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Stephanie set the bottle aside, and before he could stop her, she leaned low over him and began licking the champagne from him, starting with his manhood.
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p; She felt him growing against her mouth as she continued licking until the champagne was absorbed. Her hand circled him, and she began working it slowly up and down as she licked her way past it and on up his stomach. She placed her hands at his waist and urged him down again, so that she could stretch herself over him.
“You see, darling?” Stephanie murmured against his lips. “The champagne is worth something, isn’t it?”
Runner laughed huskily. He took her by the waist and positioned her above him, then thrust his throbbing member into her. “You are a wench,” he said, his hands smoothing upward, cupping her breasts.
Giggling, Stephanie held her head back, the fever within her building. She was only half aware of the soft, whimpering sounds coming from her.
Damon woke with a start. He slapped away the hand that was shaking him and leaned up on an elbow. The moon was casting its light in soft streamers through his bedroom window, giving him a good look at the person who dared to wake him in the middle of the night.
“It’d better be good, Joshua,” he said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed a blanket and slung it around his shoulders. “Why’re you here? Did you catch a damn Navaho stealin’ horses?”
“I saw a Navaho tonight, but not exactly stealin’,” Joshua said, leaning his pockmarked face down into Damon’s. “It’s your sister. Would you believe that Runner and Adam’s sister took Sharon from her shack and to a fancy hotel? And that ain’t all I seen tonight.”
“Well? Get on with it,” Damon said in a rumble. “What else did you see?”
“You’ve got a nephew or niece,” Joshua said, shrugging. “I couldn’t tell which. All’s I know is, Sharon was carryin’ a baby when she went into the hotel.”
“A baby?” Damon said in a low gasp. “Whorin’ around has got her a baby. Bet she doesn’t even know who the father is.”
“What’re you goin’ to do about the baby?” Joshua said, whiskey thick on his breath. “Sharon ain’t no fit mother. The baby’ll be no better. If’n it’s a girl, she’ll learn from her mother how to lift her skirts to the gents. If’n it’s a boy, he could sure be a lot of help to you if you’d bring him here, to raise as your own.”
Damon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point,” he said. “One thing for sure, though. I don’t want no part of Sharon. When she was here, she was too bossy for her own good. Even caught her stealin’ from me. Now she’s a gutter tramp. It makes me shudder to think of even gettin’ near her.”
Damon gave Joshua a sidewise glance. “I’ll give her time to raise the child past weaning,” he said throatily. “Then I’ll take the child in. If it’s a boy, or girl. I can get a lot of labor outta either one.”
“But what about Sharon?”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“You mean you’ll take her back in, as part of your family?”
“Now you know that’s a foolish question, don’t you?”
“What, then?”
“Joshua, don’t you shoot horses that’s outlived their usefulness?”
“You wouldn’t, Damon,” Joshua said, paling. “You’re only foolin’ me, ain’t cha?”
Damon’s eyes bore into Joshua’s.
“Get on outta here, Joshua,” Damon growled. Then his voice softened. “Thanks for comin’ tonight, Josh. ’Preciate it.”
Joshua gave Damon a mock salute, then left.
Damon stepped to the window and stared out at the stark blackness of the night. “Sharon, Sharon . . .” he whispered. “What am I to do about you, and now—the child?”
Chapter 20
The passion of the wind, love,
Can never last for long.
—R. W. RAYMOND
