Nicademus: The Wild Ones (20 page)

There was no need for words.

His movement sent instructions to her hips and shocks of pleasure through her pelvis, forcing her to join him. She obeyed. She worked her hips back and forth and then in circular motions, rising and falling on his cock until her pussy walls clamped with strong contractions and adjusted in ways she assumed every woman’s did for their man. Free to explore, and with care for his tender side, she rose and fell with a tribal beat that brought about such inexplicable pleasure. She nearly bit through her tongue it felt so good. Her young full breasts bounced with the same rhythm as her hips. Passion pounded the blood through her heart, chest, and head. His hands searched for her pleasure points and squeezed her taut nipples, rousing a melting sweetness within her. He then pinched and twisted them as she begged for more. Unable to stand it a moment longer, he lifted with her in his lap. With mounting frequency she bounced, working his cock until the dance of her hips drove urgency through him too. Jeremiah whispered his love to each breast before swallowing one nipple, and then abandoning it to lick and suck the other.

Annabelle’s smile stretched. She arched her back, continuing to ride him like a pony. The heat of the small quarters he was relegated to only intensified with the combustive nature of their passion.

Her face covered in sweat, her body glistened under the swaying flames of the lanterns. Jeremiah licked up between the sweaty valley of her breasts and his tongue travelled the contour of her neck. Her pussy was warm, so tight, so wet. All three combined nearly crippled his dick as she rode him hard.
Then it happened.
An orgasm so far reaching his stomach muscles coiled into a tight knot and love jetted from his cock.

Jeremiah took control and turned her over. Driving his dick in and out of her, flesh against sweaty flesh, they were one. She lifted her hips in synchronization. Her breath gushed from her in long surrendering moans. And she was conquered.

Jeremiah stared down into her face, watching as she writhed with passion. Then the involuntary tremors of his climax began and he lost control. Pounding harder and harder, he exploded inside of her until he was dizzy from the exertion, and the fire in his groin spread to his heart. He dropped on her, barely able to breathe. A deep feeling of peace entered their being from their joining.

Annabelle discovered another level of pleasure. The dormant sexuality in her body had been awakened, bringing about a new understanding of the bonds between a man and a woman. She savored the sweet feeling and held on to him by locking her thighs around his firm hips. She wanted him trapped between her legs, forever. He kissed her face.

“I love you,” he said.

“That’s ‘cause I love you too,” she sighed, in pleasant exhaustion.

“Then it’s decided. We are in love,” he laughed. Annabelle giggled. She closed her eyes and drifted on that feeling. It was as light as a cloud but charged with energy, spirit, and hope. She could drift forever. But she knew the truth. She could only drift for the night, because tomorrow was promised to no one. Not even two people in love.

**

Cora sat up. “Red Sun?”

“I’m here,” he said. She reached for the candle, but stopped. She watched as he shed all of his clothes and moved the covers for him to join her in bed. She had so many questions. But the relief of seeing him alive and unharmed answered many of them. He immediately drew her over to his chest. “Do you think it worked? That he’ll stay out there in the mountains chasing after the outlaw until the poison takes?”

“No,” Red Sun said. “We bought time, but not freedom. He will return.”

Cora smiled. “I know. And we’ll be ready.”

“You should name your horse,” Annabelle said. She lay on his chest blissfully happy and full of energy.

“I have a name for him. Randy, remember?” Jeremiah yawned.

“Yeah. But when we go on the run we need new names. And Randy ain’t a good name for an outlaw’s horse.”

“Annabelle, where do you conjure these things?” he chuckled.

Annabelle sat up. “I can read and write. I’m not stupid!”

Jeremiah was confused at her bristling. He played his fingers down her spine slowly. “Of course, I didn’t say—”

“You think ‘cause I’m a woman I don’t know things?” she asked.

“Why are we arguing? We just made love, all I want to do is lie here and hold you. Not talk about horses or reading and writing.” He winked.

