never... Have you no other name Mister Crow? This is... is so formal.',
The. thought and her situation made her giggle again, clamping her mouth close shut on him, making his body stiffen.
'I am called Crow, Angelina. Nothing else.'
'There have been other women for you?' she asked, anxiously, still working on him with her mouth between questions. The interrogation was irritating Crow, as he absently stroked the back of her head, feeling the long curling hair springing under his hand.
'If we are to make love, Angelina, then let us do it without these requests about my past life.'
'Yes, my proud one,' she sighed.
'The past's a book I never open. Not ever,' he said with a cold finality that even penetrated through her drunken lust, making her pause and stand still in front of him her outline barely visible in the darkness, silhouetted against the amber glow of one of the camp-fires outside the tent.
'Then let us share this present moment, my love,' she whispered to him.
'Yes.'
He stood still and allowed her to undress him, feeling the building tension in himself. The feeling that lay so close to blind rage. Or to the excitement in a gunfight when you knew there was going to be no walking away from the conflict. The knowledge that it was going to happen.
When he was quite naked Angelina rubbed her own body against him, running her fingers over his broad shoulders, surprising in such a slender man. His stomach, flat and hard as a board. The knots of tight muscle in his arms and thighs. Stroking him until he suddenly doubted whether he would be able to control himself. It had been a long time.
Normally, times without women didn't worry Crow unduly.
He had schooled himself years back to do with the minimum of food and water. Of comforts. And of affection and love.
But, it had still been a long time.
Three months ago in a whore-house in Albuquerque. A half-breed girl who had a good trick with a short piece of knotted string. Crow remembered her. He had a fine memory.
'Will you undress me, my grenadier?' she asked him.
'Would you like me to?'
'Oh yes,' nearly fainting away in his arms as he began to peel off her dress, the confined canvas room filling with the rutting, muskish scent of her body.
'Oh, yes,' she gasped again, raising her arms to assist him.
The summer heat in the Dakotas meant that few women wore any kind of under-pinnings, and Angelina Menges was no exception to that. Apart from a pair of brief cotton drawers, she was naked under the flowered dress. Her breasts dug into his chest as she hung on him, arms locked around his shoulders, finger-nails gouging patterns into his flesh while her mouth sucked on his lips, kissing him with a fury that bordered on anger.
'Take me dearest! Oh, your body is so young and so firm and so strong. Silas is such an old man. His body is not formed as yours is, my dear Crow. Now...!!!'
She sprawled backwards on the narrow bed, spreading her thighs to receive him, moaning as he fell on her, impaling her. Thrusting himself down at her, feeling her hips grind against his as she rose to meet each drive, bringing her legs up around him, ankles locking in the small of his back to keep him close.
'Harder!!!'
Once again Crow was worried by her rising voice as he clamped his hand across her jaws, digging his fingers into her soft cheeks like iron claws, making her writhe under him for breath.
'Keep quiet, you damned bitch,' he gasped, feeling his own passion carrying him along.
She nodded and he could see the whites of her eyes in the dim hill-light, feel her tongue rubbing at the palm of his hand, pushing its way between his fingers.
Without even being conscious of it, Crow pounded his way closer and closer to his own climax, using his knees and feet to give him greater leverage to thrust harder and deeper into the woman. Keeping his hand over her mouth to hold her quiet. Feeling the fluttering of her stomach muscles that he knew meant she was nearing her own
The. thought and her situation made her giggle again, clamping her mouth close shut on him, making his body stiffen.
'I am called Crow, Angelina. Nothing else.'
'There have been other women for you?' she asked, anxiously, still working on him with her mouth between questions. The interrogation was irritating Crow, as he absently stroked the back of her head, feeling the long curling hair springing under his hand.
'If we are to make love, Angelina, then let us do it without these requests about my past life.'
'Yes, my proud one,' she sighed.
'The past's a book I never open. Not ever,' he said with a cold finality that even penetrated through her drunken lust, making her pause and stand still in front of him her outline barely visible in the darkness, silhouetted against the amber glow of one of the camp-fires outside the tent.
'Then let us share this present moment, my love,' she whispered to him.
'Yes.'
He stood still and allowed her to undress him, feeling the building tension in himself. The feeling that lay so close to blind rage. Or to the excitement in a gunfight when you knew there was going to be no walking away from the conflict. The knowledge that it was going to happen.
When he was quite naked Angelina rubbed her own body against him, running her fingers over his broad shoulders, surprising in such a slender man. His stomach, flat and hard as a board. The knots of tight muscle in his arms and thighs. Stroking him until he suddenly doubted whether he would be able to control himself. It had been a long time.
Normally, times without women didn't worry Crow unduly.
He had schooled himself years back to do with the minimum of food and water. Of comforts. And of affection and love.
But, it had still been a long time.
Three months ago in a whore-house in Albuquerque. A half-breed girl who had a good trick with a short piece of knotted string. Crow remembered her. He had a fine memory.
'Will you undress me, my grenadier?' she asked him.
'Would you like me to?'
'Oh yes,' nearly fainting away in his arms as he began to peel off her dress, the confined canvas room filling with the rutting, muskish scent of her body.
'Oh, yes,' she gasped again, raising her arms to assist him.
The summer heat in the Dakotas meant that few women wore any kind of under-pinnings, and Angelina Menges was no exception to that. Apart from a pair of brief cotton drawers, she was naked under the flowered dress. Her breasts dug into his chest as she hung on him, arms locked around his shoulders, finger-nails gouging patterns into his flesh while her mouth sucked on his lips, kissing him with a fury that bordered on anger.
'Take me dearest! Oh, your body is so young and so firm and so strong. Silas is such an old man. His body is not formed as yours is, my dear Crow. Now...!!!'
She sprawled backwards on the narrow bed, spreading her thighs to receive him, moaning as he fell on her, impaling her. Thrusting himself down at her, feeling her hips grind against his as she rose to meet each drive, bringing her legs up around him, ankles locking in the small of his back to keep him close.
'Harder!!!'
Once again Crow was worried by her rising voice as he clamped his hand across her jaws, digging his fingers into her soft cheeks like iron claws, making her writhe under him for breath.
'Keep quiet, you damned bitch,' he gasped, feeling his own passion carrying him along.
She nodded and he could see the whites of her eyes in the dim hill-light, feel her tongue rubbing at the palm of his hand, pushing its way between his fingers.
Without even being conscious of it, Crow pounded his way closer and closer to his own climax, using his knees and feet to give him greater leverage to thrust harder and deeper into the woman. Keeping his hand over her mouth to hold her quiet. Feeling the fluttering of her stomach muscles that he knew meant she was nearing her own
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