“Shit,” she said when she could talk. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just keep matching me,” Lon coaxed. “Keep your hand there if it makes it easier.”
“It does.”
He said, “We’ll go at your pace. Don’t worry about it.”
“Um, maybe skip the french kissing,” she offered.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s so... Maybe if I knew you better.”
“Baby, you’re going to know me better than anyone in a little while. You can take it.”
He brought her to him for another kiss, and another and another, his tongue probing her, stroking her until he realized how very cool she felt. She wasn’t responding very well.
She wasn’t responding at all.
“Lina,” he whispered. No reaction. A little louder: “Lina. Come back.”
She blinked. Blinked again. “It didn’t work?”
He sighed and shook his head. “If the other person isn’t there, it’s just masturbation,” he told her firmly. “This isn’t going to do you any good if you retreat inside yourself.”
He said it as if he knew what she’d been doing. “You’ve been there.”
“Lots. Now we’re here and I want both of us here, okay?”
“I thought it would make things easier.”
“‘Lovemaking is an art which requires at least two creators,’” he quoted to her. The echo of Jae’s voice whispered in his mind: Jae, the expert on sex. Go away, Jae; this was Lon’s turn tonight. Lon’s turn at last.
“Yes, Londo. Sorry.”
He forgave her with a kiss and felt her breasts press against his vest. Mustn’t think of breasts yet. Just her mouth, just her face. One sector at a time.
Her right hand she kept firmly against the vest over his heart; her left she kept balled in a fist. How much concentration did it take to maintain her calm? She was so tense, it was almost like holding a statue. Um, a soft statue of Aphrodite. He cupped a breast without thinking—She gasped as if she’d been struck by a spark and squirmed away from him.
“Match my breathing,” he ordered her gently. Her hand reached blindly, seeking his heart, and he guided it to him. Slowly she started to come out of it, her eyes focusing again as her breathing slowed down.
“Okay now?” he asked, and she nodded as she caught her breath. “I should have warned you. I’m going to touch you here.” His hand hovered in front of her breast, and she nodded tightly. “Let me massage you so you’ll relax.” He drew her to himself and squeezed her gently. “How’s that feel?”
Trembling, biting her lip, she nodded her head. He could almost feel the cold panic through her now, feel her controlling her own body processes as she fought to calm herself by exerting sheer willpower.
“Don’t manage yourself so much that you don’t feel anything,” he chided her gently. “You’re supposed to enjoy this.”
She squeaked out a sound and trembled, pushing him away but letting him come back. She still quivered. “Sorry, sorry,” she repeated and he rubbed her softly, murmuring little encouragements, little sweet nothings into her ear until the trembling subsided to petite tremors. He worked his vest off and tossed it on the ground in front of them. “Your turn,” he told her softly.
“P-please, not yet.”
“D’accord. Anything for you.” He licked her shoulders, nibbled at the base of her neck, and she arched it under him. It was a tiny movement; she wasn’t relaxed in the least, but she was permitting this as if she’d seen someone do it in a movie.
He whispered, “Think of the pleasure and relax.” His fingers moved deeper on her breasts, soaking in the firm softness of them and she shuddered, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “Relax, baby.” “I’m trying; sorry.”
They had to stop for a few minutes while she rebirthed. She looked like she wanted to cry.
“Chérie,” he pleaded, “what can I do?”
Miserably she shook her head and blinked rapidly. “It’s not you, Londo. I’m messing this up for you.”
“You’ll be fine. Don’t try to rebirth; just relax.”
So now she became a ragdoll, limp but there, trembling but pliant, trying to control her constant panic by shallow panting.
“No,” he finally told her. “We’ll go back to rebirthing. Don’t do this. You’re not some blow-up love doll.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Touch me. You haven’t ever really touched me just for the sake of touching.”
Timidly she reached, then snatched her fingers back as if he’d burned her.
“You can do it. Try again.”
