all, you aren’t stupid.”

In unison the men sat down, looking fearfully at the wolves as they huddled

together on the porch. Clay put in a call to the sheriff. Within twenty minutes the place

was swarming with law enforcement vehicles.

* * * * *

Two hours later the last of the police cars pulled away, leaving Rusty and Clay

standing alone in the drive. Clay draped his arm over Rusty’s shoulder and she

snuggled up to his side.

A yip drew their attention. Koda appeared out of the darkness, followed by the

pack. Rusty knelt down and hugged Koda, then stretched out her hand to the pack.

Clay watched in amazement as the pack surrounded them, the wolves licking and

rubbing up against Rusty as she knelt with her arm around Koda. When at length, she’d

stroked and thanked each of them, they melted away into the darkness like ghosts.

Rusty gave Koda one final hug. “Thanks,” she said. “No one has ever been blessed

with a truer friend than I am by you. All’s well now in our home, so go run and relax.

I’ll be fine here with Clay.”

Koda looked up at Clay then threw back his head and let loose a long howl. In the

darkness answering bays sounded. Rusty grinned as Koda took off into the darkness.

She held out her hand to Clay. He took it and pulled her up to him.

“We did it,” she said with a smile.

“You did it,” he argued.

125

Ciana Stone

“No, we.” She pressed her hand on his chest. “All of us.”

Clay shook his head. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. What’s the bit about a

treasure?”

Rusty smiled up at him. “When I was five, Davis came trying to put the moves on

my mother. She rejected him outright, and he stole a letter she was writing to her

family. In it she wrote that the treasure was safe and would remain so as long as it was

on Blackhawk soil. He thought it meant there was a buried treasure.”

“What did it mean?” he asked.

“What she actually wrote was
a kincseim
is safe and shall remain so as long as she

dwells on Blackhawk land, for she and the land are one.”

“What does
a kincseim
mean? And what was she talking about?”

“
Kincseim
is Hungarian for ‘my treasure’, the endearment my mother used for my

father, and later for me. She always knew that this is where I belong, that this land is

part of me, and I of it.”

Clay was silent for a long time, standing there in the darkness, holding Rusty. “She

was right. You are a treasure. My treasure. And if this is where you belong, then it’s

where I belong too.”

“But your home is in Arizona,” she said softly. “You have family and friends, a

connection to your ranch as strong as the one I have here. I can’t ask you to give that up,

Clay. I don’t want you to.”

“Then what’s the answer, darlin’? We’ve got to have a home for all our little ones.”

“Little ones?” she asked with a smile. “In case you’ve forgotten, Mr. Russell, we

aren’t even married.”

“Well, I’m aiming to fix that,” he said and turned her to face him, clasping his

hands behind her back. “I figure if you’re going to persist in that annoying habit of

calling me Mr. Russell, I ought to at least be able to return the favor and call you Mrs.

Russell.”

126

Molding Clay

“Mrs. Blackhawk-Russell,” she corrected him.

He opened his mouth as if to argue then shook his head. “Whatever you say,

darlin’. Marry me.”

Rusty reached up to pull his face down to her. “You know, I think I just might.”

“Might?” He pulled back from her before their lips could meet.

“Yep. One day. Right now we got something to do.”

“What?”

“This,” she said with a laugh and broke away from him.

“Hey!” He made a grab for her as she took off running toward the woods, shucking

her clothes as she ran. “What the heck you doing?”

“Celebrating,” she said as she stopped to face him. “Come on, Clay. Come dance

naked with me under the moon.”

“Can’t we just celebrate in the bed like regular folks?” he asked, starting for her.

“Nothing regular about us, Mr. Russell. Hadn’t you figured that out yet?”

“Well…” He stopped, considered it, then grinned and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Well hell, when in Rome.”

Rusty laughed in delight and watched him disrobe. When he walked up to her,

naked and erect, she pulled him to her and jumped up, wrapping her legs around his

waist.

“Time to dance, cowboy.” She waved her hands in the air and sparkling lights

streamed from her fingers.

Clay chuckled and twirled around. Rusty leaned back, trusting him to hold her, her

long hair streaming like a banner as he spun her around, both of them laughing as

lights twinkled and danced around them.

When he finally stopped and swayed back and forth, she pressed against him,

winding her arms around his neck, her breasts teasing his chest as her wet sex moved

against him.

127

Ciana Stone

“You keep that up and I’m going to have to take you right here and now.”

“Hmmm,” she murmured, nibbling at his earlobe. “I sure hope so.”

Clay dropped to his knees and eased her backward so that the upper part of her

back and head were on the ground. Unwinding her legs from his waist, he spread them

wide, bending them back toward her chest, leaving her exposed for the taking.

“Lord, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he murmured before lowering

his head to lap at her, working his tongue between the outer and inner lips and stroking

her all the way to her clit.

Rusty moaned as he took her clit in his mouth, tonguing it. He took his time, teasing

her clit with his tongue until her body started to quiver, then moving lower to thrust his

tongue into her pussy.

“Clay,” she gasped as a vibration raced through her body.

He felt the tremors and ceased, raising his head and lowering her completely to the

ground.

“Hold your legs,” he directed, moving her hands behind her knees. “Spread those

legs wide, darlin’. And don’t let go.”

She was more than willing to comply. He had that tone in his voice, the one that

said “you’re mine”, that look in his eyes that said she belonged to him and when it

came to sex, she was submissive to his dominance.

“I’m going to lick you and suck you and fuck you with my fingers, but you are not

to come until I tell you. Understand? You come when I tell you to come and not until.”

