this loving,
this was expansive, thrilling, unique. And she relished each second with this
man. Valued each blessing that had come to her since her husband had shown her
the glories of fucking and the raptures of love.
White Hawk traced her lips with a fingertip, his expression
raw with hurt. His cock stayed inside her for long minutes, lax when he finally
withdrew. But he held her tightly in his arms all through the night.
As dawn speared the clouds with weak rays of run, White Hawk
rose from their cot. Fancy stirred immediately, attuned to his haste and
questioning the reason for it.
“Stay,” he urged her with a hand up. “I will go.”
She sat up, her bare breasts bobbing and drawing his
appreciative gaze. “Bring Bull Elk to me quickly.”
White Hawk nodded, but his gaze grew dim and bleak with
jealousy. “I wish to have you every night my brother leaves you. I will. I
must.”
“Only if he approves.”
“No. It is custom. I am to have you if he is not here. And I
will raise Blade as mine, just as Bull Elk will raise as his own this child I
have made with you this night. You are my moon, as you are my brother’s.”
She stood, not caring for her nakedness, but wanting only to
ensure no trouble came between the brothers. “I care for you both. Do not hurt
each other over me.”
He pressed her to him, one hand delving down her spine and
pressing a finger into her asshole. “I will have you. All of you, my moon.”
She shivered in lusty delight that White Hawk would even
think to toy with her dark hole. “I am yours. As I am Bull Elk’s. Have me as
you will, I welcome your love. But for now, go and bring him to me. I must
welcome him home and into my body.”
White Hawk scowled. “This is mine.” He sank his fingers into
her still swollen and wet folds to torment her with his gentle strokes. “We can
both love you at the same time.”
She caught a breath at the risqué idea to have two men at
once. Sinking her hands into the wealth of his long black hair, she kissed him
with lingering desire. “Bring him to me. He needs me.”
“As I do.”
“As you do,” she confirmed and hoped she might make both men
happy.
But he did not return and the camp came alive with whoops
and chants.
Fancy dressed, alarm whipping through her. Where was Bull
Elk? Why had he not come to her arms?
She lifted the flap of her tipi when Willow Talks strode
inside. Her face was drawn, pale, her lips thin.
“What has happened?” she asked her. “Where is Bull Elk?”
Willow Talks raised an arm across the flap to prohibit her
from leaving the tent. “Do not go. Come with me.”
Fancy glared down at the young woman’s hand upon her wrist.
“Let me go to Bull Elk. I—”
“He is not here.”
Fancy stared at her, overcome with despair at her words.
“Where is he?”
“He does not return with the others.”
“ What?” Fancy shook her off, then headed out to the
main campfire. There a group of braves stood recounting their raid and shouting
for their wives or mothers. Over the months, Fancy had come to know more
Comanche and so she understood their alarming words.
“Where is Patuwa kum ?” she demanded of them in their
language.
They paused to glare at her, but did not respond. Instead,
they checked one another’s eyes.
What did they hide?
She repeated her question. When no one spoke, she strode to
her husband’s best friend and grabbed his wrist. “Where is my husband?”
“He fell from his horse.” He blinked and glanced away, shame
written on his features.
“Why? How?” To blame the horse was the way the Comanche
covered the humiliation of falling in battle.
“His horse failed him,” said another. “He fell when River
Ends took silver from the long knives’ guns.”
“A bullet.” Oh, no. “Did Patuwa kum take
silver, too?”
“I do not know.”
“You did not look? Did not pick him up? You did not help
him?” This was outrageous. Fancy whirled to look at each brave. They
this was expansive, thrilling, unique. And she relished each second with this
man. Valued each blessing that had come to her since her husband had shown her
the glories of fucking and the raptures of love.
White Hawk traced her lips with a fingertip, his expression
raw with hurt. His cock stayed inside her for long minutes, lax when he finally
withdrew. But he held her tightly in his arms all through the night.
As dawn speared the clouds with weak rays of run, White Hawk
rose from their cot. Fancy stirred immediately, attuned to his haste and
questioning the reason for it.
“Stay,” he urged her with a hand up. “I will go.”
She sat up, her bare breasts bobbing and drawing his
appreciative gaze. “Bring Bull Elk to me quickly.”
White Hawk nodded, but his gaze grew dim and bleak with
jealousy. “I wish to have you every night my brother leaves you. I will. I
must.”
“Only if he approves.”
“No. It is custom. I am to have you if he is not here. And I
will raise Blade as mine, just as Bull Elk will raise as his own this child I
have made with you this night. You are my moon, as you are my brother’s.”
She stood, not caring for her nakedness, but wanting only to
ensure no trouble came between the brothers. “I care for you both. Do not hurt
each other over me.”
He pressed her to him, one hand delving down her spine and
pressing a finger into her asshole. “I will have you. All of you, my moon.”
She shivered in lusty delight that White Hawk would even
think to toy with her dark hole. “I am yours. As I am Bull Elk’s. Have me as
you will, I welcome your love. But for now, go and bring him to me. I must
welcome him home and into my body.”
White Hawk scowled. “This is mine.” He sank his fingers into
her still swollen and wet folds to torment her with his gentle strokes. “We can
both love you at the same time.”
She caught a breath at the risqué idea to have two men at
once. Sinking her hands into the wealth of his long black hair, she kissed him
with lingering desire. “Bring him to me. He needs me.”
“As I do.”
“As you do,” she confirmed and hoped she might make both men
happy.
But he did not return and the camp came alive with whoops
and chants.
Fancy dressed, alarm whipping through her. Where was Bull
Elk? Why had he not come to her arms?
She lifted the flap of her tipi when Willow Talks strode
inside. Her face was drawn, pale, her lips thin.
“What has happened?” she asked her. “Where is Bull Elk?”
Willow Talks raised an arm across the flap to prohibit her
from leaving the tent. “Do not go. Come with me.”
Fancy glared down at the young woman’s hand upon her wrist.
“Let me go to Bull Elk. I—”
“He is not here.”
Fancy stared at her, overcome with despair at her words.
“Where is he?”
“He does not return with the others.”
“ What?” Fancy shook her off, then headed out to the
main campfire. There a group of braves stood recounting their raid and shouting
for their wives or mothers. Over the months, Fancy had come to know more
Comanche and so she understood their alarming words.
“Where is Patuwa kum ?” she demanded of them in their
language.
They paused to glare at her, but did not respond. Instead,
they checked one another’s eyes.
What did they hide?
She repeated her question. When no one spoke, she strode to
her husband’s best friend and grabbed his wrist. “Where is my husband?”
“He fell from his horse.” He blinked and glanced away, shame
written on his features.
“Why? How?” To blame the horse was the way the Comanche
covered the humiliation of falling in battle.
“His horse failed him,” said another. “He fell when River
Ends took silver from the long knives’ guns.”
“A bullet.” Oh, no. “Did Patuwa kum take
silver, too?”
“I do not know.”
“You did not look? Did not pick him up? You did not help
him?” This was outrageous. Fancy whirled to look at each brave. They
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