How The West Was Done 8 (Patreon)

Elizabeth put a warning finger on her lips. “Do you have some experience in the field?”

“I could teach you the ins and outs.”

Elizabeth grinned. Her mind seemed made up when she dropped the sheets on the bed, took a deep breath, and then put her leg up on the mattress. Showing off a finely turned ankle, stockinged calf, and a fleet thigh that Thorne would’ve given his soul to feel wrapped around him.

Despite her body being that of a goddess, Elizabeth displayed it with a shy smile and downcast eyes. Thorne was struck by the irony. This woman was easily the equal of Sofia, a woman who could literally sell her beauty, and she acted like a sheepherder. This woman he could only look at with reverence.

“What must it be like to live with skin like satin… with lips that can drive a man mad… with cheeks that shame roses… hair that kings would live as paupers for…”

Elizabeth took a hesitant step in his direction. “You’re flattering me,” she accused, not too vehemently.

“I’m worshiping you, and it’s high time someone do it.” He reached out to lightly touch her cheek, as though it really were a rose petal, too delicate to bear the heaviness of his finger. But the porcelain of her didn’t crack, so Thorne caressed his way down her suppleness until he was tracing lips like rarest silk.

Which should’ve captivated him, only her eyes were fixed on him and when he looked into their mystical blue, he was only vaguely aware of what his hand was doing.

It slipped to the back of her neck, to cup her slender throat, fingers catching a few locks of sinuous hair. Her lips parted as he pulled her in.

They kissed. Cool and mellow one moment, then heated and passionate the next. Their mouths fused, tongues tangled, and after it was over, Thorne was shocked to find he had deftness enough in his hands to unbutton her dress. She spread the sides of his unbuttoned shirt and felt at his hard chest with fingers as subtle as sunlight. Her touch went lower and Elizabeth found without surprise that he was turgidly erect. No surprise, but quite a lot of delight.

Thorne attended to his buttons while Elizabeth savored her anticipation. He didn’t quite know why he was so eager for lovemaking so soon after being caught between Sofia and Claudia. Perhaps it was simply that every man should be interesting enough to have a flaw and his was women. A vice that, if shorn of, he would find himself so meritorious as to land himself in the Presidency.

And where’s the fun in that?

By now Elizabeth had unfettered access to the object of her desire. She closed it up within a feverish grip and tried to stroke him to greater hardness, only to find that granite could not grow any stiffer.

With her dress undone, Thorne removed it from her like the memory of a dream at morning. She had nothing on underneath it and somehow that seemed right, that seemed perfect. His bare skin came together with hers. It whetted his appetite. He bent his head, kissed her two hard nipples, but knew they wouldn’t be enough to sate him. Picking her up, he took her to the soft down mattress.

Elizabeth’s arms wound around him as he came down to be joined to her. “I am so very glad,” Elizabeth whispered, “that I haven’t yet put on clean sheets.”

***

Tendrils of the moon’s light fell to earth like icicles from a frozen sky as Thorne enjoyed himself. Elizabeth’s body, warm and passionate, rode his enormous shaft like she was putting a racehorse through its paces. She hunched over him, nipples of jeweled pink moving with her swaying breasts to brush his muscular chest.

“Aaah! Jonathan! Ooooh! Oooh! Aaah!” she keened.

Thorne did not let her slow down or slacken off. He kept her pleasure at a peak with one thrust after another, keeping his manhood in constant motion within her quivering passage. He couldn’t quite recall when last they’d stopped this deliriousness, but he thought dizzily that’d been seven rounds. Seven times he’d made her come and she’d wanted more. And she was too damn beautiful for Thorne to let himself flag.

“Now! Ah! Now! Go all the way! You can’t be gentle! Not with a big cock like that! Not with how much you wanna fuck my little pussy! Make it hurt!” Elizabeth whined, building to yet another crescendo and seeming to need it even more than the last seven.

“The only way I could hurt you is to put it where you shit!” Thorne grunted, bouncing her on his lap like he was trying to throw her clear—if only his hands weren’t on her hips, making sure she took his next thrust, and his next, and his next…

Elizabeth laughed and despite the sweat that coursed over every inch of her glorious body and turned her hair into whitewater rapids, the sound was like church bells ringing for daily prayer. Thorne laughed along with her. He surely was a madman and he’d found his Folie à Deux.

“Do it, love! Put it in my arse! Crack me in two! Don’t let me sit down again without thinking of your—EEEEEII!” Elizabeth shrieked, hands flying up in the air, abdomen undulating like a belly dancer’s in the throes of her completion. “Harder! Harder, Jonathan! Make it happen, it’s going to happen, it’s got to happen, JONATHAN!”

Thorne made a throttled noise as he gave her a twenty-one gun salute, then a twelve-gun salute, and finally the scattered fire of sidearms. With his fervor drained away in one volley after another, he felt himself hurtling into oblivion, shocked to find he’d made a roundtrip. He was back to the exhaustion he’d felt when he’d come through the door—totally failing to comprehend how Elizabeth had invigorated him so much that he could give her the fusillade she’d received.

Elizabeth fell upon his chest as if she belonged there. “Oh, my darling Jonathan, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m going to be the death of you?” Thorne groaned. “I feel like I’m dead already. And I’d hate to think what that makes you.”

“The most thoroughly, completely, and absolutely sated lover in all the territories. Unless there’s someone about who’s coupling with a horse, that is?”

“If there is, I’ll have to tip my stable boy more. I need my horse protected from scandals with loose women.”

“And who says a woman would be the one going about it?”

Thorne wrinkled his brow. “My horse being a mary is even worse than associating with loose women.”

“My dear Jonathan, if you wish to avoid loose women, you simply must stop ravishing them with that cock of yours.”

“Not a chance,” Thorne said, patting her sleek, firm hip.

Elizabeth lit up with excitement.

“But not tonight, either. Luddy mussy, ‘tonight,’ it’s all but morning!”

“Yes, I ought have breakfast,” Elizabeth said, slipping loose of him and backing down the length of the bed until she was between his slack legs. Her warm hand graced his manhood and squeezed to find if it had any hardness left in it. It did, surprising Thorne but not his paramour.

“Relax, love, this time I’ll do all the work.”

“This time?” Thorne asked.

“Well, after I’ve served myself some of your white pudding, you’ll be well wet enough to do a little bumming with me. Since you brought it up.”

The sibilant wings of her onyx tresses beat tantalizingly against his flat stomach, finding tingles in his well-drained flesh to reawaken as she bowed her head and delivered his tongue to the tip of his growing shaft.

“I think you’re the one bringing it up,” Thorne said.

“And I think you have enough in here for breakfast and lunch,” Elizabeth said, taking in hand his testes and squeezing them enough to prove her point. “I myself have always been a trencherman when I’m served such a delicacy.”

“Anybody would feel delicate after how you rode me hard and put me away wet.”

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll take care of how wet you are… mmmmmm…”

“Elizabeth! That is… ahhhh,” Thorne breathed. “That’s it. Good, so damn good…. Such a dirty girl.”

Elizabeth briefly freed up her mouth for words. “Inside and out, my sweet. From you spunking all over me and spunking all inside me too. And now you can spunk in my gob so I can have a dirty mouth too.”

Her tongue tasted his precum and then led the way down his expanding shaft.

“Dirty girl,” Thorne moaned helplessly.

Unnoticed, the clock made its circles and the moon fled from the sky. Slowly, achingly, Thorne formed a response to Elizabeth’s enjoyment of him. His heart pounded; he tried to sturdy himself by sending his thoughts elsewhere, but they found only memories of Sofia and Claudia.