by Vonna Harper
Gasping in surprise, she stared up at him with her lower legs trapped under her and her shoulders on the ground with her back arched. Thinking to right herself again, she reached for his arms, but he shook her off. Then, holding her in place with a hand on her midriff, he scooted to the side and slowly lowered his head. She knew what he had in mind a half-second before he opened his mouth and sucked in her right breast.
His tongue pressing against her nub had her fighting to free her impossibly twisted body, and when he closed his lips around the hard-as-hell nipple and drew up on it, she nearly came. Perhaps he knew how close he’d brought her because he abruptly freed her so the air could cool and dry the saliva he’d deposited on her. Working much faster than she could possibly keep up with, he did the same with her left breast. Only this time instead of letting go as she was pressing her legs together in a crazed attempt to quiet the ache, he raked his teeth lightly over a nipple incapable of surviving any more stimulation and forced her to endure.
“Damn you, damn you,” she kept chanting when he planted his arms on either side of her shoulders so he could lower his body to hers. Trapped. Robbed of the necessary leverage to get her legs, let alone her feet, under her. His. Down he came, touching his chest to her aching breasts and then closing against her even more until she wondered if he intended to crush her. “Damn you.”
If he was shocked or surprised by her profanity, he gave no indication, and when he started to straighten, she locked her arms around his neck and came up with him. Thinking he might push her back again, she quickly rocked to the side and from there onto her hands and knees. Even before she had time to congratulate herself, however, she felt his hands on her buttocks.
Stopped by the bold touch, she lowered her head and pushed her ass toward him in blatant invitation. He responded by first slapping her offered buttocks then sliding a thumb down her crack. When she opened her mouth this time, a long, low moan floated around them.
He slapped her again, his palm landing smartly on her right ass cheek and chasing sensation throughout her. A moment later the left was subjected to the same sensual contact. Discipline? Taking control? Offering her his brand of pleasure? One side and then the other, her rounded flesh becoming the man’s personal drums. Throughout the teasing “punishment”, his thumb remained nestled within an inch of her rear opening, and she bleated like some lost lamb.
You’re a cunt, a fucking cunt!
Hell yes she was! Growling in imitation of the big cats she’d filmed earlier that day, she turned and launched herself at him. Whether she’d used leverage to her advantage or he was letting her win didn’t matter because after a brief struggle, he was the one under her with his arms and legs wide.
She growled again, even snapped her teeth at him. “Take that! Ignore that.” Then, before she could possibly judge what she was doing, she straddled his thighs. When she was in place and he was staring up at her with his expression protected by the night, she cupped his cock between her hands.
Oh yes, increased blood flow had done its job as witnessed by the thick and heavy weight, and a tiny bead of moisture on the tip proclaimed he was ready. Although her pussy twitched and bled in anticipation of housing his cock, she refused to be rushed.
She had him, held him, owned him. He could probably make a lie of that proclamation with a half effort, but this was her fantasy, her delusion so yes, she had absolute and final control over the organ that ruled both of them.
Although he hadn’t moved since she’d taken hold of his penis, she doubted he feared what she might do. Most likely he was waiting, anticipating, maybe locked in his own fantasy. What was he thinking, she wondered as her fingertips began working the silken length. She couldn’t imagine he harbored the desire to be controlled by a powerful woman. Maybe in his mind her hands had become her cunt.
Yes, that was possible, more than possible. Like her, he had no doubt they’d have sex, and like most men, he could hardly wait to get there. Could she get him to come from stimulating him? Maybe, but she wanted his come in and not on her. Wanted this primal and insane fucking to be animal to animal.
Planting her hands on his chest for leverage, she rose up on her knees and positioned her opening over his waiting gift. Even with anticipation running down her legs, she thought he might object to the woman-on-top position, but he signaled his approval by bending his knees. Then he placed his hands on her hips and guided her down and on.
On!
A perfect fit, male breadth invading female softness! Head back and eyes unfocused, she concentrated on every quarter inch of the journey. Her hands had educated her about his length and size and feel, but as her pussy accepted him, she learned even more. His tip might be like silk, but beneath lay demanding strength. Fine hairs coated his groin and the base of his cock. Bit by heady bit her body accepted what was both a gift and an invasion. She forgot about her knees pressing into the rough ground and couldn’t feel her arms. Breathing took too much effort so she concentrated on warmth and the sensation of sleek against sleek.
Instinct took over as she repeatedly tightened her vaginal muscles around him. The position limited his ability to thrust and handed power to her, power she took advantage of by gripping his cock and holding on even when her muscles protested the constant fluttering. “Take that. Try to get away.”
He didn’t, of course. Instead, he surged upright and planted his arms behind him for support. Concerned he’d slip out or they’d inadvertently injure his cock, she leaned back as he’d done and planted her hands on his ankles. He, too, gripped her ankles and with both of their knees bent, they began rocking as one.
Sharing and being shared.
She could make out his expression, not that she fully understood it. Turned on, of course, concentrating on sensation and movement, trying to hold back, staring into her eyes and maybe pulling out emotions she shouldn’t reveal or even knew she had.
