Steal Me Away (6 page)

Unable to stop myself, I reached out to caress her plump,
wet pussy. She was a prize, this lovely Anglo blonde.
My prize.

“You are grinning, husband,” she said in a husky morning
voice as she reached up to cup my cheek. “Were we good together?”

“I cannot remember. Let me see,” I whispered as I thrust one
finger, then two inside her swollen cunt.

She arched. Her eyes glistened with desire for me.

“See how you are mine,” I said as I held up my fingers,
tinged with her maiden’s blood.

“Bull Elk, please, fill me again.”

I knew what she wanted, but tradition demanded I take her
outside at dawn’s light of our marriage night. It tore my heart not to plant my
cock once more up inside that slick cunt of hers, but my people and their
Spirit had to be served.

I stood, donned my breechcloth and stared down at her.
Lovely, naked creature that she was, she lay like a shining goddess on my dark
buffalo hides. Her skin was perfect, dotted only on her hips by bruises from my
own harsh fingers. Her hair, that curling blonde river of beauty, lay like a
blanket upon the hides. I was so glad I had not permitted Willow Talks to daub
this sunlight with black grease.

“Come down to me,” she beseeched, reaching up to me.

Instead, I pulled her to me. Her cooling flesh on mine
stopped my heart with lust. “My moon,” I croaked, “I would have you. I will
when we return.”

“No. Where must we go?” She curled her arms around my
shoulders.

“To the river.”

“Why?” She rubbed her breasts against my torso, tempting me
to stay. I breathed hard, my nostrils flaring, my cock soaring high with the
urge to fuck her as she so earnestly wished.

“I must wash you of your past. Make you new for me.”

“You did.”

Her words were a sobbing plea and I had to hold her at arms’
length to find my willpower. “By your laws, you are now mine. But by ours, I
must wash your body and take all marks from you of your virginity and your
past.”

Her blue eyes turned limpid and her body wilted against
mine. “Then do it, my husband, and be quick. I yearn for you inside me so much
I fear I melt with your loss.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed me with such
urgency that I knew it held the wealth of all the passion she had discovered in
her body last night.

Giving a whoop of success, I wrapped her in a hide and
strode out of my tent with her high in my arms. The buffalo barely covered her
nakedness, her breasts exposed to the crisp morning air.

“As we pass, you may not cover yourself, my moon. Let my
people see that you are mine and that you did me the honor to give me your body
last night.”

“This is not forbidden? To show them what is yours?” she
asked as I strode past a few braves still awake from the dancing.

“They are to see you and understand that this is what they
cannot ever touch.” It bothered me that I knew there was one man who could do
more than touch her.

She nuzzled me behind my ear as I continued to walk toward
the river. “Do they see only my breasts?”

Amused, I arched a brow at her. “They see if your nipples
still point to me.”

She made a humming noise against my throat. “I know they do.
And my pussy is so very wet and empty without you, my Bull.”

Complimented at her intimate comment and her new name for
me, I had to halt and push her against a tree trunk. Against her lips, I spoke.
“You tempt me to fuck you here in front of them.”

“Can you? Would you? Or is that forbidden?” she asked,
shivering wide-eyed with tempting invitation.

Only before my brother should we make love together.
“What is between us is private and sacred.”

Smiling, she rubbed her mouth on mine. “And rare.”

I kissed her then, hard and with deliberate ardor. Tearing
my lips away, I forced my mind and body toward the river and my duty.

Walking with a painful erection, I marched straight into the
chilly waters. As I sank lower and the rushing waters rose around her body, she
squirmed to be free of me. Crying out how damn cold she was, she gasped and
fought with me. Laughing, I hauled her against me as I caught the hide before
it wended downstream.

“Listen to me! You will allow me to wash you everywhere.”

Her teeth chattering, she begged me to hurry. “I will die in
this, Bull.”

Commanding her to stand and slinging the hide over my
shoulder, I dipped my hand into the waters. Her skin turned white, tinged with
blue. I rubbed my open palms against her throat, her pebbled nipples, her nest
of hair and her sweet pussy, where I sent my fingers up inside her and parted
her to let the raging river wipe away my first seed that had bloodied her and
taken her innocence. There I caressed her cunt to offer up sweet recompense for
the washing.

“Come now, we are finished,” I consoled her as I carried her
to shore. There against a tree, I rubbed my hands over her arms and around her
heavy breasts. Unable to resist her beauty, I bent and sucked one large, full
nipple into my mouth and pleased her with leisurely strokes. Moaning, she
hooked a leg around mine and in response, my cock rose.

