Chapter Text
The morning felt strange. Not only was the sky bruised and promising a storm, but the very atmosphere felt full, full to bursting with some sort of promise. For now I had been granted permission from Dutch and had shown my feelings to Hosea…well…I awoke with a sort of nervous excitement writhing in my tummy.
Susan and I had talked well into the night, about everything. When I told her that Dutch gave his blessing, she snorted loudly and slapped a hand over her mouth. “That man…” she had said. “He has the audacity to be breaking his lover's heart by openly courting women in front of Hosea, only to be getting all envious when Hosea wants to do the same! Giving you his blessing! He likes to talk the talk, but it's clear that Hosea is most certainly in charge of him.”
I'd wanted to protest, but then thought back to all I have seen and heard…him calling Dutch his good boy, being dominant in their lovemaking… On the surface of things, it feels as though Dutch is in charge of everything, giving his orders and his plans, but really, he defers to Hosea more than any of us really see. And I felt his pain, his jealousy, his fear, like a physical thing last night, like a blanket heavy on his shoulders…he is as afraid of losing Hosea as Hosea is of losing him.
On Dutch's orders, we all dressed nicely and rode into town in the little wagon, the men up front and the women and Arthur in the back.
“We will attend the local church service,” Dutch had said, and I had to stifle a laugh at Arthur's exaggerated eye rolling and groaning. He is only just an adult, I have to remind myself; despite his hulking size, he is a boy still. “See if we can get to know the preacher, some of the more well-to-do townsfolk. See where the money is.”
I wore the yellow dress I detest now, because it's the only gown I have that is suitable for church. The men wore suits. Susan looked stunning, as usual.
I think I unconsciously avoided Hosea… Despite my age and the fact I have been married, this is all so very new to me. I feel like a teenager courting her first man. He kept glancing at me, and I would instantly feel the pull of the invisible cord that binds us, and I would find myself grinning at him, my tummy flipping.
On the bumpy ride into town, I kept thinking…should I touch him? Put my arm through his? Pretend we are wed, like we do when we play poker? I felt as though surely I wasn't allowed to. I was still married, despite my husband rotting in the ground back home. He was in love with a man, even though the man had given his blessing. I felt so very young and shy and afraid. But excited too.
When we stopped outside the little wooden church, Hosea came to help me down. I took his arm and let him help me, and would have taken back my hand had he not reached out with his fingers and snagged mine in his. His hand was warm and dry and I gladly let him grip my hand. We walked along the path hand in hand, and…it felt so vastly different from all the poker games we had cheated, pretending to be wed, when I would hang off his arm or perch on his lap. This was…real.
I felt like a girl, walking hand in hand with a boy, for everyone to see!
“Is this alright?” Hosea asked, leaning down so I could hear him.
“Yes,” my voice came out like a shaky sigh. He squeezed my hand and I squeezed his back, and we both grinned.
In the church, Dutch and Susan went to sit near the front, Arthur went off to the side, and Hosea and I sat at the back.
It's a lovely little building, filled with candles and creaking wooden seats that smell like musty old leather. I didn't hear a word the preacher was saying. All I knew was that Hosea was sat so very close to me, so close our shoulders were touching, our legs were touching. And it's sinful…but all I could think about as the sermon wore on, was how he had looked in that river, with the water making his tight, muscular body glimmer as he moved his fist beneath the water.
I gasped, when he nudged me. I looked up as he leaned down to whisper in my ear and shivered as his face touched mine.
“I don't want to be here…” he whispered, and there was an air of childlike humour in his whisper.
“Me neither,” I said, leaning into him to whisper in his ear. The closeness of him, the scent of him…it sent a thrill of terrified excitement through my bones.
I watched him grin, although he was watching the preacher.
Without looking at me, Hosea shifted his arm to free his hand, and very gently took my hand in his.
I held it, twining my fingers through his.
He leaned down to whisper again. “I think I'm a little too far gone for having my soul saved, don't you?”
“I'm guessing you're beyond redemption,” I said, and had to stifle a giggle. It felt so…naughty…to be sat in church, holding hands with a man.
“Well, if I'm going to hell, I'm gonna make sure I have a blast while I still can,” he said, and I felt his breath touch my ear, and I just knew he did it on purpose…a great shiver wracked my body and I leaned in a little closer, so I was practically leaning against him.
“You liked that…” It wasn't a question, and the self assurance in his voice made me shiver again. It was almost the same tone of voice he used when I overheard him and Dutch in bed…
I merely grinned, pretending to be focused on the preacher, but I could feel Hosea's eyes on me.
Without warning, Hosea leaned down again and…breathed into my ear. His breath was hot, and it caressed me in a way I have never felt before in my life…it sent electricity coursing up my spine, making me shiver uncontrollably. I felt my nipples harden, my pussy clench.
