by Pamela Clare
She sat on the edge of the bed holding her bathrobe shut with both hands, her comb on the floor beside her fallen crutch, wet hair hanging over one bare shoulder. It was obvious that she’d rushed to put on the bathrobe because it was inside out, and her left arm wasn’t entirely in the sleeve.
“You got big news tonight.” He closed the door behind him, walked over to her, and drew the sleeve up to her shoulder, letting his fingers brush against her skin. “How are you feeling?”
“Relieved. Some part of me can’t seem to grasp that it’s over.”
“I bet.” He bent down, picked up her comb, then sat beside her and started working the tangles from her hair. “Sometimes it takes the mind a while to catch up.”
“I suppose I should start making plans to go home.” She tilted her head toward him, wet strands passing through the comb like silk, the feminine scent of her shampoo teasing him. “I don’t have to worry about him tracking me down in South Dakota now.”
He hadn’t realized she’d been afraid they would do that.
He moved to sit behind her, drawing her hair together so that it hung down her back, combing through it with his fingers. “How long had you originally planned to stay in Colorado?”
“Just one week.” Her eyes drifted shut as his fingers curled against her nape. “I would have driven back today.”
Damn.
He wasn’t ready to let her go.
He moved closer, drew her back against his chest, his hands cupping her shoulders. “If you really need to get back, we’ll find a way to make it happen, but there’s no rush. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like—for another week, until you can drive, whatever you need.”
“Chaska?” She leaned back against him, her head resting against his chest.
He inhaled the clean scent of her skin. “Mmm?”
“We’re alone, and there’s lots of room here.”
He bent down, nuzzled her ear. “Are you saying you want me to kiss you?”
“God, yes.”
And more.
It wasn’t like Naomi to initiate things. She’d grown up in a world where silence and shame shrouded the topic of sex, where even being caught looking at a boy could bring harsh retribution. Some part of her struggled to shake free of those shackles still—but not with Chaska.
He pressed his lips to her temple, her cheek, and the whorl of her ear, his hands kneading her shoulders, his kisses sending excited shivers through her.
She tilted her head to the side, gave him access to her throat.
He took what she offered, kissing her below her ear, his lips raising goose bumps on her skin, his hands sliding ever so slowly from her shoulders to cup her breasts through the irritating cotton of her bathrobe. She arched into his touch, heat pooling deep in her belly as he caught her nipples and teased them.
“I want to touch you.” He whispered the words against her skin.
“Yes.”
He peeled the bathrobe away from her shoulders, revealing her bandage. He kissed it, then moaned when the fabric slipped leaving her naked apart from the medicine wheel, which hung between her breasts. “So beautiful.”
She watched as his big hands closed over her, contact sending jolts of pleasure through her as he cupped her, circled her areolas with his thumbs, flicked her puckered nipples. The erotic sight of it made her ache.
She sank back against the hard wall of his chest, sliding her hands along his forearms to grasp his wrists, her eyes drifting shut again.
“You like that?”
“Mmm. Yes.”
The other men she’d been with—all two of them—would have moved on by now, but not Chaska. His erection pressed against her lower back, hard and insistent, but he didn’t rush. He took his sweet time, catching her nipples with his fingers, plucking them, rolling them between his fingertips, his lips nibbling at her throat.
She’d never felt so aroused before, her body craving him. And then it all stopped, the loss of his touch leaving her hanging.
“Come here.” He drew her back so that she was no longer sitting on the edge of the bed, bore her onto her back, and stretched out beside her, her bathrobe open now, leaving her naked body completely exposed.
He pulled off his shirt, his gaze raking over her. He said something in Lakota, his eyes going dark.
Panic trilled through her, mixing with her excitement, leaving her torn. As much as she wanted him, she wasn’t sure she was ready for this. She didn’t want to disappoint him, but she wasn’t on the pill. She didn’t want to get pregnant.
But whatever she’d expected from him, she’d been wrong.
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her, hair spilling over his shoulders, his gaze dark. “I don’t want to take this any further than you want to go, so tell me when to stop. This was supposed to be a kiss.”
Her heart seemed to melt in her chest.
She decided he deserved the truth. “I’m not on the pill.”
He nodded. “That’s fine with me. I don’t think it’s good for women.”
“And … I’m not a virgin.”
He looked surprised—but not for the reason she imagined. “I wasn’t expecting that you would be. I wasn’t raised with Puritan ideas about sex.”
That made her curious. “What were you taught?”
“I was taught that sex was natural and normal and healthy, but also something powerful, something sacred.” He slid his hand down her bare torso, until it rested against her lower belly, his eyes looking straight into hers. “I was taught that women carry the altar of life inside them and that a man must treat a woman’s body with respect.”
Heat washed through her at his words, leaving her breathless, something about what he’d said deeply arousing. She managed a single word. “Oh.”
“I was taught that women come from men and that men come from women. They leave their mark on one another, so neither men nor women can mistreat the other.”
“What do you mean?”
He took her hand, pressed it against one of his nipples. “Men have nipples, like women, but they serve no purpose beyond sexual pleasure. I was taught that nipples are a mother’s mark on her sons, a reminder to them to honor women.”
