by Kit Tunstall
“Thanks, that would be great.” With a nod, he turned and started toward his Jeep. “Oh wait.” James paused, turning in her direction. “Could you go first? I’m not certain I remember the way back.”
His wide smile highlighted the sparkling white of his teeth against his matte black skin. “Of course, but if you get lost, just follow the recent tire marks.”
Zinsa nodded and started the Land Rover, waiting until James had climbed in his vehicle and started forward before turning the wheel to follow him. Almost immediately, she hit a bump that jostled the car, provoking a groan from Grant. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he said without opening his eyes. It sounded as though he spoke through gritted teeth, and when she glanced at him, he seemed to be using every ounce of his strength to get through the journey. She decided not to make him use any reserves to answer questions unless his condition took a turn for the worse.
Somehow, she managed to divide her attention between the crude path and Grant as she followed James’s Jeep back to the clinic. What had been a rough ride before now seemed a never-ending series of hurdles to cross, with each one designed to wring the maximum amount of pain from her silent passenger. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time they left behind the rough veld and emerged onto the paved path that extended about a mile past the compound.
The last mile passed quickly, without the jarring that plagued the earlier part of the trip. When she shut off the Land Rover in front of the clinic, Zinsa wiped a hand down her sweaty face. She took a moment to breathe deeply to restore calm before unfastening her seat belt and opening the car door. By the time she slid from the vehicle and walked around to Grant’s side, James had assisted him from the Land Rover and had him on his feet. Together, with her walking on Grant’s other side for added support, they led him inside the clinic.
“Where do you want him, Doctor?”
Zinsa cast a glance around the small treatment room, already crammed with patients. The exam table reserved for her was free, but he would need to rest after the treatment. With a decisive nod, she said, “His bed, back this way. It’s where he’ll be most comfortable.” She angled her body in the right direction, somewhat taking the lead, while still assisting Grant.
Once James helped her settle Grant on the bed, he took his leave with a nod. Zinsa followed behind him to fetch supplies from the front of the building. On the way back, she took time to close the door separating the living quarters from the clinic. It would assure a measure of privacy while she treated him, which she needed. Having her patients see her shaken state wouldn’t bolster their confidence in her. Revealing any hint of weakness would drive away the people she was committed to helping, but she couldn’t hide her vulnerability when it came to Grant. Even knowing the wound wasn’t life threatening, save for the blood loss, she couldn’t get a handle on her emotions.
But she didn’t have the luxury of indulging in her weakness right then, she reminded herself. He needed a physician. Later she could become the weepy girlfriend and indulge in gruesome visions of all the dire outcomes that could have happened.
Girlfriend? Was that the right word? As she mulled over the question, Zinsa checked Grant’s pulse, finding it stable and strong. His breathing was even, and his color had improved again since he was liberated from the vehicle and laid on the bed. At the touch of her fingers on his forehead, his eyes fluttered open, temporarily clouded with confusion. When he blinked, he seemed coherent again. “You’re back.” The steady pitch of her words pleased her, indicating she was regaining control.
“When was I gone?”
She assessed his condition to make sure he wasn’t suffering from confusion and determined he was trying to tease her. “I guess you weren’t, but you had me worried.” Going through the familiar motions, such as stripping off the T-shirt and examining the wound more thoroughly, restored the rest of her professionalism, allowing her to do the job at hand.
“Sorry.” He grimaced when she irrigated the wound. “Didn’t mean to worry you.”
Zinsa looked away from the injury to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to lose you, Grant.” Quickly, she dropped her eyes back to his shoulder, disconcerted by the intensity of her words. Now wasn’t the time to delve into relationship matters.
To her surprise, he tipped up her chin with the hand of his good arm, locking eyes with her. “I don’t want to lose you either, Zinsa.” A deep sigh escaped him, and he released his hold. “Seems inevitable though.”