“Oh you do like it…” he whispered, making sure to breathe his words against my earlobe and neck. I clutched at his hand reflexively.
“You are a wicked man, Hosea Matthews,” I gasped. I looked about me, afraid people might see, but it looked as though all eyes were on the preacher up front.
He still had his face against my neck, and so I felt him grin, his face gently touching my skin.
“I haven't shown you my wicked side yet,” he breathed, and before I knew what was happening, I felt him bite my earlobe.
God…the feeling…I gasped aloud, and that time, the woman in the seat in front of me turned to shoot me an annoyed glance.
“You need to be quiet…” Hosea chided, still whispering in my ear.
I felt my heartbeat begin to pick up speed.
“Let's try that again…”
That time, I braced myself. Very gently, I felt his teeth lightly touch my earlobe, and I felt the sensation bloom through me, clutching at me, gripping me in places I should not be thinking about while in church. I gripped his hand and held on. Again, he bit my lobe, and again the waves crashed over me…and then he stealthily moved his mouth over to kiss my neck.
I know it sounds silly…but I haven't ever felt these sensations before. I haven't ever felt someone kiss my neck or bite my earlobe. The sensations took over…I heard nothing of the sermon, I was fully attuned to Hosea and his lips trailing gentle kisses along my skin, until I felt his teeth again, this time biting my neck.
I felt my body move, my hips twitching me against him…but I did not make a sound that time.
“Good girl…” Hosea whispered.
I think that is what undid me. I think that was the moment that my fear of sex, of men, was overshadowed by my lust. As afraid as I was of going there, I knew that I needed him, urgently, and more than anything I have ever needed in my life.
I sat on the leather seat and stared ahead, but all I could feel was the pounding of my heart and the pulsing between my legs.
Hosea sat up straight as well, also watching the sermon.
In the distance, a low rumble of thunder grumbled.
I chanced a look at him, and saw he was smiling, although he wasn't looking at me. I took in his chiselled cheekbones, his square jaw, his silver blonde hair…my god…I wanted to kiss him then.
I don't know if he sensed my urgency, but he turned to look at me, and he smiled in such a way that told me he knew…he knew what I wanted.
Softly, Hosea untangled his fingers from my tight grasp and placed my hand on his leg, his big, warm hand over mine.
My heart was pounding and my head swimming. All I wanted to do was touch him, feel him, my fingers flexing greedily beneath his hand.
“I can see you thinking wicked thoughts…” he said, and again, the woman in front of my seat turned and tutted at me.
“Shall we go?” Hosea asked me.
I peered up into his warm and searching eyes and nodded.
I felt drunk, or drugged, as I got to my feet beside him and we made our way to the door at the back of the church. I saw people turn to watch us, I felt a ripple go through the crowd as we quietly excused ourselves. And I saw Dutch and Susan amongst those watching, and felt a twist of unease at Dutch's dark eyes.
Honestly, it's all a bit of a blur. I was in the street, holding his hand, marvelling at the yellow-dark bruising of the storm heavy sky, startled by the lightning that touched the dark clouds and the rolls of thunder that mumbled not long after. Then we were in a little hotel lobby, as Hosea booked us a room, and then I was climbing the stairs, then I was sat on a bed, my heart hammering.
Hosea stood by the door, and he was frowning a little.
The rain began then, tapping at the dark windows, growing very quickly into a downpour.
“You're afraid,” he said, his voice gentle, quiet. “You don't need to be afraid…”
I shook my head, but no words would come out.
Hosea’s brow creased, and he came over to sit beside me on the bed. I felt the mattress dip and tip me into him, and I gladly let myself lean against him.
“Nothing needs to happen, if you're not ready,” he said. And his voice was true, his words genuine… God…I have felt that way a thousand times before…waiting, bracing myself, praying that it would be quick…
“It's not that I'm not ready,” I said, and my voice trembled pathetically. “I…it's like there are two halves of me, Hosea…one half is terrified, because I know what sex is like…but there's this other half of me, this wild and wanton side…since I met you, all I want is…” I let my voice trail off, afraid to say what I was truly thinking.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I let out a laugh that sounded like a sigh. “My body…is telling me that…it wants you, that it can feel so good…but my brain is telling me you're just going to hurt me like he did…”
“Oh my Bessie…” Hosea very gently took my face in his hands and planted a kiss between my eyes. I felt his lips, warm and moist, touch my skin, and it sent me shivering all over again.
A loud crack of thunder sounded outside, making us both jump, then laugh. The room was dark, storm dark, and rain lashed at the panes of glass with tremendous force. Another rumble of thunder sounded, and the room lit as lightning flashed.
