His heated words pushed me to the limits of my endurance. “Please,” I pleaded as he again gave me one of his single pounding thrusts.
“Who am I?” he responded. “Say it. Who am I?”
“You are my mate,” I screamed as I felt the desired pinnacle just out of reach.
“Yes,” he shouted. He lifted my right leg over his shoulder and slipped both hands under me to support my weight. With my hips cradled between his strong forearms, he began a tattoo of powerful concentrated thrusts that sent me reeling and knocked the breath out of my lungs.
“Say it again,” he demanded as his thrusts increased in speed and urgency, the sound of our slapping bodies filling the room.
“You are my mate,” I all but crooned as I absorbed the shock of his invasion and reveled in the feelings it evoked, but I felt the end approaching and tried to hold it back, tried to keep this wonderful heightened feeling going on forever.
“Yes. Take me,” I begged. A massive surge of fire swamped my body, causing it to stiffen in his arms. Then I felt my muscles greedily pulling, tugging at his hardness.
“Yes,” he shouted, as I watched joy suffuse his face.
I felt him swell larger than ever before. He began a series of short, extra hard strokes and then exploded within me.
Tears ran down my face. As one, we reached the limits of our endurance and collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of sweat-dampened limbs.
Gently he eased my leg off his shoulder and settled contentedly against me with a satisfied purr. He rested his head against my breast and seemed to go weightless in my arms.
Absently, I stroked his long damp hair, running strands of it through my fingers as my body twitched in aftershocks.
“You are my mate,” I whispered.
He sighed. “As you are mine,” he responded in a low voice. He took a nipple into his mouth and gently began to nurse, a strangely comforting feeling.
*
I don’t know what will happen in the future, and I don’t care. This wonderful being has claimed my body, touched my very soul, and for that, I am grateful.
Who could have predicted that a broken air conditioner and a cherry moon would bring me so much joy?
Thank you, Aunt Lavina. You knew what you were doing when you left me this house and such a magnificent man.
He may have this unexplained ability to turn into a cat, and I still have a lot to learn about him, but hey, nobody’s perfect.
Deflowered
For Kim
I sighed with pleasure as I ducked beneath the shade of a big old oak tree. No one could find me here, not the serious minded women of the group, the professors who over-explained every minute detail. Nor could the condescending eyes of the so-called hiking experts, who were supposed to inform, but instead seemed to undermine our confidence, see me.
Who said that a nature hike with an environmental group would be fun? What did they know anyway? In my humble opinion, the only people who really respected that land were the people who were forced from it.
People like Dancing Wolf.
Of course, he wasn’t really alive, just a cleverly imagined phantom from Kimberly Loralie Addyis, the new paranormal Native American fantasy writer. He was a phantom who haunted my dreams.
Now properly ensconced in my hiding place, I laughed to myself as the voices of the others faded and I cracked open my book simply titled Wolf.
The other women in the group would probably badger me about proper literature if they saw me, but I didn’t care. I wanted to finish my reading of Dancing Wolf, and nothing—not heat, not flower names in Latin, not five syllable-words—would keep me from finishing it.
I sighed as I opened the pages and found myself instantly transported to a time when the land meant life, and passion was as raw and untamed as the people who experienced it.
I lost myself in the flowing words and felt as if I was there, looking in, experiencing what Red Feather and Dancing Wolf were living.
They were getting married. The lone survivor of a Shawnee attack, Red Feather was found by a small band of Lakota Sioux and caught the attention of their war chief. It wasn’t easy; circumstances and fate fought to keep the auburn-haired maiden and the fierce warrior apart. But finally, after dramatic chases, humorous side trips, and emotional misunderstandings, the two were wed.
I silently cheered as, despite all odds, the two were joined as man and wife in a traditional ceremony. My eyes started to feel heavy, so exhausted was I from the rapid pace of the book. I’m not sure exactly when I succumbed to the lure of a quick nap. But you wouldn’t believe what happened when I woke up.
