Night Of Fire Part 11

She had no idea what he was talking about until he positioned her so she was on her back, her legs bent and wide-spread. A momentary embarra.s.sment because she couldn't remember when she'd last bathed herself turned into hot antic.i.p.ation as he lowered himself before her exposed c.u.n.t. For a moment he remained still and silent; she ached to know what he was thinking but didn't dare ask.

"I can't remember my past," he muttered. "Anything about it. You've stolen it from me."

"I do not steal."

"Don't you? Never mind, right now neither of us wants to go there."

She hoped he would explain himself, but he didn't say a word. Looking up at the sky the way she was, she couldn't see what he was going to do, but she trusted him. Besides, she now lacked the strength to move.

Something warm and soft and moist touched her inner thigh, sending a fiery shudder through her. Halfway through trying to determine what he was doing, she decided to simply let it happen-or maybe decide wasn't it at all.

He stayed there, painting her sensitive flesh, covering her in dampness. Somewhere in the middle of feeling-just feeling-she realized he was bathing her with his tongue. He periodically deserted her hungry skin, but he always returned, and when he did, he was newly wet. When he moved from her thigh to the fold between leg and p.u.s.s.y, she started to shake-just a little but it was impossible to control. She thought she heard him chuckle, but her head was roaring now, and she couldn't be sure.

He stayed there for what seemed a long time, teasing her entrance. Her hunger for him grew until she felt starved, and her woman's moisture increased. Inside her c.u.n.t something was swelling, becoming hot and hard-desperate to escape.

Using his hands, he separated her burning p.u.s.s.y lips. Then, while she helped by lifting her so-heavy hips and widening her stance, he licked at the entrance to her c.l.i.toris. Her nerves there hummed, the tempo increasing. Now she felt hot everywhere, even the top of her head. She'd broken out in a sweat.

He licked again, deeper this time, the tip of his tongue intruding. She began whipping her head from side to side but was only barely aware of what she was doing. She moaned, then her breath whistled.

Deeper now, tongue pushing in, seeming to laugh inside her, light and strong all at the same time. She couldn't keep her hips on the ground and dismissed the strain in her lower back as she struggled to make herself even more accessible.

His tongue-his tongue on that hard, swollen piece of her he called her c.l.i.t- challenged and caressed it all at the same time. She couldn't think how to breathe and had ceased to exist except where he'd laid his claim.

Her engorged organ was filling her, taking up every bit of s.p.a.ce, maybe forcing his tongue out. Still he pressed against it and seemed to be trying to cleanse every part of it. Would it explode?

Would she?

She tried to sit up so she could watch the explosion, but she felt weaker than she'd been right after the priest stabbed her. Fear lapped at her consciousness because he shouldn't be capable of doing that to her. Then the fear slid into something else.

There! There it was! Everything wrapped up in his experienced and demanding tongue, his fingers spreading her as if her c.u.n.t had been ripped open, ruling, controlling. Helpless, she writhed to his rhythm-to her own rhythm.

It was happening again! No longer herself, she became some primitive creature instead, an animal perched at the edge of a mountain cliff. Not seeking safety but leaping off into s.p.a.ce, fire and something beyond her comprehension leaping with her.

Sobbing. Screaming.

She'd landed. She didn't know where she was or how long she'd been there. Her muscles had a little strength now, not enough, but better than total helplessness.

Taurus was still between her legs. His tongue was no longer inside her, maybe because she'd bucked him out of her. But he wasn't done with her, and gradually she realized that he had hold of her p.u.s.s.y lips and was lightly ma.s.saging them.

"You come easily. From virgin to a woman of experience didn't take long," he said.

"You," she whispered. "You have done this thing to me."

His touch was so gentle, a caress. "Maybe I have," he said. "If that's true, it scares the h.e.l.l out of me."

"Why?" she asked and tried to sit up. He pushed her back down.

"Because this has gone way beyond a one-night stand."

His somber tone penetrated her fog, and this time she managed to work herself into a reclining position. He lay on his side, one arm propping him up much as she'd done when she had his c.o.c.k in her mouth. His fingers were still between her legs, close-so close-to her p.u.s.s.y.

"Your c.l.i.t is unbelievably responsive," he said, and yet she had the feeling he wasn' t thinking about that.

"Yes," she admitted. "It is. Taurus, you have not yet come. I want to give you that."

"Before I take a hike, is that what you mean?"

Now that her vision had cleared, she saw the sorrow and bewilderment in his eyes. She felt the same way. Knowing he was going to return to his world where he had important things to do made her heart ache. If only The Lady or dagger-stone had told her it would turn out this way!