I turned to him, and although I was afraid, I found myself reaching for his face, to turn him to me, so that my lips could find his. Just the very act of making a move, of kissing a man of my own volition, rather than being held still and sucked upon…it was strange. And it was magical. God…it was all so magical.
His lips met mine so very gently, hungrily, yet soft. And I felt as though I were in control…I set the pace, I set the rhythm. He let me lead, and the longer the kiss went on, the more needily my mouth sought his. I found my hands entwined in his hair, I found my tongue touching his, and my lord…it felt wonderful. With each sweep of our tongues, my fear evaporated a little more. I felt his hands on me, in my hair, on my face, I felt his body against mine, hot and hard, and all the time, thunder cracked the sky open above us and rain hammered down.
When we finally parted, both gasping for air, I pulled him in again, and again, until his kiss was all there was in my world.
I found that my hands were running over him, exploring the curves and lines of him, his muscular arms and his tight chest and stomach, his legs, his face and hair.
A loud clap of thunder had us both jump again, ending the kiss.
I looked at him through the gloom, at his flushed face and his dark eyes, and I wanted him then.
“We don't need to do anything more than kiss,” he said, his hand still caressing my face. “This is alright. There's no expectations, no demands…you're safe to say no, you know…”
I stared at him, still feeling his mouth on mine, the aftertouch tingling my skin.
“I…” I couldn't form the words.
“I can imagine that you never got the chance to say no to him,” Hosea said gently, his thumb stroking my cheek, his eyes probing, touching my very soul. “Or if you did, he wouldn't take no for an answer…”
I felt tears begin to surge up through my sinuses to sting my eyes. My silence was answer enough to him.
“I won't ever hurt you like that,” he said, leaning in to kiss my forehead again. “I won't ever force you. I won't ever do anything you don't like. I won't do anything without your permission.”
I nodded against his hand, overcome with feelings I didn't want to be feeling.
“I want this,” I said, my voice thick with tears and lust and old, old sorrow, “I want you. But I am afraid. I am. My body wants you. My heart, my soul…but my memories, my mind…I know that you aren't him. I know that you won't hurt me. But still…”
I leaned in and kissed him again, but gentle, that time, slowly, savouring the feel of his lips on mine.
I sat back and jumped again as thunder rolled.
“I don’t even really know how to touch a man…not properly. I'm used to simply…being used.”
“You only ever been with him?” Hosea asked me.
I nodded.
“You ever talked about sex with Susan? How it's supposed to be?”
“Not really,” I said.
The memory of walking in and finding her and Dutch together flickered through my mind.
“I…one time, I accidentally walked in on Susan and Dutch…”
Something flickered through Hosea's expression then; his jealousy, his hurt…but it was gone as soon as it came.
“It was that moment, right then, that I realised that…how my husband had been treating me…that wasn't how sex is supposed to be. I realised that…I wanted that.” I felt my face flush, but I couldn't hide it.
Hosea grinned at me. “What did you see?” he asked me, an eyebrow raised.
“He…he was licking her…down there…”
Hosea licked his lips, perhaps unconsciously, but his grin deepened.
“How long did you watch?” he asked.
“Only a few seconds!” I said, my voice defensive. But he merely laughed at me.
“And what did you do, after you saw that?” he asked.
I swallowed and felt my pussy clench at the memory.
“I touched myself…” I said, my face on fire. The admission felt so wicked, so bold that it simply spurred me on. “I touched myself and I thought about the handsome outlaw I had seen at the ranch. I imagined him doing the same to me…”
“Handsome outlaw?” Hosea asked, but I could see, from the look on his face, that he knew very well I was talking about him.
“Yes, very handsome. Blonde. Talks the talk. I imagined what it might feel like having his mouth down there.”
Thunder rumbled again, but quieter. I covered my face with my hands and giggled, feeling embarrassed.
“Is that what you'd like me to do?” he asked. “Would you like me to show you how it feels?”
I felt my pussy twitch as he spoke, and thought, again, of Dutch licking and sucking the wet, pink folds of skin between Susan's legs. “Perhaps…”
Hosea smiled at me. “I will do to you whatever you want. All the ways you should have been touched, all the love you should have been given…”
“I…I honestly don't know how…” I tried to tell him, I wanted to tell him how inexperienced I am, but I simply couldn't form the words. How could I tell him that I had merely been a piece of meat? How to tell him I had no clue how to bring him pleasure? Sex, for me, had always been me bent over, enduring whatever he had felt like doing to me until he was done.
“Do I have your permission to take this dress off? And we can see where that leads us.”
A million thoughts cascaded down from my head to shiver over my body. Mostly about how fat my tummy is, how mottled my skin can look, how I must look to him, the most beautiful man I had ever seen…I almost wanted to say no, but instead found that I was nodding, and touching his hands as he slowly began to unbutton the dress.
