“I believe you, Hassan. I don’t know why, but I do.” With that, he took her across the camp to her tent. To make love to her as she had never been made love to before.
* * * * *
Minarra stirred to gentle but firm whispers in her ear. “Min…I need you tonight. I have to be inside you… I have to have you…one last time.”
Her senses came alive as Mac spoke to her. She was on her back, on her own bedroll. She’d fallen asleep outside. He’d brought her back here, to the safety of her tent. “Oh Seth.” She spoke his name, reaching up with hungry, parched lips. “I need you, too. I never stopped…”
It was like a dream, a good one to counter all the disturbing visions of Shera-Sa. This was truly her own passion she was feeling, for a man she had chosen long ago. In a different lifetime, it seemed.
She felt her breath quicken, her body erupting with tiny pools of heat everywhere on the surface of her skin. He was undressing her, very slowly and reverently, but with a singularity of focus that bespoke his lust.
He wanted her…he had to have her. What bigger turn-on could there be for a woman?
She wished he’d started here, instead of proposing marriage. Their prior couplings had only stirred the old emotions, the old ambivalence. What she needed was a decisive possessing. By a man ready to show her how he’d changed.
He paused after removing her shirt, bra, shoes and socks.
“You’re so beautiful, Min…your body…your breasts.” His hand was cupping them, encircling the naked flesh.
She moaned softly, arching her back, hands overhead. “Mac,” she cried softly. “Tie me…please?”
Mac moved expertly, smoothly, as though he’d anticipated the request all along. Lying alongside her, he extracted her canvas belt from its loops. Crossing her wrists, he wrapped them in the strip of canvas and secured them—deliciously snug, not painful. Testing the bond, she found it more than sufficient to hold her.
“Mac,” she exhaled, her pussy creaming for him, “take me.”
Leave me no choices…make me give in to the love I feel…make me trust.
Mac took off her shorts and her panties without further ado. After that, he simply took a moment to enjoy her nudity. She watched with glazed, fascinated eyes, her taut stomach clenched, nipples painfully exposed and swollen, a study in feminine anticipation. His to command.
Her captive fists clenched in wonderful helplessness as he took off his shirt. She wanted to kiss and lick every inch of that well-formed stomach and chest.
As it was she could do nothing but whimper. And offer herself…
Her breathing shot up another notch, to near panting as he undid his shorts, and pulled down the zipper. That luscious cock…she could eat it whole. Alternatively, she could kiss and worship it for days on end. The things it did to her…the way it had taken possession of her in the past. The way it ruled her fantasies. The way it had swept back into her life…starting this cycle all over.
And now here it was again, inches away. From her pussy. Her ass and mouth.
Mac leaned forward, tantalizing, his body coming toward her. Every part of her cried out in anticipation. Would it be his thighs? His pelvis? His pecs? Which would touch her first?
It was his hand, reaching for the belt, taking hold of it, thereby pinning her down. Minarra surged with hot, sexual weakness. The pleasure of consensual bondage. Taking her nipple in his mouth, he applied the flat of his hand like a vise, to open her legs.
He bit a little harder as she resisted. Minarra gasped, giving him what he wanted. He knew what he wanted, immediately pushing his knee between her thighs.
“Move against me,” he ordered. “Hump my leg.”
Her mouth opened in slight shock at the request, but she did as she was told. It felt good right away, a kind of sweet ache, a nasty delight as she rubbed her excited pussy against him. She felt so primal, so much like an animal, seeking to pleasure her soft body in such a way against the hardness of his muscles. And yet she could not resist the sensations that were building up and down her body.
He let her go on a few minutes until she was in the throes of passion. He then removed his knee, offering her instead his lips to kiss. She went for them, desperate. At this point she could and would take any form of contact with him, under any conditions. It was a matter of trust mixed with sheer lust. She sought his mouth with her tongue, though it was his tongue that took hold of her. She opened, deeper and deeper, wanting to pull him inside her through this and every orifice. Every part of him, subsumed within every part of her.