Unfortunately, rocking while connected wasn’t going to get them to the finish line. Much as she loved knowing they could work in harmony, the position severely limited their movements, and she had less than no interest in slow and easy.
On the verge of telling him that, she found herself on her back, her vagina empty. Confused, scared and angry, she tried to roll to the side in preparation for sitting up, but stopped when she saw he was spreading her robe on the ground. A civilized man would discuss the next step with her, wouldn’t he? The two of them might sit across from each other, engaged in a little hands-on exploration, of course, while debating the pros and cons of various positions and a little matter of birth control. But Nacon wasn’t civilized as witnessed by his hungry glare, and tonight neither was she.
Primal. Animal. Fucking like animals.
Mentally ridiculing the professional woman she’d long taken pride in, she positioned herself on her hands and knees with her robe under her. Then, calling herself insane, she lowered her upper body until her breasts brushed her robe and looked over her shoulders at him. “Do it.”
Thank god he didn’t question her decision or even ask if she really wanted to be taken doggy style. He said none of the things a modern civilized man would. Most of all, thank god, he understood.
Yes! There! On his knees behind her, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her back toward him. She widened her stance and lifted her ass, offering herself, begging, commanding. Surrendering.
Yes! He was sliding into her again as her buttocks pressed against his belly and blood ran to her head and her cunt filled.
Not a dog, she amended as he pushed home. Instead, she saw herself as a female jaguar in heat with a male jaguar, this jaguar, mounting her. She loved the feel of him cupped around her lower body; she even reveled in her helplessness because it was so easy for him to keep her in position. Most of all she fed off the feeling of him cradled deep inside.
When he started working her with a series of quick, hard thrusts, she braced herself on her lower arms and rocked. Her hair had fallen forward, but what did
she need to see for? One of his hands remained against her belly to hold her in place no matter how vigorously he plowed her, but the other—the other was free to explore her back, sides, ribs, and when she was afraid she might scream from anticipation, her breasts. Instead of trying to quiet or still their free-swinging ways, he loosely cupped his hand around one or the other so he could share in the experience.
A rhythm of sorts, frenzied power until she felt as if she was being shaken by a giant followed by long, slow heat-producing invasions that seemed to reach all the way to her womb. At the same time, he gripped her nipple, effectively slowing her upper body as well.
My G-spot. Hit it, oh god, hit it! There, yes, there!
Sparks, small explosions really, shot through her. They might be mini-orgasms, but maybe nothing more than her overloaded body’s reaction to the night’s insanity. The outbursts kept coming, knocking her off balance and keeping her there. What scant thinking ability she retained feared the utter lack of control or self-restraint. At the same time, she relished the sensation of heat sliding endlessly over everything. Her breathing became chant-like, guttural, primal, impossible to quiet. He, too, was making animal sounds. That coupled with his almost frantic thrusts held her in a swirling storm.
The sparks stopped coming, her body now not quieting so much as holding itself suspended. At any second, she knew, lightning and thunder would explode and maybe shatter her. Instead of fearing the approaching force, she formed an image of herself standing in an open field with her arms stretching upward as thick, dark clouds covered the sky. Let the storm come!
It did, quick, hard, heavy and hot all at the same time. Screaming, she lifted her head. The scream became a howl. Her body broke apart, re-gathered itself, then shattered again. On fire! Helpless beneath the onslaught. Melting beneath the man who’d anchored her to the ground.
This primitive man who didn’t carry condoms because he had nothing to carry them in.
Who maybe didn’t know the meaning of the word?
By the time her climax or, more precisely, series of climaxes began their slow retreat, she was too exhausted to keep her head up. She slumped, spent, under Nacon. He was still coming, grunting and hammering. His come flowed into her, filled her, fueled her. A tide lifted in and around her, signaling yet another climax or maybe a continuation of what hadn’t quite ended.
“Can’t, can’t, can’t,” she begged. At the same time, she threw herself wholeheartedly into what she’d never before experienced. The tide kept increasing in strength, waves throwing her body around and setting her to howling again. She was vaguely aware that Nacon’s body had stilled. Maybe he was concentrating on her reaction, not that she could do anything about it. Not that she gave a damn about anything else.
Longer than the first explosion? Shorter, maybe, but more intense? Possibly the same? Didn’t matter, didn’t care, didn’t have enough strength to breathe.
Chapter Six
When her head and body stopped swirling, Dana began the monumental task of pulling herself back together. Things had changed since self-control became a joke. For one, Nacon’s cock was no longer lodged inside her. She was curled on her side on the ground—thank goodness for the robe she was kneeling on—drenched in sweat and so weak maybe she was in a coma. He was stretched out beside her with a hand on her hip, looking at her so intently that she felt uncomfortable.
“Holy shit.” Talking hurt her throat.
“Good for you?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t know—I wasn’t sure how it’d be.”
“It?” After swallowing, she tried again. “Are you saying you planned this?”
After a slow and silent moment, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars. “I didn’t plan anything, Dana. What’s happening is bigger than both of us.”