One by one, he unfastened them, and I kept my hands over his as his fingers moved. I felt my dress pop open with each button undone, and each time, each button slipped through its hole, my heart beat a little harder.
Once he reached the bottom of the bodice, he stopped, looked at me. “May I undress you, sweetheart? It's alright to say no…”
“You may,” I said, my heart in my mouth. Together, we pulled my arms free and pulled the dress down and off me. I was only wearing a chemise and drawers under the dress. I felt my breasts sag, without the bodice of the dress to hold them, and I could see my niples through the sheer fabric, and I felt so ugly, so round and fat and ugly.
“You beautiful woman,” Hosea breathed, contradicting my own thoughts about myself.
“I think I might disappoint you,” I said, trying to cover my big, ungainly breasts.
“Oh my love…you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen…how can you not see yourself the way that I do? Lay down for me?”
I did as he asked, settling myself on the pillows. My head was closer to the window then, and the rain was making gentle music against the glass, thunder banging, every now and then.
Hosea, still fully dressed in his Sunday suit, settled himself on the bed before me.
“I want you to show me how you like to be touched,” he said, and he peered down on me with a mixture of lust and care. “I'm not going to touch you yet…I want you to show me how you touch yourself. I want to see how you make yourself feel good. Is that alright?”
I felt my tummy flip at his words, but I nodded. Slowly, I let my legs fall open. Hosea took one knee in his arms and held me gently, working a warm, rough hand up my bare thigh.
God…the feeling was magical. Even though I still had on my underwear, the debauchery of laying there, on a bed, in my drawers, legs parted in front of him…the embarrassment…it somehow felt…good. Almost like the shame of what I was doing was turning me on, even more than his hand stroking my thigh.
“Touch yourself for me…” Hosea spoke so softly, but his face was hard and full of wanting.
Thunder rumbled again, and it mingled with the whoosh of blood past my ears. None of it felt real.
Slowly, slowly, I slipped my hand down and under the waistband of my drawers, and I gasped at how wet I was already.
“That's it…you show me what makes you feel good…”
He held my gaze as I began to rub myself, and…I have never felt such a sensation before. Touching myself like that, while someone was watching me…I cannot describe the feeling.
I let my fingertip roam over my swollen bud, doing it just the way that I like, staring into his eyes as I touched myself.
“Good girl…” he breathed, still stroking my inner thigh, “that's it…I want you to feel good…”
I felt a small moan leave my lips at the praise and pleasure shot through me. I moved my hand faster, so that my juices became audible, sloshing, almost crackling as I rubbed my bud.
“You're wet…”
“Very wet.”
Hosea sighed, and it came out almost as a moan.
“Should…should I touch you now?” I asked, stilling my hand.
“No my darling…I'm going to show you how you how loving should feel first…I'm going to show you how this should be.”
I began to rub myself again and leaned into the feeling.
Hosea bent to kiss my thigh, and the sensation of his lips on my skin…I let out a moan that I simply could not have kept in. He kissed my thigh again, then again, moving up and up, closer to my hand, to my wet drawers. He finished with a nibble, making me gasp and moan again.
I closed my eyes, flicking and circling my clit, the sensation growing, the wetness sloshing more loudly.
I gasped again as he began to trail kisses up my other thigh, gentle, warm kisses that sank into the soft skin. Again, he bit the plump skin, making me moan.
“Please may I see you?” Hosea asked.
I stopped moving my hand and peered up at him.
“You can say no. You can ask me to stop at any time…”
Without a word, I sat up and pulled my chemise up and over my head to fall soundlessly to the floor and I lay back down. I was still afraid, still shy of being exposed…but the lust was clouding my inhibitions.
“Oh my god…” Hosea gasped.
He moved, let go of my thigh to lean over me.
“You beautiful, beautiful woman…”
He sank onto me then, kissed my mouth, my chin, my neck, then moved down to take a nipple into his mouth.
I cried out, my hips bucked against him.
I felt his tongue swirl over my hard nipple, I felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin.
I have never, ever felt such a sensation before.
Each kiss, each bite, sent wave after wave of pleasure down, down to my wet pussy.
He moved over to tend to my other breast, and I found myself grasping his hair, wrapping my legs about him to push him down onto my body as he worked.
His clothed body against my naked skin felt divine.
Once he was done with my nipple, he began to trail kisses down, down, over my tummy, down to the band of my drawers.
I wanted to tell him to stop, that I was too fat, that I knew my tummy was too big, too round, but the feeling of his tongue, his teeth on skin that had never been kissed before…
“Keep touching yourself…”
Without hesitation, then, I reached into my drawers again and began to rub, faster, harder. I felt my hips buck as the sensations gripped me.
“I love watching you pleasure yourself,” Hosea said, sitting himself up between my legs. “Look how wet you are…you've soaked right through the cotton…may I?”
