Rainbows and Rapture (26 page)

“Oh, I know you ain’t. But—well, it’s jist that I ain’t sure I know how to act. How to be. How to do what I’m supposed to do.”

Here was the innocent Russia, he mused. The untouched one. The one who’d never experienced any of the pleasure he so wanted to give to her.
Santa Maria
, how he loved what that thought did to him!

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, trying to make her understand. “Nothing but lie there and
feel
.”

He placed his open hand on her thigh, smiling knowingly when her flesh quivered. Slowly, he moved his hand, his fingers nestling into the red-gold softness that curled over the mound of her womanhood. “Forget about everything in the world but this, Russia. Everything but this…”

He stretched out beside her and gently parted her thighs. One elbow between them, the other next to her hip, he leaned over her.

She felt his warm breath whisper over the pulsing heart of her femininity. Lord, was he going to do…
that
to her? Did men do that to women? Was he going to—

Her questions ended with a surprised gasp. She felt his mouth touch her like no other man’s ever had. A flame of embarrassment tried to take hold, but the blazes of exquisite desire engulfed it instantly. Beyond anything except what Santiago was doing to her, she abandoned herself to mounting pangs of pleasure, lifting her hips in sweet offering.

Aroused to the very pinnacle of desire by her response to him, Santiago settled his huge frame upon her, shaking with violent longing when he felt her long, silky legs circle his lower back and her nails dig into his shoulders. With one smooth, powerful thrust, he buried himself within her.

Russia cried out with pleasure, surprise, and profound need.
Forget about everything in the world but this.
His instructions blazed through her mind.
Lie there and feel.

Feel.
Him. Santiago. What he was doing to her. The way he moved. With such strong, steady strokes, in perfectly controlled measure. He was slick. He was hard, he was patient, he was so good, so good.

Minutes passed; she kept feeling him. What he was doing. “I’m tryin’,” she whispered, her lips at the warm hollow of his throat. “Santiago, I’m—”

“Shh,” he quieted her. “I know, Russia. I know.”

She began to sense his need for his own release. The minutes kept passing. She could almost hear them marching on and on and on. She concentrated harder.

“Russia.” Her name escaped him on a sigh of contentment. She felt wonderful; his bliss heightened, but it pleased him enormously to hold it back.

When she heard him whisper her name, she felt his body quake with the all-consuming need to satisfy his own desire. She knew then that he had every intention of continuing no matter how difficult it was for him to do so.

The pleasure that teased her so unmercifully melted into a tenderness so deep, she couldn’t understand where it came from. All she knew was that she wanted to give Santiago everything he was trying so hard and unselfishly to give to her.

That
she could do. Yes, that she knew exactly how to do.

Santiago gasped incredulously when he felt her tighten around him. With muscles deep within her, she squeezed him in such a way that he felt tide after tide of acute pleasure wash over him. Struggling to contain the ever-rising bliss, he slowed his pace.

She wouldn’t let him. Her hands on his bottom, she pushed him deeper. Knowing his end was near, too near, he stopped moving altogether. She didn’t care Her hips rose and fell so quickly, those special muscles of hers holding him so firmly, he found he was doing nothing at all, and still the ecstasy escalated.

“Russia! Dammit!”

She paid him no mind, but continued what she knew would soon send him over the brink. She lifted herself into him, pushing until she took all of him, then slid away, stopping only when he’d almost left her entirely before gliding up to take him again.

“Santiago,” she murmured into his ear.

Her soft, sexy voice, her small cries, drove him wild. And her body… Santa Maria, what she could do with her body! He had no doubt at all that she was intent on using every trick she knew to push him into losing what little control he had left.

He didn’t want it to be this way, but he could resist the pleasure no longer. She was too good.

Russia smiled when she felt him throb and spill his seed inside her. He’d found fulfillment. And though she hadn’t been able to share it with him, she discovered there was a deep satisfaction in knowing that he’d found his in her arms. “Santiago?”

Even as pleasure continued to ebb through him, anger joined it. God, he felt so empty! Lifting his head, he glared down at her.

She saw his dismay immediately and sought to soothe it. “No, it didn’t happen,” she confessed. “But I done tole you I wouldn’t care, and I don’t.”