“Red Feather?” a deep voice softly whispered in my ear. “Awaken, my love. The night is nearly over and I have yet to initiate you in the ways of physical love.”
“Physical love?” I whispered as I slowly opened my eyes. Physical love sounded good to me.
“Awaken, my pretty flower. See what your husband has brought to the bed furs for you.”
“Husband?” That caught my attention.
I sat up and almost swallowed my tongue. A nearly naked man stood before me.
I gasped when I realized who was standing there, smiling down at me. Long silky hair the color of the deepest, darkest night, thick eyebrows arched like raven’s wings, black piercing, almond-shaped eyes, full perfect lips, high cheekbones set in a square face with a strong stubborn chin. The bronze-skinned warrior with the beaded armbands and bone necklace that perfectly set off his deep bronze skin was a full-blooded Lakota Sioux warrior. This was Wolf. And he was staring at me.
“Husband?” I gasped, wondering if this was a dream. If it was, I didn’t want to wake up.
“How soon you have forgotten me, Red Feather,” he laughed as he sat on the small fur covered mat I reclined upon.
“How could I forget you?” I almost purred. This was going to be good. I love dreams.
“Indeed, my pretty flower.” He reached out one hand and touched my shoulder— my bare shoulder. “As hard as we fought to be together, I would have no doubts that you ever would forget me.”
His touch burned. I had never felt such intense heat coming from one simple touch. This dream was intense.
Speechless, I stared down at his dark-skinned hand as it rested against the flesh of my arm.
Not only did this touch seem genuine, but my body suddenly looked a lot different. It looked…younger.
Ignoring him for a moment, I realized that I was covered in nothing more than dark fur. Taking a deep breath, I pulled back the fur blanket and gasped at what I saw.
I jerked surprised eyes up to his before I again looked beneath the covering, then again at him just for good measure.
My body, the body that I had sweated over, crunched to death, dieted into submission, was gone. In its place reclined the less voluptuous, sleek muscle tones, the firm nubile flesh, of my youth. I gaped at full perky breasts and concave stomach. Gone were all of the minute signs of aging women are so good at covering up. “How?” I gasped, my eyes zeroed in on his amused ones.
“The women prepared you for out joining, Red Feather. Have you forgotten?”
Red Feather. He was calling me Red Feather. Then I smiled. Now I understood. This was a dream based on the novel that I was reading. That explained everything. I had this great new body and this hunk of eye candy courtesy of a dream.
“Wolf?” I asked.
“So you do remember,” he smiled.
Boldly, I reached out and caressed his face, shivering at the feel of his taut skin.
Breathing deeply, he turned his face to my palm, nestling there for a moment before lifting liquid eyes to mine.
“I will bring you great pleasure, wife of my heart.”
My throat tightened at the look of love in his eyes. Never had I seen such profound emotion.
“This is a dream,” I whispered, overcome. “This is the most wonderful dream.”
He nodded as he stared into eyes as green as the rolling hills of S
outh Dakota.
“You are a dream,” he replied. His hands tenderly framed my face. Almost in slow motion, his lips lowered to mine.
First I felt his breath against my lips parted in appreciation of his great beauty. Next, my eyes closed as the first caress tingled within me. The tiny flutters of electricity spread from my face, down my neck to my trembling breasts.
He swallowed my excited gasp and pulled back to smile at me, the noble beauty of him stealing my breath anew.
“There is more, my pretty flower,” he said in low dulcet tones. His hands caressed my shoulders and neck.
Almost like a cat begging to be stroked by its master, I arched up into his touch, wanting more of the fire he ignited in my blood.
Blindly, I reached out for him, mirroring his caresses. He grunted his approval as my hands traveled over his hot muscled flesh. His arms were solid as rocks, the biceps so big that two hands could not span them. I touched the beaded armband that looked too puny to contain his great strength, amazed at the heat it held.