She couldn't keep him here. Silence was safe. Silence and action.

Repositioning herself so she too was propped up on one arm with his s.e.x organ within easy reach, she picked a few blades of gra.s.s and used them to lightly paint his c.o.c.k. Around and around she went, dragging the soft, sweet blades over every part of it. His erection had already been huge, but it seemed as if her caresses were making him even more so. Scooting down, she leaned toward the fascinating s.p.a.ce between his legs and breathed on the glistening tip.

He gasped and fisted his fingers in her hair. She looked up at him. Then, because the clouds in his eyes scared her, she turned her attention back to what she was doing.

"From earliest childhood," she told him because she didn't want silence after all, "I have seen men's seed-makers. Like women's b.r.e.a.s.t.s, each is different." Putting down the gra.s.s, she cupped her hand under his b.a.l.l.s and lifted them. Knowing she might never do this again brought her to the brink of tears, and she kept her head angled so he couldn't see. "Being naked is nothing to us. Neither is hearing and seeing people having s.e.x."

"It-it's not like that where I come from."

Where you come from and where you will return. "Is your way better?" Cradling his b.a.l.l.s to keep them warm, she blew on them. He shuddered.

"Better?" His voice had a strangled quality. "h.e.l.l, no."

"What is good about it then?"

"Don't go there, Maia. I don't want to talk about it."

Maybe he wanted her to leave now, stand and walk away without saying a word. No, his c.o.c.k was telling her that he wanted her. Besides, she'd made him a promise. Releasing his b.a.l.l.s, she picked up the gra.s.s again. This time she draped the slender blades over his tip; his moisture kept them in place.

"Bel-fire is a time of celebration," she told him. "We pick flowers and other living things and decorate our homes. Today I decorate you."

"Today you're driving me crazy."

"You do not like that?"

"You know the answer to that, d.a.m.n it."

She wanted to laugh, but the sound caught in her throat. No matter what she did, she couldn't turn her back on the sorrow waiting deep in her mind. Determined to hold it at bay for as long as possible, she searched the ground until she found some clover. She picked that and brushed his b.a.l.l.s with the small rounded leaves. His breathing had no rhythm, and she could smell his sweat.

You will not easily forget me, she thought. No matter what you do, who you f.u.c.k, I will remain in your memory.

After placing the now-sticky clover on his hip, she dug around the ground cover until she'd loosened some dirt and sprinkled that over his c.o.c.k.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Life comes from the earth, Taurus. You may not want it on your body, on what you used to place your seed inside me, but it is my gift to you." She positioned her palm along the underside of his c.o.c.k. "This is a simple piece of flesh, no good for fighting or hunting. It is vulnerable, sensitive."

"Right now... it sure as h.e.l.l is."

"It controls a man. Perhaps he should hate it, but nothing is more important to him." After running her fingers over his now dirt-touched c.o.c.k, she collected more earth and sprinkled that over him. "I give you what is most important to me-the earth where my ancestors walked and where someday my grandchildren will do the same."

A lump caught in her throat. This time when the tears came, she was helpless to stop them. When he placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head, she saw him through blurred vision.

"That's why you brought me here, isn't it?" he whispered. "Not just to get you pregnant, but so I, a man from the future, would understand what's special about this place."

"I did only what I was told to. But you are right; this land is magic to us." It hurt to speak. "The priests want to take away that magic, but they will fail. I know they will."

He wiped at a tear, then put his finger against her lips so she could taste her salt. "I hope you're right."

"Taurus, when I was in your time, it was Bel-fire. No one has destroyed that."

"Destroyed, no. But it has changed a great deal; you said so yourself. Most people have no idea of the celebration's roots. I want... "

"What do you want?"

He shook his head and touched his c.o.c.k. "What you promised."

She could do that. As thoughts of how wonderful it would feel to have him inside her took over, she shoved everything else aside.

A gentle brushing with the gra.s.s and clover removed the dirt from his c.o.c.k. Once he was clean, she pressed on his hips to let him know she wanted him to lie down. Then she positioned herself over him, her c.u.n.t dripping. Before she could settle herself over him, he slid his hand between the two of them and ran his fingers over her heated lips. Then he licked one of his juice-dampened fingers and offered another to her. The act of sharing her s.e.x fluid felt like a kind of marriage.

Again tears threatened. She fought them by manually spreading her lips and positioning her p.u.s.s.y over his c.o.c.k. As soon as she felt him inside her, part of her, she lost touch with everything except the fire flowing through her veins.

He gripped her pelvis and set the pace. Under his guidance, she began with a series of slow thrusts and retreats. Every time she pressed down, she felt as if they were becoming one. Maybe she could swallow all of him.