At last he broke the seal, and moved for something more elemental. Yes…his cock. He was going to put it inside her. He was going to pierce her.
And she was going to yield. Absolutely.
Mac sank his cock inside her, his body pressed atop hers, a perfect fit. She began to shiver at once, already yielding. He pulled himself back, and then returned to his place, his rightful place inside her. Again and again, he did this, his rhythm neither fast nor slow, neither harsh nor lax. She could not count the times, could not keep track of the seconds or even of her own heartbeats. There was only their mutual pulse, bodies clinging, communicating, generating heat and sweat, pure as the salt of the desert.
Mac made a single moaning noise, totally endearing and inspiring. His cock swelled to what felt like twice its normal size and then the semen came. A flood of it—pulsing and spurting inside her. She responded with an avalanche all her own, a falling down upon him, a waterfall. An oasis in the dunes, green with life and explosive with energy. The two of them clung to each other long past the climax, all the way down to the peaceful lethargy of sleep. The last thing she remembered, as she slipped away, sated and happy, was that this gorgeous, wonderful man who had just taken her to the moon had just recently asked her to marry him.
It seemed too good to be true. At least given her family history. Or could it be she was breaking the Hunt curse, preparing to find a destiny all her own? She had a peculiar feeling the answers would come soon. Whether she wanted them to or not.
Chapter Seven
Minarra awoke in a state of pure bliss. She sat up, stretching. The ground beneath her was cool to the touch, though she could feel the pink sunlight already heating the air.
Still tingling from Mac’s touch, still feeling his hard cock inside her, feeling primal and wicked, lazy and sexy as a cat, she crawled across her sleeping bag to the entrance of her tent.
She wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but his loving had kept the dreams at bay. Maybe he was just a good luck charm, or he had some kind of power, but either way she had ended up feeling better than she had in ages.
He was a naughty boy for leaving her, though, for making her wake up all alone. She’d tell him that, too, and maybe threaten to tie him down next time since he obviously had trouble keeping his butt in one place.
God, but it had been good, though. Every bit of tension was smoothed out of her. By binding her hands, in that one simple act, he’d allowed her to let go, to let him into all her secret pleasure places. And he knew them all, too. He could write the book on her. Publish the definitive map. Frankly, it was dangerous to have a man know that much about her pleasure. She might have to kill him yet…
Or make him love her again, suckling and nibbling, thrusting and teasing, lashing her with hot words, employing tongue and cock and above all his hands, everywhere alive and expressive. Damn, she was getting herself worked up again. She’d have to do something about that, wouldn’t she?
Peeking through the flap, Minarra was treated to an unpleasant surprise. She saw the men moving rapidly, loading the vehicles. She rose to her feet, instantly tense. Mac was over by the lead jeep, fiddling with the big machine gun. His face was serious, no-nonsense.
“What’s going on?” She asked.
“Bandits,” he told her. “We need to move fast.”
“Was anyone going to tell me?”
“I was waiting until the last minute. I didn’t want to�
��”
“Worry me,” she completed the sentence, a broken record by now. “Damn it, Mac, when are you going to stop treating me like some kind of china doll? I grew up with this kind of thing. I think I can handle myself fine.”
He put his hand over her wrist as she reached into the big storage box for one of the automatic rifles. “What do you think you’re doing, missy?”
She pulled her hand away. “I’m getting a gun, like everyone else. And don’t call me ‘missy’.”
His frown was deep and ingrained. She did a double take, he looked so much like her father right then.
“You are not handling a gun. You are riding in this jeep and when the trouble comes, you will keep your head down and that’s an order.”
“Fine,” she shot back. “I won’t fight you anymore.”
I’ll just lull you into a false sense of security and then when the shooting starts, I’ll hop right into the fray and do my part…
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” he grumbled. “Now get in.”
“But my stuff…the map.”
Mac cursed under his breath. “Get the map, leave the rest. Hurry!”
