High and Wild (7 page)

7

B
ear Haskell pulled his
nose out of Raven York's hot, wet snatch and looked up past her heaving belly and breasts to her face and sparkling cobalt eyes directed toward the ceiling.

“Miss York, I just want you to know that you are causing me to disobey a direct order from our employer, Mr. Pinkerton himself.”

Bear slid his face to her left thigh jutting up off his right shoulder and pressed his lips to that flawless stretch of marble-pale skin, halfway between her raised knee and her hip. He poked his right index finger into her pussy, and she sucked a sharp breath through her teeth.

“You bastard,” she wheezed out, looking down at him from beyond the pale mounds of her upturned breasts, which were still covered by her sheer black chemise.

The pink nipples resembled rosebuds about to burst through the silk cloth. She looked at his thick finger, which he was slowly sliding in and out of her at an upward slant, massaging her clitoris. “This is tantamount to rape. I hope you know that.”

Haskell chuckled and pressed his bearded lips to the inside of her thigh again. He thought he could feel her nerves sparking and dancing around behind the iridescent, finely blue-veined skin. “Would you like me to stop?”

She gasped as she reached down to wrap her hands around the wrist of the hand he was fucking her with. “Don't you dare!”

Haskell chuckled again as she removed her hands from his wrist and used them to spread her knees wider for him. He continued to probe her very slowly with his finger, feeling her inner juices grow warmer and warmer.

The petal-like folds of her pussy, sheathed in silky fur the same ebony color as her hair and the chemise that was bunched around her belly, made ever-so-quiet clicking and sucking sounds as he toiled, like a stick being swirled in a tub of cream.

“After all,” he said softly, “it was you who invited me to up to your room after we ran into each other at supper, Miss York.”

They'd spotted each other by chance in the Larimer Hotel's fine dining room, although it was not by chance that they were now toiling naked in the canopied bed of the girl's second-floor room.

“I thought only . . . that we should . . . discuss . . . the case at hand,” she gasped between her labored breaths, glancing down to watch his hand moving so torturously slowly between her spread thighs. “I certainly didn't intend for you to strip off my widow's attire . . . and . . . and . . . fuck, you're good with that hand!”

“You just let me know when you want me to stop so that we can discuss the case.”

“God damn you, Haskell. I just want you to know—can you move your hand a little more quickly?—that this is the first time I've—ohh!—ever defied Mr. Pinkerton. I'm very grateful to him for”—she paused to heave as though she were in labor—“to him . . . for . . . giving me this job! I'd always wanted . . . since I was a little girl—not that fast—to work for the Pinkerton agency.”

Haskell pulled his finger out of her vagina. “What on earth could have possessed such a beautiful girl—I mean, young woman—to want to be a detective for Allan Pinkerton?”

“What're you doing?” she said with annoyance, frowning at him. “You stopped.”

Teasingly, he said, “Answer the question.”

She pressed the back of her head against the bed and flapped her knees like wings. “I grew up in privilege, and I was bored . . . oh, so fucking bored with debutante balls and the stiff, awkward young males who came courting and not being able to do anything except under the strictest supervision. I wanted adventure! So as soon as I was eighteen, I ran away from home to stake a claim on a new life for myself.”

She cupped her breasts in her hands and stared at him, beseeching. “Will you please continue now, damn you, you fucking barbarian?”

“
Tsk
,
tsk
, Miss York. Where did you learn such barn talk?”

“The stable boys.”

“Oh, and what else did you learn from the stable boys?”

She glared at him in exasperation. “That's none of your business.”

“Miss York, did one of those stable boys steal your virginity?”

“Steal?” She chuckled. “If you stick your finger in my pussy, I'll tell you.”

“Oh, all right.”

“There, that's it. Oh, Christ! God, you're wretched. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“We had an Arapaho house girl back at the old ranch in Texas,” Haskell said, slowly and methodically sliding the tip of his finger around the inside lips of her snatch while she continued to breathe loudly and squeeze her breasts in her hands, kneading them like bread dough. “She taught me everything I know back in the old foreman's shack behind the main house.”

“I feel I should . . . thank her.”

“What'd the stable boys teach you, Miss York?”

“Nothing like this. I do believe you've taken me down another road, but God damn you, Haskell, I'm . . . I'm a professional.” She glared at him over her breasts and her hands, her cobalt blues sparking frustration and rage. “I am not a wanton woman. I'm a professional. I do not disobey the orders of my employer. I do not fornicate with my colleagues!” She frowned. “What on God's green earth are you doing?”

Haskell, who was as naked as the girl was, had risen onto his knees and was positioning himself and his fully engorged staff between her spread thighs. “We're gonna fornicate, Miss York.”

She looked down at him, her eyes widening. “Christ, you're hung like a fucking mule!”

“Ever seen one that size?”

“Only on a mule.”

“Ever fuck a mule, Miss York?”

“Of course not!”

“Well, you're about to.”

“You can't stick that thing in me!” Raven watched in grave fascination as he took his big dong in his right hand and slid the large mushroom head through her black bush and between the silky pink folds of her pussy. “Oh, Christ, you're going to snap me like a wishbone! You'd better not come in me, you bastard! There is no room in my life for a child, and we do not need to bring another one of you into this world, Haskell—oh, you incorrigible animal!”

He was half inside her now, rising up on his toes and his outstretched arms, suspended over her, staring into her eyes, which seemed to be losing focus the deeper he shoved himself inside her. She stretched her lips back from her teeth and placed her hands on each side of his face, raking her thumbs through his heavy, dark brown beard.

