An ironic statement, Mac noted, coming from a man who’d tried to fight all of Minarra’s battles for her, including trying to control her choice of whom to love.
“But you have to remember,” he pointed out. “Your opponents have weapons, too.” He stuck out his tongue, giving her a clue as to just what instrument he intended to use on her and how.
Minarra squealed as he made his attack, grabbing her ankle and swinging it wide. A heartbeat later he had her helpless, legs scissored in the air. “Now there,” he admired her exposed pussy, the pink lips puffy and slightly parted in unwitting invitation, “is a view.”
Min wriggled and bucked in mock distress. “Bully.”
“Tell me you hate it.”
“I hate it.”
He grinned. “Liar.”
She folded her arms over her breasts. “Whatever,” she stuck up her nose. “Just go on…ravish me and get it over with.”
“And let you off the hook so easily? I don’t think so. I intend to make this last a good long time.”
“Uh-huh.” This time she put her hand over her mouth, feigning a yawn. “In that case, wake me when you’re through.”
“Witch,” he laughed. “I’ll show you.”
She cried out, fighting back laughter as he dove between her thighs, mouthfirst. Mac had always loved going down on Minarra, especially when she was feeling feisty. Nothing like a little taming by his tongue to get her in line quickly—like a tiny whip back and forth over her clit. Min thrashed, lifting her hips.
“Bastard,” she growled, good-naturedly.
“Want me to stop?”
“Yes. I mean no! Oh fuck, I don’t know what I mean.”
Mac turned his tongue sideways, running it along her slit. She was dripping wet now, emitting her sweet nectar. She’d be emitting an even sweeter taste as soon as she began to orgasm. He’d never known another woman capable of doing that.
“Oh baby…” Her fingers reached down to clutch at his head.
He warmed at the term of endearment. Pushing his tongue in deeper, he rewarded her with the feeling of his tongue rubbing along her vaginal wall. At the same time, he kept up his erotic attack on her clit. She began to shudder, her muscles stiffening in readiness. She was crying out, signaling her imminent explosion.
Here was where the fun began…
Mac took her to within a heartbeat of climax before withdrawing his tongue. “What do you need to say, Minarra?”
Minarra groaned in ultimate frustration. “I need to come…you asshole.”
“That’s not how we talk to the man who’s giving us pleasure,” he shook his head gravely. “Not at all.”
She struggled to get free. “This is not funny, Mac.”
Mac gave two licks, lazy and strategically placed between her parted, puffy lips. She wriggled a little more and then fell limp, the strength drained from her.
“What do you need to say?” He repeated.
Her glare said it all. “I hope this is getting you off,” Minarra declared. “Because it’s hell on me.”
“I’m waiting,” he ran his finger over her left nipple, bringing it to obedient attention.”
“Please,” she relented. “Please, let me come.”
“How about, ‘Please, Master.’” He tried to keep a straight face.
“How about jumping off the top of the nearest pyramid?” She growled.
“That’s a very naughty slave girl,” he teased, turning her over onto her side for a nice little ass pinching.
“Ouch, that hurts, you prick!”
“That’s Master Prick to you.” Mac pinched and caressed simultaneously, his motions designed to win quick surrender.
“Okay, okay…” she yielded to the heat he was generating. “I give. Please may I come…Master.”
Mac moved quickly now, sinking his cock deep inside Min’s scorching opening. “Yes,” he said, their bodies belly to belly. “Come for me.”
Minarra needed no further invitation. There was wonder in her eyes, release and deep, teeth-clenching lust. The idea of climaxing like this, by voice command was a powerful turn-on for her, just as it was for him. He held her tightly, even as he allowed himself to let go.
For the first time in his life, Mac did not feel in control. Neither did he feel used. Rather, it was a partnership, both of them enjoying a pleasure they’d generated together and which belonged to them equally. Sensations racking his body, linking their nerves and bones though press of flesh, fluids mixing, his own eruption matching her swirling release, a primal mix of energy and moisture and heat. And feelings, emotions conveyed through their touch. It was these extra elements of connection that transformed the act from mere sex to making love.
There was rhythm, motion and countermotion, a knowing of each other…the ignition of memories, deep in their souls that could never be forgotten. All this was there, latent in each other’s eyes, the twisting and passion, the possibilities, from the moment they’d encountered one another in Malcolm’s office.
It had to lead to this. Just as soon, all too soon, it would lead to another separation. For now, there was the timeless reward of lust—the ascension, spiraling upward around the edge of the volcano, and the mutual plunging in. Hot lava, burning, consuming and renewing. Limbs locked, fingers desperately clutching, mouths breathing for one another, hearts indistinguishable, one leaving off seamlessly where the other began. Blood pumping, explosions of ecstasy.
There was no getting up afterwards. Exhausted, they clung to each other, fighting off the darkness that seemed suddenly to descend upon them. Everything seemed so silent now. Had the whole city gone to sleep, or were they merely sunk too deep in each other’s worlds?
For once he would not lie in a bed wondering, hoping that she was okay. For once, he had some say in the matter. He could, if need be, fight for her. And die.
