Bast was also the goddess of lovers.
So many times Marylin had told the story of Bast to her students. No wonder she’d always been able to make the temple come alive for them. Memories came flooding back. Bast was more than a story to her. Her name had been Nylanéfer. She had served the goddess. She had been Bast’s High Priestess.
The boy had worked his way up through the ranks, from kitchen servant to temple guard, and finally to her personal ‘hemu.’
She remembered standing before a silvered mirror just like this while the young man brushed her hair. She shouldn’t have allowed such intimate contact. He was her guard, not her personal attendant. But she had been too long without a lover. She bit her lip as he laid down the brush, moving her hair aside to kiss her shoulders and the curve of her neck.
She watched in fascination as his hands moved down her sides to circle her hips, stroking up now over the curve of her thighs to her belly, pausing there, framing her mons as if he could feel the coil of need his touch aroused. His bronzed skin made a dark contrast against the bleached linen of her wrap. He was so young. She was nearly twice his age. She’d meant to wait longer, give him time to grow into his full potential. But he was hers, a gift from the goddess herself, and she could do what she wanted with him, could she not? Surely the goddess would approve. The great Bast always blessed lovers.
She stared at his hands in fascination. “ I could have you killed for your impudence.”
“I live but to serve you.” His heat pressed into the curve of her ass, hard and hot and wanting, as his words whispered across her neck. “Do what you will with me, Lady. I would rather die than live without you. I have loved you since first I saw you.” He raised his head, practically shouting to the stone walls of the temple. “Hear me, oh great Bast, and accept my oath! Before thee, oh great goddess, I swear I shall love this woman till the end of time!”
Oh, goddess. He was so young! Did he not know the consequences of such an oath? “A boy’s promise,” she chided. “Rash and reckless and dangerous. What does a child know of love?”
“I am no child, Lady. If I am old enough to give my life to protect you, should such be my fate, I am old enough to love you.”
She closed her eyes, leaning back against the broad chest and hard cock that promised more than she could allow. “You cannot understand the implications of your promise…there will be consequences. Your rivals will not be pleased that I have chosen but a mere boy.”
He rubbed slowly against her, his hips pressing hard against hers, his cock jumping with every move. She hesitated, her hand on the knot that bound her wrap in place. What would he see in the mirror? He was but a child in a man’s body. He should be with someone his own age. One of the young priestesses. Not an old woman. Though she pampered herself, her body had seen too many years. Twenty and eight. If he turned away—if he turned away, she would have him killed for the insult.
With a single tug, she loosed the linen that fell to puddle around their feet.
“Goddess,” he whispered, his fingers moving to cup her breasts in the mirror. “You’re perfect.” His cock bucked against her naked ass with the firm strength of youth. One hand strayed back to her mons, sliding over the oiled skin of her plucked mound, his cock nuzzling her ass as his fingers slipped between her folds. He towered over her, a massive bear of a man-child, making her feel small and helpless as he ground her against his cock. What little he wore vanished quickly, falling to join her cherished linen, unheeded, on the stone floor. Her hands grasped the bowed bed frame for support as he prodded her ass with that hard, dripping cock. His fingers within her already had her panting, slick and wanting, but she froze as his cock pressed against her.
No. He couldn’t mean to…
“Shhh. Relax, my love. I will not hurt you. Would you risk conceiving my child?”
“I—no. But—”
“I will not hurt you. Trust me.”
His fingers came first, teasing, stretching, lubricating her with her own juices while she clung to the bed for support. Each move, each caress, made her want him more. She thrust against him now, giving him access, panting for breath as she writhed against his fingers.
One hand held her, gripping her tightly, still caressing her mons, while the fingers of the other slipped in and out of her ass. She screamed as the pleasure/pain became too much to bear, but she could not escape him. More. She wanted more. She wanted…
“Patience, my greedy lover. Patience. Your body must learn to know me. Trust me.”