She wanted to pursue the subject, but it was clear he didn’t have the strength to discuss the matter thoroughly. He was already fading, and by the time she gave him an injection to help him rest and ease the pain, he would be out for hours. She would just have to wait until he woke up to assess his condition. If he was stronger then, they could have a talk. Her impatience had to take a backseat to his welfare for the moment.
Chapter Five
Zinsa was trying to immerse herself in a novel, but having little luck, when Grant awakened three hours later. As soon as his eyes fluttered open, she dropped the book and hurried to the bed, immediately touching his forehead. To her relief, he was cool, and his color had improved dramatically. “How do you feel?”
“Better.” A groan escaped him when he shifted into a sitting position, bracing his back with pillows propped against the headboard.
She peeled back the pad to examine the wound. There was a bit of seepage around the stitches, and it had taken on a reddish tint, but the antibiotics she had injected into him should keep an infection from forming. As long as he healed cleanly, there was little to worry about. “Can I get you something? Food, water?”
“I’m starving.” His free hand clamped around her forearm, drawing her down onto the bed beside him. “For you.”
An undignified giggle escaped her when Grant nuzzled her neck, finding a ticklish spot. The physician in her tried to take charge, and she wriggled far enough away to avoid his teasing lips. “We shouldn’t. Your shoulder—”
“Has nothing to do with my cock.” His voice dropped as his hand moved from her arm to between her thighs. “Or your pussy.”
Uncertain, she drew back to look into his eyes, finding them dark with hunger. The injury didn’t seem to have slowed him down, and surely he would know whether or not he was capable of making love. “As your doctor, I still say we shouldn’t do this.” She relaxed, melting into him, and sighing when his lips brushed her neck. “As your lover, I’m all for it.”
His breath washed over her neck when he chuckled, heightening already sensitive nerve endings and sending a shiver down her spine. She curled as close to him as she could while still avoiding his shoulder. Grant placed his injured arm around her, and the warmth of his hand seemed to burn through the thin fabric of her T-shirt.
Grant’s lips drifted down the column of her throat, seeking out the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. Zinsa yelped with surprised pleasure when he nipped the area forcefully, drawing skin into his mouth to suckle. A rush of moisture flooded her pussy as he sucked, and she writhed against him, trying to turn her body to more fully press against his.
His groan of pain made her freeze, and she looked up at him, too turned on to be completely objective. “Do you need to stop?” Please, no. She needed him too badly.
A shake of his head filled her with relief, and she stretched upward, straining her neck to reach his mouth. He met her partway, dipping his neck, and their lips met with explosive intensity, tongues dueling for entrance to the other’s mouth. Satisfaction swept through her when she yielded to him, and his tongue invaded her mouth. Each dart and thrust ignited pulses of electricity throughout her body. Submission wasn’t a bad thing, she decided, as Grant shifted positions, bringing her onto her back so he could lie on top of her.
By some magic of motion, Grant managed to keep his lips locked with hers, his tongue constantly stroking, while his hands pushed up the hem of her T-shirt above her breasts. Wowed by his dexterity
and heated kisses, Zinsa couldn’t seem to find the impetus to help him with the bra.
Not that he needed any assistance, as evidenced by his smooth unhooking of the front clasp. When his hands cupped her breasts, as his legs supported his weight to keep from crushing her, she was thankful she had selected the front-opening bra. It made instant access so much easier.
Grant turned his head slightly, his mouth leaving hers. Zinsa’s lips pressed against his cheek, and she licked the skin offered to her, pleased to feel him shudder at the sensation.
“I love your breasts. They’re perfect.” He squeezed lightly for emphasis, rubbing his thumbs over the plump nipples. “Like firm melons, with juicy berry nipples.”
Amid laughter, Zinsa asked, “Are you going to eat me or fuck me?”
He turned his head again to look into her eyes. “Both, love.”
The husky promise made her pussy convulse with anticipation, and she wrapped her thighs around his legs, arching her hips in search of relief. “Get to it then.”
