by Lani Aames
His hands run over her skin as he speaks and she shivers in anticipation. She slips the robe over his broad shoulders and kisses the hollow at his throat.
"It will not be easy, my One. Your father—"
"My father will not stop us!" she cries out in defiance although she is fearful he will do just that. They dare not make proper love because if her maidenhead is discovered to be broken, she will die at her father's decree. The virginity of the king's eldest daughter is sacred. Its loss would bring a generation of darkness and war, plague and pestilence to the kingdom—so the followers of the goddess Seniha believes.
"On your father's command, his soldiers will follow us to the ends of the earth to avenge Seniha's loss. You know this."
She nods in the darkness, against his chest.
"But we will hide, my One, where no one can ever find us. We will go where they will not know to look. This world is larger than you know, and there are lands across the ocean that will be our refuge."
Lands across the ocean…her lover knows so many things of which most others do not.
"Are they arid lands, Beloved?" she asks in a whisper, her lips teasing his skin. "Or lush mountains and fertile valleys?"
"Both," he breathes into her hair as he unfastens the cloth that binds her breasts. "Lush mountains," he says with wicked teasing in his voice as her breasts overflow his large hands.
She wets her lips and bends her head, placing his thumb in her mouth, suckling in imitation of another part of his body. His breath quickens and he uses her wetness to run lazy circles around the nipple, bringing it to hardness.
His hands skim her ribs and stomach. "Flat plains," he says. He strips away the length of cloth wrapped around her hips, and his fingers tangle in her nether curls. "Grasslands as far as the eye can see." His finger dips and she gasps, her hips surging toward him at his tender touch. "And the most fertile of valleys. You are my world, my life, my love. You are my One forever."
"Forever," she echoes and her heart melts. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, and she throws back her head as he begins to summon that most delicious of feelings from deep inside the center of her being. Her senses heighten and her body arches, as taut as a bowstring.
A wail started low and built with intensity, and Lia was barely aware the sound came from her as she shuddered with the explosion of heat throughout her body, rushing from where her fingers moved round and round her clit and labia, through her limbs, to her toes. Her back rose from the boulder she leaned against as her hips convulsed against her hand. Her other hand had cupped one breast, pinching the hard nipple until pain mixed with the pleasure.
Even in her state of abandon, she didn't dare dip her fingertips into her wet vagina because she knew she would freeze before she could do it. But she craved something there. Anything long, hard, and phallic would do, and the thought of a cock, velvet-smooth and deep inside her made her fingers circle her clit furiously, wringing every sensation possible. She roiled with the waves, the sound from her parched throat growing louder and begging for release.
After what seemed an eternity, the last tremor wound down and Lia opened her eyes, wincing at the last echo of her cries. Now she could remember how the chamber had filled with her ragged voice, multiple reverberations sounding like a dozen women screaming in ecstasy.
Lia leaned back against the boulder again and stiffly pulled her hand from her shorts. She was gulping in air and her mouth was as dry as the desert, her tongue like sandpaper. She fumbled with her backpack, legs still spread wide, aching with the aftershock.
She twisted the top off the canteen and poured the cool water down her throat. Even as she drank, she smelled her dew on her hand, and the burn stirred deep inside. Dear God, she couldn't go through that again! She jerked the canteen away from her lips. She wanted to scrub her hand, get rid of the smell, but she couldn't waste the precious water. She'd already drunk more than she should. Half the canteen was gone. Carefully, she closed the top.
The tang of sex had already sent her senses reeling. Her clit and nipples started to throb, a dull rhythm matching the beat of her heart. She had to do something, to get her mind off of it.
"Mac! Mac! Where are you?" she screamed although her voice was hoarse from her earlier shouts and the keening of her tortured release.
There were only his footprints leading to the boulders, none away from them and none on the other side. None leading to the new exit created by the shifting walls. She could wait here, but she could wait until she died of thirst and Mac might never find his way back from wherever he had gone. That was their only chance, wasn't it? If she could find the way out again and go for help.
Lia threw on her backpack and ran for the exit. Whatever she faced out there was better than waiting here for a slow death. At least out there she would die trying to do something.
Lia stepped across the threshold. She had taken two steps when she heard the shrieking mechanisms start up again. Rock slammed into rock. Gears and chains ground and shuddered. The opening behind her closed. Then it all began again as new doorways were made.
Flashing the light where the opening had once been, she could barely see the fine line where stone met stone. The precision with which the blocks were carved and matched seemed impossible without more sophisticated tools than the ancients had.
But all she had to do was remember Stonehenge, the Sphinx, and the pyramids of Egypt and South America. The ancients had more skill and patience with their crude tools than most modern engineers.
No passages to the left or right. She had no way of knowing if the maze had returned to its original layout or changed into another entirely different one. She had no choice. There was only one way to go, forward.
Lia hurried along the tunnel. She tried to keep her bearings in relation to the large cavern she'd left behind, but after a few turns she was thoroughly confused. She stopped to catch her breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She had been drawn in a different direction since she first entered this place and experienced the first vision. If she emptied her mind and quit fighting the force, perhaps it would lead her to where she needed to go.
