The Runaway Read online

  His cock stirred in his britches, but he refrained from touching himself, afraid of disturbing her and making her cover her thighs. He knew that he should slip back down the ridge, make some noise to warn her he was coming, and bring the rabbit up to the house. He knew he should do this but he couldn’t stop watching. He imagined what it would feel like to dip his hand into the water and slide it over her dark bare flesh.

  She squirmed as he watched, and her dress slid just a little higher. A tuft of black hair peeked out at the sun before she unconsciously lowered the thin fabric again.

  Time passed before she pulled her injured foot up so she could look at it—unintentionally opening her legs for Carson’s inspection. He leaned forward, eager to see, only to be disappointed again. Her foot obscured his view of her groin, covering her just as well as her dress had.

  He looked around, wondering if there was a better angle, but also fearing to risk attracting her attention by moving. His sense of caution tortured him. An almost half-naked woman sat twenty feet in front of him! Why couldn’t he stand up and go down to her and discover what it meant to be a man?

  Unfortunately, he knew the answer. Delilah had shown him just how little she thought of him last night. He was nothing—a sodbuster on a worn out farm. If he went down to join her she would turn away and leave and Carson couldn’t bear the thought of that. She’d only been with him a day, but he’d do anything to keep her here with him.

  She was probing that bad foot again, working at it with her two thumbs. Was it possible that he’d missed something in the flesh? Could he have left a tiny sliver of wood inside her?

  She let go of her foot and splashed water on to her dark arms, rinsing the dirt and grime of travel from her flesh. Water soaked the thin material of her dress, giving Carson a much clearer view of the contours of her breasts. One nipple pressed visibly against the fabric. His own fingers squeezed his hard cock through his pants.

  Delilah stood up, feet planted firmly in the center of the pool. While Carson watched she bent over to wash her legs. Her dress gaped open further exposing her body while she splashed water on her thighs.

  She looked around, convincing Carson she was thinking about removing her thin garment. He unfastened his pants in expectation, taking his rigid meat into his hand and squeezing hard on the swollen head.

  Delilah evidently changed her mind. She sunk to her knees and splashed water up beneath her dress, rubbing with her wet hands against the flesh of her stomach, touching her breasts beneath the thin cotton covering.

  Carson muffled a groan. He didn’t want to spill in his hand again, he wanted to thrust himself hard between Delilah’s legs. He wanted to feel her body all around him. He wanted her to squeeze him in her arms while he kissed her lips and filled her with his seed.

  His cock had never been this rigid. His hand moved rapidly, pretending to be Delilah’s sweet body. His balls tightened in expectation. He was close, closer, closer—“Oh, Delilah,” he gasped.

  Beneath him, in the pool, Delilah’s spine abruptly straightened and she yanked her dress down to fully cover her thighs.

  Carson immediately realized his error. He slid down the ridge away from the pool, snatching up his rifle and the rabbit as he went. His pants slipped down around his knees. His stiff dick still jutted out in front of him just a few quick strokes shy of spewing out his seed. He snatched up the waist of his pants in the same hand holding his rifle and ran away from Delilah out into the prairie, hoping against hope that she hadn’t seen what he’d been doing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Doubts

  Delilah stood in the pool, dress yanked down to cover her legs, waiting for Carson to appear so she would know which way to run. She didn’t understand what was taking him so long. He’d been patient with her before, but there was no doubt in her mind that he had seen her bathing herself and she knew beyond a doubt that to excite a white man was to invite his attention—however unwelcome. Why then was Carson not appearing so he could finish satisfying himself? It made no sense.

  Her eyes darted from right to left and back again. Where was he? Why hadn’t he appeared yet? Why hadn’t he just come right over the top of that ridge and taken her here in the water?

  Where was he?

  She backed out of the water hole, still looking around for the white man. Her foot immediately began to hurt again. The cool water might have reduced the swelling somewhat but it hadn’t magically cured her infection. A slight breeze rustled past her, chilling her flesh through the wet dress and making her nipples painfully hard. She didn’t need her body encouraging Carson. Why hadn’t she shown more sense? It was one thing to soak her feet but to let her dress get all wet as well? Every curve of her body was vividly exposed now. She might as well beg him to attack!

  Where was he?

  Why was he playing with her like this? She backed closer to the little house, wondering where he was hiding, wondering when he would stop playing cat and mouse. He wanted her, didn’t he? He was white and she was black! White men took colored women when they wanted them. Any moment now he’d jump into view, run her down, rip her dress off…

  Where was he?

  He wanted her, didn’t he?

  By the time her dress dried out, Delilah had given up worrying about Carson. He wasn’t coming for her. She’d been wrong. Could she possibly have misunderstood his interest? She was still pretty, wasn’t she? Why hadn’t he come down that hill at her? Why had he turned her world upside down?

  Why did it bother her so much that he had?

  She needed to get on the road again but her foot simply wasn’t up to it. In a few days she might be able to, but right now she’d get nowhere without Carson’s mule. How was she going to get that animal from him? And even if he did give it to her, could she keep it? A woman—a runaway slave—on her own in this country was not going to get far. She’d had her share of hiding and fleeing to make it to Oklahoma. She needed Carson if she was going to get much farther.

