Riverboat Blaze (3 page)

Gloriously so.

Clint had read some books about the Greek gods and goddesses. He thought that what he was seeing now could not be any les beautiful than a Greek goddess. He literally felt breathless while looking at her.

She raised her arms and twirled around for him. Her dark skin was flawless, her breasts perfect. She had dark brown nipples and a wild pubic thatch, as pitch-black as the hair on her head. There was also some dark hair in her armpits, which only served to make her even more appealing to him.

“Can you see me?” she asked.

“Oh,” he said, “I can see you.”

She stopped twirling and faced him, lowering her arms.

“And now it’s my turn,” she said.

He unbuckled his gun and set it down nearby. He wanted to tear his clothes off, but he didn’t want to seem too anxious, so he undressed slowly. By the time he removed his underwear, though, he was fully aroused, and she caught her breath as his penis rose up and pointed at her.

She walked across the room, confronted him, took his penis into both hands.

“I spend a lot of time naked,” she said.

“Not in public, I hope.”

She laughed. “No, but whenever I am in private, I like it,” she said. “And it suits you.”

She backed toward the bed, maintaining her hold on him. He had no choice but to follow.

But he would have, anyway.

Ava was almost as tall as Clint. She was a lot of woman, and Clint felt like the luckiest man alive when he took her into his arms and kissed her. She had a natural, musky odor about her that permeated his nostrils. He kissed her mouth, then her neck and shoulders, finally moving down to her breasts. He took them in his hands, caressed them while he kissed and licked the turgid nipples. Her skin was hot and smooth. As he bit her, she moaned, slid her hands into his hair, holding him tightly to her bosom.

He let his hands roam over her body, and she suddenly, impatiently grabbed him and took him down to the bed with amazing strength. Once on the mattress, she wrangled him onto his back and straddled him, trapping his penis between them. She rubbed her furry patch up and down the length of him, bracing herself with her hands flat against his chest. He began to move his hips with her, and soon they were both slick with her juices. Finally, she lifted her hips and allowed him to slide right into her, then she sat down hard on him, taking him all the way in.

The light waned, and she became just a silhouette rising and falling on him, slickly, wetly, hotly. She started to moan, and her moans turned to grunts each time she came down on him.

He found her rhythm and started moving with her, sliding his hands up over his breasts, around behind her to her beautiful back. She leaned forward then so he could reach her breasts and nipples with his mouth. In that position he was able to slide his hand beneath her buttocks. She soaked them both with her juices, which smelled both sweet and sharp. In fact, the smell became so intoxicating that Clint also wanted a taste.

He tried to turn her, and for a moment they wrestled, both grunting with the effort, but finally he got her onto her back and slid down between her legs. He parted the curtain of hair with his fingers, then probed with his tongue. He began to lap at her, tasting her sweetness, causing her hips to jerk and a gasp to come from her mouth each time he touched her. Once again she reached for him, wrapped his hair in her fingers, and held him there. At one point she was even rubbing his face into her crotch, and he thought she was almost strong enough to hold him there and drown him in her wetness.

He slid his hands beneath her buttocks again, cupped them, and lifted her so that he was in control of her. As he continued to lick and suck her, she released his head so she could beat her fists on the mattress and then take handfuls of the sheets.

Finally, she trembled and then cried out as she once again gushed and—in a sharp reversal—started to push him away while her orgasm overtook her . . .

 

Dillon walked Angela to her room.

“How about a nightcap?” he asked.

“We just had a nightcap,” she said. “In fact, several.”

“Then how about just asking me in?”

“No,” she said. “What about your Creole singer?”

“Ava? She just works for me.”

“So do I.”

What’s goin’ on, Angela?” he asked. “I thought this was where we were headin’.”

“Maybe,” she said, unlocking her door, “it’s just taken too long to get here. Good night, Dean.”

She went into her room and closed the door in his face.

Shaking his head, he turned and walked down the hall.