That’s right. Scare me right when all I want to do is relive whatever the hell happened. Still, taking her cue from him, she positioned herself so she could study the stars. Much as she wanted her arms around him and her body nestled against his, this small distance and distraction was better. Safer at least. “Are you real? I didn’t dream you up, did I?”
“This isn’t a dream.”
“Then what is it? I’ve never done anything like this. Hell, I don’t think anyone has.”
He ran a hand over his chest and then his forehead, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with an emotion she didn’t understand. “I don’t have all the answers. I know you want me to. So do I, but it isn’t that simple.”
Instead of replying, she took a moment to concentrate on her body. She was still shaking and so weak she wasn’t about to take a chance on trying to stand, not that she knew what she’d do once she was on her feet. “I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t have sex with strangers and never like this.” She patted the ground. “How’d you get me to—”
“Not me. Only you control your actions.”
Did she? Could she? What she did know without a speck of doubt was that she’d been well fucked. The shaking felt as if it might go on indefinitely, but what the hell did she care? It might not be as satisfying as getting off, but the tremors and weakness and heat and stickiness between her legs anchored her in what sex was all about. Forget foreplay. Forget candles and perfume and roses and all the other modern trappings. What had just happened was the marriage of two bodies, of need racing wild throughout her system, of shutting off her brain and simply fucking.
With whom?
Rolling her head to the side, she studied his profile. She still hadn’t had a good look at this man she’d just rutted with, and that was part of the allure, wasn’t it? How many times had she fantasized about having sex with a mysterious and marginally dangerous stranger, and now she’d gone and done it. It was too late for regret or beating herself up over her behavior or anything except accepting. “Are you of this world? You’re really real?”
His answer was slow in coming. “Dana, I’m not of this time.”
Oh shit. Oh shit. “What do you mean by that?”
For the second time in a few minutes, he pressed a hand to his temple. “Are you ready for this?”
I don’t know. “I have to be, don’t I? For one, we had unprotected sex.”
“Unprotected?”
Unable to grasp that he didn’t know what she was talking about, she shook her head. “Birth control. Is that it? You figure that’s the woman’s problem? Well, you’re wrong.”
He dragged in a long, deep breath. “Dana, we have to talk, about many things. I come from another world, an ancient one.”
“What?”
“You’re why I still exist. Something about you pulled me through the corridor separating our worlds. I need to learn what that something is, but—”
“Wait a minute!” Unnerved, she took up a study of the heavens. “You aren’t making any kind of sense.”
“Would anything I say explain what happened?”
“Maybe not,” she muttered. A deep breath did nothing to calm her, but brought his distracting scent deep into her. “All right, all right, let me—okay, where were you before I spotted you? Let’s start there. I thought—I assumed you were in the big cats’ enclosure, not that that makes sense. Aztec could have killed—”
“Stand up.”
“What?”
Instead of explaining, he stood and offered her a hand. For a moment, he held her against him while her system sang and started to dance, but then he pushed her away. Suddenly unsure of the body she’d given to him, she returned his gaze. Who or whatever he was, she couldn’t walk away from him.
“Turn around,” he commanded.
Doing so briefly gave her respite from his intensity, but when she’d finished her slow circuit, she had no choice but to look into his eyes again. Although neither of them wore anything, she accepted his nudity while she’d never felt more exposed. A little earlier, she’d sensed he was struggling to come to grips with something, but now his expression revealed nothing of what he wa
s thinking or what conclusions he might have drawn. “What?” she blurted. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“I don’t need to.”
She’d come close to screaming out her frustration before he did more than blink. When he reached out, she hoped against all reason that he wanted to embrace her. Instead, his hand closed over her right hip, the touch rekindling a fire that should have died in the aftermath of her incredible climax, but hadn’t. Several seconds passed before she realized he was cradling her jaguar tattoo. “That turns you on?” she asked.
“How did you get it?”
Briefly she told him about creating the design and commissioning a tattoo artist. “I can’t say how or why I came up with it, Unfortunately, it’s the only one I’ve been able to create. But I’ve never grown tired of it. What? You don’t approve of tattoos on women?”
Instead of answering, he turned so the moon bathed his right side. Then he took her hand and guided it to his hip. Just as her fingers covered him, the moon revealed the intricate pattern there. Numb, she tried to calm herself by caressing his flesh. Then, hoping she could handle it, she positioned herself where the lighting was the best. She told herself there was no need to berate herself for not having noticed it before. After all, it was night, and she’d been distracted by other things, namely the need for sex with a more-than-stereotypical dark stranger. Maybe it was just as well since once she knew what he’d drawn her attention to, she might have lost interest in anything except the design.
“They’re the same,” he told her.
“That’s—that’s what I thought. But how? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doesn’t it? Dana, our tattoos are what brought us together.”
That’s insane! You have no idea what you’re talking about. However, she said neither of those things because he was right. Somehow, some way, two strangers with identical tattoos had not only found each other, but on the night they’d met, they’d gone after each other like animals in heat.
