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Never one to say much, he held true by being quiet. It was a comfort to have him at my side and I knew he was hurting as much as I was over the death of his mother.It was almost an hour before we hit the reservation boundary. Three hours later we were well into the Indian land. We were having a hard time trailing the killers' hoof prints now because they were being obliterated by more horse tracks. The Indians had picked up the trail and were following the robbers. Just before dark, we came upon a dead man beside the trail laying in a ditch. "That's not the man who was riding the horse that killed your wife."I dismounted and looked him over. I couldn't see much for marks on him except for some blood that had dribbled down his chest from coughing his life away. We stripped off his shirt and he had three small bullet holes in his back. One had bounced off his right shoulder blade and apparently done no damage. The other two though, had gone in and probably punctured a lung on his right. His hands moved from my face to my waist, pulling me closer to him. I could feel his manhood starting to get hard against my stomach. My own hands were tracing the defined lines in his back. God he was built. He pulled me down slowly, towards the quilt and started to pull me on top of himself, never breaking the kiss. I started to rub his cock, through his jeans. He groaned against my mouth. I broke away from his mouth and trailed kisses down his jaw and towards his collarbone. I could feel the moan building inside his chest as I kissed him. His fingers fumbled with the zipper on my hoodie and I slipped the buttons on his shirt. His bare chest was so defined. “Oh Jenny,” My name felt so good from his lips. Once my hoodie was off, he slipped my tank top over my head. My breasts rubbed against his bare chest. More moaning rumbled in his chest and his head tipped back. He slipped his hands down to my ass and gave it a good squeeze that pushed my crotch against his trapped cock..
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