Inside the room, Angela leaned against the door and listened to Dean Dillon’s retreating footsteps. Maybe she and Dean were heading here, but that all changed when Clint Adams sat across from her. Now he was probably with that Creole bitch, who had thrown herself at him like the bitch in heat that she was, but that would change. Once they were on the boat, that would change.

 

Clint didn’t allow Ava any time to regain her breath. He turned her over, receiving little or no resistance this time. He lifted her up onto all fours, then slid his hard dick up between her thighs and into her. She gasped and shuddered, and then he began taking her, first in long, easy strokes, but little by little increasing the tempo, until he was slamming himself into her and she was crying out.

Once she found his rhythm, she began to slam back against him as he drove into her, and pretty soon the familiar sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room.

The fire began to spread . . .

“Clint,” Angela said, holding his arm tightly. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Have you seen Dean or Ava?”

“No.”

“The Warrant brothers?”

“I thought I saw Sam go overboard.”

“Fall overboard?”

She shook her head. “It looked to me like he jumped.”

“Then Lou probably went over first,” Clint said. “Those two do everything together.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

The boat listed heavily to one side again, and he said, “I think we’re going to have to do the same thing, Angela. This boat is going down.”

“But . . . that’s supposed to be impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

Clint looked up at the
Dolly Madison
from the dock. It was an impressive boat, no question about it.

“What do you think?”

He turned. It was Miller, one of the backers.

“Impressive,” Clint said.

“Big,” Miller said.

“Why aren’t you going?” Clint asked. “You and your partners?”

“Like I said,” Miller answered, “big. I don’t see how something like this can even float.”

“I know what you mean,” Clint said. “When Dean told me how much it weighed—”

“Don’t tell me,” Miller said. “I don’t want to know.”

“Guess I can’t blame you.”

“Hello, Clint.”

He turned and saw Ava, looking lovely in a blue dress and shawl. Her short black hair was kind of spiky, as if all she had done that morning was run her fingers through it.

They had spent a day together, but not last night. They both had to get their belongings ready to move to the boat. Dillon had their bags picked up for them in the morning.

“Good morning, Ava,” Clint said.

“Mr. Miller,” Ava said.

“Hello, Ava,” Miller said, looking uncomfortable. “I’ll, uh, I have some things to do. Nice to see you, Adams.”

They both watched the man walk away.

“He doesn’t like Creole people,” she said.

“You’re only half-Creole,” Clint said.

“He can’t tell the difference,” she said. “Have you seen Dean this morning?”

“No, not yet. Maybe he’s on board.”

“Will you escort me aboard?” she asked.

He put his arm out and said, “It will be my pleasure.”

They walked up the gangway together.

 

From the deck Sam and Lou Warrant watched Clint and Ava walk onto the boat together.

“Think he’s gonna be a problem?” Sam asked.

“Naw,” Lou said. “He don’t know what’s goin’ on, and he’s gonna be busy sniffin’ around Ava.”

“I aim to do some of that sniffin’ myself,” Sam said.

“Not me,” Lou said. “I’m gonna be sniffin’ around Angela.”

“Don’t like blond hair,” Sam said.

“Don’t matter,” Lou said, “’cause I’m gonna have her facin’ the other way.”

“Hey,” Sam said, “maybe we can do that together.”

“You said you don’t like blondes.”

“Well,” Sam said, “if she’s facin’ the other way . . .”

 

The Warrant brothers were on the second deck, watching Clint and Ava enter on the first deck.

Up on the third deck Dean Dillon was looking down on everything. This had to turn out right, he thought. Not only did he have investors to answer to, but he had all his own money tied up in the
Dolly Madison
. That was why he wanted Clint on board. He knew if there was any trouble, the Gunsmith would be able to handle it.

“How’s it look, Boss?”

Dillon turned and looked at his second in command, Mike Chambers.

“Everything’s goin’ smoothly, so far,” he said. “I have to talk to the captain. Why don’t you stay here and watch things.”