He gently placed his hand between my legs, over my drawers, resting his hand against mine through the wet material. And even though he wasn't touching me directly, I swear I felt the sensation of his hand on me.
“Yes,” I gasped, and began to work myself faster.
His hand stayed on mine, over my hand, feeling me touching myself.
“Beautiful…just beautiful…” he gasped.
I could feel myself getting closer and closer, and I was honestly astounded just how much more pleasure I felt simply by having him beside me. It was as if every touch was amplified by ten. The room was filled with the sound of my wetness, my hand sloshing and tapping, my gasping breaths and Hosea's low, appreciative sighs, mingled with the rain and the thunder.
“I want…I want you to touch me…” I gasped, still working my wet pussy beneath his hand. “Please…please I want it…”
Hosea smiled at me and took his hand away, sat back. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.
“Yes! Yes!” I gasped. I was rubbing myself fast, hard,and I knew I would finish very soon if I did not stop.
Hosea grinned wickedly at me and reached down, hooked his fingers into the band of my drawers and tugged them down. There was an awkward moment of me having to lift my behind as he pulled them off, but I was too far gone in lust to care.
Once my drawers were off, Hosea sat back and stared down at my hand. “Don't stop,” he said, in the same authoritative tone I had heard him use on Dutch.
I felt very exposed. I was fully naked, my legs spread and he was watching me intently. But again, the embarrassment only seemed to heighten my arousal.
Slower, then, I went back to rubbing and circling my slippery bud. The sounds of my wetness were tenfold, without the fabric to smother it. And my word…the feeling…I could feel myself clenching, I could feel the wetness, the jolts of pleasure reaching up, up into the very core of me.
“You are wonderful…”
I wrenched my eyes open to look at him. He looked so handsome, still dressed in a full suit, crouched between my legs, his eyes fixed on my hand. And I could see he was hard…I could see he was ready, his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers.
And this may sound silly but…simply being naked, being seen to, being admired and lusted after and feeling such pleasure, all in the presence of a fully clothed man…it's utterly foreign to me. And its beautiful.
“I'm going to kiss you…if that's alright?” Hosea asked. I nodded. “Keep pleasuring yourself, keep rubbing that beautiful little pussy for me, alright?”
I nodded, but slowed my hand.
Hosea bent and began to kiss up my thigh like before. Gentle kisses, up, up, up, and all the while I slowly toyed with my clit, feeling each nerve ending tingle and spark at his every touch. Up, up, until he was almost right at my hand. Then very softly, he planted a kiss on my wet fingers.
I think that I moaned. Even though his kiss merely touched my moving fingers, I swear that I felt those lips on my bud. I felt my pussy throb, contract, and I had to stop my fingertip or I would have been done.
I felt him smile against my hand. Again, he kissed my fingers, before moving to my other leg.
The kisses he began to leave along my other thigh were wet with my juices.
“My good girl,” he murmured between kisses. “you taste divine…”
I began to move my finger once again, rubbing slow circles, thinking of Dutch licking Susan and knowing that Hosea was going to stop at my hand again. Each kiss, each nibble, got closer and closer and each kiss built up the feeling beneath my hand.
He paused, theatrically, his lips over my hand.
“Please…” I gasped, and rubbed faster, “please…”
With deliberate slowness, he bent to kiss my wet fingers again.
“Ugh!” I cried out, I couldn't help it.
Again, I had to stop masturbating otherwise I would have finished, right there, in his face.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please, Hosea, please…”
I knew what I wanted, and he knew it too, but I was too shy to push out the words.
He licked his wet lips and peered at me. “Please?” he asked.
“Please…”
The bastard pretended ignorance. Always the actor.
As shy as I was, I was almost at bursting point. My heart pounding, I moved my hand off my pussy and simply lay there, lips open, exposed before him. I felt the cold air touch my hot, wet flesh and I felt a thrill of shame and lust wash over me. Thunder still grumbled, rain still lashed.
“Tell me what you want,” Hosea said, his voice almost grainy with his lust.
I reached down to touch his face, my fingers wet against his skin. He leaned into my hand and lapped at my fingers, licking the juices off them one by one.
I felt my pussy contract.
“Please…” I begged him.
“Tell me what you want,” he said again, with such gentle authority.
I took in a deep breath and covered my face with my hand that smelled of my sex, wet with saliva and my juices.
“Please…please…would you lick me?”
I could feel my face ablaze beneath my hand.
“Good girl…” Hosea whispered, and then bent to press his tongue against my wet slit.
I cried out. I couldn't help it. When his tongue reached my already swollen clit, I felt my hips buck and I cried out again. I was already so close to orgasm that his touches were simply sensational.
He reached down to part my lips and then…he devoured me.