“I know it didn’t happen! But I
do
care!”

Good Lord, he was beyond mere irritation, she realized. He was mad. Really and truly mad at her. She put her arms around him again. “Santiago—”

“Don’t.” Breathing heavily, he pushed himself away from her, rose, and stalked a few feet away. “What you did tonight, Russia—to me… Why did you do that, dammit?”

“What did I do?” She sat up, genuinely worried now.

He spun on his heel, his hair whipping around his slick, heaving shoulders. “You
performed!
”

As he shouted the word, his face contorted. Like he had a horrible taste in his mouth. Russia’s insides sank. “But—Santiago, I was only tryin’ to—”

“I know what you were trying to do! And you did it! You did it so well, I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop you!”

“But I could tell you was ready, Santiago! I only wanted to—”

“I
was
ready! God, I’ve been ready ever since I first saw you! But did you think I wouldn’t have lasted tonight? That I couldn’t have controlled myself? I could have, Russia, but you didn’t let me! We could have gone on trying for a lot longer! But you—you and your…your
craft!
You’re good, Russia, all right? You’re real good. But dammit, if I’d wanted a whore tonight, I’d have gone out and found one!”

His words wounded her deeply. She’d tried so hard to please him. She
had
brought him pleasure; she knew she had. But instead of enjoying it, he was furious over it! Was it even possible to understand the man?

And now he was going to rant and rave over the fact that she was a harlot. Why did he have to do this?

Dammit! she raged. They were going to get this over and done with right now! Whatever deep and terrible reason he had for hating what she had to do for a living, she would find it out tonight!

“All right, Santiago,” she said, trying to sound firm but failing miserably. “This is it. You and me’s gonna talk, hear? Why do you hate whores? Tell me.”

“You’re damn right this is it!” he thundered, refusing even to consider answering her question. “If you want to be a whore tonight—if you want to practice all your little tricks on some slobbering son of a bitch—I’ll take you back to Rosario so you can run into the arms of Zeferino Sanchez!”

“What?”

“You heard me! I saw him give you money, Russia. I saw you count it and put it into your pocket! If I hadn’t gotten you out of Rosario, you’d have—”

“I would not!” she screamed, thoroughly enraged by his accusation.

He dragged his fingers through his hair and gave her his back. “You deny it now because—”

“I deny it on account o’ it ain’t true!” Flying to her feet, she stormed to where her dress lay and snatched it up from the ground. She fumbled with it for a moment before withdrawing from the pocket what Zeferino had given her. “Turn your suspicious self around and look what Zeferino give me!” When he didn’t do as she demanded, she flounced over to where he stood and lifted her hand to his face.

He glanced down. What he saw made his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat. “It’s a rosary,” he whispered, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

“You’re damn right it’s a rosary! Last time I was in Rosario, I tole him I had me a hankerin’ to have one! This time, he give me one! And lemme tell you somethin’ else, Santiago Zamora! That
slobberin’ son of a bitch
, Zeferino Sanchez, is leavin’ fer Mexico City in two days! Wanna know why?”

A sinking feeling came over him. “Why?”

“Because he’s fixin’ to git made into a
priest!
”

“What?”

“He’s been studyin’ fer goin’ on seven years, and purty soon he’s gonna be one o’ them holy folks in your church!”

“But he was looking at you with—”

“He weren’t neither!” she argued hotly. “Good Lord, the man spended near all evenin’ tellin’ me Bible stories!”

“I saw you laugh! Bible stories aren’t funny!”

“Yeah? Well, in all my born days, I ain’t never heared nothin’ funnier’n some snake talkin’ a woman into eatin’ a apple!”

He clenched his teeth. “Well… Priests don’t dance at festivals!”

“He ain’t a priest yet! And even if he was, why cain’t he dance? There ain’t no sin in dancin’, is there?”

“But he was holding you tighter than—”

“Y’know damn well I cain’t dance! I stomped and tripped all over you when you and me was dancin’, didn’t I? Zeferino was holdin’ onto me to keep me from fallin’ flat on my face! And jist in case y’might be interested in knowin’, it was on account o’ Zeferino that I didn’t do no business a’tall the last time I was in Rosario! I had me a mind to, but I meeted up with him and spended the whole time jist talkin’ with him! Dammit, Santiago, he’s a
holy
man!”

