Alien Terrain (8 page)

“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “You are Jalima, which is not an
insult, by the way. And you do need to be fucked to extremes.”

The mattress underneath her moved with a sudden loss of weight.
Then his hands were wrapped around her legs and he was pulling at her—one quick
yank and she was halfway down the bed. Jane raised her head and found him
kneeling on the floor. Her thighs were draped over his arms, his mouth six
inches from her pussy, so close that his warm breath feathered her mound.

“Hold my hand.” The fingers of his left hand flexed. Jane
clasped them in her right and lay back, hoping he could make it feel as good as
he could make it sound.

A BURSTING FRUIT.
An ocean delicacy.
The wine and cream of
béchamel.
Raj had heard the taste of a moist cunt described in these and
other, less poetic ways, but to his mind no words could catch the primal flavor
he
was tasting
now. He loved it. Never more so than at
this very moment with Jane’s legs spread for him, her pussy wet and vibrating
against his lips.

He hadn’t lied about this being what he loved the best in
life. Her scent had captured him from the beginning. Now he had his senses
full. And this was heaven. This was where he’d gladly live his life.

The soft skin of her thighs brushed against his shoulder.
Her palm flexed underneath his fingers. Raj dipped his tongue into the silky
contours of Jane’s pussy, listening for her breath. His tongue was melded to
the middle of her vulva, the place between the
peak
above, the opening below. It was a good place to begin and end.
A place to soothe, a place to set alight.

Last night, when he’d stroked her swollen slit, he’d drawn a
detailed map of her responses in his mind. This was where he’d heard her say
it.

Higher.
Lower. There. Oh yes.
Right
there.

Not with her voice but with her breath, the tensing of her
thighs. Hips lifting, feet arched and pointed, hands pressed to his skin. He
worked the tip of his tongue a little deeper and began to lick. Jane’s body
stirred. Her head moved to one side.

Raj lengthened the stroke of his tongue a fraction. He slid
against the groove of flesh along her clitoris and pulled away.

“Use me,” he said.

“What?” She looked down at him, dazed. Her pale skin was so
soft. The large, dark nipples of her lovely breasts made him clench his jaw. He
wanted to draw things out for hours, spend time attending to those glorious
breasts and all the places on her body he still hadn’t had occasion to explore.
He wanted to arouse her till she shook and wept and lost control.

For himself.
Not her. Another
selfish thought, confirming that he’d lost his way. When was the last time he
had wanted something for his own sake? Had he ever? Selflessness was the first
principle they’d taught him at the temple.

Raj wasn’t himself. Perhaps he’d died in that garage and
been reborn as a new man.
Jane’s man.
Her flawed but very much devoted man.

“Move on me,” he urged her. “Use my mouth to make it good.”

He liked that she was staring at him. Clearly she could see
the hunger on his face. No other woman had ever seen him so nakedly aroused, so
stripped of all restraint. It was right that she should see the new man she’d
created.

He was painfully hard. As hot for her as he had ever been
for anyone, and heaven knew that his capacity for desire had always been great,
even among temple lovers.

To satisfy that appetite, Raj lowered his head between her
legs and licked.
The barest movement up and down beneath the
bud that swelled against his upper lip.
She was perfect. Plump and slick
with moisture for him, his cock, the pleasure he could give. And take.

And take.
Again the strange new impulse to
let go of his control.
Focus, Raj.
You know
this has to be extremely good
. He lifted away slightly and pressed two
fingers of his right hand to her opening. She tensed; he turned his head and
kissed her thigh. “Relax,” he said. “I may have lost my mind. I still know
better than to hurt you.” Her muscles eased, and he slid two fingers into her
wet pussy.

She was exquisite.
A warm, wet clasp of
invitation.
He hooked his fingers into the soft flesh behind her clit.
A slow, beckoning motion.
“How is it?” He glanced over her
breasts, her belly, all that lovely skin, and then sought her gaze.

She was flushed, unfocused.
Sexy,
infinitely sexy.