To really protect her though, in the long run, he’d have to find a way to stay close to her. Always.
There was one way. One solution. Up to now he’d not dared to think of it. It involved a change in both their statuses, and it centered on a single, dreaded life-changing word.
To put it in a nutshell, Mac Macallister, confirmed hunk bachelor and Mummy Hunter, was thinking of proposing marriage.
Minarra was saying something about going to sleep. He couldn’t really follow. He remembered holding her that much tighter and reassuring her that she was safe with him.
After that he fell asleep, more at peace than he’d felt in years. He had his purpose now. He was doing something…for her.
* * * * *
Minarra was in Mac’s arms, her head on his powerful chest. Her mind was telling her not to fall asleep, because of the dreams that might come, but her limbs were so heavy. Like lead. Besides, she felt so safe with this man. No matter what he’d done to her relationship-wise, he’d never let harm come to her. He cared—in his own narrow way—he still cared. A man did not make love like that unless he felt something. She was sure of it, despite the fact that she had no experience to go on. It was instinct, just a feeling gleaned from the way he touched her. Despite the teasing, the pushing, the denial, underneath there was boundless respect for her.
From other women, she’d learned men could behave very differently, and often did. Apparently, the loving kind were few and far between. Even her father, for all his passion and desire to protect Minarra’s mother had never truly been able to love Sofia. He’d blamed himself for that, along with everything else, but it was just his nature. There was no malice or cowardice in him. He would have given his life for Sofia, if only he’d known the suicide was coming.
These and other thoughts swirled in her mind, winding down, in tune with Mac’s heartbeat. She was lulled, sated, catatonic and ready to give in to the sleep she so desperately needed.
~~~~~
That’s it…don’t fight it…
Minarra tried to reopen her half-closed eyes to see who was talking to her. Before she could react, however, she fel
t a hand on her arm. There was a flash of light and she was standing upright in the desert. A plain of pure-white crystal sand, specked with gems of every color. Above, the sun shone bronze, and the sky was a pale green.
The white-robed man with the shadowed, unreadable face was beside her, and for some reason she had this odd sensation that it was her father underneath that hood. When she reached to pull it down over his shoulders, however, he pushed back her hand, redirecting her to the horizon.
She saw the city, the one she went to in her dreams. A feeling of dread overcame her. She shook her head, wanting to run away. The man held her fast, his bony fingers clamping her wrist. Minarra realized now that she was naked and very vulnerable.
“Daddy?” She said.
At once lightning cracked across the bizarre, artificial landscape and the scene shifted. She was back in the throne room, Komen-tah beside her. He was wearing a black silk robe, open to the waist with a black girdle drawn about his middle. He was barefoot, his mighty biceps circled with gold bands. The whole of his head was decorated, carefully painted with symbols of the gods.
“Welcome home, my dear,” he smiled smoothly, inclining his head. “I trust you are prepared?”
“Prepared for what?” She demanded.
Komen-tah laughed.
“Who brings this woman?” Thundered a voice, echoing high in the golden chamber.
The white-robed man released Minarra and bowed. Komen-tah took her hand, grinning. Suddenly Minarra understood the significance.
It was a wedding. Her wedding.
“No,” she cried.
Chains appeared, heavy shackles binding her wrists and ankles, and another on her throat. She was wearing a gown of pale pink gauze, virtually see-through. The chains held her fast, making it impossible to lift her arms or legs. The white-robed man vanished and in his place a black-robed one appeared.
“Who takes this bride?” The voice inquired.
Now there was a red-robed man, standing directly in front of them, occupying the place of a minister or priest. Komen-tah leaned in close to Minarra, wrapping his arm tight around her waist.
“Aren’t you happy, my dear?” He inquired. “You are to wed a god…”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Komen-tah was laughing even harder, sliding his hand over her ass. Minarra was squirming in vain.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” said the man in the red robe.
Minarra drew a breath in horror. The voice was her father’s. But as he took down his hood, she beheld not the face of Roger Hunt, but her own.
She watched her lips moving, pronouncing the marriage. “By the power vested in me by the god, Komen-tah, I hereby declare you—”
This couldn’t be happening, not even in a dream.
“Yes,” said Komen-tah, “it could.”
Now Komen-tah had her face, too. She watched the slave girls crawl to her feet and kiss up her legs. They wanted between her thighs…they wanted to touch. Minarra blinked and now they were vipers, snakes, looking to fuck her. Her scream was silent, deep underwater. She was drowning…again. In the fluids of her own pussy, enough to fill the throne room, the whole of the city…
~~~~~
Hands on her shoulders pulled her up just in time. It was Mac, calling to her from the waking world. He was leaning over her, concern etched into his features. Impulsively she grabbed his neck, pulling him close.
“It’s just a nightmare,” he promised. “It’s all over.”
If only it were over that easily, she thought grimly.
He held her for a long time, until she stopped shaking. It had been a close call this time. She’d nearly died there, in the city. Would that have been the end of her? Would she have been lost to the world of sanity, the way her mother had?