A grin slipped over his face, visible for just seconds, as his body slithered down hers. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her nipple hardened to the point of pain as his mouth reached it, his breath fanning over the taut peak. Restlessly, she lifted her back, trying to find his mouth, but he hovered just out of reach. She groaned, frustrated at his teasing, and then jumped with surprise when he licked her nipple. That sensation had barely been processed when he blew on her bud again, making her cry out. It was exquisite, causing shudders of pleasure to rack her body. Giving her no time to assimilate or recover, Grant repeated the process several times, until she was a wriggling mass of pure sensation, aching for his cock.
“Do you like that?” he asked against her breast, his lips tickling her nipple.
“It’s wonderful.” Zinsa brought up her hand to cup her ignored breast, offering it to him. “But this one feels neglected.”
Grant gingerly lifted his torso, switching his angle to bring his mouth to the needy breast. A grimace of pain flashed across his face, but disappeared as he dipped his head. “We can’t have that.” His mouth engulfed her nipple and a good portion of her breast as he sucked with enthusiasm, each rhythmic tug of his mouth on her nipple causing her body to lift from the mattress in frantic arches.
Zinsa buried her fingers in his hair, holding his head securely against her, relishing the careful attention of his diligent tongue as he nibbled, flicked and swirled his way over her areola, moving toward the valley of her breasts. When he reached the area, Grant paused, drawing in the scent of her. Instinctively, she mimicked the motion, drawing in a deep breath, cherishing his richly masculine aroma.
His tongue traced an elaborate pattern over her skin as he inched his way downward, taking time to explore every inch of her chest as he went. With his mouth busy at her stomach, blowing gentle breaths across damp trails left by his tongue, Zinsa’s tummy quivered continuously and her pussy soon picked up the rhythm, convulsing in time with his breaths.
One of Grant’s fingers traced her rib cage, taking time to become intimately familiar with the shape and length of each rib. It shouldn’t have been erotic, but it was, feeling even better than his soft kisses and light nibbling near her belly button.
Her breath caught in her throat when he finally went lower, his breath caressing her mound, as his hand left her ribs to stroke the neatly trimmed hair shielding her pussy. Arousal flowed from her in torrents and she marveled at how her body could continue to react so vigorously to the prolonged foreplay.
Any thoughts of biology fled when Grant buried his face between her thighs, his tongue squirming inside her slit to taste her with broad strokes. Whimpering with need, she bucked her hips against his face, crying out each time his tongue touched her clit.
His strokes started randomly, but soon he had narrowed in on the space between her clitoris and opening, taking leisurely swipes up and down the sensitive area, just barely flirting with her clit or teasing her opening before repeating the process. She was close to screaming with frustration, made all the worse by his other hand on her hip that restricted her ability to arch her hips.
“Please Grant, I need your cock.”
He didn’t reply, but his tongue thrust into her opening to sweep the walls of her pussy as it contracted. Without thought, Zinsa tightened her hands into fists, eliciting a sound of protest from Grant when she accidentally pulled his hair. Good, she thought with a twinge of satisfaction. If he was going to keep her in this constant state of pleasure, bordering on pain, he deserved an equal measure. If she were more coherent, she would figure out how to do that, but her brain was mush under his passionate ministrations.
A gasp left her when Grant’s tongue surged upward to caress her clit just before he sucked it into his mouth. “Oh God, more. I need you inside me.”
In response, the hand that had parted her lips shifted, and two of his fingers plunged deeply inside her wet heat. At the same time, he eased his hold on her hip, allowing her to thrust freely as she writhed against his face, wanting as much of his fingers as she could take, while shuddering under the onslaught of his tongue on her clit.
When a third finger entered her, Zinsa’s thrusting took on a frenetic pace. She couldn’t breathe, needing to come so badly. Her pussy convulsed, and she was on the edge of release when Grant’s fingers left her opening. If she’d had voice to protest the withdrawal, she would have, but could only ride out the tumultuous sensations storming through her, waiting to see what he would do next.