Then he pushed up and she lifted off him, nearly losing him. She hated the loss, yet she knew he'd soon fill her again. She could celebrate every step of the journey, play with him and have him play with her. In. Out. Up. Down. Wet p.u.s.s.y being rubbed and heated, tested and tasted.

Then with the strength in his fingers, he directed her to pick up the pace. Her thigh muscles began to burn and thrusting up and down as rapidly as she could caused her to break out in a fresh sweat. His c.o.c.k jerked out of rhythm with her movements, adding to the friction.

Everything else faded into nothing. There was only her p.u.s.s.y and his c.o.c.k, trying to breathe, settling down and lifting, faster, faster, her cheeks on fire and sweat sealing her hair to her forehead, throat, and neck.

She took the initiative by leaning forward and bracing her hands on his hips. She felt his gaze bore into her. His mouth, like hers, hung open. His cheeks had turned red, and the tendons along the sides of his neck were taut.

He stared at her. She stared at him. And she drove down, down until she'd flattened his b.a.l.l.s. Then she clamped her p.u.s.s.y muscles around his c.o.c.k and drew both of them up.

He grunted, lifted his a.s.s off the ground, and drove into her, slamming his c.o.c.k against her p.u.s.s.y walls. She released her grip, spread her c.u.n.t and felt herself soften inside, ready to accept his liquid seed.

He came, and came, and came. His c.o.c.k jerked, jerked again. She felt everything about his e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. Then fire-fingers took hold of her c.u.n.t and seared it. She was losing-losing...

Lost.

In whatever s.p.a.ce he was in.

Chapter Thirteen.

Maia had collapsed on top of him, but although Taurus' right arm had gone numb, he didn't try to ease her off him. He was acutely aware of her earthy smell blending with his own drying sweat and c.u.m. He also noticed the scents brought by the wind.

Although he couldn't name the various trees and flowers, he couldn't imagine anything more perfect. More than perfect, he amended because the wind had brought him a soul-deep sense of peace. It could just be the result of having spent himself s.e.xually, but always in the past, as soon as he'd gotten his rocks off, he'd start to think about the responsibilities and decisions ahead of him. This morning his mind refused to go beyond this moment.

He was so intent on monitoring what his nostrils were telling him that he was slow to notice anything else. Maia, however, went from what felt like unconsciousness to alert so quickly that she put him in mind of a wild animal conditioned for survival. Like the proverbial cat, she sprang to her feet and pulled on her gown-not that it hid her nakedness.

"What is it?" he asked as he reached for his briefs.

"Someone comes."

Where the h.e.l.l was his lighter? If those idiot priests-no, not the priests, he amended. Drums echoed on the air, seeming to drift toward them. He watched her relax.

"Your people," he said.

She nodded. "They come for... for me."

Had she been about to say us? Because he wasn't ready to go there, he concentrated on dressing, not that putting back on his rumpled, gra.s.s-stained slacks did anything for the image of a successful company president. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maia pick up the dagger; she didn't look at the jewel.

"What do they want you for?" He forced the question.

"It does not concern you."

The h.e.l.l it doesn't. But maybe she was right, because he belonged in another world, another place, other responsibilities.

What felt like a thousand thoughts, all of them conflicting, bombarded him. He was grateful when a group of perhaps twenty villagers, including The Lady and the old men came into view. Two boys who looked to be nine or ten years old walked at the front and were responsible for the drumming. When the boys slapped their cupped hands against the thin, stretched leather, at first there was no sound. Then, maybe a second later, something deep and guttural reverberated. It felt like it came from the earth and trees.

"Incredible," he whispered.

"It is our world's heart beating," Maia said.

He didn't know he was going to wrap his arm around her and pull her against him, but he did. Her hip rubbed against his, sensual and familiar, precious. He slid his hand down over her stomach until his outstretched fingers touched her pubic hair through the disheveled and nearly nonexistent dress.

The group stopped when they were about fifteen feet away. The drumming continued. He was starting to feel uneasy when The Lady stepped forward. Now she was dressed in a gown the color of new gra.s.s and carried a couple of flower and vine arrangements in a circular design. Maia lowered her head so The Lady could place one on her. Then when The Lady turned to him, he did the same. The headdress-he couldn' t think what else to call it-was feather-light and smelled of roses and lavender.

"What is this?" he asked.

The Lady smiled. "Our gift to you for what you have done."

"What have I done?"

"Stopped the priests."

"For now. It isn't over; you know that. What about the one I caught on fire? Is he dead?"

"Not yet."