Is that what Shera-Sa represented ultimately—a mad dream? Was that what her father had seen in the desert lights—his own mental destruction? Or was there something more to this…the odd coincidence of a map showing up, after eons of mystery. And with it these dreams, more vivid than waking life.
Whatever was going on, she could not sleep. Not until the mystery was solved. Mac would hear none of this, however.
“You’re getting your rest, darling. And that’s final.”
She lacked the strength to fight…she could not even explain the dangers. His will, his soothing hands and words were too much to fight.
“I’ll lie down with you. You’ll see, it will be fine,” he said.
Mac put her down on her side, spooning from behind. Complete and utter symbiosis. I could die like this, she thought, skin-to-skin, life forces in total harmony.
And perhaps tonight, I shall…
Chapter Five
Mac awoke to the slap of a pillow over his face. He looked up in sleepy bewilderment. It was Minarra and she was poised to strike again. Apparently he was out of her good graces again. “Min, what gives?” He croaked.
“I slept last night,” she said, as though it were some great crime. “And you let me.”
Mac snatched the pillow from her hand and tossed it over her head. “That is what people do at night,” he pointed out.
“I told you not to let me,” she accused. “And you didn’t listen.”
“But why shouldn’t you sleep?”
“It doesn’t matter. The point is that you ignored my wishes.”
“Min, you’re not making any sense,” he complained.
“I don’t have to,” she said crossly. “I just have rights, that’s all.”
Mac licked his lips. Min was nude, her hair tousled. He wanted her badly. “How about we just fuck instead of arguing?” he proposed.
She shook her head. “You’re pitiful, you know that? You think everything’s about sex?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “Well, maybe not everything.”
“You’re impossible,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to take a shower, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”
Mac’s cock thickened under the sheet. “You have two choices, Min. Either come back to this bed and take your lovemaking like a woman or I will drag you back and give it to you like the naughty little wench you are.”
She tossed back her hair, walking away saucily. “I’m ignoring you Seth. As far as I’m concerned, we are colleagues, and that’s it.”
He grinned, recognizing the lilt in her voice. It was the playful Min…somehow he’d brought her back. Jumping from the bed, he intercepted her halfway to the bathroom. She was laughing and squealing as he swung her around into his arms. She felt so goddamn good this way, her lips opening to him, her body molding against him. There was no mistaking his erection between them, not to mention the peaks of her nipples.
“I assume you expect me to take care of this?”
He looked down at the pulsing shaft, which at the moment was poking her belly. “You are responsible for getting it into this state,” he pointed out.
“Me?” She arched an eyebrow. “What the hell did I do—other than breathe?”
“That’s all it takes. That’s all it ever took.”
She made a little cooing noise, laying her head on his shoulder. He’d said the right words.
Stroking her hair, he said, “I need you, Min. And not just your body. I need your heart, too…” His heart was thundering. The words, like it or not, were about to come spilling out. “Minarra, what I’m trying to say is…will you…will you consider marrying me?”
She pulled away from him, all tenderness and humor gone from her face. “What did you say? Never mind, I know what you said. I just can’t… I can’t believe it.”
He stood frozen. There was no taking it back now. Hell, he wasn’t even sure where it had come from exactly. Was he losing his mind here?
“Tell me why,” she demanded. “Why would you want to marry me? After all these years?”
“Isn’t it clear? How well we’re matched? Even back then—”
“Never mind any of that, Mac. You told
me once you loved me. Was that true? Is it true now?”
The words stuck in his throat. He owed her more than just a pat answer. “Min, there are things you need to know.”
“No. I don’t need to know anything. You already told me the answer.
Mac frowned. She was taking steps backward, toward the bathroom. “You had no right to ask me that,” she declared. “No right to even…think it. And if you ever so much as look like you’re going to do that again, I will find a way to cut you off completely from this expedition. Is that clear?”
“Of course.” He kept his voice flat, a block of stone. “Your wishes will be respected.”
She laughed sarcastically. “How big of you…now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower. Kindly hide that before I come out.”
“Not a problem.”
For some reason his acquiescence only seemed to aggravate her. Calling him a couple of choice names, she stormed off and slammed the door. Mac could hardly argue with her at this point. What the hell right did he have, after all this time, to try and ride back in like the cavalry, acting like nothing had happened between them to split them apart.
The trouble was that the split had everything to do with her father. The man whose memory she idolized more than anything in the world. How could he disturb that memory? Besides, what use was it now to blame another man for his actions? He could have said no to Roger but he hadn’t. How could he go back and make something right that never would be?
His only option was to forget it all…
Finding his gun, he checked to make sure it was in working order. There was no telling what use he’d have for it out in the desert. After that he gave Hassan a call.
“What are you doing up so early, you son of a whore?” Hassan asked.
“I’m earning a living,” he quipped. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
Hassan laughed, rich and deep. “I don’t have to earn a living, with men like you to cheat.”
“I let you cheat me because I feel sorry for you. So is this expedition ready to go or not?”
“You need only say the word…”
“Consider it said.”
“You’re in a hurry then.”
Prisoner of Shera-Sa Page 9
