Longarm and the Ambush at Holy Defiance

Chapter 18

Just then one of the horses whinnied.

If at anytime in his life Longarm would have done something as melodramatic as to shake his fist and scream at the cosmos, it would have been then. Haven gasped and turned toward where they’d hobbled the beasts in the near wash, to her right and behind her.

Longarm bit out a curse and gained his feet, his Colt already in his right fist, the hammer cocked. His heart thudded not from fear but from the soft echo in his head of her last words to him, just before she’d started to crawl toward him.

And then the fucking horse had whinnied.

“Stay here,” he said softly, stepping wide around the fire, careful not to kick their gear.

Quietly, he stepped through some scraggly mesquite and willows lining the wash and saw the dark shadows of the horses standing before him, head to toe, both switching their tails. Longarm’s own horse faced him, but it was craning its neck to look behind, in the direction in which Haven’s steeldust was staring, twitching its ears.

“Easy,” Longarm whispered, running a hand down along roan’s back as he moved up past it and into the mouth of a smaller feeder wash angling off to the south.

He pricked his ears, listening closely to what the night had to tell him. There was nothing but the yammering of distant coyotes, the hooting of an owl, and the occasional murmur of a vagrant breeze scratching branches together, buffeting slim desert leaves.

He walked several yards into the narrow wash and stopped when he was halfway around a bend. A mewling sounded before him, startling him and causing him to tighten his trigger finger, but he stopped short of firing.

Two coyote-shaped shadows were milling around before him.

One turned its head toward him. Longarm could see the pointed ears and the starlight glistening in one of its eyes. The coyote gave a deep, feral growl and then yipped sharply, frustrated, and wheeled and thrashed some mesquite branches.

Both night hunters were both gone just as suddenly as Longarm had come upon them.

He moved forward and found what had lured them here. A dead fawn. Or what was left of it. They might have dragged it here or found it here, likely carried here by the spring floodwaters.

Longarm walked back the two, still-edgy horses, patting them both to silence, and then returned to the camp. Haven stood at the edge of the firelight, looking toward him, her arms crossed on her chest, her LeMats in her hands, their barrels resting against her shoulders.

“Anything?”

“Coyote.” Longarm had holstered his own Colt. He stopped in front of her, looked down at her. “Now, where were we?”

She stared up at him. As far as he could tell in the darkness, with the fire behind her, her face wore no expression whatever.

Slowly, she uncrossed her arms, shoved her LeMats down into their holsters slung low on her curving, slender hips. She unbuckled her cartridge belt and set it down with her gear near the fire, and then turned to him and kicked out of her boots before beginning to unbutton her blouse.

Longarm stood staring at her, his muscles having turned to stone. His heart thudded. And then as she removed her blouse to show a thin, pink chemise beneath, her nipples poking hard against the sheer fabric, he quickly unbuckled his own cartridge belt, swiped his hat off his head, and kicked out of his boots.

He was naked in under a minute. She was a little slower, more methodical, but she soon stood naked before him, beside the fire, which burnished the near side of her body with copper, casting shadow over the other half. Her breasts were dark cones jutting toward him.

Longarm walked toward her, his cock hard and angling nearly straight up.

He stopped before her, until the head of his cock was touching her warm, flat belly. The feel of her flesh against his shaft caused excitement to ripple up the backs of his legs. She wrapped both hands around it lightly.

“Wait,” she said in a soft, raspy voice.

She walked over and retrieved his brown frock coat, brought it back, and spread it on the ground in front of him. She knelt on the coat, so that her head was a foot away from his cock, and then she wrapped her arms around his legs, and placed her hands on his buttocks.

He heard a very faint wet crackling when she parted her lips and moved her head forward. It was dark between them so he couldn’t see well down past his belly, and he sucked a sharp breath when he felt her tongue touch the head of his cock. He held his breath when she slid her tongue up over the orifice and across the top of the swollen, throbbing head.

Swirling her tongue slowly, she licked every inch of the head of his cock, bathing it in her hot saliva.

After several minutes of this harrowing torture, which he endured with his fists clenched at his sides, heels grinding into the sandy ground under his bare feet, she closed her mouth over the head. Soft warmth engulfed him. He tightened his jaws. Moving her head toward his crotch, she slid her mouth with excruciating slowness down the length of him toward his balls.

When he could feel his cock in the tightness of her throat, she stopped, gagged, jerking her head and shoulders slightly, but held him there taut against her tonsils. He could feel her saliva trickling down from her mouth and warming nearly ever inch of him lodged in her throat.

She squirmed and groaned and then slid her mouth back and off him, drawing a deep, liquid breath, gasping and pumping him with one hand while she gazed up at him.

“So big. You’re so fucking big.”

Longarm groaned.