A man was shouting, running up from behind. Apparently whoever was after them was closing in fast. Minarra grabbed the attaché case, the map inside. She ran back to the jeep and hopped into the passenger seat. Everything was happening so fast. A few minutes ago, she’d been thinking about lovemaking, and now they were running for their lives.
“Those must be some bandits who can chase us away,” she remarked. “Given all the firepower you brought.”
Mac said nothing as he put the vehicle in gear. He was hiding something. She knew it.
“I have a right to know,” she reminded him. “It’s my neck like anyone else’s.”
“It’s the rebels,” he said tightlipped. “It appears they are heading this way, intending to make an assault on the capital. We have to push further into the desert, try and pass through their lines before they encircle us.”
“Why not head back to the city for protection?”
“We’d never make it,” he shook his head. “There’s too many of them. Elements of the army are deserting to the other side—we didn’t see this coming.”
“I am taking a gun,” she leaned over the seat, “and that’s final.”
He was in no position to stop her, occupied as he was navigating the jeep at full throttle over the ancient, cracked road. “Just make sure you point it in the right direction,” he quipped.
“Keep lying to me, and it’ll be straight at your head,” she retorted.
Mac laughed. “I love you too, baby.”
Minarra heard the pain in his voice, hidden below the bravado. Her rejection of his proposal had cut him to the quick, she could tell. It was a wound no amount of lovemaking could heal. So she’d truly succeeded, then, in hurting him as he had hurt her. Had that been her real aim—revenge? If so, she’d served it as a dish a little too cold even for her own liking.
The rest of the morning and afternoon was uneventful. They stopped only once, for the barest few minutes to relieve themselves and add gasoline to the vehicles. The whole time, they encountered only a few stray camels. It was eerily quiet. Minarra was not fooled for a minute that the danger had passed. She could feel it in the air—a kind of tension, growing, mounting.
Shortly before dusk, a trio of helicopters appeared, heading in their direction. They were the military transport variety, with troops inside leaning out the open doors with long, heavy weapons.
Minarra tensed, taking aim.
“It’s all right,” he touched her arm. “They’re government forces. Headed back to the capital. They won’t bother us.”
She looked at the soldiers’ faces, dark and haggard. From the looks of them, they were in full retreat. Not a very good sign. The blades thwacked in the hot dry air, momentarily cutting off verbal communication. Minarra concentrated on the feel of Mac’s hand on her arm.
It was the most normal she’d felt all day.
Could she ask him to keep it there, see if he was willing to entwine his fingers in hers? Lord knew what he thought of her by now. Last night he’d said it was the last time they’d make love. Did he really mean that?
A feeling of loneliness, as shocking as it was deep, pervaded Minarra’s heart as Mac let go of her and returned his fingers to the steering wheel. Damn it, she chided herself. What a time for me to get emotional.
“There’s a good chance we’ll die out here, isn’t there?” She asked once the whirring machines were out of range.
“I don’t want you thinking such things,” he chastised.
“Damn it, Mac, you’re doing it again,” she called him on the carpet. “Treating me like a child.”
“What do you expect, Min? You keep acting like one.”
Her feelings of tenderness for the man spun in a heartbeat, to wrath. “Go to hell…you prick.”
“You see? There’s an excellent case in point,” he used her own outburst against her. “Thank you for proving my argument.”
Her mind went black, thinking of various forms of slow torture for the man. “Just don’t talk to me anymore. Do us both a favor.”
Oh fuck it. He was right. She was letting him get to her. Why was she so quick to lose her temper with this man? No one else had ever been able to get to her like this, not even her father. How was she supposed to fight back? She sat fuming, until the sun was a mere line drawn above the desert.
“We’re going to keep driving all night,” he told her a while later, breaking the silence between them. “We’ll make a quick stop to refuel. You can tend to your feminine business, but you’ll have to keep it to a minimum.”
Feminine business…was there any limit to this man’s gall? She was sitting here with a loaded machine gun, ready and willing to kill…and he wanted to write her off as some over-pampered priss?
