She eased away and studied him. “I’m not tiny, Mike Houston—I’m five foot nine and one hundred and forty-five pounds. That is not tiny and you know it!”
His grin widened and he threaded his fingers through her hair. She leaned forward like a cat, desiring even more of his touch, and he felt her purr against him in sheer pleasure. “Tiny compared to me,” he whispered teasingly, capturing her mouth, feeling her respond like an opening orchid to his cajoling. His hand slid to the back of her head, which he angled so that their mouths fit deeply against one another. She tasted like the sweet honey that formed in translucent globules on the stems of blooming orchids. It was a heavenly sweetness that engulfed him, set him on fire with need of her.
In one smooth motion, he leaned down, and without breaking contact with her luscious, wet mouth, picked her up and carried her forward. The forest ground was soft and warm beneath his bare feet as he laid her on her back against the brown leaves and bark, naturally decaying to make more rich earth for seeds to take life within. He was again reminded of the circle of life—that even in dying, the body surrendered to the power of the Great Goddess, became part of her once again and nurtured and supported new life as a result.
Mike lay next to Ann, bathed by the warmth of the sunlight that fell over them like a loving blanket. In the distance, he could hear the roar of the waterfall. He saw colorful birds flitting among the branches of the tropical trees that surrounded this miraculous place, their songs swelling with joy, a musical tapestry proclaiming life and the sheer beauty of living.
The smile he saw lingering in Ann’s eyes made him smile in return. She took his hand and pressed it against her pale pink blouse. The longing, the need for her, embraced him. Mike eased the first shell button from its buttonhole. And then a second, third and fourth. He knew he could not lose control over himself. No, he had to keep a close rein on those basic, almost violent needs. Over the years, with the blood of the jaguar coursing through his veins, he had learned to balance his primal urges and needs with the more refined ones of a human being. And now he understood that the test before him was a daunting one. In his heart, he was afraid that he’d wound his mate instead of drawing her out of that chrysalis and inviting her to be loved fully and without fear. Could he do it? Could he control the animal instincts surging and growing within him, straining to be released and expressed toward her? As the last button slipped free, he looked up and met her half-closed eyes. The softness of her parted lips, the longing in her gaze transformed and tempered his raging hunger for her.
It was all so simple, Mike realized in that moment as he slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the garment and moved it slowly away from her breasts. If he loved her from his heart, and did not allow his primal needs to drive him, he would know what to do. Within seconds, he felt that shift occur within him and his fear dissolved.
Ann wore no camisole beneath the blouse, and her skin shone white and almost translucent in the sunlight. As the fabric fell away, he absorbed the beauty of her breasts, and following his heart, he slid his fingers up around them, feeling her tighten deliciously in response to his caress. He heard her whimper, and she rolled to her side, against him, wanting more…much more.
Leaning over, he suckled her in slow, teasing sips. The honeyed taste of her body was an unexpected gift. Closing his eyes, he felt her arch against him each time he suckled her. The moan of pleasure coming from her only increased the throbbing of blood through his lower, hardening body. In a matter of moments, he had removed her blouse and devoted equal attention to her other breast. She trembled violently as he laid his hand against her bare midriff and eased his fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt, slipping it downward across her hips and legs.
He smiled to himself. Ann wore nothing beneath her clothes. Why would she? The veneer of modern civilization was gone and he was glad. He grazed the gentle swell of her abdomen to her flaring hips and down her firm thighs. He lifted his head and met her smoky eyes, which begged him to continue his exploration of her.
“You are so beautiful….” he rasped unsteadily, and he shed his cotton pants and pushed them aside. Now they were both naked, as it should be. This time, when he slid his arm beneath her neck and eased closer so that she could touch him at will, he saw the languor in her eyes, the heat in them. Leaning down, he felt her lift her head to meet his mouth, to kiss him. As her breasts grazed his chest, he groaned. Her lips were soft, hungry and searching against his mouth. He felt her shyly move her fingers against his chest, beginning to explore him. Understanding her shyness, the hunger driving her as a woman wanting to mate with her partner for life, he placed massive control over himself. Allowing his hand to fall upon her hip, he waited. It was exquisite torture for Houston; every fleeting touch of her fingers, every warm stroke across his hard, tightening flesh, made him feel as if he was caught between heaven and hell.
