A Heart-Shaped Hogan

by RaeLynn Blue

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  A Heart-Shaped Hogan

  RAELYNN BLUE

  Copyright © 2012 by RaeLynn Blue

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland, http://www.marteekakarland.com/

  Editor: Stephanie Parent

  Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

  http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

  Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (e-book) 978-1-61788-226-5

  For New Mexico. Thank you for all the enchantments.

  NOTE ABOUT EBOOKS

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The Navajo Nation (Dine) is the largest Native American tribe in the United States. Their reservation lands cover parts of New Mexico, Utah and Arizona. I spent six years living in New Mexico with Navajo people. This story uses the traditional Dine home, the Hogan. It is a place of sacred ceremonies and for some their permanent and ancestral home. To my knowledge, I do not know of any story where the Hogan has been used in the manner depicted in this story, thus I have taken liberties with it. I encourage you to read about the Navajo tribe from factual sources if you wish to learn more. —RaeLynn

  CHAPTER ONE

  Scarlet streaks flushed to pink and vibrant orange as the day bled from dawn to dusk. The colors painted the horizon along the burnt dust of the northern edge of the Navajo Nation’s reservation land. At over a mile high, this section of the high desert stretched out in all directions, racing toward its postcard edges. Picturesque, perfect, and patient, the land had witnessed death, destruction, and desperation. So why the H.E. double hockey sticks did Tank have her out here? The bright sunlight, crisp air, and fluffy white clouds belied the near twenty-three degree temperature. February became cold around these parts. The season didn’t care at all that today was Valentine’s Day.

  Lee Stone frowned as the bite of another cold blast tore across the mesas and threatened to tear through her coat. Shuddering inside her parka, she could not fathom another Valentine’s Day mired in tragedy or random acts of chaos. Slivers of icy wind streaked through her ebony parka and her sweater, directly to her very bones. With her fingers growing numb inside her leather gloves, she yanked her hat farther down over her ears, and not for the first time, cursed the Valentine’s Day gods. It appeared that for the fourth year in a row, her sweetheart day would end in utter disaster. She looked around. What could possibly be out here?

  Biting her lip, she cast a glance at Tank Begaye. One eyeful of him never satisfied her. It never quenched her constant craving for him. His cowboy hat was tugged low over his eyes, and his arrow-straight black hair tied in a ponytail that hugged the nape of his neck. After four years, most couples’ fires had cooled to a comfortable temperature. Not theirs. Her desire burned blue-hot for him, just like the first day they met. Feeling the familiar tug of hunger skirt across her clit, she squeezed her thighs together before taking the next step forward. Her gaze moved downward from his neck to his leather-clad back, wide and delicious.

  Whatever plans he had, she knew that the calloused hand of Fate would knock them off, scattering them into oblivion and the Navajo desert. They crested a ridge that looked out over the valley below. Speckled with Western-style houses, Hogans, and mobile homes, the sheep and yuccas outnumbered the living structures.

  “Tank…” She detested the whine threading her voice, but the suspense threatened to overtake her.

  He gazed out toward the valley below and hummed. “It’s beautiful here.”

  When she sighed, a stream of condensed air flew from her lips. They’d met at a freak party in Las Vegas and she’d lassoed his heart. He lived in Colorado and she resided in New Mexico. Each year they planned to meet on Valentine’s Day, and each year Fate fucked it up. The first year a blizzard tore through the Southwest and dumped a foot and a half of snow on the Four Corner region. The second year, a fire exploded in Tank’s ranch-style home the day before he’d planned to leave. Last year beat the mother of all tragedies. Tank’s ancient grandmother died two days before V-day. He was devastated. Maybe that was why he had them out here on the rez.

  Road weary and exhausted from hiking through the high hills and low valleys of the reservation, Lee put her freezing hands into her pockets and fondled the thin, gift-wrapped box. She’d bought Tank a necklace, one with turquoise and silver crafted by a Zuni silversmith. As a Navajo, Tank had access to Native American crafts, but she’d had this piece crafted just for him. One of her students in Gallup was Zuni and her father a silversmith. Despite the cold outside burning her nose and making her ears sting, the gift warmed her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, calling above the sharp whistle of the wind.

  He turned to her in that slow, seductive manner of his. “It’s a surprise.”

  She bit back the retort she had in her throat. His sable-brown eyes peered out from beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat. Heat washed over her as if he’d touched her. Feeling better, Lee smiled and found her hope reassured. He did that all the time, sometimes with his voice over the cell phone, and other times with his eyes via Skype. The long distance between them had made maintaining their love a challenge, but when they were together, like this, it was all worth it—every mile, every minute, and every bit of money to keep and nurture what they had. She huddled deeper into her coat. Still, this hiking thing was not how she’d intended to spend her Valentine’s Day.