To hell with patience. She wanted—oh great goddess. She screamed again as his fingers slipped out and he carefully guided his cock into the void he’d left behind. The world stopped turning as he held steady within her. One second. Two. She forced her tight muscles to relax.
Slowly, gently, he slid in further, until she could feel the head of his cock, almost brushing his fingers as they pressed against her from the front. And then his fingers began to move again. And she screamed again as lightning flashed before her eyes and thunder roared in her ears. Falling. She was falling. Down a void of longing and lust that knew no end. Then he was thrusting, pushing, rubbing, pinching, taking her with the strength and lust of a boy just become a man.
Too much. Too much! She fought him now, fought to escape the sensations that threatened to shatter her calm, ordered world. “They will hear us!” she fretted. “They will…”
“Who would censure you, Mistress? The goddess will not condemn us. I will bear the jealousy of the Priests. I shall endure whatever punishment befalls me. I swear before the goddess, whatever happens, I shall always love you, Lady, in this lifetime or the next. Tell me only that you will wait for me.”
“I have loved you since first I saw you,” she admitted, her heart pounding with the boldness of her words. “I feared only that you were too young. If I must, I will wait for you again, in this lifetime or the next, it matters not. I am yours. Forever and always. This I swear.”
His seed spurted into her, hot and searing, as she broke again under his demanding fingers. “Forever and always my love. This I swear.”
Chapter Three
“I have loved thee since first I saw thee,” Roanen whispered as his fingers caressed her. “In this lifetime or the next, it matters not. I shall love ye till the end of time. Forever and always, my love. This I swear.”
Marylin opened her eyes to watch as his hands moved to skim the fine burgundy silk up over her shoulders. He left a trail of desire wherever he touched. She turned now to wind her arms around his neck, raking her nails against his scalp as she feathered his long, dark hair away from his face. “Sennedjem?”
“Nylanéfer.” He breathed the name like a benediction. “So long. It’s been so long. By the goddess I have missed ye, Nyla.”
“And I you. I looked for you everywhere, but only in my dreams did I find you.” She stretched up to kiss him, this stranger she had known since the world was young, tasting this new flavor that was somehow familiar. “Are we in the dreaming yet? If I wake up and you’re not with me, I will not be able to bear it. I cannot lose you again!”
“Ye will never lose me, my love. Anywhere, any time, I will find thee.” His hands gripped her ass, pulling her tightly against his hungry cock. “I will find thee, and I will love thee.”
“Then let us not waste the time we’re given.” She giggled as her fingers found the hard bulge that strained against his dense wool leggings. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she chastised as she tasted the pulse at the base of his throat.
A chuckle rumbled across his chest. “Perhaps ye should do something about that.”
“Perhaps I shall.”
Awake or asleep, real or the dreaming, it did not matter. He’d used the dreaming before to find her. She’d use the dreaming to find him again if she had to. She didn’t have to search for him now. He was here in her arms. Marylin or Nylanéfer, or Ayailla, what did the names matter? He was no boy this time, this stranger she knew as well a
s she knew herself.
Still he was bound by the boy’s oath. I shall love you till the end of time… She wished she could remember more. Surely four thousand years with one lover was more than any man was meant to endure. Surely he would have tired of her by now. Had there been times when they’d fought? Lover’s quarrels that lasted for lifetimes? Had he ever regretted his promise? Sennedjem had been so young…
She would not let Roanen regret the boy’s oath. At least not tonight. She paused to suck his nipples through the fine-woven fabric, enjoying the way he shivered at her touch, before she pulled the tunic up over his head. He must have remembered the night at the inn, for the wrists were not fastened this time. The tunic dropped to the floor to lay beside the bed.
There were differences. Where the youth had been long and lean and untried, the man before her was broad and powerful enough to frighten her, had she been less sure of him. A shiver ran through her as she found the fastenings that held his leggings in place. She knew where to look this time.
