The Savage

When he bent to pull off his moccasins, she jumped.

“Settle down, princess. I told you, you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“What…are you doing?” she half spoke, half whispered, as she watched him reach for the front flap of his breechclout.

“What does it look like? I’m getting undressed. I mean to cool off. I’m so hot for you, I’m about to burst. I need a cold bath.”

“You’re going to…bathe here? Out in the open?”

“You have a better place to suggest?”

He had loosened the front flap from the rawhide strip around his waist and started unwinding the deerskin from around his loins. In shock, Summer lowered her gaze, realizing he meant to bare his body in front of her.

“Look at me, princess!”

His sharp command brought her eyes up. Crimson color flooded her face as full comprehension dawned, while her heart began to pound in slow, painful strokes. He meant to force her to view his nakedness.

Her breath went shallow as he tossed the breechclout aside. She wanted to look away, but her shocked eyes clung to him, to the dark lean body towering over her. Against her will her gaze traveled over him, taking in his powerful form with its clean lines of muscle and sinew—the strong, bronzed shoulders and arms, the lean, tapering waist, the narrow hips, the athletic thighs, the long, jutting arousal that thrust out from a sprinkling of crisp black hair at his groin.

The sight of his huge, swollen sex caused her throat to go dry, her stomach to contract.

“My body is no different from any white man’s,” Lance declared harshly.

No, he was wrong, Summer thought dazedly, her heart thundering in her ears. His body was far more beautiful than any other man’s. Virile, masculine, hard, corded with powerful muscle. Despite her genteel upbringing, regardless of the demands of modesty, she was captivated by the beauty of his nakedness.

“You better get used to it,” Lance added gruffly as he turned away. “If we get through this alive, you’re going to get to know it real well.”

If he meant to threaten her with carnal knowledge of his body, though, he missed the mark. Summer only felt a shameful excitement at the thought of knowing him more intimately.

She watch

ed helplessly as Lance stalked over to his gear and bent down to fetch something…watched the powerful play of sleek muscle in his back, the hard, lean buttocks flexing with sinew. His skin was almost as dark there as the rest of him, she realized with appalling curiosity.

He pulled a cake of soap from a buffalo hide pouch and strode down to the stream that was little more than a trickle. Deliberately turning to face her, his legs spread wide, he scooped up a handful of water and let it trickle over his chest, over his groin. The chill, although providing a shock, did little to ease the throbbing heat he felt. He’d been in a state of painful arousal for the past week, lusting after his beautiful wife, and not even ice water would be able to cool him down for long.

Gritting his teeth, Lance started soaping his body, running his hand over his chest, down his abdomen, over his groin…When he cupped his balls, he inhaled a sharp breath. It was a mistake to have touched himself there. He was so hard, he was near to bursting. His throbbing cock felt like it might explode.

He cradled it gently, moving his soap-slick fingers along the length—and he heard a soft gasp. He was still holding his heavy shaft in his hand when he raised his head.

His innocent wife was watching him, wide-eyed, horrified, captivated, unable to look away. She was as fascinated by him, by what he was doing, as he would have been had she been the one bathing, touching herself.

He met her shocked green eyes, held them, as deliberately he curled his hand around his turgid length and squeezed. Stiffening, Lance nearly groaned at the sensation that was more pain than pleasure, yet he didn’t release himself; instead he tightened his grip. He needed relief from the fierce hunger he’d suffered for the past week, needed to ease the ruthless swelling, no matter how temporary the release.

It wouldn’t take long to bring himself to the bursting point. All he had to do was picture Summer naked like he was, and he was ready to erupt. All he had to do was remember what it had felt like on their wedding night, remember stroking her lush breasts, her tight nipples, imagine gripping her soft buttocks as he thrust deep into her, over and over and over again.

Baring his teeth, Lance let his head fall back, his fingers kneading himself hard, sweeping up and down his tumescence in swift, jerky motions. He could hear his breath, harsh and uneven in his ears. Feel himself shaking as he arched against the pleasure-pain.

A guttural moan sounded deep in his throat as the tremulous explosion built inside him. Another instant passed, and then he was coming violently, his body convulsing. His seed shot out, hot and pulsing, spurting in ever-diminishing arches to land in cloudy pools on the grass.

When finally he opened his eyes, it was to find Summer staring at him, her lips parted, her breath shallow. Bending to scoop up a handful of water, he rinsed off his body, starting with his groin.

When eventually he came out of the water, she was still staring at him. Lance’s mouth curled with self-mockery. His little exercise in self-satisfaction hadn’t helped much. His flaccid length was already swelling again, and knowing that Summer was watching him only made him that much harder.

But then he made the mistake of approaching her blanket. With a start of alarm, Summer edged away from him.

Lance stopped abruptly, his bronzed body naked and dripping as he stood over her. His eyes took on a hard gleam as they swept her shrinking form. “I told you, wife, I’m not going to touch you. You’re safe from me. At least until we find your sister. Until then you don’t need to worry about a savage breed rutting between your legs.”

Chapter 8