Colette Gale - [The Erotic Adventures of Jane in the Jungle Part II]

by Entangled

  ENTANGLED

  The Erotic Adventures of Jane in the Jungle

  Part II

  by Colette Gale

  ENTANGLED © 2012 Colette Gale

  All rights reserved.

  Dear Reader:

  Welcome to the second volume of Miss Jane Clemons’s adventures in the jungles of Africa.

  If you have already read the first volume, Entwined, you need not continue with this introductory epistle, but move directly forward to the first chapter. For those who have not read Volume I, please feel free to read on below.

  During the late 19th century, the British indulged in much exploration of Africa, searching not only for gold and gemstones, but also for knowledge of this fascinating Dark Continent.

  Professor Everett Clemons, the famous lepidopterist, and his daughter Jane were two of the most famous British citizens to embark on these travels, and although Jane published a book of her drawings and notations about the butterflies her father studied during these trips, there remained little information about her own thoughts and adventures—until now.

  Recently, I was fortunate enough to come across an old trunk filled with Professor Clemons’s journals and butterfly specimens, and there, within, I also found the treasure of Miss Jane Clemons’s personal journals.

  Because there were so many volumes of her journals, I have chosen to publish a series of short segments over time in order to make them publicly available as quickly and efficiently as possible.

  I do hope you’ll indulge my decision to follow the popular form of literature from this era and publish Jane’s journals as a serialized collection. And, I must warn you: also in the tradition of the times, each episode ends on a cliffhanger.

  The previous volume ended with the most unexpected but happy appearance of Jane’s fiancé, Jonathan, who had been lost in the jungle and feared dead for three years.

  I hope you find Jane’s adventures enlightening, exciting, and titillating as we follow her further adventures as a young woman in the Madagascar jungle.

  Colette Gale

  January 2012

  ~*~

  — I —

  The Jungle of Madagascar

  1890

  “There, there…she’s coming ‘round. The poor dear’s had a bit of a shock.”

  Jane Clemons opened her eyes to see the apple-cheeked face of her maid and housekeeper Efremina. The older woman was looking down at her, a damp cloth held in her hand. It was dripping onto Jane’s forehead.

  Behind Efremina was her father, wearing a rare, concerned expression. Generally, the only time Professor Everett Clemons showed that particular emotion was at the thought of missing out on the breeding period of the green-spangled midget, his favorite butterfly. “How are you feeling, Janie?” he asked, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

  To one side of her father and Efremina was a sharp-featured man with dark hair neatly combed into place. He was clean-shaven, dressed in rugged clothing, and wore an oddly discomfited expression. He was Kellan Darkdale, the Clemons’ guide and protector here in the jungle.

  Jane pulled her attention from him and her gaze bounced away, settling on the fourth person standing around the chaise on which she lay. Jonathan. Her long-lost fiancé.

  She closed her eyes again, squeezed them tightly, then opened them.

  He was still there. It hadn’t been a hallucination. Her lips curved in a tremulous smile.

  When she’d first seen him, standing in a group with her father and Effie and Kellan, Jane had taken two steps toward him. But the shock had been too much and she’d fainted dead away.

  Now, at last she allowed the seed of hope to blossom into joy. His dear, dear face was still familiar although now he wore a close-cropped beard. His countenance was narrower, tanned, and—she frowned, studying him closely—his skin seemed to have some white and red markings on it. Or perhaps it was dirt, near the hairline. His hair was shaggy but hardly longer than his jaw. And he was dressed in clean but ragged shirt and pants.

  “Jane,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  His fingers, warm and calloused, closed over hers and Jane was aware of a peaceful feeling settling over her. Jonathan. At last.

  “Let’s give the darlings a time alone, now,” Efremina commanded. “It’s been three years—they surely got something to talk about.” She cast a quick glance at Jane. Then, apparently satisfied that all was well, she shooed Kellan and Professor Clemons out of the chamber.