Her hand almost palsied. She scrunched her eyes shut and the hand shot out.
“Ow.”
“Oh! I’m sor—”
Londo caught her hand before she could take it back and settled it back on his chest. Cautiously he let go and her hand remained. “That didn’t kill you. You feel any pain from that?”
Lina shook her head quickly, absorbed in the sight of her hand on his skin. He wasn’t objecting to it. Timidly she touched his neck and ran her fingers down the line of his shoulder, watching for any sign of displeasure.
“There are hundreds of kinds of touches,” he breathed. “Try different ones.”
So she began to experiment with light touches, heavier touches, massages and thumb-rubs, even found herself doing a T-touch like she gave her cats.
“That’s nice,” Lon told her.
This was wonderful. She didn’t tremble a bit. She could outsmart her subconscious, have it believing that she was doing massage therapy. “I can do this,” she told Londo triumphantly.
“You certainly can,” he sighed. “Oh yeah, do that some more, chérie. Kiss me there.”
So kisses were part of the therapy now. She worked on him, varying the touches, and tried to feel what he wanted her to do. She was reaching around to massage his right back shoulder when she felt him pull on the back of her dress. He tugged and tugged again, then followed the line of the bodice and pulled it down off her breasts. Diving from her shoulder blade, he wetly kissed down.
“Oh, stop. Stop!” Lina began to hyperventilate. No paper bag around—she needed to feel his breath pattern, but he was down there and she was up here...
“I’m stopping!”
He quickly guided her hand to his heart, but now it was his naked nipple under her little finger. They were sweaty skin against sweaty skin.
“C’mon, love, match me. You can do it.” He exaggerated his breathing for her. That did the trick.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry; you’re goddam gorgeous. You ought to bronze these beauties. Mount them on a mantelpiece instead of running around with them.”
Through the trembling, she shook her head at him. “You— you’re ridiculous,” she said.
“Breasts are wasted on women,” he declared as he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Here you walk around like they were nothing. Give a man a set like these and I guarantee he’d sit at home all day long just playing with them. A man knows what to do with boobs.”
“Stop.” She pushed against him, a nervous chuckle escaping like a hiccup. “Next thing I know you’ll be telling me jokes.”
“Voyons. A priest, a rabbi, and Dolly Parton walk into in a bar...” That made her giggle and he held her in his arms until she quieted. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do...”
Londo instructed her to pay attention to different touches and report on a scale of 1 to 10 of how pleasurable they felt. That would keep her mind just on the present, he knew; it would keep her concentrating on pleasure. “How’s this? Uh huh, and this? Oh, you like that? Let me try it again...”
He could feel when she began to relax. Was that a sigh? She’d been so silent up to now. “Oooh, Londo,” she whispered, and it was the most wonderful thing that he’d ever heard.
Her breasts rose and fell under his mouth with her deep breaths. She was definitely relaxing—and L
on was definitely getting harder. Virgin! his loins screamed at him as he spread the blanket farther out on the rock. He eased her back down as his mouth settled on those full pink peaks.
After a while he told her, “Stretch,” and she did, stretching out her long, slender limbs as he watched her. That relaxed her even more. Lightly he brushed her up and down. He slid her gown off completely, bending down to lick the sides of her knees and caress her calves. Her skin was a little sandy, a little salty, a little sweaty after the events of the day, and the sensation was his favorite in the entire world. Londo paused.
“Damn,” he said to himself. Her eyebrows contracted as if she thought she might have done something wrong. “Boots,” he said with an abashed look. “Let me get them.” He reached down to pull them off with a grunt apiece. Socks and belt followed, and with a quick glance at her, he unzipped his pants and pulled them off, too. He dropped them on the ground next to the rock.
Londo looked down at her panties and then up to her face. Showtime. He worked his briefs off, maybe a little too quickly, and stood over her.
“Point of no return?” Her voice trembled as she looked away.