  But what could she do to get him on her side?

  He didn’t want her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dinner

  When Carson returned to the house, he had a dead rabbit slung over his shoulder. That little bunny was the most exciting thing Delilah had seen in a long time. Meat—Carson had found meat—and that meant they were going to eat truly well tonight.

  Her mouth began to salivate and her stomach to rumble. Her hunger was so intense that for the first several moments she forgot that Carson had seen her bathing in the pool. Then his cheeks reddened and he looked away from her face and she remembered everything.

  Carson’s response confused her. Why was he embarrassed? She knew he’d been alone for a long time but was it possible that he didn’t understand what it meant that she was colored? Was he actually interested but didn’t know he could have his way?

  “You caught something,” she told him just to try and get him talking.

  “It’s not much,” Carson said.

  “Yes, it is,” Delilah told him. She forced herself to reach out and touch his forearm to see how he would respond—risking triggering the violence she feared.

  Carson trembled at the contact—trembled and looked away. “I’ll dress the rabbit,” he said, leaving Delilah to stare after him as he left.

  For the first time since she had awakened in this place, Delilah decided to make herself useful but she didn’t have the tools she needed to follow through on her intention. She hobbled into the little house but the vegetables were still in the garden. Nor did she have a knife to cut them with if she went out to pick them. So she emptied the bucket into the pot and went out to fetch more water. This was hard on her foot, but she wanted very much to look less like a burden to Carson.

  He looked up at her from near the barn. “Hold on there!” he told her.

  He leapt up from cleaning the rabbit and hurried to her side. His fingers touched hers as he took the bucket from her. “You shouldn’t be walking,” he said.
“Your foot’s not healed.”

  Delilah liked the way he spoke to her—strong, but not in the cruel preemptory manner of the Colonel. “I want to help,” she told him.

  Carson grunted, like he didn’t understand her words. “You just sit down by the wall over there,” he said. “I’ll finish dressing the rabbit. Then I’ll get the water.”

  He turned around without waiting for an answer, carrying the bucket with him as he went back to his work. He was quick with the knife, cutting open the skin, and removing the meat for eating. He wrapped the cuts up in the skin and carried them with him when he went to fill the bucket. There was blood on his hands when he came back to join her but that didn’t trouble Delilah.

  Carson led her back inside, started the fire, then left again to fetch the vegetables. When he returned he browned the meat and produce together in an iron skillet, then dumped it all into the pot to make a stew. When he sat back to let it cook, Delilah tried to talk to him again.

  “I need to be moving on soon,” she said.

  “Can’t,” Carson told her, “least not with that foot.”

  She wondered if she should tell him about the Colonel. If he really didn’t understand she had runaway, then she was probably safer not telling him.

  “You could let me ride your burro,” she said.

  Carson shook his head. “Can’t,” he repeated. “I need him.”

  Delilah struggled to keep her face calm. Carson didn’t appear to understand what she was suggesting. Did she really want to be more direct? It would be safer for her if he would come along to protect her and deal with the white men in their path, but would he be willing to do that? And was she willing to give him all the benefits of a woman’s company that a man might expect if she asked him to accompany her?

  She just didn’t know.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Convincing Carson

  Delilah woke in a cold sweat, stifling the screams sparked by another nightmare. She knew what she had to do! Whatever else happened, she wasn’t going to let the Colonel get hold of her again.

  Hobbling on her injured foot, she crossed the tiny room and stoked the little fire back to life. She’d start by making Carson breakfast—heating the remnants of last night’s stew to feed the hunger in his belly. Then she’d offer to comfort his lonely heart—hoping her body could persuade him where her words could not.

  When she finished readying breakfast, Delilah poured it into Carson’s single bowl, picked up his spoon, and left the house for the barn. The sun peeked above the horizon sharing a pink glow that was all too merry for her mood. She limped her way across the yard and paused before the barn door.

  Could she really do this?

  The thought of Carson touching her both terrified and excited her.

  She heaved open the door. Carson was already on his feet, tending to his burro. He turned to blink at her in the early morning light.

  “I brought you some breakfast,” she told him.

  Delilah steeled her nerve, pulled the door shut behind her and walked over to him. “I thought you’d be hungry.”

  Carson didn’t move. His eyes locked on hers as if he knew beyond a doubt that her visit wasn’t about breakfast, but couldn’t quite be certain what she really wanted. His eyes flickered toward the burro and back to hers.

  Delilah closed her eyes. How could she be so stupid? He thought she wanted his damn animal—which she did, of course—but that wasn’t why she’d made him breakfast this morning.

  She set the bowl down on an upended bucket then plucked up her nerve to take his hand in both of hers. “Mr. Carson,” she said, “I thought maybe you’d go with me when I leave here.”

  She moved his hand to her left breast, shuddering just a little when he touched her.

  Carson still didn’t move. His fingers didn’t close on her breast. He didn’t pull her against him. He didn’t try to kiss her.