How can I even describe it? No one in my life has ever done that to me. No one has ever touched me to give me pleasure. Yet there I was, naked and spread open on a hotel bed, while a gorgeous man in a suit licked me. Over and over his tongue swirled over my clit, pressing down as his lips closed around my bud to suck it up and into his mouth. I felt his stubble touch me, I felt his teeth, every now and then, nibble and nip at my pussy lips. It was ecstacy, it was agony, somehow, laying back and feeling such sensations for the first time.
I don't know when, but my hands found their way into his hair, as I lost myself in the feeling, and my hips jerked, my pelvis ground up and up to chase the sensations. I could hear my moans mingling in with the thunder, filling the room, but I could not stop myself. I had already been so close to orgasm before he began that I was there in moments.
“Oh Hosea!” I gasped, I moaned out his name as the orgasm began to build, “don't stop, oh my god oh god oh god oh, ohhh!”
I felt the orgasm take me like never before. It seemed to rip a hole in reality, so that there was nothing else, only that feeling, crashing, spasming, grasping me. I cried out, again and again, and still Hosea licked. I was vaguely aware that I was suddenly very wet down there, and that he had moved his tongue down, to slide inside of me as I contracted around it, gripping it, over and over.
The bed creaked, my hips jumped and jerked, and it went on and on and on.
I lay in the afterglow of the orgasm, shocked, spent, warm and sated. Slowly, reality began to creep back in, and I found Hosea laying beside me. He was peering into my face.
“Are you alright?” he asked me, as he smoothed back hair from my damp forehead.
I could still feel the aftershocks gripping me, pulsing.
“I'm alright,” I said, and I leaned over to kiss him, still breathless, gasping into his mouth. His lips were hot and damp and smelled and tasted of my pussy. I kissed him deeply and I savoured the tang of my own arousal, feeling suddenly very calm and safe and…powerful. “Thank you,” I gasped, between kisses. “Hosea…that was lovely.”
“This is what you deserve,” he said, and he frowned at me, his brows creased. “This is how you deserve to be loved. This!”
I stroked his face, filled with such love. I let my hand roam over his body, his sunday suit, to run over the muscles. I remembered the bulge in his trousers then, and began to feel shy again.
“I want to touch you,” I told him.
“You don't have to,” he said. “This is all for you. You don't have to feel obliged to do more.”
“I…I want to. I want to.”
He peered into my face, searching.
“You don't need to do anything you feel uncomfortable with,” Hosea said.
I sat myself up, no longer so self conscious about being naked. “I want to feel you,” I said. I thought back to watching him and Dutch in the river, and how his hand moved just below the surface. “I want to make you moan and gasp,” I said.
Lust lashed his features then.
“I want to touch you…”
He sat up, and I saw his erection, straining against his trousers. Bolder than I thought possible, I reached down to touch the straining fabric.
Hosea gasped and pressed himself against my hand.
“You're…big…” I said, running the palm of my hand up and down the length of it. It was rock solid and so much more substantial than Miles. The length and girth of that thing…I very suddenly wanted it inside me.
“I'm not so big…”
I smiled at him and squeezed the tip. I felt the wetness through the fabric.
“You'll have me soiling my pants if you carry on like that, madam…”
I smiled at him, feeling oddly…powerful, somehow. Knowing that this dangerous outlaw was mine.
I kissed him again, and kept my hand where it was, delighting in the little gasps he made into my mouth, the thrusts he made against me that I knew he could not help.
It felt as though some other woman had taken over me then. Moving my hands to unbutton his jacket, flinging it aside, sliding down the suspenders, some other woman's hands unbuttoning his shirt. I kissed him all the while I unfastened the buttons.
“I haven't ever really touched a man like this,” I said, tugging his shirt from his trousers.
I stared in awe at his toned body, at his muscular chest, his flat stomach. He was like a work of art. Little scars peppered his body, a bullet wound on his shoulder, a knife slash on his stomach. He was utterly glorious.
He shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and simply waited.
I simply couldn't help but run my fingertips over his skin, over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, combing my fingers through the sparse, almost translucent hair there. His nipples hardened beneath my fingertips, and I lingered there, toying with them, delighting in the hardness that my touch had brought.
“You are glorious,” I breathed, and bent to kiss him, to kiss his nipples, his chest, his stomach. “You are…”
“I ain't nothing special,” he said.
“I disagree…” I leaned in to kiss his mouth again, then his cheeks, his neck, behind his ears, as he had done to me in the church. All the while I kissed him. I toyed with his hard cock, marvelling in the size, the hardness of it.
“Oh you good girl…” Hosea breathed. “That feels good…too good…”
It felt strange, to be touching a man like this without any consequences.
I sat back up and looked at him, took in his beauty. I glanced down at the bulge in my hand, and I felt my pussy bloom back to life.