She tilted her hips, making it easier for me to spear her.
And so I pushed aside my breechcloth and took her in one stroke. She thrashed
her head against the tree, the bark catching up her glorious hair while her
pussy pulsed around my lance. Careful to do right by her, I probed her hot
flesh by rocking my hips to fuck her good and hard.

“Wait, White Hawk is here!” She said, startled and gaping at
my brother who stood to one side.

“He is to watch,” I told her, my teeth gritted with the need
for restraint as I finished this part of her induction to my tribe. “He may see
us. Only he. He must know you.”

Her eyes wide, she shook her head at me. Her pussy cooled
but my cock rammed inside her higher. “How can this be?”

“As my only brother, he may have you if I am ever gone to
count coup. You must take him inside you. It is custom.”

She froze. I stroked my cock inside her to calm her.

But she was not seduced. “Why?”

I kissed her cheek. “Because he will protect you, my moon.
And if I am gone for a long time, he will make you his own wife.”

Her gaze turned sad. “And if I do not want him?”

I sought to make her happy and rammed her once, twice and
three times with my stiff lance. She ground her teeth in utter delight. I did
it again. I had to persuade her and make her realize this union with my brother
was nothing she could change. If she could accept me—even welcome me—as her
lover and mate when I took her from all she knew, then she should eventually
see that White Hawk was as fine a man as I. By observing me as I fucked her, I
would teach him to pleasure her as she wished. He would be kind and careful,
even if I would pray she never loved him as I so earnestly worked to ensure she
did me. “You will want him, my one. I will see to it you desire him as much as
you do me. Come, White Hawk. Show her how well you are made.”

My brother, shorter than I and leaner, walked forward,
removing his breechcloth as he came. As I held my wife up with the power of my
thighs and filled her with the girth of my own cock, my brother stroked his own
impressive lance.

She licked her lips and lolled her head against the tree
trunk. Gone with desire to have me, she seemed torn, trying to accept another
fact she could not change. I knew it to be so when she whispered, “He excites
me. Oh, how can I admit that?”

“It is good that you can,” I praised her with a smile and a
few swift strokes of my cock.

Closing her eyes, she swayed in my embrace. The look on her
face told me she was in her heaven. “God help me, my Bull. I will obey you.
Even to have him. When must I take him?”

“After I have had you many times and we can say that you
carry my child.”

She clutched at my shoulders, a tear appearing in the corner
of her eye, even though her mouth opened and closed in ecstasy. “This is not
right, to share a wife.”

“Not to you. But among us it is wise for a younger brother
to take the elder’s wife when the husband is gone to the plains.” I lifted her
chin, sympathy inside me for her torment. “I will teach him how to love you
well, my moon. He will come to watch us mate. He comes now to help me with
another custom for a new wife.”

She shrank back against the tree. “What?”

“I will take your hair.”

Eyes wide in horror, she pushed at me. “No. You may not
scalp me! I—I am your wife. You said I was!”

“Be calm. You are my wife. I do not scalp you. I take this
hair.” My fingers played in the wet curls of her pussy and in the act, I was
able to soothe her and conquer her fears. I knew because her cunt gushed with
more juice of her desire for me.

“My wife, this practice of shaving your hair is to show that
you are mine to do with as I wish. I would never harm the hair on your head. I
love it. It is my beacon. A shining beauty of the night.”

“But why must White Hawk watch you do this?”

“He comes to my tent to confirm you will be mine in word and
deed.”

“I will! I promise!”

I smiled to console her. “This is our custom. White Hawk
confirms that I have taken your innocence and that you have agreed to my
domination.”

“He will touch me?”

I nodded at my frightened wife. “Do not fear this. He is
kind. Are you not, White Hawk?”

My brother used a few words of English I had taught him. “I
will be good to you, Shining Moon.”

She glanced from him to me.

“My brother is a kind man.”

“Oh, my husband, I would hope so, but—”

“My moon, be at peace. I will begin the ceremony of your
shaving. He will finish it.”

Sensuous woman that she was, Shining Moon shivered. But when
she blushed, I knew she would also permit White Hawk to touch her intimately.

My jealousy raged inside my chest. I set my jaw, determined
to allow my brother his honor. He would finger her, caress her and then inspect
her cleanly shaven cunt. He would confirm I had claimed her and then he would
stand and watch me as once more, I fucked her and finally secured her as my
wife. I summoned my manly honor and tribal pride. I would share her for this
custom. I must. Enfolding her in the hide, I smiled broadly at her.