“Sure, Boss.”

Dillon took one last look around, then turned and walked to the wheelhouse.

Clint was standing on the deck with Ava when Dean Dillon finally appeared.

“’Mornin’, you two. Glad you made it.”

“Dean,” Clint said. “We were wondering how we were going to find our way to our cabins.”

“That’ll be me,” Dillon said. “I’ll show you both, but let’s wait a minute. I see Angela coming up the gangway.”

Clint looked and saw the pretty blonde making her way on board.

“I know where my cabin is,” Ava said. “I’ll see you boys later.”

After she left, Clint asked, “What was that about?”

“I’m afraid the ladies don’t get along,” Dean said.

“Why is that?”

“Who knows, with women?” Dillon asked. “You’ll have to ask them. “Mornin’, Angela.”

“Good morning, gents,” she said. “Beautiful day for it, Dean.”

“Yes, it is,” Dillon said. “You look lovely this mornin’.”

“Thank you. Where’s Ava?”

“She’s on her way to her cabin,” Dillon said. “Why don’t I show the two of you to yours?”

“I’m ready,” Angela said.

“So am I,” Clint said.

“This way.”

They went inside and Dillon led them to a stairway.

“You’re both on the third deck, Angela because she’s working for me, and you, Clint, because you’re a guest.” Dillon pointedly looked at Clint and said, “Ava’s also on this level.”

“What about the Warrant brothers?” Clint said.

“I’ve got them on two,” Dillon said. “Employees who hate sharing cabins are on two.”

He led them to a door with a “1” on it and said, “This is Angela. Clint, you’re down the way in number five. It should be unlocked.”

“Thanks, Dean. Angela. See you both later.”

“Once we get under way, we’ll have some food and champagne served to celebrate,” Dillon said. “That’ll be just outside here. So I’ll see you both then.”

“Fine,” Clint said.

Dillon stood still in front of Angela’s door, so Clint excused himself, walked down to his cabin, and let himself in. It wasn’t large, but it was pretty nice, easily the best cabin he’d ever had on a riverboat. He dropped his carpetbag in a corner, leaned his rifle against the wall, then went to look out the single window. He could see all the activity on the dock as people boarded, materials were loaded, as well as stock. Clint had chosen to leave Eclipse in the Jean Lafitte’s stable, rather than take the horse on board. For one thing Eclipse had never been on a riverboat before, so Clint didn’t know how the Darley Arabian gelding would take it. And second, all somebody had to do was tell Clint a boat was unsinkable to make him start to worry. He felt better leaving Eclipse on dry land.

It would take a while for everything to get loaded and for them to get under way, so he sat down on the bed and opened his carpetbag. There was a chest of drawers against one wall, and he started to put his belongings in there.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. He walked to it and opened it with his hand on his gun.

When he opened the door, Angela came rushing in.

“Quick, before somebody sees me!” she said.

He closed the door.

“Angela, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “The way I figure it, you spent at least one night with Ava this week, maybe two.”

“Um, well—”

“So I wanted to state my case as early as I could when we got on board.”

Abruptly, she began to unbutton her dress.

“Whoa, Angela,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“It’s going to be a while before we can get under way,” she said, pulling the dress down. “Nobody will bother us for a while.”

She must have planned this well ahead of time, because she hadn’t worn any underwear. Her pale skin came into view, smooth and flawless. Her breasts were small but seemed solid, like ripe peaches, with pink nipples. She hopped on one foot to get the dress off, and then the other, which made her taut breasts jiggle nicely.

Finally, she was naked, and she stood that way in front of him. Between her legs there seemed to be a pelt of gold.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to reject me? Put me out into the hall naked?”

“I’m not going to do either of those things,” Clint said. “I’m going to lock the door.”

Mike Chambers watched as a huge crate was loaded onto the riverboat. He noticed it because it seemed to be the heaviest crate they were carrying that day.