Page 29 of Sure as Shooting

Huntley didn’t like it one bit. Belle was the first desirable white woman he’d seen in five years and he was not going to allow that prurient physician to impress her with his sexual tricks. After being told that Dr. Whitney was treating various battalion men for frostbite, Huntley finally discovered him high atop a granite table. With a southern exposure, the snow didn’t remain here long, and Whit was looking through a glass at one of the distant natural wonders he was constantly in awe of.

Whit smiled disarmingly, offering Huntley the glass so he could look too. “See that cliff face—as if half of a vault had completely sheared away and fallen to the valley floor below?”

Huntley had no interest in the natural wonders of things. “What’s going on with Miss Belle and you? What were you doing in that cave?”

Whit frowned. “You are utterly void of sentiment, Major Ashbury. Here you are on the lip of the most wondrous valley in the world, and all you want to know about is screwing.”

“Oh, I’m certain you two were discussing wondrous valleys inside that cave, and certainly not screwing!”

“We most certainly were not screwing, Huntley! It’s far too soon to assault such a tender flower, such a golden lotus—”

“Wait. What’s this about a golden lotus?”

“Her pillow book. The Chinese use many terms to describe a female vagina, such as ‘Open Peony Blossom’ and ‘Golden Lotus.’”

“Golden Lotus…” The term seemed so familiar to Huntley, for a moment he completely forgot his anger. He paused, looking out at the half of a dome that Whit was so fascinated by. Then he remembered. Jim Bridger. His dream. Bridger had told him to go into the Deep Grassy Valley and find the woman with the golden lotus!

His jaw must have dropped in astonishment, for Whit took him by the upper arms. “Huntley! Are you all right? Have you been getting any sleep lately?”

Huntley pressed Whit back against a mossy boulder. “Yes, perhaps too much sleep. Listen, Whit. Have you ever heard of dreams instructing someone to do something?”

Whit grinned in amusement. “Why, yes, Huntley. Have you never read your Bible?”

“Yes, yes, whatever. So if a dream came right out and directly instructed you to do something, you would pay definite attention to it?”

“Why, yes. Yes, I would. What did this dream tell you to do?”

Huntley pinned Whit more fervently to the boulder. “The dream told me to go into the Ahwahnee Valley to find the woman with the Golden Lotus!”

Realization swept quickly over Whit’s face. “Why, that could be only one woman, Huntley!”

“Exactly! How many other women even know what the Golden Lotus is? So listen here, partner. I need you to stop monopolizing Belle and give me a chance. We need to let her lead us to the valley floor past that cathedral spire she mentioned, but you also need to allow me some ‘crafty ideas’ of my own when it comes to Miss Belle. She hasn’t set her sights entirely on you, has she?”

“No, but…”

“But what?”

“But she has an opinion of you. That you’re not entirely too skilled in matters of sex or willing to be open-minded to learning. She’s very voracious sexually and has quite an appetite. If you want her Golden Lotus, you’ll need to practice some skills—”

“Not skilled!” Huntley shoved Whit harder into the rock. “I’ve fucked hundreds of women who were obviously not disgruntled—women who came back for more! You think I’m closed-minded and straitlaced in matters of sex? I’ll show you—you’re not the only one who has European leanings and desires!”

Huntley surprised himself when he plastered a large sucking kiss to the one section of Whit’s neck that wasn’t covered by the scarf. Pressing the entire length of his body to the sturdy physician, he pinned him there and sucked, tonguing the neck until he tasted raised gooseflesh. Whit’s thighs instantly parted to allow Huntley to hump his engorged crotch to his, and Huntley madly clawed the heavy greatcoat from Whit’s shoulders. When Whit again grabbed a handful of Huntley’s pigtail in his hand and yanked his head back, Huntley snapped his head forward and planted his mouth on Whit’s.

It was obvious Whit enjoyed being the dominant party. While Huntley had enjoyed being submissively pleasured by such an overbearing, arrogant man—it was much easier to pretend one didn’t truly want such attentions when one was merely passively lying there—he needed to display to Whit that he was not just a meek Miss Nancy but could control their activities, when he chose.

They had not kissed since that night they’d spent in Huntley’s bed—had not even discussed it since they had both come stumbling out of his bedchamber to be served breakfast by a curious Belle—but it was just as delicious and randy as Huntley recalled. Indeed, Whit was a master of all things sexual, elevating such a simple thing as a kiss to the heights of erotic prowess. All thoughts of the responsibilities he had back at the base camp evaporated as both of his hands dipped beneath Whit’s waistcoat, adeptly manipulating the broadfall buttons of his buckskins.

Huntley broke away with a big sucking sound, and both men were panting as though they’d swum across a lake. “Listen, you bastard,” Huntley growled, knowing both men were aware he meant it affectionately. “You sneak into my bed and suck my prick?”

Whit gripped Huntley’s hair. “You liked it,” he snarled back.

“Sure as shooting I liked it.” Sliding a hot palm down the hard plane of Whit’s abdomen, Huntley encountered that slab of beef he’d been so terrified of. Its sheer pulsing heft had probably scared off every woman poor Whit had ever encountered, and was probably why he’d never married. But right now Huntley felt bolder and bawdier than he ever had, and had to prove to Whit he could embrace things of a carnal nature—prove he was skilled enough to learn the tricks to pleasing Belle and her Golden Lotus. The hot prick sprung into the frigid mountain air, and Huntley fondled the great length of it, massaging the overwhelming ball sac. Dr. Whitney was hung like a donkey—how did the dainty, small-boned Belle deal with such a prodigious cock? “Who wouldn’t like having their cock sucked by such an expert bumsucker? Someone who is obviously very skilled and talented at it?”

“Damned right I’m skilled. I love nothing more than swallowing a nice hot load of male jism.”

Huntley gasped at the audacity of that statement. He began to doubt his own ability to gobble such a monstrous member.

Now Whit became a bit coy. “But I recently discovered,” he panted, “that a lady’s flowing juice can be equally as delicious.”