“Chérie,” he reached for her panties, “we passed that a long time ago.” She eased her hips up as he pulled them down over her long legs, past her feet, to drop them next to his briefs.
Wonderingly he stood over her as she lay there breathing quick and shallow. This beautiful woman was his, his alone. “You are so lovely.” He joined her again on the rock. He took her in his arms and explored the nakedness of her. The give of her body against his own bare skin filled him with new sensations.
Lina focused on his response to repel the pressing whiteness of her own fear. The pleasure he got out of her touch was almost palpable. Of course—he’d been invulnerable up to now. How sensitive could his sense of touch have been? Now it must be so different. This had nothing to do with her. This had everything to do with him; she truly was healing him. Nevermind what was pressing up against her thigh. Concentrate, Muttbutt.
Suddenly everything went wrong. The whiteness of the panic swooped down. It wiped out all her logical thoughts. She heard his compelling voice: “Match me. Match me.” And she concentrated on her breathing, on his, and bringing them into synch.
“I’m here, Lina,” she could hear through her ragged gasps, through the whiteness. “Focus.” How he invaded her private world!
Fighting desperately for control, she shook her head to clear it as she came out of it. Jesus. She felt so weak after these things. Lost and alone.
“Are you okay now?” Londo asked.
“I think so.”
He took her in a gentle hug. “I’m here,” he told her. “It’s all right now. You’re safe. Trust me.” He smoothed her hair as if she were a child as her heart beat right next to his, slowing down from panic speed.
“I’m sorry.” She tried to summon her courage to touch him again, to run her hands over the hard muscles of his back and arms. He was like that everywhere, well-defined muscles but not overly-defined, hard but not unyielding. Confident in his very structure, even his legs strong and determined as they slid over hers. His mouth was so soft and yet sometimes so hard, too, commanding her own to open to his. His hands pressed into her back and she felt the tensions melting away, warming now instead of cooling at his touch.
The barriers she’d set up to keep the panic away began to dissolve in that warmth. Instead of concentrating on the physical method of making love, Lina discovered that kissing Londo was rather... thrilling. His lips held a kind of promise as well as an invitation. Kissing was a way of communicating, just like telepathy and speech.
What his lips were telling her was scary in an exciting way. They invited her to come with him, sneak away and do what she’d never done before. Don’t hide from the world now. This time would be different. This time things wouldn’t go horribly wrong.
If just this time she dared to reveal her awful Muttbutt self and touch life, the universe wouldn’t punish her.
Londo guarded for another panic attack. Nothing came. Letting his hands slide so she would know where he was going, Lon lifted her hair so he could nuzzle the back of her neck, and she leaned to him. He caressed her shoulders and moved down to massage her lovely breasts, knowing that the sound of his breathing filled her ears. It seemed to him that they had the same heartbeat now, the same breath. She was still stiff, but she was getting there.
He let his hands travel slowly down, outlining her navel. Gently he rubbed himself against her and she moved with him, her breath soft and deep. His fingers slowly reached down to her thighs, poised to stroke.
She screamed.
Chapter 10
No sound accompanied it but it raked through Londo’s mind like knife blades. Clapping his hands over his ears couldn’t stop it. The scream paralyzed him as the forest erupted with animal and insect cries.
With one hard shove Lina knocked Lon’s head into the rock. Rainbow lights cascaded across his retinas. She ran into the night forest shadows.
Lon had this advantage, that he could see and target her while she couldn’t spot the obstacles through the darkness. Before she could get to the deep woods he caught her and pinned her within his arms. She beat at him. She growled like an animal, and pummeled him with her fists until he grabbed each of her hands in his.
“Lina. Lina!” He tried to sound authoritative, but the change in her terrified him. She needed tranquilizers. Professional aid. “You’re safe! It’s just me,” was all he could say. He didn’t think she could hear him this time. She struggled against him with eyes squeezed shut, audibly screaming in short pants.
He caught her when she collapsed.
