“I appreciate that, Teller.” Tossing back the whisky, Player hissed as it burned going down. “I’m gonna grab a shower and get cleaned up.”
“Me too. It’s been a long damn night.”
Player smirked, knowing what Teller meant. Slapping his hand on the bar top, he headed for his room.
Joker watched Player head back to his room. Sliding his glass back to Teller, he watched him pour a shot of whisky. When Teller slid it back, Joker took no time before tossing back the warm, amber liquid. Setting the glass down, he waited for Teller to say something. An awkward silence lingered between them until Teller poured another round.
“How many club girls did the two of you keep holed up in Player’s room last night?”
Raising an eyebrow at the question, Joker smirked. “Two, I think. Might’ve been three. I actually think Wynn climbed into the mix at one point.”
“Damn, that one’s usually selective.”
“I think she was there more for Tea than us.”
“And I bet neither you nor Player can remember a fucking thing.” Teller laughed then clinked his glass to Joker’s before throwing it back. “I’m headed for a shower. Maybe you should think of taking one too.”
“Heading that way myself.” Joker thought about how much of Player’s past he should tell Teller about. “Listen, Player holds a lot of guilt over not going back to get his sister. He checked on her all the time. Even hired P.I.s to find her when their fucking mom moved. I’m telling you this . . .” Joker ran a hand over his tired face. “I’m telling you this because he’s gonna need us to help him, even if he doesn’t ask for it.”
“That’s what families do,” Teller told Joker as he walked off.
Chapter Two
Cree hung up the phone. The last thing he expected as he stepped from the sweat lodge was a call from Player. The wind slapped him in the face. Winter in South Dakota could be unpredictable. Tapping the phone against his leg, he needed to wrap things up and get going. Somewhere in Hill City was a scared girl. A girl who knew nothing about the man about to darken her door. Sometimes it took a monster to make bad men shit themselves.
As he stared across the open plains that made up the reservation, the mid-day sun set high in a cloudless sky. He came there to represent his family, his people. Had he accomplished that? Yes. Still, he felt disconnected from himself. He needed that connection. It was like missing one’s shadow. He felt something was missing deep within him, that one thing that made him whole.
His body was still recouping from the gruelling task of fasting before participating in the Sun Dance. He’d been tethered to the ceremonial pole by his wrist from a rawhide thong as he danced in the circle with other men most of the night.
Glancing at his wrist, it looked raw and angry, but so did the thin, black tattooed band that wrapped around his bicep. It was the newest in a row of ten lines. Each line represented a year he had participated in the sacred dance.
There were things he still wanted to do before leaving the reservation. His father and grandfather had told him stories about the Lakota being one with nature. How the land, sky, water, and the four-legged beasts were all still interconnected with the people. Those words rang in his mind. They told Cree that everyone was respected in the web of life, and presiding over all was the spirits. He had come there to connect with the spirits, and before he left the reservation, he would make his way to the Stronghold Table. He didn’t care if the landowners allowed him or not. Running a hand through his waist-length hair, Cree twisted the top section into a knot, keeping it out of his face.
Turning from the view, Cree pulled the flap back and re-entered the lodge. Taking a seat in his vacated place in the circle, he announced he’d been called away. He’d come to represent his family as the eldest living male. If they wanted anything from him, the tribal elders needed to let him know right then. When nothing but safe travels were given, he shoved to his feet and left.
Cree moved through the camp, heading to the tent he had been occupying for the past few months during the celebrations. He chose to stay in a tent, wanting to be one with nature. Slipping inside, he came up short at seeing one of the local women lying naked on his bed. One hand was tucked behind her head while the other played with her pussy. He was about to tell her to get out before she spread her tan legs wide, showing him her bare, glistening cunt with her fingers feverishly plunging in and out of it.
Rubbing a hand over his jaw, Cree closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of pussy permeated his nose. His cock twitched as his head reminded him he had somewhere to be. Fuck it, he was dipping his wick. “This is gonna be hard and fast, iskwew.”
Pulling off his ceremonial loincloth, he moved to the small bed area and lowered himself over the woman. “Keep those fingers moving while I fuck you.” Grabbing her free hand, he pulled it from behind her head, stretching it above her.
Gripping the base of his dick, his fist tightened as he pumped up and down at a hard, unrelenting pace, his mind on the fingers fucking the sweet pussy he was about to ruin. His cock hardened and pearl droplets began to drip from the head. He’d been without a woman’s touch for a month, but his dry spell was about to end.
Widening her legs with his knee, he shoved his cock into her silky folds. She hissed as his size stretched her already full pussy wider. Her fingers stilled as he plunged deep into her. “Get those fingers moving.” He growled. The feeling of her fingers gliding along his cock had Cree picking up the pace. “That’s it, do it faster.”
“It’s too much,” she whined as he pounded into her.
His hand tightened on her wrist, stretching her arm higher above her head. “You’ll fucking take it all.”
When the girl begged him to stop, Cree pulled out of her. Wrapping a hand around his cum-coated cock, he tightened his grip and pumped up and down as he told her to finish fingering herself.
Cree pumped harder as the girl bucked against her own fingers. When she tried to close her legs, Cree told her to keep them open. She started this fuck show, and now, she would let him watch her get off.
The sound of his orgasm bounced against the thick canvas walls as he shot his load between her legs and on her hands. Ropes of cum landed on her stomach, all the way to her chin. His breathing was ragged as his fingers dug into her trembling hand which he still held. Looking at her face, he found her eyes staring at the mess he made of her.
Letting go of her hand, he pushed off the bed. Grabbing her discarded shirt, he wiped himself and tossed it at her. “Get dressed and go. Next time you lay in a man’s bed, he might not care what you want.” He watched as she dressed quickly and left his tent in a hurry.
Grabbing his clothes, he dressed and gathered his gear. When he stepped out of the tent, he half expected to see angry men waiting for him. There were none, which was good because he would hate to have to kick some chick’s father’s old ass.