It had always been like this with him. The warm glow of anticipation. The need, the hunger that coiled within her, making her want more, so much more. His long, blunt fingers explored the fine hair that adorned the dimple at the base of her spine, sending sparks like electricity through her as she shuddered in his arms. She let her fingers fumble over the pants, slipping inside to ride down the length of him until she could cup his balls in her palm.
So warm. So alive. His cock thrust at her, soft velvet skin over hard, hot steel. She ached to take him within her, to ride him until he broke, but she wanted more. After four thousand years she knew how to get what she wanted from him, how to give him all he’d never think to ask for. She pushed him back towards the silk covered bed as she ordered her right hand back to its original work. The left one had a mind of its own, tangling itself in his hair while it pulled his head down to her level.
Ummm. He tasted like sweet, spiced wine. She sucked at his lip, savoring the taste. The buttons undone at last, the leggings slid down to puddle around his ankles. She had a solution for that, as well. With a gentle push, her hand still guiding his head, she laid him back among the pillows.
Would he remember?
He’d been so young, yet his control surprised her. She’d trusted him once, so long ago. She knew other ways to prevent conception. After that first time he’d trusted her enough to let her do as she would with him. She’d led him to her bed, not unlike this one, a raised platform covered with fine woven linen and soft cushioned pillows.
Had she really thought him too young? She had been wrong. It was a man’s body that lay beneath her, fresh with youth, rippling everywhere with strength and power than had not yet learned the bitterness of defeat.
The Warrior’s body was not so different.
In fact, he was quite gorgeous. A superb specimen of manhood. Time had added a few lines around those emerald green eyes, had dusted his black hair with streaks of silver, like a shooting star blazing across the night sky. He had the physique of a Warrior who had fought his way to where he was. If she was still here in the morning, she would ask him to teach her more of this world. She would make him tell her the story of the long scar that crossed his chest, and the fine line along the edge of his jawbone.
For now, she touched, memorizing the shape of him once again, the texture of his skin just where his breastbone hollowed above his heart, learning once again how he loved to taste her ears, her breasts, her eyelids, her lips.
He watched as she pulled back, lowered her mouth to take his length between her lips, moving slowly, loving the feel of his body, so strong, so powerful, so finely attuned to hers. He shifted beneath her until they lay side by side, his mouth hovering inches from the apex of her thighs. Yes. Yes! She wanted—she needed—
For a moment her mouth went still on his cock as his breath warmed her already burning fires. His hands took their time, curling down from her knees to stroke the inside of her thighs. She opened to him instantly, already wet with desire. His clever fingers found their way to her thick patch of hair, stroking as they parted her flesh for the invasion of his tongue.
“So beautiful.”
Once again she felt beautiful. She ran her tongue over the tip of his cock, just below the head, feathering over the sensitive edge. “So are you.”
He jumped at as she blew her breath over his wet skin, his hips thrusting toward the promise of her kiss. Slow gave way to impassioned as his tongue lapped at her with sudden wantonness, teasing her clit, rimming her opening, his tongue sliding deep into her hot, needy cunt.
She swallowed him fully, taking his length deep into her throat, her lips teasing his balls as she sucked him like a sweet prize from the pastry chef. Her hands busied themselves with rhythmically squeezing his ass, kneading him like a large cat. Then she forgot altogether what she was doing as he took her clit between his lips, sucking as he ran his tongue over her, his fingers now sliding deep inside her, until she could feel them stretching her as no man ever had.
At least in this lifetime.
Damn. She didn’t even know for sure whose lifetime this was.
She hadn’t time to puzzle over that as the first orgasm tore through her, leaving her weak and helpless but far from sated in its wake. Reminded by his sudden thrusts in her mouth as she came, her muscles clenching around his probing fingers, she set to work on his cock again.
Damn he was big. There was no way she could suck his cock and his balls at the same time. She freed her hand from under his hip and used it to stroke his balls as she sucked his cock, stopping only when she needed to let a groan escape as he sank his tongue back deep into her shuddering muscles.