“All right! All right, Russia! So the man’s going to be a priest!” A priest! he exclaimed silently. That explained the blessing Zeferino had given him.
Santa Maria
, he did everything he could to keep from having to shoot at coldblooded murderers, and tonight he’d been sorely tempted to kill a soon-to-be priest!

“Apologize to me,” Russia commanded, crossing her arms over her bare breasts. “Say you’re sorry right now.”

He looked down at his shuffling feet. “I’m—” He broke off; his head snapped up. Dammit, what was he apologizing for? “I will not say I’m sorry! Forget about Father Sanchez, do you hear me? The fact remains that you
performed
tonight! You—”

“I wanted to make you happy!”

“Well, you didn’t! Got that? You didn’t. And don’t you dare cry!” he ordered, anticipating her tears. “
Santa Maria
, I hate it when you cry.”

“You don’t jist hate my tears. You hate ever’thing about me. Why? Tell me
why!
”

Shoving his fingers through his hair again, he walked away from her, kicking at pebbles and dead sticks as he left.

“Did some whore do somethin’ mean to you?” Russia guessed, desperate to finally understand his deep hostility. “Tell me, Santiago. Tell me so’s I can—”

“So you can what?” he roared, whirling to face her. “Touch me with your magic wand and make everything all better? Real life isn’t some fairy tale, Russia. Happily-ever-afters aren’t
real
, do you understand me?”

She bowed her head.

He saw her bottom lip tremble. “Russia, I swear if I see
one
tear, I’ll—”

“Yeah?” she shouted. “Well, you don’t own my eyes, and you cain’t tell me what to do with ‘em. I can cry all I want. And seein’ as how it bothers you when I do it, I’m gonna cry all night. I’ll cry a damn ocean o’ tears!” She sniffled loudly, trying her hardest to get some good, racking sobs going.

“Fine! Swim in your tears! Drown in them!”

Damn the man! she fumed. “Git over here!”

“What for?”

“So’s I can knock you silly!” She balled her fists and began prancing around.

Good God, she’d gone mad, he thought, watching her swing at thin air. “Russia—”

“Tell me why you hate girls like me, or I’ll punch ever’ bit o’ that sawdust outta your head!”

Refusing to rise to her bait, he gave her his back again.

Infuriated by his lack of response, Russia raced toward him. When she was about a yard away, she took a flying leap and landed directly on his back.

“Santa Maria!”
he yelled in surprise, staggering.

She smacked his chest. “I don’t know what the hell it was some whore did to you, but I ain’t the one who did it to you, hear?”

He grabbed her flailing fist. “Russia, stop this!”

Her other hand still free, she whacked his arm with it. She knew her insignificant cuffs hurt him about as much as running into a gnat would, but she was too mad to care. “And whatever it was she done to you, you ain’t got no damn right to blame ever’ whore in the world fer it!”

He snatched her other hand and tried to pull her over his shoulder, but she wound her legs tightly around his waist and attempted to pummel his belly with her heels, hooking her chin around his throat He tried letting go of her wrists to pull her legs away, but that only allowed her to twist her arms around his neck again. He needed four hands to perform the feat, and since he had only two, he couldn’t untangle her. “Dammit, Russia—”

“Tell me why you hate whores! Tell me! Tell me!”

Blast it all! he thought angrily. He’d been in numerous tight spots before. He’d successfully defended himself from countless vile and dangerous outlaws. But he’d never, not once, had to reckon with some long-haired, naked spitfire’s ferocious attack from behind! Grown
men
rarely provoked him into a fight, and this light-as-a-feather little twit was bent on knocking him senseless!

Determined to pry her loose somehow, he knelt to the ground, then lowered himself onto his side, thus laying Russia down, too. Pivoting his body within the circle of her arms and legs, he maneuvered himself so that he faced her. In this way, he could use his strength against her and was finally able to extricate himself from her hold on him. When he was free of her, he gathered his clothes and weapons. As he reached for his hat, Nehemiah bounded out of it.

The hat was full of hair. In a sudden and irrational burst of anger, Santiago threw it to the ground and shot it. “Damn that cat!”