  It wasn’t precisely a chamber in which Jane reclined, but the largest room of a well-constructed treehouse. Generous sliding walls moved aside to allow welcome breezes to come through the large kitchen and parlor area, and above and below were several other smaller chambers attached by ladders, lifts, or ramps.

  No sooner had the others gone than Jane was peppering her lost love with questions. “Where have you been? How did you find us? How did you survive these three years?” And the one she could not speak: Why did you not return to me?

  “Ah, Jane,” he said, settling his rump on the chaise next to her thigh. “Of course you have many questions. It’s a long and involved story, but I’ll give you the simplified version. But first….” He leaned closer, bringing with him the scent of jungle freshness and some other unidentifiable essence. “I’ve missed you so.”

  His lips covered hers, warm and familiar and demanding. Jane felt an instant of hesitation, then closed her eyes and slid into the kiss. This was Jonathan and he was somehow, incredibly, alive. Still alive.

  His tongue thrust boldly into her mouth, startling Jane with its abrupt invasion. But his kiss was sensual and thorough, and before long, her insides became soft and wavery. Their mouths smashed and slipped together, tongues tangling and teeth nibbling in desperation to make up for their lost time. She found his shoulders, broader than she recalled them being, and pulled him closer, down on top of her on the chaise.

  It had been more than three years since she’d felt the hard body of her lover pressed against hers…forever since she’d covered the long, hard length of cock with her hand, feeling its rigid outline beneath the rise of loose trousers. He gasped and shuddered against her, his mouth slipping away from hers when she touched him.

  “Oh, yes,” he sighed into her ear. His mouth was hot against her neck, and Jane felt the rise of her own pleasure at the thought of him filling her, sliding in and out of her wet quim.

  Her eyes still closed, Jane allowed herself to be swept into heat and titillation, her body swelling and moistening, readying for pleasure. She imagined his strong, tanned body poised over hers, his wide, calloused hands gentle on her sensitive breasts. His long, soft ringlets brushing against her skin, and the ridges of his lightly haired, sleekly carved torso pressing into her curves. The hesitance in his touch. The wonder in his gaze.

  Man. Woman.

  Jane’s eyes flew open.

  It was Jonathan pressing against her…Jonathan pressuring her hand down over the ready length of his cock, holding it there as she felt its engorged ridge behind his trousers.

  But it wasn’t Jonathan she’d imagined just then.

  Jane sat up abruptly, nearly clocking her fiancé in the chin with the top of her head. What am I thinking?

  “Here, darling,” he said, drawing her by the shoulders and helping her kneel in a position between his legs. “Ahh…yes,” he sighed as she loosened the frayed string that tied his trousers together.

  His cock sprang free, full and ready, glistening at the tip with a pearl of moisture.

  I must stop thinking about…about anyone but Jonathan.r />
  She settled between his thighs, grasping the length of his cock in one hand and balancing herself on the surface where she’d lain recumbent moments earlier. Licking her lips, she bent to him and covered the dark red head, squeezing below it with her hand.

  Jonathan stiffened and gave a soft, welcoming gasp as she began to slide him into her mouth, closing her lips tightly around the hot shaft. Her fingers moved down with the rhythm of her mouth, working in tandem as she concentrated on the pulsing cock inside her…and not on the events of the night before.

  She could no longer allow herself to think about the events of last night.

  Last night…when she’d no longer held any hope that Jonathan might be found, alive or dead. Last night…when the sleek, muscular wild man had slipped into her bedchamber high in the trees…

  …and settled his face between her legs.

  Jane’s insides shivered, and the little bud nestled in her quim gave a sharp pulse at the memory of the wild man and his tentative and then very busy tongue, licking and stroking and sucking there in her hottest place.

  She sighed into the next slide down Jonathan’s cock, imagining the wickedness of the wild man’s pointed tongue, darting inside her, jiggling and jimmying against her until she exploded with pleasure. Even now she felt the moisture gathering there, the filling and pulsing as she worked her mouth up and down over the length of hot cock.

