She felt it, his readiness, and immediately stopped her moving atop him. Reaching beneath her with one hand, the whore gently cupped his scrotum in her palm and pulled ever so slightly. Again and again she milked him until she felt she had done enough to delay his climax.
Then she resumed her work atop his rigid shaft.
Twice she performed that same magic on him, delaying his release, and twice more she thrust herself atop him, trembling and whimpering, reaching her own climax with him still firm and unspent inside her.
When she finally brought her teeth away from the side of his neck, Jonah sensed a temporary relief wash over him as that exquisite pain diminished. Once more he could concentrate on the woman. Laying his hands along either side of her face, Jonah laid a middle finger across her rouged lips. Instantly, eagerly, she opened and swallowed the finger whole, sucking on it playfully as she drew his heated flesh back and forth into that deepest part of her.
Her black eyes smoldered, shiny and as dark as chimney soot. With a growing frenzy of whimpers come to growls, the woman climbed and climbed evermore until he spent himself in her, causing the whore to cry out as she shuddered savagely atop his lap each time he pulled her hips downward atop him brutally.
She sat huddled against him as he grew soft, murmuring something unintelligible into the side of his neck not bruised by the passionate clamp of her crooked teeth. When at last Jonah felt he could trust his knees not to turn to water beneath him, he rose unsteadily, still holding her against him, and carried the woman to the small bed. There he dragged back the musty, threadbare blankets and laid her atop the bare tick mattress.
He tried to stand, to look for his clothes, but she pulled insistently on his hand, bringing him down beside her before pulling the blankets over them both. She fell asleep quickly, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder, his now-soft flesh curled protectively between her two hands.
When Jonah awoke, it came of something easy: moving only his eyelids, and those barely opening, sorting his place in things. Through those gritty slits he first saw the fading of the night’s darkness and the graying of the light. It was raining again and he was warm here beside the woman, in her blankets, sensing the rise and fall, the slight rasp of her breathing. So he closed his eyes again, knowing after all this time on this trail, there was nowhere he needed to go in any great rush.
The next time he awoke, Hook found her gone. The damp air chilled him as he sat up, the blankets sliding away. He dressed quickly, listening to what few distant sounds announced the village coming awake. As Jonah pulled on his last boot, the woman pushed open the door and reached down, ushering in a small child, who heaved herself over the doorsill, then immediately stopped in fright, wide eyes locked on the gringo. In the crook of the whore’s arm she carried a second child, a bundled infant.
She closed the crude door behind her, shutting off some of the chill, shutting out the rain-soaked breeze, and pulled the long black rebozo from her head, shaking the drops from it as she asked, “You go before breakfast?”
He glanced at the small earthen oven built into the corner of this mud-and-wattle hut. It would serve as oven, stove, and fireplace, easily heating the small jacal.
“I have miles to go,” he said quietly, gazing down at the small child, a girl, who squeezed up-against her mother’s leg with a thumb pressed against her lower lip, gazing up at the stranger with doe-eyed fright.
“Please,
Hers was a smile that warmed him from the inside out. Jonah finally relented. “Yes. I will let you cook us breakfast … if you let me give you what you will cook in your pots.”
She nodded at last. “It is settled. Go get your friend and I will settle my children.”
As he pulled on his coat and set his hat down upon his hair, the woman laid the sleeping infant in the bed, then motioned the older child over. She was taking the thin, crudely sewn coat from the girl’s arms as Hook ducked from the door and crossed the muddy street to claim Two Sleep from his warm, fragrant bed atop the stable hay. While the Indian climbed from his blankets, Jonah stepped to the jakes out back, a stinking room made of thin tree limbs daubed with mud to hold back the wind and rain.
