The Dark of the Sun - Smith Wilbur (читать книгу онлайн бесплатно полностью без регистрации .TXT) 📗
bareheaded staring back at him with big brown gentle eyes.
He groaned softly. "Why is it always the good ones, the harmless, the
weak?" A tap on the door roused him and he sat up quickly.
"Yes?"
"Hello, Bruce." Shermaine came in with a multipledecked metal canteen in
one hand and two mugs in the other. "It's lunchtime."
"Already!" Bruce checked his watch. "Good Lord, it's after one."
"Are you hungry!"
"Breakfast was a century ago." "Good," she said, lowered the collapsible
table and began . ng the food.
"Smells good." sir! "I am a chef Cordon Bleu. My bully beef goulash is
demanded by the crowned heads of Europe." They ate in silence for both
of them were hungry. Once they looked at each other and smiled but
returned to the food.
"That was good," sighed Bruce at last.
"Coffee, Bruce?"
"Please." As she poured it she asked, "So, what happens now?"
"Do you mean what happens now we are alone?"
"You are forward, monsieur. I meant how do we get out of here?"
"I am adopting your suggestion: borrowing General Moses's
transportation."
"You make jokes, Bruce!"
"No" he said, and explained briefly.
"It will be very dangerous, will it not? You may be hurt?"
"Only the good die young."
"That is why I worry. Please do not get hurt - I
am starting to think I would not like that." Her face was very serious
and pale. Bruce crossed quickly and stooped over her, lifting her to her
feet.
"Shermaine, I-"
"No, Bruce. Don't talk. Don't say anything." Her eyes were closed with
thick black lashes interlaced, her chin lifted exposing the long smooth
swell of her neck. He touched it with his lips and she made a soft noise
in her throat so he could feel the skin vibrate. Her body flattened
against his and her fingers closed in the hair at the back of his head.
"Oh, Bruce. My Bruce, please do not get hurt. Do not let them hurt you."
Wanting now, urgently, his mouth hunted upwards and hers came to meet
it, willing prey. Her lips were pink and not greased with make-up, they
parted to the pressure of his tongue, he felt the tip of her nose cool
upon his cheek and his hand moved up her back and closed round the nape
of her neck, slender neck with silky down behind her
ears.
"Oh, Bruce-" she said into his mouth. His other hand went down on to the
proud, round, deeply divided thrust of her buttocks, he pulled her lower
body against his and she gasped as she felt him - the arrogant maleness
through cloth.
"No," she gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her until she
relaxed against him once more. She shook her head, "Non, non," but her
mouth was open still and her tongue fluttered against his. Down came his
hand from her neck and twitched her shirt tails loose from under her
belt, then up again along her back, touching the deep lateral depression
of her spine so that she shuddered, clinging to him.
Stroking velvet skin stretched tight over rubber-hard flesh, finding the
outline of her shoulder blades, tracing them upwards then back to the
armpits, silky-haired armpits that maddened him with excitement, quickly
past them to her breasts, small breasts with soft tips hardening to his
touch.
Now she struggled in earnest, her fists beating on his shoulders and her
mouth breaking from his, and he stopped himself, dropped the hand away
to encircle her waist.
Holding her loosely within his arms.
"That was not good, Bruce. You get naughty very quick." Her cheeks
flamed with colour and her blue eyes had darkened to royal, her lips
still wet from his, and her voice was unsteady, as unsteady as his when
he answered.
"I'm sorry, Shermaine. I don't know what happened then, I did not mean
to frighten you."
"You are very strong, Bruce. But you do not frighten me, only a little
bit. Your eyes frighten me when they look at me but do not see." You
really made a hash of that one, he rebuked himself.
Bruce Curry, the gentle sophisticated lover. Bruce Curry, the
heavyweight, catch-as-catch-can, two-fisted rape artist.
He felt shaky, his legs wobbly, and there was something . usly wrong
with his breathing.
seno
"You do not wear a brassieres" he said without thinking, and immediately
regretted it, but she chuckled, soft and husky.
"Do you think I need to, Bruce?"
"No, I didn't mean that," he protested quickly, remembering the saucy
tilt of that small breast. He was silent then, marshalling his words,
trying to control his breathing, fighting down the madness of desire.
She studied his eyes. "You can see again now - perhaps I will let you
kiss me."
"Please," he said and she came back to him.
Gently now, Bruce me boy.
The door of the compartment flew back with a crash and they jumped
apart. Wally Hendry stood on the threshold.
"Well, well, well." His shrewd little eyes took it all in.
That's nice!" Shermaine was hurriedly tucking in her shirt tail and
trying to smooth her hair at the same time.
Wally grinned. "Nothing like it after a meal, I always say.
Gets the digestion going."
"What do you want?" snapped Bruce.
"There's no doubt what you want, said Wally. "Looks like you're getting
it too." He let his eyes travel up from Shermaine's waist, slowly over
her body to her face.
Bruce stepped out into the corridor, pushing Hendry back and slammed the
door.
"What do you want?" he repeated.
"Ruffy wants you to check his arrangements, but I'll tell him you're
busy. We can put the attack off until tomorrow night if you like." Bruce
scowled at him. "Tell him I'll be with him in two minutes." Wally leaned
against the door. "Okay, I'll tell him."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing, just nothing," grinned Wally.
"Well, bugger off then," snarled Bruce.
"Okay, Okay, don't get your knickers in a knot, Bucko." He sauntered off
down the corridor.
Shermaine was standing where Bruce had left her, but with her eyes
bright with tears of anger.
"He is a pig, that one. A filthy, filthy pig."
"He's not worth worrying about." Bruce tried to take her in his arms
again, but she shrugged him off.
"I hate him. He makes everything seem so cheap, so dirty."
"Nothing between you and I could be cheap and dirty," said Bruce, and
instantly her fury abated.
"I know, my Bruce. But he can make it seem that way." They kissed
gently.
"I must go. They want me." For a second she clung to him.
"Be careful. Promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise," said
Bruce and she let him go.
They left before dark, but the clouds had come up during the afternoon
and now they hung low over the forest, trapping the heat beneath them.
Bruce led, with Ruffy in the middle of the line and Hendry in the rear.
By the time they reached the level crossing the night was on them and it
had started to rain, soft fat drops weeping like a woman exhausted with