Now the woods held absolute silence except for her whimpers as he carried her back to the rock. There she curled into a ball on her side. She gasped fast and shallow, her arms wrapped tight around her head. Londo was afraid to touch her. It would only make things worse.
Lina couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air! She was going to explode from all the fear! The numbing whiteness of pure fear burned all around her. Go down into herself. Hide deep within.
“Lina. Lina!”
Was someone talking to her? Maybe... Lon? She could barely hear his voice, somewhere out there in the terrible, ringing whiteness. Was he there at all? Was he real?
**Lina!**
**Lon?**
**I’m here, chérie. Calm down, you’re all right now.**
Nothing existed in this world but white fear. Sky, earth and ocean: anchorless white storm. **Where are you?**
**Right here. Breathe with me, baby. Breathe with me.**
Lina hung on to his presence like a lifeline flung on a tossing sea. She could sense him exaggerate his breathing, so she took a mimicked breath and another. There was his heartbeat. She struggled to bring hers into rhythm with his.
Finally she realized that her eyes were closed. When she opened them to the silver moonlight, Londo was really there. She reached out to embrace the reality of him, the safety of his shelter against the absolute fear of her panic.
“Oh god,” she gasped. “I’m sorry, Lon. I’m so, so sorry.” She was so frightened; she was so embarrassed. She was so disgusted at herself for doing this to him. Stupid, heartless little bitch! She wept into his neck.
Londo wondered at the way she clung to him. “It’s all right,” he reassured her as he stroked her hair. Wearily he sighed and closed his eyes. So much for his great plans for tonight. It was clear that they wouldn’t be going on any further after this. Instead he rocked her gently, cooing reassurance to her. How he hated the universe!
It was quite some time before she eased up on him. Her breathing was ragged with her tears, but she forced deep, shuddering breaths. She sat back in his arms.
“Could I... could I have my dress, please?” She didn’t look at his face.
“Sure, chérie.”
Gently he let her go. When she stood up she swayed, and he retrieved the thi
n material from the ground where it had fallen. For a moment Lina clutched it to herself like a blanket. Then she scrabbled through the material, searching for a tiny pocket. There was a tissue in it, soggy from the ocean, and she pulled it out to blow her nose. After a chattering sigh and a hiccup she repocketed the shreds, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and took a clear breath.
With a sudden movement she snapped the blanket from the rock. It settled softly to the ground next to her chemise. Londo stood there, unable quite to comprehend it. She wasn’t getting dressed again. There was a blanket on the moist earth. Lina reached for his hand as she knelt down on the blanket. He joined her in a daze.
“You can’t be serious,” he finally said. “Not after that.”
“I promised.” Her smile was very faint and tremulous, but genuine. “I try never to break my promises.” Another hiccup betrayed her determination.
“But... biofeedback...” He didn’t know what to say. “Sweetheart, your biofeedback didn’t work that time.”
“It worked a little.”
“It’s not enough.” He ached for her as the moonlight played upon her body like he wanted to. The triangle of auburn hair at the top of her long legs called out to him, the ultimate goal of human touch.
“No, not enough.” She could admit defeat.
Desperation made him try to search for another avenue. “Biofeedback,” he offered. “You can match me in breathing and heartbeat. Can you match me in... being relaxed?”
She gave him an ironic smile, still not quite looking at him. “You aren’t relaxed, Londo.”
He had to smile at that, too. “D’accord, granted. But it’s a different kind of tension than what you have,” he told her. “It’s excitement. Passion.” He took her hand and twined his fingers through hers, brought them to his mouth and kissed them. She watched with heavy-lidded eyes; god, she was a temptress! Her mouth beckoned him and he moved in to meet it with his own. “Match me,” he urged. “Match what I feel.”
“That would take more than biofeedback,” she whispered, her eyelashes brushing his cheek. “That would take—”
He waited for her to complete the sentence. “What? Whatever it is—”
Touch of Danger (Three Worlds) Page 15