He licked her thigh with the abandon he’d soon use to lick
her cunt. The promise of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. She spread her thighs
wider, arching toward him. Raj returned his mouth to her and licked from the
base of his fingers all the way up her slit, once, then twice, then many, many
times.

He kept it slow, but when he started licking up and down, he
felt it. That telltale patch of dead time where she went completely still, her
body almost limp
. When she came back to life, all her
responses intensified. After which he knew that she’d crossed over to that
place where every movement brought the pleasure closer, made it fuller. And he
was soon astonished by how far she’d go, how much of her true self she’d show.

Her hips rose and fell beneath his mouth; the softness of
her thighs cradled his face. He stroked inside her, licked her pulsing flesh.
She whimpered, panted, mewled for him. Then she was moving, back and forth and
side to side. And it was hot.
Extremely hot to feel her pussy
brimming over.
He teased around her hardened clit and felt her trembling
body start to quake. Then Raj began to stroke and
lick
and moan with her into the climax, which he rode in concert with her body.
The sound of her release when it was over echoed through him,
hardening his cock and softening his heart.

“What happens when you masturbate?” They were resting—after
how much time, she didn’t know. Shadows had thickened protectively around them,
and she was in his arms, examining the heated curve of muscle in his belly.

“Generally speaking,” Raj said, turning toward her,
“masturbation goes something like this.” He lowered his hand from her breast to
his erection and stroked his full length, pausing at the end of every movement
to twist his fingers underneath the head. “Do you want to see a full
performance?”

“Sort of.”
With difficulty, Jane
looked away to meet his gaze. “But that isn’t what I meant. I mean does jacking
off keep you sexually balanced?”

“Ah.” His hand stopped, which was sad. She liked the way his
biceps twitched when he pulled on his cockhead. “For sexual balance to be
maintained, the jerking off would need to be part of something grander.
A connection.
A shared truth.”

“It doesn’t work alone?”

“No, love.
It’s the energy of
sharing that keeps us well. Not the sexual release
itself
.
Although…”

He touched her breast again, stretching his thumb to rub her
nipple very gently. Her throat and her pussy tightened at the same time. Jane
could feel years of arousal, long denied, bubbling inside her. She wrapped her
hand around his cock. It looked big, and it felt even bigger. He hadn’t come
yet, although she’d come twice. “Can I kiss you here?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She rolled over his body and slid her feet onto the floor,
bending forward. Her chosen posture was instinctive and she liked it—liked the
strength of being on her feet, the deference of bowing.

Closemouthed, she brushed her lips back and forth along his
silky skin, enjoying both the texture and the heat. Jane stuck out her tongue
and mapped the roads that led up to his head. She moved her lips into the shape
of words and spoke to him.

When all there seemed left was to suck him into her, she gathered
his testicles into one hand and fondled the cool, soft, mobile sac, taking him
as deeply as she could. She licked with a flat tongue and sucked with vulgar
slurping sounds. No self-consciousness; the opposite in fact. She was in her
own world, as immersed in this as she’d ever been in anything. His hips jerked
upward; his hands hovered near her head. What did he want?
The truth
.
That’s what he always
said.

Jane thought of what was true for her. The word
good
came into her mind, and she toyed
with that simple idea, letting it warm the inside of her mouth. She thought
about his tongue, the way he’d made her come. The first time she’d been
writhing underneath him. The second time he’d held her thighs apart and licked
her till she’d sobbed with pleasure. Jane let those feelings fill her thoughts
and sucked him with a purr of gratitude that vibrated along her jaw and palate.
A gentle press against her shoulders made her stop. Slowly, and with care, she
pulled away to look at him.

His features had gone soft and serious.
Almost
grim.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“You.”
A simple
answer, not a glib one.

He hadn’t been inside her yet. Suddenly Jane’s heart was
beating fast and she was nervous.
Really nervous.
She
crawled back on the bed and reached for him.

She wanted him on top of her, to see his face, his chest,
the
muscles in his shoulders. She wanted his weight and a
chance to run her hands down his strong back.

