Blood and destruction shall be so in use
And dreadful objects so familiar
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.
-Shakespeare-
Julius Caesar, 1601
The Dogs of War
Riley Goodwyn
"Trust me."
His voice was soft, barely a whisper as strong hands cupped her flushed cheeks then threaded through her long hair. He pulled her face close to his, lips resting ever so softly on hers and she had no choice. He wanted her and she was powerless to resist him. She couldn't resist the hooded green eyes, the perfect nose and his sensuous lips. She loved to run her fingers through the thick blond hair that covered his head as well as the tiny dusting of golden hairs that covered his muscular chest and, as she stood before him in a field of gently waving rye grass, he unbuttoned her red blouse and slowly slid it from her shoulders and she trusted him as she trusted no other.
She wore nothing beneath the sleek, shiny fabric and he swallowed hard and closed his eyes momentarily at the sight of her breasts. Slipping his fingers into the waistband of her jeans he flicked the top button open then lowered the zipper. Bending low, he pulled the pants down her long legs and she placed a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as he slipped them off, her touch like fire. His heart began to hammer and he rose up and grabbed a fistful of material and pulled on the silken threads of her thong. It tore easily under his urgent hand and stepping back to gaze at her. He likened her to beautiful, full-breasted, pagan fertility goddess as she stood naked before him in the waving stalks of grass, her long, coal black hair whipping in the breeze.
His palms brushed the nipples of her breasts as he circled her rib cage and he smiled at their taught reaction. He lifted her up onto the woolen saddle blanket laid out on the back of a large black gelding that stood docilely next to a hay bale occasionally ripping chunks free and chewing complacently. From atop the horse she watched him as he rushed to shed his own clothing and at the sight of his lean, well-muscled body she licked suddenly dry lips .
He was already hard when he stepped up on the hay bale and slid onto the horse's back settling behind her and, as he leaned forward to catch the reins in his hand, he rubbed against her and kissed her shoulder. She shivered visibly, her breath quickening and with a smile he kneed the black.
The horse started out at a slow walk awaiting the rider's next command and when it came the horse quickened it's pace and she settled back into him, her firm ass rubbing against him. He moaned aloud once again and satisfied by his reaction a smile crossed her lips.
They rode farther out into the fields, away from the road and his truck, and when he loosened his grip on the reins the horse slowed and came to a stop . He moved backward on the blanket and placing his hands around her waist he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing. Leaning back to give her enough room to swing a leg over the horse's powerful neck she sat 'side saddle' in his lap for a moment then, with his help, leaned back and threw one long leg over him. They were now face to face and, placing his hands firmly on her rear, he pulled her forward toward him until she found herself fully impaled on him, her slick, silky folds taking him in smoothly, familiarly as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.
Kissing her hungrily, he pulled her in closer in to his body and kicked his heels into the horse's flanks. The black started off again at a slow walk picking up speed as the rider urged him on to a bone-rattling trot then into a smooth canter where every movement caused him to surge forward and slide into her up to the hilt, time and time again. The harder the horse ran the quicker and greater her pleasure until a loud cry escaped her lips.
At her release he kicked muscled flanks once again and, giving the horse his head, they were quickly at a full gallop and he slammed into her until he came with a force that sucked the breath from his lungs and all thought from his mind.
Sensing the loss of guidance from his rider, the black drew up and idled down to a gentle walk then came to a standstill.
Leaning back, his hands on the black's rump for support, he rested for a long moment then straightened up. He drew her back up into his arms and kissed her hotly, biting her lower lip and they lazily made their way back to where the ride had started. He slid backward over the rump of the horse and, lifting his arms to her, she slid slowly down his naked body until her feet rested on firm ground.
They smelled of horse and the musk of lovemaking, an odor he would never forget and he smiled.
"Bareback," she whispered into his mouth as they kissed again, "Bareback Larabee."
Chris Larabee sat bolt upright in his bed, bathed in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had dreamed of her for seven nights in a row.
Her name was Riley Goodwyn and he had loved her. Her name was Riley Goodwyn and he had lost her.