Colette Gale
Page 7
When he drew away his hand before she finished, Jane wanted to scream…but her cry was choked off when he planted his hands on her thighs and held her in place. Open. Her fingers fell away from his shoulders as he bent his head toward her.
She heard his breathing change—become faster and deeper—and she held her own breath, waiting. Her quim seemed to fill and swell, her tiny pea expanding in anticipation and need. She felt him draw in a breath, inhale her, and the image excited her. His fingers closed tighter over her thighs as if to anchor them there.
Jane shuddered in frustration and shifted, trying to lift her hips and quim closer to him. When at last something touched her there—quick as lightning, hot and sleek—she had to stuff a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. Yes! She pulsed and throbbed harder, hotter, and again he swiped out tentatively with his tongue…just quick enough to set her to quivering, but leaving her raw and sensitive and crying.
“Please,” she moaned behind her hand, her eyes squeezed shut, her hips thrusting up as much as his grip would allow. “Man…fuck…woman.”
He stilled for a moment, but didn’t, as she’d hoped, pull away and shove himself inside her. No, he paused, as if trying to understand her, then, as if comprehending that whatever she meant to say, she wasn’t warning him off, he bent back to her again. This time, his tongue was wide and thick, swiping and teasing and lapping at her juices as her quim surged and filled.
His strokes were slow, maddeningly slow, tortuously slow, as if he meant to explore and memorize every fold and crevice of her…and yet Jane had never felt such intense pleasure as she felt herself burgeoning red and hot and desperate. She twisted and bucked, writhing and urging herself as he held her in place, tasting and sucking on her ready, full flesh.
“Oh,” she cried into her fist as she suddenly found the peak, arching and coiling up and over into a hot, loud, splintering orgasm. Ohhhh.
She collapsed flat back on the bed, gasping for breath, her insides full, her quim quivering and pulsing, her limbs weighty and still.
He seemed to understand that he could release her now, that he could slip his light, gentle fingers over the sated, full lips of her quim. She gave a little shudder, sighing softly, and trembled a bit as he trailed his touch along the inside of one of her thighs.
When his touch left her, Jane opened her eyes at last. He knelt next to her bed, close enough for her to see his eyes, dark and blazing with desire and…pride. Such pride that she gave a little shiver at the pure maleness of it.
She sat up and smiled at him…a soft, wavering smile that required hardly any effort, for she was still weak with satiation. “That was lovely,” she whispered, and reached out an awkward hand toward him. “Thank you.”
Her hand landed on his chest and he stilled, his breath arrested in its lungs. Beneath her palm she felt the strong thudding of his heart, the warm tightness of skin stretched over flat, solid muscle, and the gritty coarseness of hair.
Oh. Jane almost gasped aloud at the sensations. Strength, heat, man. Man.
Man fuck woman.
What would it feel like to have this powerful body, this hot, taut, sleek figure sliding over hers, skin to skin, pressing into her….
She swallowed hard, her body already heating and drawing up again in expectation. Yes.
He gave a sudden little shudder beneath her hand, expelling his breath in a warm gust of cinnamon. He hadn’t moved otherwise except to stare at her like a rabbit caught by its predator.
Hunger shone in his eyes. Blazing and unmistakeable. It made her insides draw up tight again, and a twinge of pleasure pang in her belly.
Jane bit her lip, knowing what she was about to do, and hardly believing it of herself. Only two months ago, she’d been nothing but a proper Victorian lady, trussed up in her corsets and shimmies and petticoats in London.
And now, here she was, a wanton woman seducing a wild man of the jungle.
She shifted her hand on his chest, moving her fingers to point. “Man,” she whispered, her voice rough and husky. She used her other hand to point to her chest. “Woman.”
He grunted, his breath unsteady, and nodded. As if he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Jane smiled in the dark, feeling a little of her own pride and anticipation flooding her. She could feel him fairly quivering, like a dog waiting for permission to seize his treat. She didn’t intend to hold him off any longer, but there was comfort knowing that, unlike Kellan, he wasn’t about to force himself upon her, no matter how badly he might wish to.
She flattened her hand over his chest once more, feeling his skin leap and shiver beneath her touch.
Just as she was about to reach for him with her other hand, he stiffened and edged back. Surprised, she froze, her heart thudding violently. He lifted his nose, sniffing the air, then tilted his head as if to listen.
Confused and startled, Jane waited…and then she heard it too. A soft sound, like breeze slipping through rushes…a quiet slither. It was coming from the direction of the open window, and she turned in time to see a long, slender shadow sliding through.
It was as thick as her arm.
Jane screamed, but the wild man was already moving. He lunged and feinted, drawing the snake’s attention to him, leaping away from the bed.
She watched helplessly as he danced about, teasing the snake. Then all at once, he leaped up, grabbed a rafter, and swung above and behind the snake, landing on the ground behind the arm-thick creature. Jane cried out as he dove toward the beast, but the man was fast and sure and he caught the snake behind its head.
Man and beast grappled on the floor, the wild man’s hands firmly around the reptile’s body. Its tail slapped and whipped, knocking into the table leg and spilling it and it contents in a loud crash.
Jane pulled herself out of her stupor, remembering the pistol she’d commandeered to ward off snakes. She dashed across the chamber, narrowly missing being slapped to the floor by the wild, undulating creature. The man held on, and she could see him fighting to subdue the reptile, bit by bit tightening his grip on the beast’s throat.