As if observing herself from a distance, Marylin watched the two of them there on the bed, a circle of entwined limbs laid out like a sacrifice on Bast’s altar. If this was sex, she had come to Roanen’s bed a virgin. A forty-five-year-old virgin. Certainly—damn, she found she couldn’t remember her almost ex-husband’s name! Marylin’s husband. She could picture his penis, though. She suppressed a giggle as she fit the pieces together. Don. Dinghy Dong she’d named him. Though she’d never had the guts to call him that to his face. Well, Don had never made her feel like this.
As if he sensed her momentary absence, Roanen nipping at her clit, sucked her back to the present. She exploded instantly, screaming as the orgasm shook her. Lights flashed before the eyes. Lights? They were not merely lights. Stars painted the night sky as she fought for breath. Whole constellations formed before her eyes. She fought for consciousness as the spasms shook her to her very soul.
He took control then, while she melted beneath him, too limp to protest. With a flash of insight, she knew he’d always been in control. From the grief he’d allowed her to see when she first awoke to the power he’d given her and the time he’d allowed her to remember, he’d always been in control.
He rolled her now face down in her pillows. Stroking her body with long, slow sweeps of his hands, he caressed places she’d never thought to find erogenous, like the backs of her elbows and the base of her skull. “Tell me what ye want from me, my love.”
He’d manipulated her, reawakened her, and done it all slowly and gently until she didn’t know what was real anymore. What was more important was that she knew what he was doing, and she didn’t care. She just wanted him to love her. Her and only her. “I want you. I would live the oath I swore before Bast once again. Whoever, wherever we are, I want you, Roanen.”
“The goddess goes by another name now, my love,” he warned her, though she knew not why. “Seven gods and goddesses there are, in the shape of a star. Earth takes the center, her children around her. We follow the Way of The Wolf, and are known by her name. We are Clan Wolf.”
“Her name matters not. My name matters not. I love you. I have always loved you. For now and until the end of time.”
“There is much in this name,” he assured her. “I would teach ye the ways of my people. Our gods mean much to us. We hono
r the Wolf in all that we do.”
What was he trying to tell her? She searched her mind for some knowledge of wolves. For some resource of her mind she garnered the knowledge that wolves fought as a pack, an efficient killing machine, and they mated for life.
Any other thought she might have had got lost under his touch. He knelt between her thighs, raising her hips toward that scalding rod she’d sucked down her throat. Dear God. She might love him, but she wasn’t insane. If he tried to put that…
Her panic subsided as he stroked his fingers into her cunt again, relaxing her, teasing her, stroking her until a new sheen of liquid lubricated his fingers. Lifting her hips up even farther, he carefully fit himself inside her, guiding his progress with his hand, cupping her mons for support, his fingers splayed through her fur.
She was almost surprised that he fit. But then the surprise faded to longing and greedy need as she wiggled her ass against him, loving the feel of him stretching her, demanding release as she clenched hard around him.
Whatever slow, careful plan Roanen thought he had laid out she destroyed with the first thrust of her hips. He drew back for a quick, hard thrust into her slick, wet heat, then another, and another. Hard and hot and ruthless, he buried himself so deeply within her that his balls tickled the inside of her thighs, their rhythmic brush against her flesh exciting her even more. He thought he was in control, but he’d ended up right where she wanted him, thrusting into her mindlessly, his body shaking with the strain as he gave her everything he had.
She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could turn her head to watch them in the silver mirror. Her ass raised in suppliant need, his head thrown back, teeth bared in a ferocious growl. Still he fought to hold back, to maintain a control he’d never really had.
Yes. Yes! This was what she had wanted! Raw and naked and animalistic it might be, but there was truth here. She met him as hard as she could, slamming their bodies together as she took all he could offer her and asked for more.
Threshold Volume 2 Page 5