  Jonathan’s breathing changed, and she felt his cock swell against her tongue and lips. His fingers curled into her shoulders, painful and desperate, as he lifted his hips to slam into her mouth. Jane swallowed, trying to keep from gagging as the head of his cock thrust deep into the back of her throat: bang, bang, bang….

  With one final, violent thrust, he froze and exploded into her mouth, pulsing and trembling inside her. Jane swallowed the warm, salty wad and pulled away. Her lips were full and pounding, her shoulders sore from his fingers, and her quim and its little bud were thick and damp.

  “Ahh, Jane,” Jonathan sighed, sinking back onto the chaise. “I cannot remember the last time I felt so good.” He gave her a crooked smile and beckoned for her to slide up along his body and join him in reclining.

  Jane allowed him to settle her against his warm, damp torso and tried not to think about the throbbing between her legs. Efremina and her father would surely return soon.

  And there would be tonight as well. One of, she hoped, many more to come. She smiled in anticipation against his chest, imagining a long bout of making love amid the embrace of the tree limbs surrounding her bedchamber.

  Forcing her attention away from her fantasies of the upcoming evening, Jane focused on more pertinent thoughts. “What happened to you here three years ago, Jonathan? Kellan told me you’d jumped down a cliff to retrieve a knapsack, and no one could find you afterward.”

  “Kellan told you all that?” he said with an odd note in his voice. “I hope it didn’t cause you to worry overmuch.” He arranged one of her fiery red-gold curls around his index finger, tightening it then loosening it in a gentle rhythm.

  “Of course I worried,” Jane told him, looking at him in surprise. She sat up and looked down at him, her hair slipping from his grasp. “What else should I have done?”

  Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile. “That was a silly thing for me to say, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you than to worry over my disappearance. Well, I promised you the short version,” he said, his chest rumbling with the deep timbre of his voice. “And here it is. I did jump down after the knapsack. And then instead of trying to climb back up, I foolishly chose to search for a different way out of the narrow ravine into which I’d fallen. I was naive enough to believe I could find a passage through the small mountain, and then I became horribly lost inside a cave. If Kellan and the others from our party called for me, I didn’t hear them.”

  “I hope you weren’t lost in the cave too long, darling.” Jane couldn’t imagine being lost in the dark, cold depths of a stony passage. She gave a little shiver.

  “I don’t know how long I was there, but I must have become weak from lack of food and water, or else there were poisonous gases. Something caused me to lose consciousness. When I awoke, I was in a village, surrounded by a tribe of dark-skinned, savage-looking natives. I never knew how much time had passed since my leaving Kellan and awakening in the village.”

  “A village?” Thoughts of the wild man erupted in her mind. Perhaps he was a resident of such a place. Perhaps she’d been right when she wondered if Jonathan had ever met or been seen by the wild man during his years of living in the jungle.

  But the wild man was tanned, but not dark-skinned. And he didn’t look like a native.

  “Yes. And my first impression was that they were savages, for they wore streaks of paint on their faces and arms—red and blue and white. And hardly any proper clothing to speak of. Nothing but palm fronds and animal skins.”

  “Were you frightened?” she asked, wondering how she would have felt, awakening in an unfamiliar place with strange people who didn’t speak her language poking and prodding at her. She’d heard stories about the cannibals of New Guinea, who shrunk the heads of their enemies after capturing them. But they were in Madagascar. Surely there weren’t cannibals here.

  “I was at first. But it soon became clear that they meant to help me. And that,” he said abruptly, “is the short version of my story. I’ve lived with them for the last three years, waiting and hoping for the sign of a ship that would bring me back to England. And you, my darling Jane.”

  “And so you saw our ship?” she prompted. “How near is the village where you’ve been living?”

