Again
His breathing has changed, and he's moving his legs. I turn over to face him, brushing a wayward curl off his forehead while my other hand slips between us.
"Jess?" I murmur.
"Hmmm," is his drowsy comeback.
"Again?"
XXxxXX
I watched his eyes, wanting to see what color they would be when he first woke up. His lips curved in a lazy smile and he arched his back, stretching the arm that wasn't under my head straight into the air before letting it fall to his side.
Jess turned his head and slowly opened his eyes, "Do I need to build a fire?" he asked.
"I'm warm enough and I sure thought you were," I answered a little sharply, surprised by his question.
"You said you would walk across hot coals to feel everything again. I was goin' to get 'em ready," he smirked.
"You're teasing me," I protested.
I explored the puckered marks on his shoulders and railroad track scars along his ribs. "Did you get all these wounds in the war?"
"No, only two of 'em. The ugly one on my right shoulder happened just before the war ended. I was in a Yankee prisoner of war camp and a bunch of us tried to escape. Took a minie ball in the shoulder, in an infirmary till they mustered me and six others out west to scout for the cavalry. A galvanized Rebel." With a deep sigh, he continued, "Best thing ever happened to me in a long, long time. I kind a found my bearin's with Major Stanton and Billy Jacobs."
We were quiet for a bit, while I kept up my exploration of the welts and dimples on his chest. I was tracing the path of a long curving scar with my fingers, "Where else did you get hit?"
"That one under your hand is from a bayonet a Union officer shoved into my brisket. The blade skittered along the skin, slicing muscle instead of jabbing between my ribs like he meant to do."
XXxxXX
I kept moving my hand lower on his belly. "If you only got hurt twice in the war, where did all these other scars come from? Looks like you tangled with a cactus."
"I've led a rough life. Been at the wrong place at the wrong time, on the wrong side. Or let my temper run away with me, instead of walkin' away from trouble. Slim has straightened me out more'n a little. The Shermans and Wyoming's been good for me."
I reached his navel and circled it, sending little shivers through him that I could feel from where I was curled into his side. I had one leg over his thigh and my body pressed along the length of his.
"Jess. . ." I began.
"You talk too much," he answered.
He rolled me on top of him and latched onto my mouth. Both his hands swept across my back, kneading and caressing while I felt myself getting wetter at the center of my cravings. He cupped my hips and pulled me up until my breasts were at his mouth.
Panting, Jess finally slowed to kissing and licking circles around each breast. I turned his face to mine and kissed him slowly as I explored his mouth and eyes and ears. I caught a taste of the tart, sweet lemonade still on his lips and throat and searched for more.
Raising my lips from his neck, I whispered, "My turn."
Pushing up to sit astride him, I leaned down to his chest and circled his nipple with my tongue. His skin was salty, and had that scent of soap and sweat and leather I had tucked away in my mind for later. My fingers pulled at his other firm little nipple and pinched to make it swell in my hand. His gasp told me I had done good. I pressed closer, elated to be pleasing this handsome cowboy. The scars on his body, and the hidden ones I sensed from what he told me, made me want to protect him from any other injury.
I stared into his smoldering eyes. Curling around, I tenderly grasped his penis. His shaft jerked in my hand and a low sob of pleasure rumbled in his throat.
"Tell me what to do."
"Ahhh, anything that feels good to you will feel good to me, too." I rested my head on his belly and stacked my hands one above the other on his erection, gently stroking up and down. A single drop of shining fluid formed and I used my thumb to lubricate the head.
"Now?" I asked.
"Now," he panted.
He raised my hips so I could guide him inside me. I pushed down while his hands lifted me, my whole body responding to him. The feelings bursting inside me were almost more than I could bear; I felt as though I was going to burn like a moth drawn to a candle. Sweat glistened on Jess's chest and I could feel it trickling along my scalp. I was jerking from the sensations where our bodies joined.
Desperately I begged, "Don't stop. Jess, do something!"
"Shhh, Sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere without taking you with me," he gasped. He wrapped both arms around me and rolled us over so he was on top and could control how deep and how fast he penetrated me. He stopped his driving thrusts and began to circle and rub as we both moaned with pleasure. I knew I was making little high pitched noises, but could not have stopped if my Mama had showed up right then and there.
Holding on to Jess with my arms wrapped tight around him, I was surging faster and faster until that wonderful, unbelievable feeling came. My little cries became a long whimper and Jess joined me with his throatier groan as he pumped deep into me before collapsing. He was breathing heavy and I was worn out.
Limp, I reached for Jess's mop of curls and drew him up beside me.
"Hold me?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, "Sleep now, I won't leave you." I sighed and closed my eyes, secure in the knowledge Jess Harper would keep his word.
XXxxXX
I don't know how long I slept, but I woke to find Jess staring at me, grinning with that little gap between his front teeth gleaming in the long shadows under the sycamores. I languidly smiled back and reached my arms round his neck, pulling him down for a long kiss.