“Yes,” she breathed, excited beyond measure at the idea of being so completely

dominated by this beautiful, sexy, powerful man.

Clay knelt between her legs and slowly ran his tongue along the inside of her thigh

and up the side of the vulva to bite lightly on the flesh above her clit. Rusty’s breath

came faster as his fingers pushed back the hood covering her clit and his tongue laved

the erect tissue.

128

Molding Clay

She moaned and gripped her legs tighter, trying to stem the oncoming tide that

threatened to wash her away into release.

“Not yet. You can’t come until I tell you,” he breathed and worked his tongue down

to penetrate her pussy.

“Clay!” She quivered with need. “I can’t…I…”

“Not yet,” he commanded and started again on her clit, easing a finger into her

pussy to stroke that spot that made her skin literally burn.

Rusty lost all sense of time, aware only of the cry of her body for release, and the

sublime torture he imposed on her with his mouth and fingers. Each time she was close

to coming, he would slow, commanding her to hold back the tide.

She reached a point when she no longer had the energy to resist. “I can’t, I can’t,”

she nearly sobbed. “Please, please, let me come. I can’t take it, Clay. I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he argued in a husky growl and sat back on his heels. “Get up on

your hands and knees.”

Rusty nearly came at just the tone of his voice. She turned and positioned herself on

hands in knees in front of him.

“I want you to bend your arms so that your forearms are on the ground, fingertips

touching, forming a triangle with hands and forearms. Good, darlin’, that’s good. Now

lower your forehead down on top of your hands.”

“That’s it,” he crooned as she supplicated herself before him. “Now push your ass

up.”

“Yes, yes,” he growled as she complied. “God, I love the way you look, Rusty. So

beautiful. So…delicious.”

Rusty nearly whimpered with desire at his words. When she felt his hands grip her

at the base of her buttocks, pushing her ass up and spreading her open wider, she

couldn’t suppress the low moan.

129

Ciana Stone

His thumbs spread the lips of her pussy, opening her wide, wider. His tongue

dipped in, probing, stoking. “Please,” she whispered, certain that at any moment she

would lose control, so strong was her need.

“Not yet,” he directed, “not yet.”

He continued to lap at her pussy, fucking her with his tongue until she was

trembling, then withdrawing. Her need slid wet and hot, running down her legs.

“Clay, please,” she begged. “Let me come. Please.”

“Just a little longer,” he promised and with his words, rubbed her juice over her

anus then sank his finger into her.

Rusty moaned, at first tightened against the penetration. “Loosen your ass, darlin’.

Let me fuck you with my fingers. Let me take your ass and I’ll let you come.”

“Yes,” she groaned and pressed her ass higher, meeting his thrusts.

“That’s it,” he encouraged her. “That’s it. Tell me you want it, baby.”

“Yes.” Her voice was rough and low. “Please yes.”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Fuck me with your fingers. Take me please.

Just…let…me…come.”

A moment later she screamed in pleasure as his dick pushed slowly into her wet

pussy.

“Now fuck me,” he said in a growl so deep and rough that her pussy contracted at

the sound.

Rusty rose on hands and knees, rocking back against him, his dick stretching and

filling her pussy, his finger stroking deep in her ass.

On and on she rode him, her breath coming out in harsh gasps as she fought to hold

back the orgasm that pressed ever closer.

Suddenly she felt his fingers on her clit, rubbing it, rolling it. Her world exploded

into a million shining shards, her entire body shaking, clenching and vibrating.

130

Molding Clay

She screamed his name and felt him pump his seed deep inside her, bringing

another wave crashing down on her and eliciting a flare of energy from deep inside her

that burst from her eyes like a geyser of light, enveloping them in a swirling miasma of

energy that intensified the sensations, sending them both into a climax where they

could feel the sensations of the other, experience the rolling, consuming orgasm that

imprisoned them like a storm, one wave after another pounding them in unison.

When at last the waves subsided, they collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard.

Clay lay atop her, his head against the center of her back, hearing the rapid drum of his

heart and realizing that it matched the pace and time of his own.

She rolled over and cradled his head on her chest, her fingers dancing lightly on his

back, creating tingles like little electric sparks.

“Need wind,” he murmured against her sweat-slicked skin.

“Wind, yes,” she said and whispered a few words.

A moment later a cool breeze kissed his skin. “Ah, darlin’.” He raised his head to

kiss her breast. “I could live to be a hundred and not get enough of you. Even now as I

lay wilted and spent, all I can think of is the next time I have you. Have you cast a spell

on me, Rusty? Enchanted me so that my hunger for you knows no end?”

Rusty smiled. “All I did was invite you to dance.”

He chuckled. “And just what do you call this dance?”

“Love, Clay. I call it love.”

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.”

131

About the Author

Ciana Stone has been reading since the age of three, and wrote her first story at age

five. Since then she has enjoyed writing as a solitary form of entertainment, and has just

recently come out of the closet to share her stories with others. She holds several post

graduate degrees and has often been referred to as a professional student. Her latest

fields of interest are quantum mechanics and Taoism. When she is not writing (or

studying) she enjoys painting (canvas, not walls), sculpting, running, hiking and yoga.

She lives with her long-time lover in several locations in the United States.

Ciana welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email

address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Ciana Stone

Hot in the Saddle 1: Chase ‘n’ Ana

Mind Games

Riding Ranger

Wyatt’s Chance

Also see Ciana’s release at Cerridwen Press (www.cerridwenpress.com):