Annabelle stared at him for a moment. Her features softened and she gave him the prettiest smile. “I’ll name the horse.”

“Yes, you name him,” he relented. Annabelle rolled up on top of him. The thin sheet slipped and her beauty was once again on display. She pressed her hands to his lower abdomen. “I think I needs to leave. They got a room for me upstairs. If I stay any longer I won’t want to go up at all.”

“Not yet,” he protested. Jeremiah had a renewed arousal cramping in his groin. The heat she carried in between those ebony thighs warmed him from where she sat. “I can’t let you go just yet.” He turned her and put her on her back. Remaining between the sweet cushion of her thighs, aroused, he kissed the curve of her slender neck. She still had the lingering smell of lavender mixed in with the spice of her sweat and sex.

He heard tell from other men by campfires during the war that there were women, very few, but some that could bewitch a man through sex. These women were soul stealers, succubae, and made men weak to do their bidding. He thought it nothing more than a fable. But something in him had changed, shifted, and Annabelle was part of the reason. She was in his blood. Her unique beauty fueled his lustful desires to a fever pitch. His body worked on its own accord.

The sensitive cap of his cock rubbed the soft silky petals of her sex before he tightened his buttocks and pushed forward. Penetrating and plunging deep, he dragged in a breath over the now familiar tightness. It gripped him so completely he had to brace himself against a premature release. There was so little comfort in his world now, especially having no family left. But in Annabelle’s arms he found all the comfort he could ever need.

For Annabelle, it was the same. She spread her legs as wide as she could, with her knees bent, until he hooked them with his arms and forced them back. She touched him everywhere: his back, neck, and chest. Kissing his shoulder she gripped him tight while he pumped his hips and his body took over. He feared hurting her but found it hard to stop, she felt so good. He just wanted more and more. So much so it sent his hip thrusts into a jerking frenzy that strained the muscles in the back of his thighs. Tension wound tight as a spring in his pelvis.

When he opened his eyes he expected to see discomfort in hers. But she withstood his passion. She smiled and moaned, encouraging him to go further. She was so delicate underneath him, yet stronger than any one would ever give her credit for. He covered her mouth with his and devoured her sweet breath and tongue. The obsession deepened. Spent, he collapsed on her. Annabelle giggled.

“I like it, Jeremiah,” she said with such innocence that he was forced to smile. “Let’s do it some more.”

“No. I … I … I can’t. No man can,” he breathed hoarsely.

“Aaww,” she pouted.

He dropped over to his side and she snuggled him again. “I got a name for your horse.”

Jeremiah lifted his head, confused that she could think of anything with him buried in her. She blinked those dark eyes under thick lashes at him. “We gon’ name him Shamrock, for your people.”

Stunned, Jeremiah chuckled. “How you know I’m Irish?”

“I told you I read. You Irish ain’t ya? All white men are.”

“Ah, no, we’re not all Irish,” he said.

“Yes you are. I knew it. I jus’ knew it!” she giggled, and then hugged him. Jeremiah was puzzled. In one moment she was almost childlike with her innocence, but in another sharp as a blade. And she was right: his mother and father were from Ireland. How could she know that? Was she mystical? Did she have powers? Had she truly bewitched him?

“Annabelle? You have to tell me. How you know I’m Irish?”

“Nope. Some things a girl just keeps to herself.” Annabelle said. “Now hush, let’s go to sleep, then we can do it again. Next time I stay on top,” she yawned.

Jeremiah, laughed. “Yes, whatever you want.”

**

“When this is over, we start a new life.”

Cora sucked in a deep breath. “New life?”