Making her mind go blank was more difficult than she thought. She was almost in a state of panic at losing Mac. She pictured Mac. Tall, handsome, muscled. Long black hair, green eyes…and suddenly he wasn't Mac, but she didn't know who he was.
He was taller, broader, more muscular, but she couldn't glimpse his face. He was someone she knew intimately, but the practical part of her reminded her that she knew no one else like Mac. Lia tried to shake the thoughts away. She needed to concentrate.
It took a while for her to loosen up enough to do it, but for a moment, that breathless time between one second and the next, she managed a perfect state of unawareness. And in that moment, she knew exactly where she needed to go.
Lia ran as fast as she could, turning corners at a reckless pace, sprinting down the straight passageways, until she developed a stitch in her side that forced her to slow down.
Panting from exertion, she reached the end of the first passageway, where she had gone left and Mac right. She shone her light down the long passage. At the end of the tunnel was the way out. She could see if Mac had made it out. If not, she could take the Jeep to the nearest village and bring back help.
Or she could take the left turn. It didn't matter if she set off more traps, she could always find her way back here. She now knew this place like the back of her hand. Whatever connection she had with the woman in the vision gave her the knowledge to find her way no matter the design.
Lia had to discover what pulled at her.
With one last look down the main tunnel, she started at a trot down the left passageway, limping in deference to the pain in her side.
This tunnel looked no different than any of the other dozens she had traveled, but it felt different. Moving away from this direction had filled her with doubts and dread. Now, she felt joyous, tingling with anticipation. She felt as if she were going t
o meet her lover…the way the woman had felt in the vision.
With every step she took, her sexual tension grew until she rubbed first one breast and then the other to try to relieve the ache. Even though she was only making it worse, she couldn't stop.
Lia made a few more turns and found herself in a short passageway. Instinctively, she knew this was where the woman had dropped her oil lamp and met her lover in the dark. Here, he had caressed her, murmuring words of love, bringing her to the point of orgasm. Lia whimpered as everything went black. The vision was taking over again.
Her hips undulate in opposition to the swirling of his fingertips, and she longs for him to push inside her wetness. He dares not, but he knows exactly where to touch and what to do and he does it so well. She cannot imagine true coupling could be sweeter than what they share, but it must be for her muscles tighten within as if they are trying to draw something in deeper. She sighs against the futility of her own desires, groping for his erection.
Her fingers close over his hot, stiff member and he groans, a primal sound that reverberates through his chest. How she loves the throaty sounds he makes while she pleasures him. Her fingers caress him lightly as he pushes into the cup of her hand.
Their rhythms match, both swaying into the other's hand, then away, then in again. His fingers slip down to cover the folds of what the goddess holds sacred, and the nub of her desire collides with the base of his palm again and again.
Their rhythm quickens and her hand tightens. Her palm catches the small amount of moisture from the engorged tip and spreads it along the rock hard length of his manhood. Their breaths sound harsh but come as one, and their heartbeats match. They almost become one another, she thinks, as she nears the bursting point of her pleasure, her hips moving even more quickly against his hand.
He matches her pace, and she feels him grow even harder, that last stiffening just before he is ready to spill his seed. She wishes he could spill within her and create a child, a proof of their everlasting love. But for now, it cannot be.
She cries out as her pleasure is released and her body tingles and grows warm. She feels faint and her legs become weak as wave after wave pours through her body. When she is replete and her hips have stopped grinding against his palm, only then does he push his manhood insistently. She grips him firmly with both hands, but lets him set the pace. He moves back and forth more quickly until the last moments when he strains into the tight circle formed of her hands.
A guttural groan is torn from his throat as his seed spills and she catches every precious drop. When the last shudder racks his body, he sags against her for only a moment drawing in deep, ragged breaths. Bracing himself, he swings her up into his arms and she cradles her head between his jaw and shoulder.
He carries her into their chamber.
The vision ended abruptly, and Lia's hand shook as she lifted the flashlight to reveal an entryway to a chamber—the same chamber where the woman's lover carried her. Lia stumbled across the passageway and over the threshold. She stopped just inside and leaned back against the wall beside the opening. Her whole body trembled, craving something her own hands couldn't satisfy.
She flashed the light around, but the beam revealed an empty room, the floor covered in sand like the passageways.
No statue. She had almost expected to see it there even though according to the glyphs on the scroll, the statue would be situated in a chamber large enough to hold hundreds of people attending the ritual.
Nothing tangible here, but she was overcome with a sense of love and devotion and physical arousal—all the things the woman felt for her lover. Lia slid down the wall to sit at its base, tears streaming down her face. The woman's connection to her lover was a relationship Lia had always wanted but never came close to having.
Before she was aware of what she was doing, she had jammed the handle of the flashlight between her legs, rubbing the long, cylindrical case back and forth. She closed her eyes, moaning…
He lays her on the thick pallet he had prepared earlier in anticipation of their tryst.
How often do they not make it to the makeshift bed before their hands pleasure one another's bodies? Too often, she thinks and smiles in the dark. A faint light glimmers from the other side of the small chamber. He has lighted a lamp.