  “A two-day journey through the jungle,” he told her. “I saw the ship passing by out in the ocean. And then I saw the spirals of smoke from your camp. They were thick enough that I knew they came not from the ground, but from the height of this treehouse. I was hoping to find white men, but the last thing I ever fathomed was finding you, here, in the jungle. Jane,” he murmured, drawing her into his arms again. “You’ve saved me.”

  She gave a little laugh and pulled away. “How silly,” she said. “I haven’t saved you. You saved yourself…and it seems as if the people here were the ones who saved you, three years ago.”

  He smiled. “That is the truth, my darling. The tribe has been very kind to me over the last three years. They think of me…well, I look much different than they do. My skin is lighter, and my hair is not black, but light brown. I cannot imagine how they would react should they see you, Jane…with your pearl-white skin, blue eyes and hair the color of flames. Surely they would think you a goddess.” Jonathan looked at her, once again his mouth curving in a soft smile.

  After a moment, Jane looked away, suddenly uncomfortable under his steady regard. He was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

  But of course he was! He hadn’t seen her for three years…and likely thought never to see her again.

  “I cannot believe I’ve found you again,” she said, partly to break through her discomfort. It was normal for one to feel odd and a bit awkward after being separated from one’s lover for years. Particularly if one believed said lover was dead.

  “Miss Jane!” bellowed Efremina from below. As if to announce her imminent presence, she rattled the trapdoor that covered the top of the stairs, then flipped it open with a whoosh.

  Jane and Jonathan exchange amused glances. There would be no further opportunity for intimate conversation—or anything else—until later.

  — II—

  At dinner that night, Professor Clemons opened one of the few casks of ale he’d brought from London. Jane sipped the single glass she was allotted, enjoying the warmth from both her drink and the tropics.

  A gentle breeze fluttered leaves and the more delicate vines hanging just beyond the wall of the treehouse. It brought a heavy, sweet scent from the bright-colored flowers that decorated the trees and branches. Jungle sounds filled the air: the whistles and
coos of birds, the rustling of twigs and leaves, the low cries of animals calling in warning…or in mating.

  Jane felt warm, mellow and content. She could hardly believe Jonathan had returned; she continued to pinch herself surreptitiously to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. Yet, she found herself looking out into the darkling jungle more than once.

  Wondering.

  Finished with his plate, Jonathan stood, patting his belly in satisfaction. “How I’ve missed a good English meal,” he said with a smile at Efremina. “I haven’t had a biscuit or sausage for three years, let alone a flaky-crusted apple pie! I feel as if I’ve died and made my way to heaven.”

  “Go on with you now,” she said, her cheeks pinkening. “It was lucky we are to have any shortening and fresh apples left. And with no oven, the only way to bake a pie is to cook it on the stovetop in a pot.”

  “Well, if you can do such a fine job in these circumstances, I cannot imagine how good your pies must be back home. And thank you, Everett, for celebrating my arrival with one of your precious kegs of ale. It was a welcome refreshment.” Jonathan turned his attention to Jane. “Would you like to walk with me? I’d like to show you something.”

  Jane rose. Although the sliding door was open in the treehouse, it was still warm and sticky. Fresh air, perhaps by the ocean, would be welcome. “Of course, if Efremina doesn’t need help cleaning up. Here away from London, we’re less formal,” she added in explanation.

  Her hands, which back in London had only ever been blemished by paint, had acquired other signs of unladylike behavior since her arrival in the jungle. Scratches, rough skin, and even a little bit of a tan since she hadn’t worn gloves since leaving England.

  “No, Miss Jane, you take a walk with your young man,” Efremina said. “I don’t mind cleaning up at all. The professor will surely keep me company.”

  Jane cast a look at her father, who’d hardly eaten two bites of the sausage and biscuits as he examined his latest specimens (although his cup of ale had been refilled several times). The only sort of company Papa would provide was that of taking up space. He’d be utterly unaware of her absence as long as he had his journals and equipment spread out in front of him.