“God, I bet that would feel nice inside me…”
Hosea grunted and put his hand over mine. “We don't have to…”
“I want to,” I assured him. “God I want to…”
My fear was almost non-existent then, as my pussy began to need his touch once more.
I wanted to see it…I wanted to feel it. I pulled his trousers away from his body and the thing seemed to spring out and into my hand.
We both gasped.
My lord…he looks nothing like Miles. He is big, not monstrous, but bigger than I imagined they could grow. It was thick and hard and it glistened at the end, precum beading at the tip before my eyes.
I grasped it and began to stroke the length of it, up and down, staring, fascinated.
“May I?” Hosea asked.
I looked up at him, startled from my trance.
He put his hand over mine and guided my movement, gripping my fist.
“Like this…” he gasped, as he began to guide my hand up and down, up and down.
I was simply mesmerised, and I could feel my already soaking pussy become hotter, wetter. I watched the dark pink, wet tip, appear and disappear in my fist as we both worked his hard cock.
I could hear the wetness of him, our hands tapping and moving, massaging, squeezing.
“Uhh,” Hosea let out a guttural sound, like nothing I have ever heard. I looked up and the breath caught in my throat. His head was tipped back, his mouth hung open, and his eyes were rolled back into his head so that only the whites were showing. He looked gone, lost in the feeling, as he used my hand, moving us faster.
I felt my pussy ache for that big hard cock, and the pleasure that was evident on his face was pulling and pulling at my sex.
“You like this?” I asked.
He slowed the hand and he blinked his eyes back into focus.
“I like this.”
He let go of my hand and reached out to cup my face in both his hands, then he kissed me. Slow, wet, beautiful kisses. I began to move my hand again, just how he had showed me, and he seemed to drift away. He stopped his kisses and I watched him bite his lip, I watched his eyes roll back again.
And my god…he looked beautiful. He looked so utterly beautiful, almost entranced by my touch.
“Please, Please, will you touch me?” I asked, feeling bolder, feeling needy as my arousal grew.
Again, Hosea snapped back to reality, and, without hesitation, reached down and gently began to circle my bud with his first two fingers, just as I had done earlier.
I gasped at his touch, but my lord…it felt amazing.
And we stayed that way, as the thunder rumbled, growing more distant, as the rain slowed down to a trickle, both of us knelt up on the bed, pleasuring each other. He with his eyes rolled back, panting, gasping, moaning a little, sometimes, and me whining and my pussy sloshing as he played with me.
“I want you inside me,” I gasped, and the need was real.
“You beautiful girl…only if this is what you want?”
“I want you, I want you Hosea…”
He smiled, and slipped his index finger inside me.
I cried out, the feeling unexpected.
“You will have me inside you,” Hosea breathed, “don't you worry…”
He began to move his finger inside me, slowly, at first, pressing upwards. It felt nice, his long finger filling me up, slippery, sliding in and out. But then such unexpected pleasure jolted me that I cried out loud.
“Ohhhh!”
It was like he had pressed a button. Over and over, he pushed on that sweet spot, and I felt my own eyes rolling back then. I felt weak and gone, the feeling striking me again and again and again.
“That nice?” he asked me.
“Oh god Hosea…don't stop!”
I don't know if he pushed me to lay back down or if I simply collapsed, but I was on my back, with him over me, working my pussy with those magic fingers. It was like nothing I have ever felt before.
“Please, please, I need you inside me,” I gasped. “Please, please…”
Hosea slowed his hand and slid his finger out of me. My eyes flickered open. “Please, I’m ready, I need you…”
“Good girl…” he reached out and touched his wet fingertip to my lips, and I gladly opened my mouth to suck my juices from his finger. He slid the finger out and kissed me, and I felt the tang and slic of my juices slippery against our tongues.
Hosea shrugged out of his trousers and kicked them aside.
I lay back and I couldn't help but touch myself as he positioned himself above me.
And…as turned on and safe as I felt…I was afraid. Faster than lightning, images of past times with Miles flashed through my thoughts.
“Are you sure that you want this?” Hosea asked.
“I want this,” I said. “I want you.”
“Keep touching yourself,” Hosea said. “Keep on rubbing that bud. Don't stop.”
I nodded, and did as he asked, masturbating unashamedly as he pulled me closer to him.
“We can stop any time you need to,” he assured me. “If you need to stop, please, tell me to stop…”
“I will,” I gasped.
I felt him push the tip of his hard cock against my soaked pussy, and I closed my eyes.
“Keep on pleasuring yourself…”
I nodded, rubbed myself faster, gasping as the feeling of another orgasm looming began to touch at me.
Slowly, slowly, I felt him slide inside me. I felt him fill me up, and it was as if he had been made to fit me perfectly. He sank into me, and we both gasped. I felt my pussy grip him, I felt him hit that sweet spot his fingers had awakened, and I thrust my hips up to push him in deeper.