“You have three minutes,” he declared as they pulled over near a large dune, sometime after nightfall.
“Gee,” she said in her best ditz imitation. “I hope that’s enough time to paint my toenails.”
He shone the flashlight in her face. “What the hell’s gotten into you now, Min?”
“Nothing,” she snapped, swinging her leg out of the jeep.
At least nothing that a two-by-four upside his head wouldn’t cure.
Mac intercepted her at the back end of the jeep, blocking her path. “That’s a load of crap, Min. Tell me what this is really about.”
“Get the hell out of my way—it’s my three minutes and I will spend them without you, thank you very much.”
“You will tell me,” he grabbed her upper arm. “That’s an order.”
Minarra winced. Why couldn’t he be like other men and just not care whether she had feelings at all? Better still, why couldn’t he shut up and just hold her and kiss her? What if this was their last chance? What if death was awaiting them over the next dune?
“You really want to know?” She replied, sick and tired of their cat and mouse games. “I’ll tell you. This expedition has been a disaster from the start. You’ve made wrong choices at every turn.”
“What are you talking about?”
Min wasn’t sure herself. “You let us get trapped. You might as well have led us straight into an ambush. And you didn’t…well…there’s other things, too.”
Mac’s face darkened. She’d struck a nerve. “Oh, I see what this is about,” he fired back. “This is Minarra, Roger’s only child, god’s gift, pouting because she wasn’t in charge. As if you could have done a damn thing different than I did.”
That was the last straw. “No, asshole, that’s where you’re wrong,” she challenged. “I don’t wish I was in charge. I wish Daddy was, because he wouldn’t have us chasing all over the fucking desert in the middle of the night like a bunch of chickens with our heads cut off. Jeezus, Mac, he’d have your head and you know it!”
Mac clenched his teeth. His voice went flat, level
. “Yes…the great Roger Hunt…but he’s not here. And I am. Pity for you, isn’t it?” Grabbing something from the back of the jeep, he began pulling Minarra over the dune to the other side.
“Where are you taking me?” She demanded. “Are you insane?”
“I’m taking you for discipline,” he informed her.
“But the rebels…”
“They can wait five minutes to kill us.” He thrust her forward, facing him, a few feet away. They were in a small, sand-swept depression, hidden from the view of the others. On the far side, beyond the next ridge, lay the open, unguarded terrain. “Take down your pants, Min. Your underwear, too.”
She watched as he laid his rifle down and took off his holster. He returned to her holding a leather strap, one of the all-purpose binding cords.
“What do you intend to do with that?” She demanded.
“I’m going to use it on you.”
“You’re going to whip me?” She laughed in disbelief. “I don’t think so.”
Minarra’s heart quickened in dark anticipation. She did not long for pain, and yet the sheer audacity of the act, the wicked power and sinfulness of it was doing something to her loins—heating them and readying them.
“Apparently the spanking was not enough.”
“You’ve spent too much time outside the States,” she shook her head. “Things like this don’t fly with us American women.”
“As far as you know,” he countered. “Now are you going to bare your ass like a good girl, or do you need help?”
“I’m not a girl, you cocksucker. I’m a woman.”
“You’re a subordinate. In need of correction.”
“Is that all I am? Seems to me you did a lot more than subordinate me last night. But wait, I forgot, you’re the king of mixed messages. Yesterday I’m good enough to marry, last night I was just a fuck buddy and now I’m what—some dog you want to work your frustrations out on?”
“You won’t succeed in upsetting or insulting me, Minarra. Not by trivializing my emotions, not even by throwing your sainted father in my face.”
God, he’d never looked sexier to her. Filled with adrenalin, testosterone pumping, fighting so hard to keep his true feelings under wraps. She wanted him to fuck her, right here and now, to take her to that other dimension, the realm of passion, where nothing mattered, not even life and death.
Prisoner of Shera-Sa Page 12