He rose beside her on one elbow, reached a hand between her
legs. She felt a chill from all the lingering moisture meeting air. It made her
lift her head and look. She was soaked and sensitive, and he was touching her
with just the tips of two long fingers. “Will I fit?”

She smiled. He was teasing her, but it was sweet like all of
it, the action and the words. He moved his body over hers, his legs between her
legs, his weight held on his arms. “Reach down,” he said. She did. She took his
cock and stroked herself with the plump tip. When she had it placed against her
opening, she lifted up.

“Wait,” he said.

“What is it?” She looked at his face. There was a sort of
blur to his expression. He looked sexy, powerful. And so turned on it made her
shake. Inside herself she felt the sharpness of excitement like a separate
being, spreading out and pulling in.
A great, thunderous
tide.

“Look at me.” With their gazes locked, his hips pressed
forward and he breached her steadily. His cock filled more of her than she
believed there was to fill. The stretch gave life to every pleasurable nerve.
She curled one arm over his shoulder; the other she slipped around his waist.
The way she had before. The way she wanted to forever. And it was so good that
she heard a shaky, trilling sound in her own throat. Jane tilted her hips to
get a little more of him inside her.

He rocked himself into her, watching her the way she watched
herself for signs leading her into pleasure.

“What else can you do?” she asked. “What else?”

“A hundred different things.
The same idea with different shapes.
Or
this.”
He pushed inside her deep, withdrew, and pushed inside again. “I
can fuck you just like this for day after tireless day. Would you like that?”

She would. Before she’d only thought of ways she could avoid
sex. Now she’d make a life of this slow, perfect rocking. Pleasure was like ink
bleeding through her pulpy inner flesh, and there was something prickly too, an
unexpected jolt that stirred it up and made it so good. Better than anything.
Now she understood the madness of it.
The obsession.

“I want to suck your cock again.”

“Then I suppose I must oblige you.”

Was that a joke? She couldn’t tell. His lips were always
curved that way. He always looked so beautiful and strong.

“Yes.” She pushed at him. “Yes, let me do it. I want to try
doing it again.” He left her body, and she scrambled to her knees beside the
bed.

“Stand up, “she said. He hesitated.

“What?” She didn’t understand.

He got onto his feet in front of her. His legs were so long
that even when she stretched, his cock was at the level of her forehead.

“Oh,” said Jane. It didn’t work.

“Sit here.” Raj patted the side of the bed. She pulled
herself up, feeling just a tiny bit defeated. “Get on your knees.” Something in
his voice,
a rawness
and a strength, made her pussy
tighten and more blood rush to her clit. Jane knelt on the bed, and he pulled
her head down to him. The position with her legs spread and her ass lifted was
nasty and delicious. Jane held on to him and sucked. He was so big.
So hot and hard.

Eventually he pulled away. “Stay on your knees and turn this
way so I can fuck you.” Jane let herself be guided by him until he had her head
pointed toward the closet and her ass toward his cock. Raj slid back in with
that same unbelievable stretch that made her insides flutter. The space between
her legs felt tighter, the position deeper. Her breasts brushed back and forth
against the cotton sheets, her nipples drawing into knots.

He worked his hand over her mound. His pelvis thumped
against her ass, and Jane knew she would come. Sensation streamed into her clit
like water filling up a bowl. More and more and it
was
full, then overflowing. Orgasm hit her like a wall of water. Jane was moaning,
writhing with a thrilling climax. She strained toward him, filthy and indecent.

“Come.” That choked word meant at least three different
things:
I’m coming. My cunt’s dripping
cum. Come with me, please. I want you to.

She stretched her arms out on the bed, descending from the
peak of pleasure. Raj pulled his cock out of her pussy, the gesture rough and
unexpected. She turned her head and saw her lover tall and strong, his body
arched and his head back. Cum splattered on her lower back. His wet cock bumped
against her ass. He slumped and fell and pulled her close against him on the
bed.