Slowly, he began to fuck me. He leaned back and began to find a rhythm. All the while, I rubbed my clit, as instructed, and felt double pleasure, both from my own fingers and his solid cock inside me.
“Oh fuck…you beautiful girl…”
“Harder,” I gasped, rubbing myself faster. “Please, Hosea, fuck me harder…”
I had never in my life imagined I would be uttering words like that to anyone, but there I was, frantically masturbating while he fucked me.
Hosea reached down to grip my hips, to hold me steady, and he did as I had begged him to.
I know I was crying out, I simply no longer cared. I knew I was crying out, moaning, gasping, and Hosea, too, was grunting and making the most delicious little mewels of pleasure. The room was alive with the sounds of our lovemaking; the sloshing of my wet pussy as he pounded me, as I rubbed myself, the slap of his balls against my skin, the agonised groan and squeak of the bed.
I have never felt so full, so beautifully touched in all my life. Every thrust was pure ecstacy. This was nothing like the sex I have experienced, that left me bleeding, weeping. This was divine, this was almost making me scream.
I chanced a look up at him, and my god…his slim, muscular body, his gorgeous face, contorted with pleasure, his eyes rolled back so only the whites were showing… A single tear was creeping down his face, and he was grunting, gasping, utterly gone.
“Hosea…” I moaned his name, almost as if I could somehow pull his very soul down into my own. “Oh Hosea…”
His eyes flickered back into focus, and he gazed down on me as he thrust in and in and in.
I felt another orgasm begin, I felt it suddenly bloom into being and I frantically rubbed my bud.
“Oh god I'm..I'm…Hosea!”
Just before the orgasm took me, I felt him lean down, gather me into his arms and simply hold me.
“Good girl…my good girl…that's it, cum for me…”
I think I almost screamed, my face pressed into his shoulder as I spasmed against him. I felt my pussy grip him, squeeze again and again and again as the orgasm tore through me. It was stronger than the last one, bigger, it was like nothing I had ever known before.
Hosea began to moan then, his thrusts grew uneven, and I knew he was there as well.
Fast, almost frantically, he pulled out of me and gripped his cock, his hand almost touching my own hand, he thrust into his fist and cried out.
I felt him cum, I felt it squirt out to streak across my belly. Line after line, slashed across my skin, hot enough to make me gasp.
“Oh Bessie!” he cried out, “Oh lord, Bessie!”
And then I felt Hosea's mouth on mine, I felt him gently kissing me and my cries were drowned by his mouth.
“You're alright…you're alright my love, my beautiful girl, my good girl, you are all right now…”
He was uttering reasurences as I came apart in his arms, between gentle kisses that stole my cries.
Time seemed to stand still. I could just make out the rain tapping at the glass, and the very distant rumbles of thunder. Hosea lay on top of me, his mess slick and hot between our bodies.
I ran my hand over his back, smoothed out his hair that was damp with perspiration, and simply held him.
I have never felt this before. I have never laid, sleepy, in the arms of someone who loves me the same way that I love them. I have never had sex that wasn't terrifying, painful or tedious…
“Are you alright?” Hosea asked me, but I could tell he was half asleep. He had roused himself to check on me.
I smiled and I smoothed my hand over his forehead.
“I'm alright. Promise.”
“You promise?” he asked, and his speech was almost slurred with exhaustion.
“I promise,” I said.
I relaxed against the pillows, and I listened to the rain and to my lover's heavy breathing, and…I was alright.
I am alright. For the first time in a long time. I am safe and loved and well.
By the time we left the hotel, dusk was falling and the wagon was gone. We slowly made our way back to camp, hand in hand, sloshing through the puddles the rain left in its wake. The others made a show of our disappearance, laughing and claiming to have sent out a search party.
I looked to Dutch, a little scared of his reaction, but he loudly joined in with the theatrics.
As soon as the banter died down and I helped myself to some food, Hosea went to Dutch. I tried not to be so obviously watching them, but I couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but them. They sat close, their heads together, Hosea’s hand resting on his leg.
Dutch flicked a glance at me, every now and then, but he didn't look overly hurt.
“Alright, time for bed,” Dutch announced, as full dark had fallen. “Some of us, who were actually working today, have things to do in the morning…Miss Grimshaw, how about sharing my tent this evening?”
And that was that. All of a sudden, the dynamics of the camp had shifted. Susan, grumbling about inconvenience, went off to sleep in Dutch's tent. And now…it's dark, and I'm utterly spent. But Hosea is lying beside me, with his arm flung over me, in Susan's bed that he's pushed against mine. Just like that. Just like that, my world has changed, again. And I simply can't stop smiling.