“You're appropriately named,” she whispered, staring up at him now as he slid deeper and deeper inside her. “You're more animal than man.”

“I take that as a compliment. Never cared much for men. Horses, dogs, even some coyotes and wolves I've met—much better than any man I've ever run into.”

She chuckled. “Oh, you're a philosopher, too.”

“Among other things.”

He bottomed out inside her. She winced and pressed her forehead against his chin. She was quivering. At the same time, she wrapped her legs around his lower back and clung to him as though he were keeping her from falling over a steep precipice.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were not a couth man. Oh,
Christ
, Haskell!” She sucked in a breath. “I knew that you were no man a woman should ever succumb to—a
savage
—or she'd be sorry she ever
di
d
!”

“Just think of me as one of the stable boys,” he said, sliding in and out of her, grunting.

“Oh, God,” she wheezed, arching her back and tipping her head back on her pillow, squeezing her eyes closed. “None of them was hung like you!”

He slid in and out of her slowly. Their long, harsh breaths were in sync.

Occasionally, Raven would groan and look down between them to watch his big dong plundering her, making soft, wet crackling sounds as he raised and lowered his hips. She placed her hands flat against his hairy chest and then moved them up to tug at his ears and his beard or to rake them through his long, thick hair. Then, breathing hard, she would look down between their bellies again at his cock sliding in and out of her, lubricated with her own warm oozings.

Haskell lowered his face to hers. She turned her lips away with a defiant little grunt. He placed his right hand on her chin, holding her face still, and kissed her.

She did not return the kiss but kept her mouth stiff. Continuing to kiss her gently, he massaged her right breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and index finger. He began sliding in and out of her faster, bucking against her with each descent into her core.

She sucked a sharp breath, opened her mouth with a soft mewl, entangled her tongue with his, and ground her heels into his buttocks.

He placed his hands on both sides of her head and kissed her hungrily, turning his head this way and that, probing her mouth with his tongue in the same way he was invading her pussy with his cock.

She groaned and mewled and grunted deep in her throat, raking her hands almost painfully through his hair and then digging her fingers into his bulging biceps, squeezing.

She pulled her mouth away from his and looked down the long canyon between them. “Oh . . . oh, Christ . . . you're . . . you're . . . ! You're bringing me—
ahhh
!” She threw her head back as he rose higher on his toes and his outstretched arms and began hammering against her with a blood-boiling fervor.

She hugged him tightly and said over his shoulder. “Oh, fuck—you're good at this, you bastard. I didn't ask for this. I want you to know!” She threw her head back on the pillow and lifted her chin, hardening her jaws until the delicate cords stood out on her long, fine neck. “I only wanted to discuss the . . . the . . . the cassssssse!”

She sobbed and squealed.

He could feel her hot honey boiling out of her, her pussy clutching at him like a tiny, hungry hand, her heels grinding into his buttocks, her fingernails digging into his back. At the same time, Haskell felt that his loins were about to burst.

He held back from the precipice of fulfillment just long enough for her sobs and muffled screams to dwindle. When her body began to relax beneath her and her breathing grew less labored, he pulled out of her with a deep grunt and slid his throbbing red cock up fast against her belly.

“Your hands,” he grunted.

“Huh?”

“Use your hands, for chrissakes. Finish me!”

“Oh!”

She lowered her hands between them, wrapped both around his iron-hard cock, and began pumping him. Her hands were soft and warm.

“Harder!” he ordered.

“I am!”

“
Harder
!
”

“Okay!”

She pumped him madly. He slid his cock up higher on her belly, arching his back and squeezing his eyes closed, gritting his teeth until he thought he would grind them to powder. She slid one of her manically pumping hands down to his balls and hefted them, fondled them, and then he gave a bearlike groan and opened his eyes.

He looked down at her. She was smiling delightedly down at his cock and balls in her fast-working hands. The seed erupted and shot up against her chin and across her lips. She laughed and continued to pump. His seed continued to jet out of him, washing across her lips and chin and neck.

When the spasms began to dwindle, the seed spurted across her breasts.

She pumped him more slowly now, her right hand wrapped tightly around his slightly softening member, the other cupping his heavy scrotum. She giggled and scuttled down and closed her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking him, twirling her tongue around him, keeping the fine spasms of desire going until he was finally spent.

He sighed, rolled onto his back beside her. She rolled onto him, massaged his arms with her hands, cooing and squirming. Finally, she lifted her head and used her right arm to sweep her tangled black hair from her face. She kept her other hand wrapped proprietarily around his big, slackening cock.

“Bear?” she said, her voice raspy, her cheeks flushed from fulfillment.

“You're an animal,” he told her, only just now catching his breath.

“You have to leave now.”

“Hmmm?”

“You have to leave now.”

She rolled to the other side of the bed. She grabbed something off of the nightstand and then sat up against the oak headboard. There was a clicking sound. He looked over at her to see a silver-plated, pearl-gripped over-and-under derringer clenched in her right fist.

She aimed it at him, her eyes desperate, determined. “
Now
!
”

Haskell jerked his head up, ran a hand across his face, and blinked, for half a second wondering if he'd nodded off and was dreaming. “Hold on, now, Raven.”

“Get dressed and get out,” she demanded, wagging the gun at the door. She kept her voice low and taut with menace. “I mean it, Bear. I'll shoot if you don't. And it's
Miss York
. You are not ever to address me by my given name. I am a professional, and I do not—will not ever again—succumb to the lust of a brutish man. Especially not one who is my colleague.”