Naomi thumbed the dark brown velvet of his nipple. He sucked in a quick breath, the muscles of his abdomen tensing, his nipple drawing tight.
He left her palm where it was, slid his hand down her belly again, then cupped her, one finger delving between her folds to touch her there.
She sucked in a breath, her hips jerking as he stroked her.
“The clitoris looks like a tiny penis.” His finger explored her, stroking, flicking, the ache inside her almost unbearable. “It serves no purpose beyond sexual pleasure. It’s a man’s mark on his daughters, a reminder to women to honor men.”
Naomi could barely breathe. “That’s … not what I was taught.”
His voice was deep and soft. “Forget everything they told you about your body, about sex. It was all a lie.”
Then he lowered his mouth to her nipple and suckled.
Chaska drew a perfect nipple into his mouth, suckled at one breast and then the other, his hand busy between her legs. She moaned, threaded her fingers through his hair, her thighs parting to give him access. She was wet, her clit swelling and growing hard at his touch.
He focused on her response, not the ache in his groin or the drumbeat in his chest. Hell, yes, he wanted her. He wanted her so much it hurt. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman. But more than that, he wanted her to enjoy this.
Life hadn’t been gentle with her, but he damned well would be.
He’d told her to forget what she’d been taught, but he knew she couldn’t, not all at once, not until she’d been shown again and again and again that sex could be something free of shame, something good, something right.
Are you the man for that?
He couldn’t be sure. He could only try.
He circled the tigh
t entrance to her vagina, drew her wetness onto his fingers and rubbed it over her clit, waiting until he was certain she was ready and willing before entering her body with any part of himself.
She slid one hand into his hair, holding his head where it was, her other hand moving to grasp his wrist as if she were holding on for dear life.
And maybe she was.
Her breathing was ragged now, every exhale a moan, the knee of her left leg bent, her thighs wide apart. He circled her entrance again, her hips rising to meet him.
“Yes!” It was a frantic whisper.
He slipped two fingers deep inside her.
She moaned, her inner muscles closing around him.
He tried not to notice how tight she was, tried not to think about being inside her, thrusting into her with his fingers, stroking her inside and out, the tension inside her building, her nails digging into his wrist. This was what he wanted for her—to forget everything but the pleasure he gave her, the pleasure they gave each other.
She came with a cry, ecstasy on her sweet face, her beauty in that moment leaving him awestruck. He kept up the rhythm until her climax had passed, then held her, pressing kisses to her breasts, her cheeks, her forehead. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, her body now limp.
She looked up at him, an expression of disbelief in her eyes. “Chaska.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, kissed her soft and slow.
“I’ve never … I’ve never been able to do that.” It took him a moment to realize she meant she’d never been able to climax before.
He ought to have been surprised, but he wasn’t, not given her background. “Well, I guess you’ll have to get used to that.”
Her lips curved in a shy smile, and she reached for his fly. “I want to see you. I want to touch you. I want to do for you what you just did for me.”
His heart hit his sternum, blood surging to his already hard cock. She’d get no objections from him. He rolled onto his back. “Go right ahead.”
She sat up, unzipped his jeans. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so his cock sprang free. She took hold of him, stroked his length. “You’re not…”
“Circumcised? No way.” Doctors at Indian Health Services hospitals had pushed that for a while, but many Lakota mothers had rejected it.
She explored him, curiosity on her face, drawing his foreskin back, circling the swollen head with her thumb. Then she bent down and kissed him right on the tip. It was just a kiss, not a prelude to going down on him, but it surprised him.
He sucked in a breath, the muscles of his abdomen contracting involuntarily.
She looked up at him. “Show me how to do it.”
He closed his hand over hers, increased the pressure, then moved their hands together from root to tip and back again, guiding her. He had to give her credit. She was a quick learner. It wasn’t long before she was on her own, and he was thrusting into her closed fist, his balls already drawing tight. He closed his eyes, willed himself to relax, to savor it, but then an image of her face as she came flashed through his mind, pushing him over the edge.
Climax washed through him in a wave of liquid bliss. He bit back a groan, breath hissing from between his clenched teeth. He lay there for a moment, floating somewhere between the sky and the earth. Then he felt her fingers tracing designs on his belly. He opened his eyes to find her playing with the pool of semen that had spilled there.
She smiled. “That was amazing.”
He reached up, ran a finger over her cheek. “You’re telling me.”
Chapter 14
Naomi lay with her head on Chaska’s chest, one strong arm holding her close, her fingers moving idly over the ridges and valleys of his abdomen, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. They were both naked still, but he had pulled a sheet up to their hips, a cool breeze blowing through his windows. She had never felt this kind of connection with another human being. Neither of them spoke, but there seemed to be no need for words, everything they had to say communicated by touch as he held her just a little closer, brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, kissed her forehead.
After tonight, nothing would ever be the same.