  “This had better be good,” she mumbled.

  He nodded and took her hand into his big one. His much larger hand engulfed hers.

  “How much farther?”

  “Just down this side path.” He inclined his head to the west.

  Through the sparse grouping of trees, she saw the small, single-story structure. The door faced east, and puffs of fluffy smoke huffed out of a black circular chimney. Tank stepped in front of her, and led her down the narrow pathway that wound through the desert’s untamed brush. Lee had taught in New Mexico for the last fifteen years, so she recognized the Navajo Hogan when she saw it. A five-sided structure sat alone on the flattest section of the land. Packed adobe covered some of the walls, but harsh New Mexico winters had worn some of it down. The gusty winds whipped it down over th
e decades.

  Lee had no idea what to expect and her feet failed to move. Tank must have felt her hand fall away, and he turned to her, concern on his face.

  “What’s going on?” She couldn’t shake her rearing. There were places black folks just didn’t go. Besides, sacred places like Hogans and cemeteries were not normal destinations for Valentine’s Day.

  Tank sighed. “It’s Valentine’s Day…”

  “Not a sacred Navajo day…” she interjected.

  He grinned at that. “No, no it isn’t.”

  “So…”

  “So follow me and I’ll give you a surprise.”

  With that said, Tank continued down the path to the Hogan.

  Lee stood stuck to the spot, her hands on her hips. He didn’t give her any hint about what he had planned.

  Tank reached the door. “You could stay out here, but the temperature will continue to drop. The coyotes are usually very hungry in the winter—their food sources are slim. They may enjoy frozen chocolate Lee.”

  “Oh hell no,” Lee said. Her feet didn’t like the idea of being food for coyotes either, and she hurried down the path and into Tank’s waiting embrace.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Watch your step,” Tank said as Lee bent down to come into the Hogan.

  “I hoped you would,” she retorted.

  He rewarded her sassy mouth with a slap on her ass.

  The moment he stepped through the door, Tank felt at peace. Something about his grandmother’s first Hogan steadied him, anchoring him, in a way that kept him from being swept away by the world’s stormy madness. He held Lee in his arms and she trembled. Whether from the frigid weather or from her misgivings, he didn’t know.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said.

  “Tank…” she said, her voice soft with awe. She fingered her favorite gold chain with the butterfly charm and with wide eyes shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “Surprise.”

  Thick ivory candles flickered every few feet along the dirt floor. The pellet stove pumped out heat, and the pellets burned a reddish-orange through the stove’s grate. Shadows danced merrily on the walls, and music with a heavy flute lead played from his iPod and into the speakers he’d connected it to. Amongst the music, Navajo women sang of love and culture, of family and connectedness. Of course, Lee wouldn’t understand the words, but she knew and believed in those things too.

  “Oh my goodness, Tank,” she said, walking around the Hogan clockwise and thus honoring the tradition. “You did all of this? When? How? I mean, you have a bed in here! Flowers? You didn’t…”

  His heart warmed as he watched her inhale the scent of the dozen roses he’d strewn about their air mattress. A thick blanket kept the roses’ thorns from tearing into the air bed. The candles and the roses scented the small space. Coupled with the pellets and earth, the Hogan had been transformed to another place, a clashing of Westernized ideas and Navajo culture—just like him. Anglo and Navajo, Tank knew the beauty of combining these two traditions.

  Lee made her way back to him and flung herself into his arms. “I love you! This is beautiful!”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “No, you are beautiful.”

  She licked her lips and met his gaze. There Tank witnessed her love for him, deep and connected. With that, he dipped his head and claimed her lips. He loved the taste of her strawberry lip gloss and sweetness. Soft lips and a fully active tongue met his as he deepened the kiss. She had on too many clothes and he wanted to shred the parka from her body, but instead forced himself to slow down. Lee always made him lose control. She raised a primal hunger in him unlike any woman he’d ever met.

  His hold on her waist tightened, pressing her against him. Lee, on the other hand, didn’t stay still. She rubbed her hands across his ass, moaning as she did so. It made all parts of him stiffen and he released her mouth, moving his lips downward to the sweet spot beneath her chin. She shuddered when he nipped her there, and squeezed his bottom in response. Throwing back her head, she revealed more of her neck to him, and he kissed and nibbled his way down her smooth, coffee-brown skin. The scent of lilac and sweat mixed together. The heady concoction drove him wild. His kisses became more fierce and turned to tiny nips. She yelped as he bit into her neck. He loved her so much.

  “Tank!” she breathed, her voice thick and coarse.

  When she sounded all breathless and horny, it only fed his damn libido. His cock pushed against his jeans, making them even tighter. Damn, he wanted these clothes off, but he really wanted her clothes off.

