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Her body became liquid as his eyes touched her, and then his fingers caressed her breasts.
He covered her with his body again, his lips trembling as he touched hers in a gentle and lingering kiss and thrust himself deep within her again.
The night was new to them, and they clung and rocked and found ecstasy again . . . and . . . again. . . .
Chapter Thirty-two
The Moon of the Popping Trees—December
The years had flown by, it seemed. Jessie had had her first child, a son, whom they named Little Thunder, and then another, a daughter b
orn of her love with Thunder Horse, whom they named Pretty Heart.
She was radiantly happy, and Lone Wing and Lee-Lee were making plans for their marriage now.
After eating their venison roast for supper, Jessie and Thunder Horse were sitting beside a slow-burning fire in their tepee, reminiscing about these past five years.
“It is not the ideal life here on the reservation, but we are making the best of it, as are all the other Sioux who have now been directed here to the Rosebud Reservation,” Thunder Horse said. “We are all one big family on the reservation, looking out for the best interests of each other.”
“It is good that the government didn’t force your people into performing pretend hunts for whites in order to get your meat,” Jessie said. “Ho, the buffalo are long gone. But there are plenty of deer for our venison roasts.”
“Ho, there have been many black-tailed and whitetailed deer and elk, even grizzlies,” Thunder Horse said, nodding. “And there is plenty of stored food now that will last us the full winter.”
Jessie got up and held the entrance flap aside. She peered out onto what looked like a winter wonderland, where the snow sparkled beneath a winter sun.
The branches of trees were snapping and cracking all around the tepee like pistol shots. Inside, the tepee was lit and warmed by the immense logs her husband had provided for the lodge fire.
“The children are wrapped warmly in their buffalo robes with the hair inside,” Thunder Horse said, going and standing with Jessie as he, too, peered outside at the loveliness of the land.
“After the heavy thaw, a crust has formed on the snow, making it better for sledding, don’t you think?” she asked, gazing at Thunder Horse.
“Ho, and I am certain that Lone Wing and Lee-Lee have become children again as they sled with our son and daughter,” Thunder Horse said, closing the flap.
He took Jessie’s hand and walked with her back to the fire, where they again sat, their shoulders touching. “Lone Wing used his skills to make a sled for our children,” he said. “Hear them even now? Their laughter fills my heart with such joy.”
“The first time I saw the sled I was amazed at what it was made from,” Jessie said, laughing softly. “Who would have guessed that you could make a sled from old buffalo ribs and hickory saplings? It is clever how the runners are bound with rawhide, the hair side down. The sled slips so smoothly over the icy crust.”
“It is good that Lone Wing made use of the ancient buffalo bones he found before the first snowfall,” Thunder Horse said. “It was he who saw them as a perfect sled.”
“He is such a wonderful young man, so talented in so many ways,” Jessie murmured.
“My pride in him is no less than if he were my own son,” Thunder Horse said, smiling at her.
He reached a hand to the hem of Jessie’s skirt. “We have privacy now, which is rare during the day. Do you think we should take advantage of it?” he asked, his eyes shining.
“You must have read my mind,” Jessie said, turning to him.
She climbed on his lap, facing him, her legs straddling him.
In that way he made love with her, thrusting into her as he held her shoulders.
He watched her eyes become filled with rapture as he, too, felt the wonder of their joined bodies. He held his head back, groaning, when he heard her soft, repeated moans with each of his thrusts inside her.
“Let’s make another child,” Jessie murmured, sighing when she felt the euphoria building. “Another son, my husband. I want another son.”
He placed his hands on her waist and slid her down on her back on the warm blankets, then lifted her skirt. “A son . . . many sons . . .” he said huskily, then with one swift movement was inside her again.
He pressed his lips to her throat, his hands up inside her dress now, caressing her as he felt her open herself more fully to him.