“Remove them,” he softly commanded.
I felt my inner flesh moisten at his words. How I loved a commanding, forceful man. He was letting me know that he was in charge of this seduction right from the beginning. I eagerly followed his commands.
Finding the small leather ties that held the blue and white beaded masterpiece on him, I eagerly pulled the band free, massaging the small indentations left by the beads.
Again he grunted his approval and presented his other arm for the same treatment.
Once his arms were free, he took me into his embrace and pulled me close to his bare, hairless chest. There was still a barrier between us, but I reveled in the heat I felt even through the fur blanket.
“I will guide you, Red Feather, and I will teach you how to please your husband.”
“Yes, Wolf,” I agreed. “Teach me.”
Dropping another kiss on my forehead, he stood and I swallowed hard as I saw the bulge straining against the confines of his leather breechcloth. This dream was becoming a hot fantasy.
“Remove my moccasins,” he ordered.
I tore my eyes away from that pulsing bulge to stare incredulously into his eyes. He wanted me to remove his shoes?
He must have found something very humorous in my gaze because he exploded in laughter.
“So eager, my pretty flower. If I did not know better, I would say that you had already tasted the fruits of passion and are not the sweet virgin I fell in love with.”
Virgin? Not since that asshole…but I was losing my fantasy. If my dream man said I was a virgin, then virgin I would be, pure as freshly fallen snow. I even managed to blush at that thought. He was delighted.
“Remove my moccasins, woman,” he grinned. “I will show you what your greedy eyes are trying so hard to see.”
I smiled as he lifted first one foot then the other to have me untie the bindings.
He kicked his footwear aside and knelt on the bed furs, tugging at them gently, arranging them away from his knees, fixing them so that they wouldn’t present any impediment to his movements. His face became serious again as he straddled me, pushing me back on the soft coverings.
My breath caught as the furry warmth was jerked from me. My eyes widened in true maidenly form at his aggressive action. My heart pounded and my eyes clearly showed my approval.
I lifted my arms to him, welcoming his possession, wanting him to cover me with his heat.
With a low growl, he lowered his head and took possession of my mouth. His hands burrowed through my curly auburn locks to cup and hold my head still.
His tongue forced its way through a barrier of tongue and teeth to breech the inner sweetness of my mouth.
“Mmm,” I purred into his mouth as his smoky flavor invaded mine, titillating my senses.
Teasing hot kisses followed. They trailed over my face, kissing the corner of each eye gently before his tongue shot out to lave my closed eyelid.
My hands tangled in his hair, holding him close, while delighting in its thick silky texture. My heart pounded in my chest and my breathing rasped loudly in the teepee we were in, the sound of my excitement shooting my desire up another notch.
“You want this,” he panted as he broke his lips away from mine. “You desire me as much as I need to possess you.”
“Yes,” I purred to his statement. “Yes, Wolf, I need you.”
He eased back and his large hands cupped my breasts, rolling my hard nipples in his fingers, plucking them like ripe berries.
“These are magnificent,” he breathed. He bent and lapped at me with the rough edge of his tongue.
I jerked as pinpoints of fire scorched me, causing me to throw back my head in delight. The loose tendrils of his hair flowed over me, cooling the burn of his tongue.
“Want me, little fire?” he murmured a moment before his mouth closed over one straining nub.
“Oh,” I moaned and slid my finger against his scalp, urging him closer to me. My legs shifted, trying to part, but his strong thighs held them shut as he feasted upon my swollen breasts.
He switched from one to the other, then pushed them together to sup at my sweetness. My hands flew back over my head in a gesture of submission. I had never felt this hot, this fast before. I felt that I could explode from the mere touch of his lips on my breasts.
But as if sensing I was near the edge, he pulled back and slid down my body, trailing masculine heat and his woodsy aroma.