She’d thought that there was something wrong with her, that she was incapable of having an orgasm. She hadn’t even known what to expect or how it would feel. When Kenan, her second boyfriend, had broken up with her, he’d thrown the fact that she’d never come in her face, told her that she’d made him feel like less of a man.
She’d certainly felt like less of a woman.
But, oh, my God, she got it now—why people loved sex, talked about it, obsessed about it. Orgasm had taken over her body, the pleasure as intense and overpowering as it was fleeting. It was like getting hit with a thunderbolt of bliss.
Chaska. This was his doing. It wasn’t just that he’d taken his time, that he hadn’t climbed on top of her two minutes after he’d kissed her, that he hadn’t watched the clock so that he could tell her how long he’d spent trying to make her come.
It was all of that together—and more.
Forget everything they told you about your body, about sex. It was all a lie.
What he’d told her about man nipples and clits was different from anything she’d heard before. The idea that sex was something natural and normal and fun and not a terrible sin—well, that was the opposite of what she’d been raised to believe. His words had silenced all the other voices inside her and set her free.
And they hadn’t even had sex yet, not really.
That made her laugh.
“What’s funny?” Chaska trailed a finger down her spine.
“I was just thinking that if an orgasm feels that good when you use your fingers, it must be incredible when...” She swallowed, refused to feel embarrassed. “It must be incredible when you’re inside a woman.”
He chuckled. “It does for me—and I hope for her, too. Honestly, I don’t know if one kind of orgasm is different from another for a woman. I suppose you can figure that out for yourself and tell me.”
He seemed to think he’d said something wrong because he quickly added, “All of that is up to you, of course—how far we go, what we do. As much as I’d love to help you find all the answers, I’m not going to push you into anything.”
For the second time in a single night, her heart melted.
He kissed her hair. “Was that your first orgasm—or your first with a man?”
Heat rushed into her face when she realized what he was asking. “We… we were never allowed to touch ourselves. Ruth would have beaten us, humiliated us in front of the entire family. She did that with one of my older sisters—beat her bare bottom with a belt. She even threatened to cut off any part of our bodies down there that we touched outside of taking a bath. I just never tried.”
“So that was your first orgasm ever.”
“Yes.” She told him how the first time she’d had sex had been incredibly painful and how the man who’d taken her virginity, a man she’d stupidly thought she might marry, had disappeared from her life not long after. She told him about Kenan, too, and what he’d said before stomping out of her apartment. “I thought it was me, that I was defective somehow, broken or not womanly enough.”
Chaska rolled her onto her back, looked down at her, anger glinting in those dark eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you, angel. The problem lies with the people who raised you to fear your body—and the men who didn’t respect you.”
Could that be true?
“What you said tonight—I really liked it. I would love to hear more about what your people believe.”
Then she remembered what Winona had told her. “Or maybe there are things you wouldn’t want to tell an outsider.”
“You’re not an outsider—not to Win and me.” He reached down between her breasts and took hold of her little medicine wheel. “This is Lakota. I’m certain of it. Despite the terrible wrong she did you, your mother must have wanted you to have it. She must have believed that someone would fi
nd you. She must have wanted you to know where you come from, who your people are.”
“I used to believe that.” That’s why she’d taken the medicine wheel from Peter, who’d shown it to his church during a sermon on heathenism, telling them all where he’d gotten it. That’s why she’d endured a beating to keep it hidden. That’s why she’d taken it with her when she’d run, why she’d researched what it was and how it was made.
“And now?”
“There must be a dozen ways it could have ended up in my blanket. Maybe she stole it. Maybe she got it from a tourist shop. Maybe she—”
Chaska pressed a finger to her lips. “Maybe she was a poor Lakota girl from Pine Ridge or Rosebud who left you with the only thing she owned.”
Chaska left the conference room, headed straight for the break room and his next cup of coffee. He’d stayed with Naomi until almost two in the morning, holding her, talking with her. He hadn’t wanted to leave her side, but it didn’t seem right to sleep with her until they’d truly become lovers. Trouble was, he hadn’t slept at all, his head filled with her, his body wanting more.
He poured coffee into a mug, took a sip, an image of her face as she’d come flashing through his mind once more.
She was so damned beautiful.
No, it didn’t hurt his pride to be the first man to make her come. Still, he wished for her sake that her life had been different. Peter and his wife had done their best to beat their twisted beliefs about sexuality into her, filling her with shame and fear, depriving her of the knowledge she needed to enjoy her own body. And the men she’d been with…
Chaska wanted to kick their asses. No woman deserved to be treated like that, to be made to doubt herself and her femininity because her partner was too lazy and disrespectful to please her.
He topped off his coffee mug, walked to the scanner, and drew her medicine wheel out of his jeans pocket. He’d asked her if he could borrow it for the day, and she’d let him. He scanned it, saved the image to the network in his own encrypted folder, then walked down the hallway to his office.
He logged into his computer, downloaded the scan of the medicine wheel from the folder to his desktop, then pulled out his cellphone and called Tina at Oglala Oyate College. She was both surprised and happy to hear from him. They talked for a while—the latest news from the college, what he and Win had been doing lately, what Tina’s grandkids were up to these days.