  To his disappointment, she let go of his ass and, panting, extracted herself from his embrace.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked. He cleared his throat of the husk of horniness, and stepped back from her. They had time.

  Smiling, Lee shook her head. “It’s just suddenly very hot in here.”

  Tank laughed. He removed his coat, gloves, and scarf. Taking Lee’s parka, he laid them over the foldable table he’d brought up to the place last week. When he turned back to Lee, his cock bobbed in excitement. Dressed in black jeans that hugged her divine curves and an equally form-fitting scarlet sweater, she looked like a Valentine’s Day chocolate candy box. All her luscious sweetness packaged in red and black. Oh, he wanted to rip the packaging off and dive headfirst into her deliciousness.

  “You want to exchange gifts now?” she asked, her hands behind her back.

  The years didn’t matter, nor did how often they made love. Tank always wanted her. Like being in the Hogan, when wrapped in Lee’s arms, or buried deep inside her, he felt a wondrous peace, a sense of belonging and acceptance unlike any other place in the world.

  Tank unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and slowly lowered the zipper. With his eyes on her face, he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles. His hard cock bobbed in the heated air, rock solid and weeping for her.

  “Yes, let’s exchange gifts now.”

  “Oh, my,” Lee said, a small smirk on her lips.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lee couldn’t take her eyes off of Tank’s fully aroused cock. Yes, she’d seen it many, many times, but it never seemed to lose its appeal. It was a slightly darker brown and a deeper shade than his skin tone. His well-endowed cock stretched out toward her as if beckoning her to come closer, to taste its salty goodness and be forever pleasured. It glistened from natural lubrication in the flickering light due to Tank’s calloused hands stroking it lovingly. He cleared his throat, and when her eyes snapped up to meet his, she saw how his burned for her.

  “You want to exchange those kinds of gifts?” she said.

  He nodded.

  She licked her lips. “I see.”

  Walking over to the table where their coats lay, she gently put the gift box down on top of them before turning back to Tank. In that short time, he’d kicked off his boots, stepped out of his jeans and boxers, and unbuttoned two of the buttons on his shirt.

  “Come here,” he commanded.

  The thickness in his voice made her nipples tighten in longing. Her breasts swelled at the memory of his touch, and in anticipation of having his hands on them again. She walked slowly to him, removing her sweater with a quick tug over her head. She dropped it and kept walking. Next, she toed off her sneakers, leaving on her socks to protect her feet from the dirt floor. With a pause, she unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them inch by inch.

  “Lee…” A threat of warning circled her name, but she ignored it. He made her hike for damn near two hours. He could wait two more minutes.

  “Yes?” she asked innocently and twirled around, putting her back to him. She wiggled her ass and slid the jeans down just below her butt. She shook some more and then made her booty bounce a bit for Tank. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

  “Lee…” Now her name sounded like he’d said it through clenched teeth. Lust deepened his voice.

  Sighing with a small giggle, she pushed the jeans all the way to her ankles and stepped out of
them with practiced fluidity. She got within arm’s reach of Tank, and he snatched her to him so fast, she lost her breath. Before she could inhale, his mouth clamped over hers, roughly pushing her lips apart. His scent had engulfed her, a mixture of musk and masculinity, a hint of something exotic and intoxicating. She felt his hands on her, and as they roamed over her skin, sensations made her melt more into him. Her body burned at his touch. Tank’s torso was all smooth, warm skin stretched over lean muscle. Pressed so close to him, Lee enjoyed the heat of his body. It poured over her flesh, circling her in his love.

  Cupping her tingling breasts, Tank released her mouth and dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. Desire swept through her and she moaned.

  “Tank…”

  “Yes…”

  “Take off the damn hat,” she breathed, her fingers itching to touch his ebony strands.

  Wordlessly, he removed his cowboy hat while still kissing her collarbone. He tossed it down to the bed without looking and cupped Lee’s ass, and then he turned her around and nibbled the back of her neck. His hands returned to her breasts. As he rolled her aching nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, Tank’s warm breath on her neck almost sent Lee into sensory overload. Transformed into a ball of pleasure, she had ceased even being articulate.

  She reached behind her and put her hands into his hair. Thick and silky, his hair felt like pure sin in her hands. She loved the way it brushed his neck and how wonderful it felt gliding over her body when he licked her from lips to pussy. Wet and throbbing, she wanted him inside her now. Wiggling against his hard cock, she tried to get him inside.

  Instead of the sizeable rod she wanted, Tank’s fingers gently parted her puffy nether lips. They caressed her swollen nubbin and then slid downward. One hand remained teasing her nipple while the fingers on his other hand slipped inside her.