She hoped he was finally going to fuse their bodies, but instead his fingers, slick with her arousal, slid lower, seeking out her anus. Without thought, she clenched her anal muscles, babbling an incoherent sound to object. Either he didn’t hear her or he decided to make her say no plainly, because his middle finger probed her anus, circling gently. It was so foreign, but his massage felt good, and her muscles relaxed enough to permit his finger to slide inside an inch. Zinsa groaned at the invasion, expecting pain, but receiving pleasure instead.
“More.” The request was a guttural expletive more than a real word, but he must have recognized the syllables, because his finger penetrated her fully, having easy passage once he had passed the tight seal of her sphincter. His rate was slow, in contrast to his greedy mouth devouring her clit, as he thrust his finger in and out of her.
Zinsa found it impossible to buck her hips with his mouth on her pussy and his finger in her back passage. She was forced to lie still under the ardent blitz, surprised to find it so pleasurable to be at his mercy. Within seconds, her orgasm had peaked again, and she trembled on the edge of coming. When Grant’s thumb plunged inside her pussy to fuck her in concert with his finger in her ass, release came in an instant, so potent it almost made her scream. She bit hard on her tongue to hold in her cries of satisfaction as her body pulsed and thrummed with the power of her orgasm.
Tremors suffused her body, scattering all thought or awareness, except for the pleasure consuming her. Never in her life had climax been so intense, and she wanted to revel in the moment. The compulsion was almost as strong as the one telling her to mount Grant and ride him to another peak. The need to have him inside her won out, because as satisfying as the orgasm had been, there was still something missing. She didn’t want him leading her to release. She wanted him along with her, as helplessly lost to passion as she had been.
As she came back to herself, Grant shifted to lie beside her on his side, his stomach pressed against her ribs. He brushed a gentle kiss across her sweaty forehead before tucking her close to his body.
A frown furrowed her brow. He seemed to be settling in for the night. The heavy weight of his cock pushing into her hip indicated he was far from release. “Grant?”
“Hm?” He sounded sleepy.
“Don’t you want to make love?”
His chin rubbed against the top of her head. “I thought we just did.”
“Yes…no…sort of.”
His chuckle had a
strange edge. “Which is it, love?”
Zinsa sighed with frustration, struggling to articulate her emotions. “You made love to me. We didn’t make love.”
“What’s the difference?”
She grasped the length of his cock in her palm, squeezing lightly. “This is the difference. What you did to me was wonderful, but what about you?”
Releasing a deep breath, Grant said, “I don’t feel up to it right now.”
On their short acquaintance, it should have been impossible for her to detect that he was lying simply from the slight change of pitch in his voice, but she could. Maybe it wasn’t so strange, because she felt like she knew him on many levels, except the most intimate, where he wouldn’t let her in. “Your cock tells a different story.” She stroked him, and he convulsed in her hand.
Grant’s arm slipped between their bodies, and he captured her wrist, moving her hand to his stomach. “My cock would always be ready for you, but my arm is sore, and I think whatever was in that shot you gave me is still having an effect.”
With a sigh, she let him have his way. Knowing he was being deceptive and proving it were two different things. It was conceivable the Demerol had left him groggy, and maybe his shoulder was acting up again, but they weren’t his primary reasons for avoiding intercourse. No, it was something deeper and much more confusing. She suspected it still had to do with his issues of control, but wasn’t up to the long talk she had planned for during the time he rested. Right then, she just wanted to surrender to sleep in his arms, letting her mind pretend everything was perfect, if only for a little while.
*
After sleeping fitfully, Grant sneaked out of bed early the next morning when the first streaks of dawn lit the sky. Not wanting to wake Zinsa and face the questions he could practically feel hanging between them, he dressed in a hurry, wincing at the stiffness in his shoulder. He spared only a minute to scrawl a note for her, using the pretext of checking on the injured impala to explain his early departure, before heading off to the bunkhouse’s communal showers.