Quickly, she crawls from the soft pallet, over the abrasive sand until she reaches the back chamber wall. There she digs a hole in the loose sand and buries his seed as a gift to the goddess. It will not sprout him sons, she thinks, and stifles a laugh at the image of babies springing from the sand, but they mustn't leave any evidence of what they do behind. And perhaps the goddess will reconsider what she asks the eldest daughter of the king to forsake if she is brought closer to the pleasure a man can give a woman.
Her lover catches her from behind, his strong arm slipping around her stomach. He has discarded his robe and he holds her close to his naked body. She feels his growing manhood press against the back of her thigh. He swings her up and deposits her on the pallet, tumbling along with her. They laugh as limbs tangle and warm skin slides along warm skin.
The faint light is a bright corona outlining him in stark relief as he raises and kneels between her legs, spreading them wide. Her hips surge upward and she longs for him to plunge inside, but it would be certain death for both of them. The royal physician examines her frequently to ensure her maidenhead is intact. It is a humiliating experience that she loathes, and she will be glad to leave it and everything else behind when her lover deems it is time for them to go away together.
She dreams of the day he will be able to pierce her maidenhead and make her feel like a true woman.
He runs his hands from her calves, over her knees, to the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. She quivers with delight and forgets everything except the feel of his hands on her body.
He lowers his head and his fingers spread her folds farther apart. She sighs with the first exquisite touch of his tongue in the creases around her nub and the tingle of arousal begins. He laps at her gently, long slow strokes that make her squirm into him. His hands move under her hips and clutch her buttocks. His touch is hot and she feels as if the imprints of his large hands have been burned into her flesh. He raises her closer to him, his tongue gliding up and down the rim of the goddess' portal.
Her breath quickens and her heart pounds. Her hips begin a rhythm all their own and his lips return to her nub, surrounding it, suckling it. She pushes into him, her back arching, ready for the rush of sensation, but at the last moment he stops and draws away.
She hangs on the edge of oblivion, poised on the brink of eternity, but instead the feeling recedes a little. He flicks his fingers around her nub a few times, but not enough to send her plummeting over the edge.
"Please, please, Beloved!" she begs in a whimper, her body writhing with need. "Do not stop!"
But it is part of their lovemaking and she enjoys his teasing touch.
"Not yet, my One," he whispers hoarsely. "There are more pleasures to come."
Lia groaned aloud when the vision ended, and she was back in the chamber, alone and horny as hell. She shook her head against the wall and tried to bring the vision back. She wanted to experience what they experienced, wanted to live inside the woman and be loved in a way she had never been loved by a man. To be treasured and wanted, even if the complete act of penetration was an impossibility.
Sobbing, Lia yanked the flashlight from between her legs. No more! It wasn't enough, would never be enough. She had to find the statue. The answer was with the statue. Lia wasn't sure how she knew it. Probably from the woman in the vision. At least, if she found the statue, she could get out of here. If she hadn't found Mac by then, she could go for help.
Lia stood on shaky legs and stepped out into the passageway. She closed her eyes and tried to make her mind go blank again. This time it was easier and she knew where she needed to go and what she had to do.
Half an hour later, she entered a medium-sized chamb
er. Larger than where the woman and her lover met, but not spacious enough to hold hundreds of worshipers. Here, there was a large block of stone long enough for someone to lie on, its flat surface as tall as her waist. Could it be an altar? Glyphs she didn't know how to read were carved on all sides.
Piles of rubbish lined the side walls. Fragments of papyrus that disintegrated when she touched them. Dull metal tools. Clay vessels that shattered when she tried to move them. But none of this really interested her.
She moved around the slab of rock to the back of the chamber. She found a loose stone and pushed inward. Prepared for grinding, whining gears, she was surprised when a section of the wall moved aside with barely a whisper. The flash of her light revealed a long flight of steps leading down. The steps seemed intact as far as the light would reach. Everything else had held up well over time, no reason these shouldn't have either. She started down.
At the bottom, there was another stone to push and another door to open. Just as she laid her hand on the correct block, everything blurred and she was back again with the woman and her lover.
"More?" she asks in a timid whisper. She doesn't think her body can stand more stimulation, but she knows it can. They shouldn't take so much time tonight, yet she can't bear to tell him she must leave. She prays to the goddess that the guards will not notice her absence.
But will the goddess heed her prayers when they go against everything the priests tell them the goddess stands for?
She cannot believe the goddess would wish her to abstain from this…and it is her last thought as her lover's hands grip her waist and pulls her up and toward him. She rises until she is seated on his thighs, her portal of Sineha lying along his thick, hard length. She squirms closer until her nub is in contact with the flesh just above the root of his manhood. She rocks her hips, bumping him just enough to bring back the sweet tingle of anticipation.
Her lover has wrapped his arms around her, to steady her, and his head dips, his mouth closing over the tight peak of one breast. His teeth nip gently and his tongue rakes the hardened flesh, drawing circles around and around. He moves to the other and lavishes the same attention to it. She throws back her head, her hands threaded through his silky hair. She glides her portal back and forth over his stiff manhood, careful not to press too hard although she wants him inside of her so badly tears well in her eyes.