  “This is my home,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay.”

  He really didn’t understand, she realized. Somehow that made him more attractive to her. He wasn’t thinking of her as a slave, but as a woman.

  She took a step closer to him. His hand accommodated her movement by cupping her breast, but he still didn’t play with it or run his thumb over her nipple. “There are bad men chasing me,” she whispered.

  She took his left hand in both of hers and guided it to the cleft between her legs.

  He shuddered and the involuntary movement reverberated through her lower lips into her groin.

  “Won’t find you here,” he said.

  Only a couple of inches separated their torsos. Delilah lifted her left hand and caressed his cheek. “Please help me, Mr. Carson.”

  The trembling in his hand intensified, making her whole lower body vibrate in response. She didn’t quite know what to make of the feeling. It was unique to her experience. Not that it mattered now. With her right hand she touched the place the Colonel always forced on her. Carson was long and stiff beneath his pants—much bigger than she had expected.

  “What are you--”

  She moved her fingers from his cheek to his lips. “Hush,” she told him. “I know how to be good to you.”

  She dropped her left hand down beside her right and began to work on the knot of his rope belt. Cason’s hand on her breast finally began to move, ever so slowly exploring her nipple, treating her like a wild animal who might start and run away if he startled her.

  She tugged the belt free and dropped his pants to the floor. She couldn’t resist the urge to look down. His cock was larger than she’d thought possible, based on the Colonel, with the little hole peeking out from beneath its foreskin.

  She didn’t want to touch it—and she did want to touch it. The Colonel would be beating her by now, bloodying her mouth and hurting her tits. Carson stood statue-like by comparison. He let her take the lead for the first time in her life and choose what she wanted to do to him.

  She slipped her small brown hand around the head of his penis and slid the foreskin back. His head strained with excitement, glistening all over with a clear sticky fluid.

  She touched the bared flesh, running her thumb over the smooth skin and—

  Carson’s back arched and he grunted loudly. White seed shot up between them almost splattering Delilah’s dress. She stepped back away from him—too quickly to censor the movement—and Carson caught hold of himself and turned away in shame. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have—sorry.”

  Delilah had to do something quickly or her efforts here would drive him away. “You just surprised me,” she said. “It’s not bad.”

  Carson reached down and began to haul up his pants.

  “No!” she told him. “Wait! I mean--”

  As he turned to glance at her, she hauled the dress up over her shoulders and tossed it away from them. Then she got down on her knees like the Colonel liked and encouraged him with her hands to turn back to face her. His eyes were larger than ever, soaking in the sight of her naked body. His cock grew harder as she took it in her hands to work on it.

  “I mean, we don’t have to be finished yet,” she told him.

  She opened her mouth and made herself lick him. The Colonel forced her to do this, but with Carson it wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t hurting her, he was standing there stunned by the feelings she was sparking in his manhood.

  She licked again. He tasted of salt and seed. It was kind of pleasant without the copper taste of blood overpowering the flavor.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  It must have been a genuine question. Was it possible he’d never been with a woman?

  “I’m getting you ready to take me,” she told him.

  Her mouth covered the whole head of his dick making him groan with pleasure. She bobbed up and down, keeping her mouth tight the way the Colonel liked it.

  Carson’s knees buckled and she let him slip free. “Easy,” she said. “Why don’t you lay down here beside me?


  Strangely enough, he laid down the wrong way so that his dick was near her face but his head was pointed toward her feet. She supposed that sort of made sense considering what she’d been doing to him. It let him look up at her naked form and it kept his stiff prick by her face, but it was by no means what she’d expected from him.

  She swallowed him again, using her tongue as she’d been taught, hoping she could give him so much pleasure that he’d happily follow her west. It really was a small price to pay. She’d satisfy Carson each night and he’d keep other men from hurting her. She was taken completely by surprise when he pressed her thighs apart and abruptly tried to return the favor.

  His tongue was wet, rough and exciting. It pressed between her dark lips before she realized it was upon her. It dug deep, spreading her in places no mouth had ever been, and surprised her body into bucking up to kiss him back.

  Carson pulled his mouth away, the scruffy whiskers on his chin glistening from their brief contact with her womanhood. “You’re all wet,” he said. The surprise in his voice was no greater than that which she felt. What did he mean she was wet?

  Delilah took one hand off Carson’s stiff cock and touched herself down there. He was right! Her lips were all wet, dripping juices onto her thighs. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Carson dipped his face down again and sucked hard on one of her swollen lips. Her body quivered in response. Her ass rose off the dirt floor of the barn to push her flower deeper into his mouth.

  Carson pressed her hips back down, using his strength to stretch her thighs wider—but this wasn’t like the Colonel forcing himself upon her. Delilah struggled to help Carson, opening her legs as wide as she could and loving every moment that Carson spent between them. She completely forgot about his cock. Her left hand found one hard brown nipple and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. Her right hand began to dibble that little nub of flesh above her lips. Carson noticed what those fingers were doing and shifted the focus of his mouth’s attention. He sucked that nub in between his teeth and Delilah’s whole groin erupted with pleasure.