“I can smell your need, Red Feather,” he said as he nuzzled the thin patch of hair at the apex of my thighs. “I am pleased.”
My breath rasping louder, I again reached for him, wanting to bring him back to me. He reared back to sit upon his heels, his hungry eyes watching my every move.
“Wolf?” I asked, clenching and unclenching my hands towards him. “Please.”
“Yes, beg me, little flower. Know who your master is.”
Any other time, I might have taken offense, but this warrior had ignited a blaze within me only he had the power to control.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Please, Wolf.”
Slowly, teasingly, he stood and pulled at the thongs holding up his breechcloth. When he saw he had my undivided attention, he slowly eased the knot loose. My eyes strained to follow each movement of that leather string as it gave up its hold on his clothing. My mouth watered at the thought of what it held confined.
Then the mystery was solved. The material fluttered to the ground with a gentle rustle. What I saw next nearly frightened me.
Never had I seen such a long, thick penis. I was amazed by the throbbing member that rose from a narrow strip of jet-black hair. His testicles below hung heavy and full and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. One thing gave me pause, though. He was uncircumcised. I had never seen an uncircumcised cock before, let alone dreamed of one, but there it was, looming over me.
“Do you like what you see?” he purred as he proudly stood there before me. “Do you see what you have done to my control?”
Mutely I nodded. This experience would be like none other.
“Do you fear me?” he asked, reading apprehension in my eyes.
“N-no,” I managed, my heart pounding and my liquid reactions making me squirm on the fur.
“There is nothing like the sensuous feel of fur rubbing against your back, warm and rough,” he said with eyes narrowed in desire, “except from the feel of my skin, my hardness caressing your soft breasts and soft hair.”
I whimpered and writhed on the texture he had brought to my attention, loving the raspy touch of the fur, imagining what his hard body would feel like against mine.
He smiled wickedly at my actions, pleased to know that he had brought me to such heights of pleasure. I was his for the taking and he knew it.
Lowering one hand to his throbbing sex, I felt my eyes widen as he softly, lovingly stroked himself. His eyes closed as he took pleasure from his own touch. His head dropped back, his long hair framing his actions as he mo
aned softly.
His head again lowered, his gaze caught and held mine. He seemed to be telling me without words that he was going to sheath himself within me and take his pleasure from my body. But his caress also showed me the correct way to stroke him into dizzying heights of rapture.
Without a word, I rose to my knees, my hand covered his, determined to take over, longing to feel his velvet-soft flesh.
After two more strokes, he nodded his approval. Under my fascinated gaze his plum-shaped purple head emerged from its cowl, tiny clear drops shining on its surface.
Unconsciously, I licked my lips, wondering what he would taste like.
My action caused him to growl before he pulled his hand from beneath mine and knelt, reaching forward to stroke me with gentle fingers.
I was caught, trapped between sensations. His skin, soft as butter covering a core of molten steel, almost sizzled in my palm. But it was that gently stroking finger that made me arch my head back, tighten my grip on him, and let out a long slow groan.
“Yes, my little one,” he whispered as he eased me onto my back, never losing contact with my hot flesh or tearing away from my grasp. He then leaned over me to grant himself better access. “Touch me like that.”
“Wolf,” I cried, my head tossing from side to side on the bed furs, my hair flying around in an auburn cloud. “Oh, Wolf.”
His fingers caressed my lower dew-soaked lips and parted them gently to expose my throbbing kernel, my hot swollen clit.
I let out a little shriek as his fingers exposed me, his thumb flicking over me, circling me.
“This is the seat of your woman’s pleasure,” he informed me with glowing eyes. “With this delicate tool, I will make you sing.”
That was all the warning I got before he lowered his head between my splayed thighs and took me into his mouth.
“Wolf,” I shrieked, losing my hold on his manhood. My hands gripped the fur at my side and I instinctively arched my hips upward towards his questing mouth.
Hidden Passions, Vol 2 Page 12