"This is for all those cold nights in Rhode Island," he whispered, "To keep you warm until you're back home in Wyoming."
Jess made love to me again. He covered my face and neck with tiny kisses. He blew his warm breath in my ear while I shivered with expectation of what he would do next. After what seemed hours, he slowed his assault on my senses and sat me up, cradling me on his lap.
When he stood up, I hung on to his hand. "I'm thirsty. And I don't want us to be interrupted," he assured me.
I watched, memorizing his broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips, the play of muscles on his back and legs as he walked. And his remarkable butt, deep hollows dipping and refilling as his long strides carried him gracefully across to the wagon. He poured a cup of lemonade from the jug.
Concentrating on the full cup, Jess drew close before he glanced up to my eyes, open wide and amazed at the sight of him striding along, naked, muscles rippling with each step. Self-conscious, he shyly dipped his head, curls flopping enticingly over one eye.
He offered me a drink. I put my hands over his and took a few sips, then pushed it toward him. He gulped it down and let the overflow drip down his chin and onto his chest. I leaned forward and licked the sticky juice from his chest before it even got close to where his belt would have been. A shiver ran through both of us and Jess tossed the cup aside.
He laid me down and spread my hair into a halo. He buried his face in the lengths of my unbound braids before tangling both hands in the curls and lifting a handful to sniff the scent of the honeysuckle rinse I used last night. With his hands still in my hair, he kissed both eyes shut. Then his searching mouth took mine and brought me near to dying with his insistent pulling and tasting.
His mouth and hands followed the contours of my body and he reached every hidden secret place that would yield to him. I clutched his body to anchor myself to reality.
"Give me your hand," he directed. He took my hand and placed it on his rigid manhood. I stroked him and lightly massaged the tip until he pulled back and tensely urged, "Raise your hips." I helped guide him into my warm, tight depths, quivering with anticipation.
When our passion had run its course, Jess collapsed on top of me, wrapping his legs around mine. I began to laugh, "My brothers always say, when they don't know I can hear them, a used up cowhand has been 'rode hard and put up wet'. Is that what's happened to you, Jess Harper? Did I ride you too hard?"
For answer, he pulled a soft nipple into his mouth and sucked until it was hard and wet. "I think you've been rode hard today, sassy-face. Better keep a safe distance from your Mama and Pa till the swellin's gone from those lips. You'll be walking around tomorrow like you spent twelve hours in the saddle today." Shaking his head, Jess added, "And so will I."
"Jess," I was almost embarrassed to ask, but I had to know, "How do you know to do those things to me? How did you know I would have those feelings inside? Who taught you where to touch a woman's body? Do all men make love the same way?"
Busy gathering up our clothes, Jess replied, "Later. We have to get dressed before somebody comes lookin' for you. And it may take a while for me to figure out how to shake you back into all these fancies. But, dadgum, I'm gonna do it just for fun."
And fun it was. It took a lot of laughing and putting on and taking off, but Jess got me dressed. Taking time, of course, to kiss me soundly after each successful addition. He had to nuzzle and kiss my breasts through the thin layers of my chemise, as he had done the very first time we made love. He kissed my toes before pulling socks over my feet. He held my divided skirt for me to step in, but insisted on dipping his hand inside before fastening each hook. I was breathless with laughter by the time he got to my blouse and those same fingers which so nimbly unbuttoned that shirt only a few hours ago, could not manage to do them up and I had to playfully smack his hands away to let me finish the job.
Jess was wearing only his faded cut-off long-johns, and I watched with undisguised pleasure while I braided my hair and he struggled into his denims and threw his shirt on. He sat down with our feet touching as he pulled on his own socks.
"Are you having a party before you go east?" Jess asked me, toying with one foot.
"No, I told Mama I couldn't stand it with all the neighbors bein' nice to me and wishing me well before I'm banished to live with the heathen in Rhode Island."
"We talked about this," Jess said seriously.
"I know, but that's what I already told Mama. I don't want old ladies kissin' my forehead and tellin' me what an opportunity I have," I answered bitterly.
Jess pulled me to my feet and led me over to Ruby. He tightened her cinch and held out his hands to boost me into the saddle.
"Jess," I wheedled, drawing little circles at the open neck of his shirt with my finger, "You never answered my questions."
Grinning, he replied, "Nope. You'll worry them questions around in your head like a dog with a gristle bone all them long, cold winters among the heathen in Rhode Island."
I stuck out my lip in a pout but he only laughed at me.
"Come on here and mount up."
With a swat to Ruby's rump, Slim Sherman's hired hand sent me trotting toward home and Miss Fanny Pruitt's Finishing School.
Jess's words echoed behind me, "I promise to tell you later. Three years later!"
August, 2016