She continued to pump him slowly with her soft, gentle hands while she gazed up at him from her knees, her eyes showing blue-green in the starlight. “I’ve thought about that night in Leadville many times. I’m going to think about it many times more before I die. You’re the most man I’ve ever had.”

She kissed his cock, caressed it with her cheek and then cupped his heavy balls in both her hands, staring up at him once more. “It was the most satisfying experience I’ve ever had with any man. The awful thing about it, though, is that it’s all I can think about now. I keep wanting to be so completely filled again. That’s why I’ve been so…moody. I haven’t meant to be, Custis. Can I call you Custis?”

She seemed to be waiting for an answer to the question.

He said, “Don’t see why not,” in a pinched voice, grinding his heels back into the sand while she hefted his balls in her hands and sucked the head of his cock with passion, groaning.

She pulled her mouth off him with a slight popping sound and smacked her lips together, drawing a breath between her wet, shiny lips. “It’s just that I’ve never had such complete pleasure, and this need for it again…and again…and again…” She shook her head as though deeply confounded. “I just don’t understand it. It frightens me!”

“No need to be afraid.”

“I think I want to finish blowing you. I want to feel your hot seed in my throat. And then will you fuck me from behind…like last time? Like a couple of back-alley curs?”

“Sure.”

“And then, let’s please not speak of this, okay?”

He frowned down at her. Every nerve was leaping inside of him, his heart beating slowly, heavily, his pulse throbbing in his temples.

Christ almighty, he’d never known a woman to talk this much!

“I’d just rather not speak of it, no matter what happens again between us in the future.” Haven ran her tongue up from the base of his cock to the tip, and then slid her mouth off of him, causing his cock to bob against her cheek. “Will that be all right, Custis?”

“Fine, fine,” he said through a moan, fearing he would pass out before she could finish him.

She smiled, slitting her eyes devilishly, and then swallowed him again, gagging on him, and then sliding her mouth back to the head of his cock.

Back down again. Back. Down.

Back.

Down.

Faster.

Longarm’s knees turned to putty. He groaned, placed his hand on the girl’s head as she rammed it back and forth against his belly. His cock seemed to grow though it couldn’t possibly get any larger without exploding.

And then he ground his molars till he thought they’d turn to dust, arched his back, threw his hips forward, and fired off his load until he thought he could hear the Gatling gun–like reports echoing around the canyon.

She drank every drop.

She gagged on it, but she very dutifully held her mouth down as far as she could, and took every bit of his seed that he let geyser down past her tonsils. When her face turned red and she began convulsing from lack of air, she swallowed one more time. He groaned at the pleasurable feeling of her throat contracting against his nearly spent organ. Falling back on her butt, propped on her arms outstretched behind her, she drew a ragged breath, panting as she smiled up at him.

“Now, that was fun.”

Longarm’s knees buckled. He dropped in the dirt before her. He, too, panted, feeling his cock droop though there was still some desire there. That’s how special this gal was. She could drink him dry and still he was ready to take her again.

Her breasts spilled back against her chest, bulging out across her ribs, her nipples jutting. He leaned down and kissed each in turn and then he rose, picked her up in his arms, and lay her down on his bedroll, resting her head back against his saddle.

“Already?” she said, looking up at his face and then down at his cock.

“No.” Longarm shook his head. “Not yet. First…” He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out his travel flask. “First, a drink.”

He offered her the flask. To his surprise, she took it, took a pull, then another pull. She tipped her head back like a bird, swallowing, and smacked her lips. “Tastes good mixed with your come.”

Longarm’s ears fairly burned at the change in this girl from earlier in their journey. She’d become the lusty nymphomaniac he’d met back in Leadville. He liked the change in her, couldn’t imagine her being any other way now.

Chuckling, he took a long pull from the flask, offered it to her once more. When she shook her head, he hammered the cork back into the mouth with the heel of his hand, set it down against his saddle, and lay down beside her.

She crawled over him to lie between his legs, resting her back against his chest, placing his hands on her breasts.

They lay there together, snuggling against each other, exploring each other’s intimate parts gently, slowly, not saying anything. She was more intoxicating than any forty-rod that Longarm had ever drunk—more intoxicating than the explosive tiswin the Apaches imbibed in to work themselves up for war.

The fire had gone out.

She reached over and tossed a mesquite branch on the glowing, crackling coals, saying, “I want to see our shadows when you fuck me from behind like a dirty dog, Custis.”

“Well, this dirty dog’s ready to get to it,” he said, drawing her back onto the blankets and gentling her belly down against them. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up onto her knees.

“Custis?”

“What?”

“Have no mercy.”

“Never, Haven.”

Longarm shoved his cock into her gaping, waiting pussy. Soon their shadows were jouncing wildly on the ground beside the fire. Both were aware enough of where they were to not make a lot of noise beside the muffled grunts and groans of coupling coyotes, lest someone should hear.

Then they slept entangled in each other’s arms.