Chapter Seven
The Leaving
Three months without his hands.
Wanda arrived from western Montana—fiery brunette, reddish tint, full breasts, farm-girl hips—with two brothers. Jake offered the goat shelter. The twinkle came back into his eyes.
Wanda felt it too. Daddy-figure hunger. An adult glimpse of an uncle she still blushed for. She wanted to be a good girl. She wanted to suck and swallow. She wanted hair-pulling and a slap when she drifted.
She went to Jake at night. He ate her. He fucked her on the buffalo hide and growled. When he called her good girl she soaked the fur.
Lucy saw them through the chinking and burned.
She let the brothers have her. They were clumsy. She left unsatisfied. Jake watched from the porch.
The next night, whiskey and an orgy on deer hides. Hands, mouths, cocks. She almost begged to be filled front and back. She woke sore.
Morning: Jake gone. Pack, rifles, tomahawk, both hides. Wanda gone with him.
Across the pass, in a trapper’s cabin under a cliff, Wanda knelt and asked to be eaten like a wolf. He did. He fucked her from behind until she broke. She swallowed what he gave her after and melted when he growled that she was a good girl.
Jake still thought of Lucy. He did not say it.
Lucy dreamed his mouth, his hand on her throat, his cock using her on her knees. She woke with her fingers shiny and the bed empty.
He had not returned.
The canyon held its silence. Somewhere on the other side of the mountain a new fire burned under a cliff overhang while two people began again.
The story could end here.
Or it could wait for the thaw.
End of Book One
The North Fork Series continues in Book Two: Fracture of the North Fork.