“Come, my lovely moon, soon you will want him as much as you
want me. I promise this is so.”

She bit her lower lip. But to take the sadness and confusion
from her face, I held her tenderly and fucked her rapidly. She went up in
flames for me and cried out as I emptied my new seed inside her. “Worry not on
this now. Come to my tipi, pretty wife, and I will help you forget your past
and accept your future.”

Bull Elk carried Fancy back to his tipi, White Hawk on his
heels. As the three entered the camp, a few braves circled around them. Fancy
recognized them as members of the raiding party who had accompanied Bull Elk
the day before to capture her. Behind them stood a dozen or more women. One
ranted and raved, her arms up in the air as she cried out. Fancy noted that the
woman’s dark hair had an uneven cut as if she had hacked away at its length.
She looked terrible, with bleary eyes and bleeding palms, a torn hide gown,
tears streaking through dirt on her cheeks. Brandishing a knife in one hand, she
shouted at Bull Elk, calling him by his Comanche name of
Patuwa kum
and
shaking her fists at him. In his own language, he responded to her.

She spat into the grass before him, muttering angry
sentiments.

Fancy clutched her husband tightly.

Handing Fancy into the arms of White Hawk, Bull Elk spoke to
the woman in mellow tones.

She scoffed at him, jabbing her knife at him while he
carefully dodged her thrusts.

“Who is this?” Fancy asked White Hawk, who pressed her
firmly against his naked chest. “Why does she do this?”

“Second wife of Knows Brown Bear sorry for his death. Must
scream. Show respect.”

Fancy stared at the woman who yanked at one of her own
braids and sawed it off as she mourned with eerie cries of despair. “She must
cut her hair?”

“She make cuts on her arms and legs too,” White Hawk
whispered.

Fancy trembled. She herself was now a wife. The wife of the
chief. Would she be expected to do the same if Bull Elk ever died?

“Not fear this,” White Hawk said into her ear. “I protect
you.”

Would he? Could he? If this was another custom of their
tribe, how could she escape it?

The widow began to keen in her grief, then dropped to her
knees and beat the earth with her fists.

Bull Elk spun toward Fancy and his brother, his mouth grim,
his shoulders down in defeat. Extending his arms, he silently took his wife
into his embrace. “Come, brother. We have much to do.”

Once inside his tipi again, Fancy tried to wipe her mind of
the scene outside. As Bull Elk stood her in the center of his tent, she
teetered on her feet. He made to remove the hide from her. But she stayed his
hand. “Tell me about that woman.”

Bull Elk glanced at White Hawk, who said a few things to him
in Comanche.

“My brother has told you true, my moon. She is the second
wife to Knows Brown Bear, the brave I killed yesterday for his disrespect to
you. She shows her grief for his loss. He deserves her tears. It is her duty to
show them to us.”

“But cutting her hair? And hurting herself with that knife?
Is that her duty too?”

He nodded. “She lived with him for many years. She must do
this. She gave him no children so she must show her grief for her failure too.
His father and mother will demand she show great agony at his loss.” He shot a
hard look at White Hawk. “In many ways.”

Fancy stilled, clutching the hide to herself to ward off the
sudden chill of his last words. “What must she do?”

“Continue to cry.”

“And hurt herself?”

He nodded again, more gravely this time.

“And what else?” Fancy persisted.

“The final choice is for Knows Brown Bear’s father.”

Fancy did not like the sound of that. “What final choice?”

Bull Elk’s sad umber eyes examined Fancy. “The woman was a
second wife. She must do as she is told. That is all you must know.”

Fancy shrank from his touch. “You must be honest with me,
Bull Elk. I am no child.”

He raised his chin, his gaze cool, his stance wide and
forbidding, his demeanor that of a revered chief of the noble Antelope tribe
who brooked no ridicule. “You are my wife. My only wife. My honor and my pride.
You are beautiful and wise. As you learn me and my people, you will see that I
require respect and obedience. I will tell you all you must know, my moon. But
for now, you need not fill your mind with that outside.” He waved a hand toward
the center of the camp. “Now let go of that hide. I will see your naked body.”

Once more, Fancy had proof she was a captive. His prisoner.
And though he told her she was his wife, she understood in his words and deeds
that she was not his equal. Just as the squaw in the center of the camp was not
Knows Brown Bear’s equal, neither was Fancy of any importance compared to the
might of
Patuwa kum
, fearsome leader of the south plains Comanche.