Nothing could prepare him for her butterfly touch as her exploring fingers ranged downward across his flat, hard belly to his hip. He clenched his teeth and groaned as she innocently caressed him. Perspiration beaded his brow and he trembled savagely as the warmth of her fingers surrounded him, lingered upon him. He drew in a deep, ragged breath. Blood pulsed and throbbed through him. How badly he wanted to open her thighs and thrust hard and deep into her!
Yet he knew that her exploration was motivated by more than just desire. In some part of her, she was still afraid. The errant thought that he was too large for her slipped through his dissolving mind as he sank rapidly into the bubbling cauldron of primal need of her. He knotted his fist in her hair and tried to concentrate on breathing, on controlling himself.
When her hand left him and she slid it around his waist and pressed herself wantonly against him, he had his answer. An explosive breath came out of him as he felt the warm satin of her skin against his taut, throbbing flesh. Capturing her mouth in one swift, hot motion, he eased her onto her back. This time, he would touch her in the most sacred of places that a woman could be caressed, a place of beautiful creation, of life, birth and love.
Lost in the exploding heat and strength of his mouth as he plundered her lips, Ann barely felt his fingers come to rest on her hip. But as he slid his roughened hand across her abdomen, she welcomed it. The ache between her legs intensified to such a degree that she began to moan, her body moving spontaneously at this point. She felt the strength of his hand as he caressed her left thigh, her skin feeling as if on fire beneath his stroking, exploratory touches. As he eased his hand between her damp thighs, she opened to him and gave him access to herself. It was so easy, so beautifully natural as she drowned in the searching splendor of his mouth.
She felt his fingers move in a caressing motion against her, and she moaned and tore her mouth from his. Lights and explosions went off behind her tightly shut eyes. She pressed her face against him and gasped for breath. With each wet, silken stroke, another jagged bolt of heat rippled up through her. It was sweet, unfulfilled agony and she writhed and twisted in his arms, wanting…wanting….
The moment his mouth settled over the peak of her left breast and he slid his fingers into her wet, moist depths, she cried out in startled reaction, but it was from the intense pleasure that gripped her in that moment. She opened completely to him, wanting more, much more of him, more of his stroking, fiery touch. The ache built so rapidly within her that she moaned. Each caress, each stroke made her cry out. Her fingers dug deeply into his shoulders and she arched against him like a bow too tightly drawn. As he suckled her strongly, she suddenly felt a white-hot explosion deep within her body. A little cry of surprise, of relief, tore from her lips.
Yes, yes, my beautiful orchid, open up for me…give yourself to me. Spill your honey over my fingers…spill your sweet, beautiful life over me….
Sobbing for breath, she clung to him in those moments afterward, not understanding what had occurred. She heard his low, growling laugh of raw pleasure as he moved over her, his body like a huge, heavy blanket across he
r. She felt him slide his hand beneath her hips and guide her fully under him. How natural it was to ease her thighs apart and welcome him to her throbbing, fiery entrance. As he placed his hands on either side of her head, she opened her eyes and looked up, up into his narrowed stormy eyes, burning with a savage fire that consumed her. His heart thundered against hers. Her nipples were tight and taut against the dark, springy mass of hair on his chest. He was smiling down at her, a smile so tender and yet so wild and untrammeled.
She felt his power for the first time. Every inch of his body was taut under his brutal control. Every time she touched him, he quivered. As she settled her hands on his hips and guided him against her entrance, he growled. It was a low growl of such utter pleasure that the sound traveled straight through her, to the heated cauldron boiling and throbbing with life in her lower body. She felt him press against her, and she moved her hips to invite him into her. He lifted his head, his teeth clenched, the perspiration standing out on the taut planes of his face. His fists knotted against her hair. She felt his massive control and began to dissolve it by following her heart, allowing the love she had always felt for him to flow out of her toward him in those golden moments.