Red Sun’s hand went under her neck, he lifted her head from the pillow, and kissed her deeply with the passion only reserved for her. She put her arms around his neck and she welcomed the morning kiss. The room was bright with sunlight and warm with it too. She turned her body over to him. She raised her hands to the iron rods of her headboard and held on. He moved over her and in one powerful thrust he granted her wish. He groaned as his hips began to pump in and out, faster and faster, harder and deeper with each move, then soft and maddeningly slow to the point at which she whimpered for more. It didn’t take long before her resistance over leaving her business and town behind, to go God knows where, unraveled. Like a spool of string she was unwound and undone. His body tensed and his breathing became shallow, his orgasm threw him over the edge and he collapsed in her arms. Flesh against flesh she stroked his silky long mane, and wrapped her legs possessively around his strong hips. Together they climaxed.

Breathless she lay in his arms waiting for her body to stabilize. It did, and she found her voice. “Should we stay here in Nicademus or go?” she asked.

“The white man says he loves Annabelle,” Red Sun said.

“And?”

“Annabelle says she loves him,” Red Sun said.

“You know that could never work. He’s a fugitive. He’s going to get caught by one lawman or another. Annabelle can’t be with him when he does.” Cora warned.

“That may be. But Annabelle is strong willed. Never been able to convince her against doing something she got her mind and heart set on. Why do you think we came down off the mountain into town?”

Cora smiled. She remembered the spunky kid with her big Indian who showed up in her saloon. It felt like it happened a millennium ago.

“The truth is, we killed men. We killed them here. And whether Tyler Shepherd lives to tell the tale, those men will be missed. It makes me as hunted as the outlaw. So I think we should go with him. Head west. Find new land.”

“And leave our home? Leave Nicademus behind?” She sat upright and touched his cheek. “We built this town. It’s a part of us.”

Red Sun stared up at her with no emotion, but she knew he felt it too. Leaving here was like giving up on a dream. And people like them didn’t dream. Not often. “I want Nicademus protected, and I want us to find a way to stay here.”

Her lips came down to his and he kissed her. “I saw him last night,” he said when the kiss ended. “The man who caused you so much pain. I wanted to kill him for you. But I promised that I would be here, to protect you and Annabelle. And I intend to be.”

She traced her finger over his bottom lip. “Well done, my hero.”

**

“There. All done,” Jeremiah exclaimed. He held the whittled down stick up for all to see.

“What is it?” Billy asked.

“Yea, what is it?” asked Jeanine.

Jeremiah’s eyes stretched. The kids’ looks of wonder turned to alarm thinking he was displeased. He had to swallow the urge to laugh. “You don’t know what this is?”

The children exchanged bewildered looks. Billy proved to be the bravest. He stepped closer, his little brows drawn together in a contemplative frown. Jeremiah could hear the tiny wheels of imagination turning in the boy’s head. He handed it over to Billy, and the child held it carefully between his little fingers. The ornament was carved out of a small piece of kindling. It had three legs, the fourth one broken. A snout that was too long to be a pig’s, and too short to be a horse’s, and its oddity didn’t end there. It had a tail that bent in two directions, then awkwardly pointed north.

“Sorry, Mister Jeremiah, I reckon I don’t know,” Billy said.

Jeremiah stroked his chin. His head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed into slim slits. “Well it’s a, um, let’s see. It’s possibly a … hmmm.”

Annie pushed past her sister and brother. At two years old she was the shiest and cutest of the bunch. Her hair in plaits with bows tied to the end, she had the roundest, merriest eyes he’d ever seen. A living doll. She reached and her chubby fingers wiggled under Billy’s nose. “Lemme see!” she said.

Jeremiah couldn’t resist. He caught her before she could run away. Plopping her on his left knee, he took the carving from Billy and put it in Annie’s hand. “What do you think it is?”

“Hor-seee!” Annie grinned kicking her little chubby legs.

“There you have it.” Jeremiah slapped the side of his right thigh, “It’s a
hor-see
.”

The kids frowned. Unbeknownst to him, Ms. Kitty watched through the shutter doors to the saloon. She pushed in the swinging doors and all heads turned.

“Ma Sweets has sumthin’ for ya,” she informed the children.