Resistance was futile. To dare would gain her nothing. Not
now, at any rate.
Perhaps tomorrow. Or the day afterward.

And in the meantime, she could not deny that she was
captivated by Bull Elk’s desire for her. Even before he had seized her, she had
admired his looks. And in some secret part of her body, she had desired him.
She was no nun. Though her mother had often spoken of that as a possibility for
any one of her three daughters, Fancy had known life without a man’s arms
around her was not for her. From the time she was twelve and Collette had
described to her how to please herself by stroking her nether parts and making
herself deliciously warm and wet inside, Fancy had yearned for a man to do that
to her. She had even wondered what it might be like to sample more than one
man’s loving, even mentioning it to Collette, who applauded like a giddy girl.
Now here she was, faced with that very possibility, though not in circumstances
that were the best. Yes, Fancy had liked the looks of Bull Elk. Young and
virile, handsome too, he was a rare specimen of manhood to take between her
legs. She shivered now in recognition of her need for him. Had he known how she
desired him? Had he felt her attraction to him? Was this abduction her fault?

She ran a hand over her forehead. Blame did not matter. Her
own past did not matter. The future did.

As Bull Elk strode toward her, his lips curving in a dulcet
smile, she cared less about tomorrow and more about the next minutes with him.

“I would see all of you, my moon.”

His statement, she knew, was an order. To comply with his
demands was not a problem. Because he was kind and noble. Because he desired
her as much, maybe more than she did him. She nodded at him. Her fingers
opened. The buffalo skin fell to the ground.

“A goddess, is she not, White Hawk?”

Fancy had eyes only for Bull Elk. Untying his rope from his
breechcloth, he showed his need for her. His cock surged upward, nearly to his
navel. She trembled at the sight of his balls, big, high and tight.

“Shining Moon,” murmured White Hawk, “I would taste your
skin.”

With wide eyes, she watched him advance and wait for her
permission.

Dizzy with excitement at what the two men would do to her,
she nodded at the younger man. He too untied his breechcloth and displayed his
body for her. His nest of hair around his penis was thick and dark. His balls,
smaller than his brother’s, were nonetheless impressive. She gulped, wondering
if she would today be required—or allowed—to hold their weight in her hand. He
was as attractive as Bull Elk, but built more leanly. He was also quiet, his
gaze intense and oh so arousing. Could she be seduced by him as well as his
brother? Lord, she wanted to be. And soon.

But his cock was more fascinating. Longer than Bull Elk’s,
White Hawk’s lance was blue with want of her and dribbling his own thick,
creamy seed. She bit her lower lip, desire rushing through her like a flash
flood after a thunderstorm. She swayed in such a swoon to have his mouth and
hands on her.

Supporting her with one arm, White Hawk narrowed his gaze on
her. As he lifted her chin, she noted for the first time how sky-blue his eyes
were. As she wondered how that could be, she told herself to think on it later.
After she enjoyed herself here with him and whatever he had to do to her to
conform with their customs.

So lost in her own musings, she gasped when he kissed her.
Short, sweet and hard, his kiss was more of a promise to be gentle than any
claim on her body. She reveled in his affection and stood motionless as he
retreated. Brushing his callused palms over her shoulders and her upper arms,
he bent and took one of her nipples in his hot, wet mouth. She groaned,
captivated by him. He caught her with one hand around her waist and bent her
backward as he lavished her other breast with his teeth and tongue.
Would
she ever find two other such capable lovers?

Dear God.
Her head spun. Her nails gripped White
Hawk’s back. She would never need others because these two were so attuned to
her. So careful of her.

He laid her on her back, but this time she was spread out on
a hide strung up off the ground. White Hawk pointed to the tree branches,
straight and carved, that had been used as rungs to support the affair that she
noted looked like a cot. He urged her to raise her arms over her head and
spread her legs. With the rawhide that had bound his breechcloth, he tied one
of her wrists to a post. Taking Bull Elk’s rawhide from his brother’s hands,
White Hawk bound her opposite ankle to another post. Then, removing a feather
from one of his braids, he stood over her and offered up a chant.

Whatever he said, Fancy understood he promised her
excitement. Smiling tremulously, she welcomed his attention.

Slowly, gently, he skimmed the frothy thing over her
forehead and eyelashes. Fancy quaked at the feel of it. He murmured something
as he continued, gracefully defining her nose and her mouth, the line of her
throat, the tip of one breast and then the other. Circling the feather over her
belly, he offered some incantation that she would wager was a plea to his Great
Spirit for her to conceive his brother’s child. But when he skipped over her
cunt and drew delicate patterns on her legs and tickled her toes, she laughed.