Just as water gives nourishment to the dry, thirsty land, she understood that she was the water, the nourishment he sought, that he needed as a man. How easy it was to lift her hips and capture him, invite him into her most sacred place. Her lashes fluttered downward as she felt him surge forward, deep and swift, taking her, being consumed by her wet, warm depths. A cry tore from her—a cry of triumph, of elation as she rocked with him in a rhythm that matched the beat of their hearts.
His arms came around her, molding her against him. Crushing his mouth to hers, he clasped her to him, burying himself deeply in her welcoming, responsive body. The gliding, throbbing heat, the pressure and rhythm combined, and she felt the world slipping away as, locked in a tight embrace, their breaths ragged, their cries mingling, their slick bodies moving with the ancient, throbbing rhythm of the earth herself, they fused into oneness.
Sunlight danced and shimmered within her. She could not get enough of the taste of him, the smell of him, the texture of his roughened face against her own, softer one. He held her hard against him, thrusting into her, taking her, loving her and making her one with him. Why had she waited so long for this? For him? Those thoughts dissolved beneath the shattering, splintering explosion that occurred within her. His arms tightened. Breath rushed out of her. She arched against him, her head thrown back, her fingers digging deeply into his massively bunched shoulders. His responding growl of absolute pleasure, of absolute authority, resonated through her. A rainbow of colors continued to explode and expand through both of them as they gave each other the gift of themselves. Nothing else mattered in those raw, primal heartbeats out of time. Their love, so long denied, was finally satisfied, fulfilled. For Ann, it was like dying and being reborn all over again, the pleasure was so intense. So heartbreakingly beautiful.
The living warmth of the water being sluiced across her breasts and shoulders made Ann smile languidly. She lay in Mike’s arms, floating bonelessly in the pool, the water like millions of hands touching her, healing her and making her feel every emotion within like a million blazing suns. He was lounging in the shallows, cradling her between his massive thighs. Each droplet of water that fell from him onto her made her sigh with pleasure as she nuzzled her face against the column of his massive neck.
“You have the most beautiful, giving body,” Houston rasped against her ear. “You’re just like an orchid—mysterious, closed until just the right amount of heat, sunlight and water are provided, allowing one lucky man to watch you grow, blossom and share the honey of yourself with him.” He cupped his hand in the water and moved it down across her left breast. The nipple tightened automatically as he followed her luscious curves. She moaned and pressed a kiss to his neck as he held her tenderly.
“I like being an orchid,” Ann whispered, resting her head on his shoulder and looking up at him. Mike gazed down at her. The undisguised happiness in his eyes embraced her as nothing else could. Did he know how young he looked now? So many of those stress lines had disappeared from his face that she marveled at what love, expressed and fulfilled, could do to a person. She wondered if she looked any younger, and then laughter bubbled up through her. She watched his mouth curve in response to her mouth.
“Do I look younger, too?” she asked playfully.
Chuckling, he smoothed her damp hair from her flushed cheek. “Love always makes you feel like living, mi querida.”
With a contented sigh, Ann took his hands and moved them across her belly. His dark fingers splayed out against the stark whiteness of her flesh. Light against dark. And hadn’t they both suffered cruelly in their own personal darkness for so many years? Alone? Hurting, yet trying to go on? Ann closed her eyes and rested completely against him. The solid beat of his heart was so steadying, so reassuring to her.
“I’m afraid to feel this happy, Mike,” she admitted softly. “I’ve never felt like this before, ever….”
He caressed her face with his wet hand. Leaning down, he licked the droplets of water off her cheek. “Me either. But,” he said with a laugh, “I’m not going to let my stupid head get in the way and ruin a perfectly beautiful day with my mate, either.”
His laughter vibrated through her and she smiled winsomely. “You’re right—I think too much.”
Gently moving his hand across her belly, he whispered, “Think about this, then. Think about the child of love that will come from our being together today….”
Instantly, Ann’s eyes flew open. With a gasp, she twisted around in his arms. “What?”