Its movements were slowing, but still powerful, and Jane now had her pistol in hand. Just as she heard sounds from below—shouts, the creaking of a ladder—she positioned herself in front and to the side of the snake’s head.
Its eyes blazed furiously at her, bulging from the grip of the wild man, but still glowing with evil and hunger. She was aware of her breathing, faster and frightened, and prayed that her aim would be true.
“Jane!” someone shouted from beyond her door.
She aimed the pistol as close to the snake’s head as she dared, looking at the wild man as he struggled to hold it in place, and taking a deep breath, she pulled the trigger.
“Jane! Are you all right in there?” Kellan shouted from beyond the door. He was pounding on it now. “Jane!”
The snake jolted as the bullet went through its head, and collapsed in a long, black river on the floor.
“Jane! Jane!”
Her door was rattling in its place, and now Jane could hear her father and Efremina calling after her. She spun uncertainly toward the door, then back to face the man…just in time to see him disappear out the window.
“Jane! Are you all right? Did you shoot something! Jane, answer me!” The door made a soft splintering sound as the bamboo began to give away under Kellan’s battering.
Heaving a breath, her knees weak, her hand slick and trembling where it held the pistol, Jane managed to call back, “I’m safe. It was a snake. It’s…dead.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Efremina’s voice came muttering through the night. “And didn’t I tell you to beware of them creatures?”
— VIII —
After all of the excitement the night before—most of which Efremina and her father were unaware of—Jane slept late the next morning.
When she awoke, it was to the sounds of shouting and excitement below. Groggy, half-asleep from a range of hot,
sensual dreams, she sat up and looked around her chamber.
The snake was gone. Its massive black body had been heaved out the window by Kellan Darkdale. She’d heard it tumble through the branches and leaves and land with a thud on the ground below. He claimed he had some use for the creature, but Jane hadn’t asked what it was.
She suspected, based on Mr. Bellingworth’s book, that it might be served to her as a meal at some point, and she thought she’d prefer not to know until after the fact. There was a dark stain of blood on the floor, and the scent of death and violence lingered in the chamber…but beneath it, Jane could smell just a hint of heat and cinnamon and something fresh.
Or perhaps that was merely her wishful thinking.
The sounds from below were growing more urgent, and she knew it was time to rise for the day. But Jane was slow and her knees were weak. Her body still hummed from the ministrations of the wild man and his flexible, sleek tongue last night…and she blushed when she thought of what might have happened if a snake hadn’t interrupted them.
Her breath caught when she remembered the sight of him fighting with the powerful, deadly snake: clinging to the thick body, riding it even as its tail lashed out at him, whipping into his skin and limbs. Jane felt a little breathless at the thought of that dark, tanned, muscular body, and the power and strength he must have.
And what it would be like to have it plastered against hers.
She glanced toward the window and pursed her lips. Kellan had told her she must find a way to shutter it at night to keep out unwanted creatures like the snake, but Jane thought she might just take the chance on leaving the chamber accessible.
It would be worth it.
“Jane!”
Now she could hear her name clearly, and with a sigh, she rose from her bed. It sounded urgent and excited, and she supposed it was time to cease being a slugabed.
“You must come down here! You must see this!” cried her papa from below. “Janie!”
“I’m coming!” she called out the window, a bit crossly.
Nevertheless, she dressed as quickly as she could, slapping water on her face and quickly plaiting her tangled hair into a long, serviceable braid. She climbed down the ladder and found herself in an empty parlor and kitchen. Voices still rose from below, and she climbed into the lift (not trusting her weak knees on the ladder) and lowered herself.
“Jane!” Efremina greeted her when she stepped off the lift. Her round face beamed and her eyes sparkled with some great tale. “Lordy! You won’t believe it! Look at this! Look who’s here!”
Jane turned and the whole world tilted and tipped. Her breath stopped. Her chest felt as if an elephant was sitting on it.
A man stood there, near the edge of the clearing. He had shoulder-length, golden-brown hair and a close-cropped beard and mustache. He was dressed in what could only be described as native clothing: skins lashed together in short, loose trousers and a sleeveless tunic-like shirt. His face, arms, and legs were tanned, and he wore crude boots on his feet.
“Jane,” he said, reaching out a hand to her. He smiled.
“Jonathan?” The world was still spinning. She took one step toward him and suddenly, everything went dark.
~*~*~
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Stay tuned for the next installment in
Jane’s Erotic Adventures in the Jungle!
Coming soon.
Colette Gale is the pen name of a bestselling author who has written for three major publishers in a variety of genres.
She has also written several “seduced classics,” including the popular Unmasqued: An Erotic Novel of The Phantom of the Opera.
Colette can be found on Facebook or through her website and loves to hear from her readers. Do stop by and say hi!
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Other books by Colette Gale:
Unmasqued: An Erotic Novel of The Phantom of the Opera
Master: An Erotic Novel of The Count of Monte Cristo
Bound by Honor: An Erotic Novel of Maid Marian
Table of Contents
Dear Reader
-I-
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-VI-
-VII-
-VIII-
Table of Contents
Dear Reader
-I-
-II-
-III-
-IV-
-V-
-VI-
-VII-
-VIII-