But her laughter died the moment he placed his open hands to
either side of her pussy. As she arched at the thrill of his touch, Bull Elk
bent over her and kissed her lips.

“We will take from you that maiden’s hair now, my moon.”

Licking her lips, she grinned at him. “Hurry,” she urged
him, eager once more for his cock inside her.

She heard sounds of crockery clacking and water sloshing.
She lifted her head to see Willow Talks at the entrance to the tipi. The young
woman was stirring a concoction in one bowl and handing over another to White
Hawk.

Fancy reclined again, eager, panting for the men to put
their hands on her. White Hawk set to his work, daubing warm water over her and
then some thicker substance over her pussy. Whatever it was, she did not ask.
Some things, she knew, she might be better off not knowing. She was here, tied
to this cot, and the result of this ritual was what she earnestly wished for.

But what White Hawk did to her was beyond her expectations.
He covered her in the liquids, then massaged them into her pussy lips, coating
her flesh, combing her nest of hair with his fingers and then parting her lips
as tenderly as if she were his wife.

A cold, hard object met her flesh. Shocked, she flinched,
knowing the sensation caused by the edge of a knife. She glanced down and at
once closed her eyes again. She would rather feel the sensuous passing of the
blade over her lips than see him do it. Steeling herself, she allowed her mind
to flow with the scrape of the knife. To let him part her and lift her flesh.
To enjoy the slick glide of his fingers against her pussy. To undulate and in
so doing, tell him in mute eloquence how much she appreciated his dexterity and
his sensuality.

When he said words that to her sounded final, she opened her
eyes to gaze into Bull Elk’s. He was proud of her, his generous mouth wide with
satisfaction.

“You have been good,” he said. “And now you will have your
reward.”

Her heart picked up a beat at the very idea. The rest of her
body was certainly ready for anything and everything he wanted to give her. Her
nipples ached. Her pussy gushed. Her impulse to flex her hips, to take him
inside was a frantic rhythm in her loins.

Yet Bull Elk untied her ankle, then lifted her legs. A few
brief words to White Hawk, and then her husband dipped down to run his tongue
all over her pussy. She groaned like an animal in heat, spreading her thighs
wider to welcome him inside her.

Plumping up her lips, he ran his tongue along her slit. The
wet claiming drove her wild. Crying, mad to have more, she uttered crazy
invitations to him. In his own good time, he parted her lips and found that
most sensitive nub which years ago Collette had told her how to massage for her
self-pleasure. And there, he nibbled at her tender flesh, scraping his teeth
across its tip until she screamed how she wanted him, needed him.
Please.

Parting her, he speared her core with his tongue. The feel
of him there was hot and slick, but oh, she wanted his cock. His thick,
scorching cock all the way inside her passage. She tried to close her thighs,
but he would not permit her. She yelled at him to fuck her, fuck her. Please,
please.

At her side stood White Hawk, his mouth upon one of her
nipples, his hand upon the other. And he tormented her, licking her nipple and
pinching her other one. She rocked her hips, throwing Bull Elk from his
decadent task. Her efforts threw off White Hawk too.

Both men chuckled.

She cursed them roundly.

Searing lust in his gaze, Bull Elk lifted her ankles and
draped them around his shoulders. In the next second, his cock was buried to
the hilt inside her.

She screamed, her eyes clamped tightly shut. But oh, god in
heaven, did she love every ram of his shaft, every thrust of his thighs and his
hips. She was his.

And when she opened her eyes to look at him, she knew one
thing more. He was hers.

For the next four days, she never left their tipi except to
go with her husband to the river and bathe. White Hawk did not reappear to lay
hands on her or to watch as his older brother took her to new raptures in his
tent. But he always accompanied Bull Elk and her when they went to the river to
bathe. There, as Bull Elk fondled and fucked her, his younger brother observed
them, speaking in Comanche rough words that inspired all three of them to
exhaustion upon the banks. Fancy began to crave the bawdy sessions when the
water was too cold and her blood too hot to dally without Bull Elk’s body
inside her own—and White Hawk’s commentary. Welcoming her growing enchantment
for her husband’s lovemaking, she also admitted to herself that exhibiting her
naked body to her brother-in-law while in the throes of lust was a sensual
thrill. Her husband was persistent, insatiable and a devoted lover. As a
result, Fancy accepted her capture more each day. She did not count on—or hope
for—a posse of Texas Rangers and ranchers finding her and taking her from the
Antelope tribe.