Mike regarded her through hooded eyes. “Didn’t you know the other legend about this pool?” he asked as he drew her back into his arms.
She melted against him, her arms curving around his neck. “No, what?” Her abdomen tingled where he’d gently rubbed her with circular motions of his large, dark hand. She brushed several damp curls off his brow.
“That lovers come here, wanting a child to express their love for one another, and conceive?”
She lay very still in his arms for a moment. “I—I didn’t know that…”
Mike eased her over him, positioning her so that he could look into her shadowed features. “Does it bother you?”
Ann shook her head and stroked his face. “No…it’s just that…I felt something, too, when we…when we were loving one another. I thought that because I was finally able to love you so openly, so freely, that a baby would be created by us.”
“Well,” Houston murmured, satisfaction in his voice, “in about nine months, my wild orchid, I’m going to be here to help you deliver that gift into my hands.”
She saw the tears glitter in his eyes as his hand splayed against her abdomen and he looked down at her belly. There was such raw hope and emotion in his voice.
“Oh, darling…” she whispered, and she pressed his face against her breast and just held him. Mike had lost his wife and his unborn baby. How could Ann have ever forgotten that? As happy as he was, Ann saw flecks of fear deep in his eyes and knew that Mike was afraid for her—for them.
Some of her euphoria dissolved as she held and rocked him in her arms. He trembled violently, once, and then she felt him release his fear. Sliding her fingers through his damp black hair, the sun warm and bright above them, she whispered, “I love you with my life, Mike Houston. And if I’m lucky enough to be carrying your baby in my body, then I’m the happiest woman on the face of this earth. Do you hear me?” She framed his face with her hands and forced him to look up at her. The fear was still there, maybe a little stronger than before. He was human, after all, she realized. Being of the Jaguar Clan didn’t guarantee that life would be any easier. In fact, just the opposite was true. Smiling tenderly at him, she kissed his closed eyes, his nose and the corners of his suffering mouth.
“It won’t happen again, Mike. I know it
won’t. Like you said before—we’ve paid all the tolls along the road. We got to meet…to love one another because we’ve earned this privilege. I don’t believe for one moment that I’ll be torn from you like Maria or Tracy were.” Ann sniffed and blinked back tears as his lashes lifted and he studied her. Looking around at the beauty and peace of the pool, Ann quavered, “I may not know much about metaphysics like you do, but I know in my heart of hearts that we’ll be here, nine months from now. I want to have our baby in this pool. I want her to be born into all the love she can possibly experience. Do you hear me?” She pinned him with a fierce gaze, her voice low and trembling.
Instinctively, in a protective gesture, Mike slid his hand across her belly once more. “I hear you, mi querida. I hear you…”
Another thought occurred to Ann in that moment. She decided to give voice to her fear. “Will this baby be like you?”
Tenderly, he smoothed the hair from her cheeks. “You mean, will the baby be ‘different’?” He saw concern banked in her beautiful eyes and understood the nature of her question. It was one thing for Ann to try and adjust to his alien world. It was another to raise a child with special attributes.
“Does a baby who has the possibility of becoming a great artist or writer differ any more than the child we will have? No,” he rasped, “our baby will be a blend of both of us. Whether or not he or she ever chooses to use the skills inherited from the Jaguar Clan is not up to us. Right now, I want to think of marriage, mi querida. I want our baby to have my name. I want it to have you as its mother and me as its father. Whatever talents or gifts it is born with remain to be seen. Let’s take this one step at a time. It’s all we can do.”
Closing her eyes, Ann felt the safety of Mike’s arms, heard the low growl of his voice, and they soothed her fears, her questions and uncertainties about their future. She was seeing his male side now, his need to fulfill his obligations to her. Mike would never be satisfied with just living with her; he wanted to marry her, to give her his name and what little protection he could offer her and the baby she now carried deep within her body. His possessive instincts were overpowering and she didn’t try to combat them. There was something so primal about him, about those of the Jaguar Clan, that it would be useless to fight their sense about some things. Marriage. The word held such sweet promise and yet such fear for her.
Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar Page 25
