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His hands threaded through her hair as he seemed to relish the taste of her lips and nothing more. He licked them, sipped at them, moaned a deep little growl that came from the depths of his chest and vibrated against her lips.
She watched him, unable to close her eyes or to miss the hungry intent in his expression. This was what she had dreamed of during all those hot nights that arousal stormed her body and wicked wishes pushed at her imagination. Just this.
“Spread your legs for me,” he whispered then. “I want to watch your eyes while I fuck you. See the blue darken, the flecks of green lighten. You have such pretty eyes, Amanda. ”
Her breath hitched in her throat. She spread her thighs slowly, opening herself to him as he moved between them. She could feel his cock, hard and heavy as it lay against the mound of her pussy now, pressing against her clit.
She rolled her hips against him, her breath catching as the steel-hard heat of his erection caressed the sensitive bundle nerves peeking from the folds of her cunt.
“Temptress,” he growled, licking her lips again, his eyes locked on hers as he shifted against her, his cock dragging along her sensitive pussy until the thick head was poised at the entrance.
“Are you going to punish me?” She gave him a look of drowsy sensuality, a smile curving her lips as her neck arched, pleasure streaking through her in hard, rapid bolts of heat as he began to push into her.
“Hmm. Punish both of us maybe. ” He was gritting his teeth now, and Amanda could see the struggle for control that filled his expression.
Had it really been less than twenty-four hours since he had first touched her? In that moment, she realized she knew things about Kiowa that she didn’t know about her closest acquaintances. Then he was sliding into her, filling her with a heavy heat and hard strength that stole her thoughts and her mind. She could feel him, stretching her, her muscles protesting in the wake of each hard surge of precome that filled her, then eased her. Tingling, curling lashes of sensation assaulted her body as he lay over her, his cock moving slow and inside her, taking her with a gentleness and depth of emotion she didn’t want to feel.
She shouldn’t feel any emotion. She should feel nothing but the hot grind of their bodies together, his erection sating the unnatural hunger in her body. But she felt more, far deeper than just the depths of her pussy.
With her gaze still locked with his, there was no hiding the pleasure lashing at them both. His expression was feral in its intensity, his eyes so black she felt lost in his gaze. Her body was sensitive, sensitized to him, each rasp of his chest over her hard nipples, his pelvis on her straining clit rocked her to new heights. Each stroke stretched her, filled her, caressed hidden nerves and had her breath catching at the diabolical depth of pleasure building within her.
She rocked beneath him, her legs rising to encase his hips as his lips lowered to hers again. And then her eyes closed. There was no control, no strength to hold them open as he kissed her with a melting passion that left her weak.
With his lips moving on hers, his hips straining against her, driving his cock in harder, faster, sending the bolts of sensation tearing harder through her body, Amanda was lost. Her back arched as everything inside her exploded. Her body tensed, her pussy tightened around his surging erection until she felt that change, the swelling within her that signaled his own release. It lit a fuse to her already exploding senses and sent her reeling again as she felt his semen jetting inside her. Long minutes later, she gathered the strength to unlock her legs from his waist and release the hold she had taken on her shoulders. Exhaustion rode her now, as hard as lust had ridden her minutes before. Her eyes fluttered opened, her vision sleep-blurred as she stared into his dark eyes, sighing in blissful, sated pleasure.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered, resting his head against hers, a restrained shudder working through his body as another pulse of seed filled her milking cunt. “I’ll take care of you while you sleep. ”
Her eyes fluttered closed. She knew that, she thought. He didn’t have to say the words. Above all things, she did know Kiowa would take care of her.
Kiowa rarely dreamed. He considered it a blessing. After some of the nightmares of his childhood, he had no desire to visit that inner realm and tempt the angers of the past. But when he drifted into sleep beside Amanda, they were there. Like demons raising their dark, horrifying heads.
The woman who bore you is dead,” his grandfather informed him. She was killed in a car crash. ”
Kiowa raised his head from the book he had been devouring. Five. Pitifully thin and small, little else had mattered to him but the words he needed to learn. And learn them he was. He didn’t know the woman who bore him, as his grandfather called her. He couldn’t even remember her face, though he knew there had been a time that he had been with her.
Kiowa nodded solemnly, staring up at the broad frame of the older man, wishing he could see something other than the twisted expression of distaste that was on his face.
“You don’t even care do you?” the old man had growled.
“I don’t know her,” he had whispered then.
“That’s an animal’s response,” his grandfather had lashed out. “One without a soul. ”
The dream distorted, moved in time. Kiowa was eleven, living alone in the shack high in the mountain, waiting eagerly each week for his grandfather’s visit. He knew he had to stay hidden, knew that the people who had forced his birth on the mother he never knew, were searching for him. The television was his constant companion and with it, he had learned to read over the years, to decipher the words and to make sense of how to use them. Books sat in stacks around the small living room. A blanket was tucked in the couch. He didn’t sleep in the bed. In the dark, too many thoughts raced across his mind and too many sounds in the mountains outside fueled his fear. But that television was his lifeline. On it he saw his dreams. A family. A mother, a father, children who were loved and protected, and in those dreams he could laugh and be free, fly a kite, ride a bike. He didn’t have to fear detection.
“Here’s some more books. ” The box was dumped at his feet as his grandfather stared down at him emotionlessly.
The other man had gone from disgus
t to chilly dislike over the years. “I’ll put the food on the porch. You’re big enough to put it away yourself. ”
Eleven years old. He had celebrated his birthday alone, clumsily wrapped several pinecones he had found and books he had read in old newspaper and pretended they were a mother’s gifts.
“Thank you, Sir. ” He had stopped calling him grandfather years before. Grandfathers loved their grandkids. They spoiled them, showed them the world, took them to amusement parks. They didn’t lock them away on a mountain and leave them to suffer the silence and the cold alone.
“Have you found your soul yet?” the old man snapped then.
Kiowa had stared up at him quietly, years of loneliness and grief locked inside him.
