Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (30 page)

"Can't you go back?" she whispered and felt him shake his head.

"No.  The past is dead..."  

"But surely if you - "

"...at my hand."  He said each word carefully, as though translating it into an unfamiliar language.  And perhaps it was for him.  Perhaps he'd never spoken of this before.

She felt his arms tighten and she snuggled against him.  Their roles had reversed.  He wasn't comforting her now, but clutching her as a child would his favourite toy.

Strong as these men were, they needed her.  She understood that more fully now.  Not just for sex, but for her compassion, her companionship and the intellectual stimulation they could share.  For all the things a partner - a mate - would provide.  Yet she was in the privileged position of being mate to all, not merely one.  The lone lioness in the pride.

It was a life she could never have imagined for herself, but now that she had it, she knew she would risk anything to keep it.  What amazed her most was that she might never have known what she had to lose, if Peter hadn't 'interfered'. 

She could see now that at every step he'd taught her a lesson - showed her an insight into her own nature and those of her Lost Boys. 

In that moment Dee vowed never question his judgement again.

"There is no past anymore, Josh," she said with a conviction that went bone deep.  She might die on this island, but she was determined to
live
first.  "I belong to Peter.  To the tribe."

"You are our Wendee," Josh affirmed.  "There can be no doubt."

And in Dee's mind there was none either.  Peter was a God and his word was law.  She suddenly wanted to please this God who had brought her to his promised land.  She tilted her head towards Josh and asked, "What does Peter want me to do?"

"To act from your nature.  That is all," Josh replied.

Dee closed her eyes for a moment and thought.  Then she let herself feel. 

She felt...  Josh's hard body against her back, his deflated invader still imprisoned within her body, his arms around her. 

Anything you desire
...

She licked her lips.  "Will you kiss me?" she asked.

"Of course."  Carefully he turned her shoulders, settling her head onto the cushions so he could lean over her whilst maintaining their sexual connection.

He brushed his lips over hers.  She kept her eyes open, watching.

"Does it disgust you?" she asked, "Kissing a woman?"

He pulled back.  "Would it disgust you to kiss a woman?"

"I don't know."  She smiled, surprised.  "I've never done it."

Josh looked as though he were about to say something, then didn't.  He simply watched her for a moment, studying her eyes, her lips.  Then he lowered his head and kissed her properly, deeply, and she felt her body stirring.

His body also stirred.  She felt the strange tingling prickle across her buttocks as he swelled inside her. 

"You kiss very well," she sighed when he relinquished her lips and pulled back to look into her eyes. 

"I practice," he said, then asked, "Again?" nudging her hips with his and creating a delicious shiver that tightened her nipples into hard, rosy buds.  He lowered his head and sucked one, softly at first, then with a strong rhythmic pressure that had her writhing and moaning helplessly. 

Her buttocks wriggled around his hard shaft, increasing her pleasure so much that when he stopped sucking the nipple and returned his attention to her mouth she barely noticed.

He had begun the slow in-out again, whispering against her lips and kissing her hard.  Then he held her hips tightly and drove into her again and again until she couldn't kiss, she could only make strange panting cries as the white wave rushed towards her.  And then it was there.  Josh slid a hand off her hip and clamped it over her mound, squeezing as he shuddered into his own little-death and she felt the wave crash down on her pushing the air out of her lungs with a hoarse cry as the hot sensation licked over her. 

Then... nothing.

And gradually into the nothing she heard panting.  Then she felt her brain throbbing inside her skull and a prickliness about her skin, as though she had pins-and-needles all over her body.  "I think I'm going to faint," she said, incredulous, adding, "If you can do that with a woman I can't wait to see what you do with a man."

He laughed, withdrawing from her at last. 

She slid onto her back on the cushions as the final echo of the strange tingling spasmed across her buttocks.  For a second it felt odd, as though she had no control over her lower body, but then the feeling passed and her body relaxed.  So much so, that when Josh spoke a minute later she was almost asleep.

"The twins will be displeased with me if I have worn you out."

She smiled, not opening her eyes.  "Just give me a minute," but the gentle lapping of waves lulled her and she couldn't seem to open her eyes.  "Sorry.  So sleepy," she mumbled.

There was a slight pressure on her forehead, dry, soft... lips?  It withdrew and he said, "We'll be safe here for some hours.  I'll wake you before dusk." 

Chapter Sixteen

Supported by Pietre's chair, Belle lay slumped over his control panel, her mind fuzzy with narcotic haze.  The initial euphoria of the drug was spent, as was the life of the young man who adorned the wall of her bedchamber - the young man she'd been saving.  The one who reminded her of Christophe.

Now she merely drifted, but a random thought tickled her mind.  She'd been trying to remember what had set her off.  Why she'd lost control.  It had been years -

The Wendee. 

Belle's upper body jerked, her fingers bumping keys, spreading the copper spirals of hair already sprawled across the control panel.

Bitch. 

Pietre was obsessed with her, that much was obvious.  The mermaids Belle had selected so carefully to tempt him lounged idle at their lagoon while he poured over every boring file he'd recorded since the Wendee bitch had arrived.  He even watched her while she was asleep.

And why? 

Belle couldn't understand it.  She wasn't beautiful.  Nor was she particularly experienced.  Her emotions were mildly interesting, Belle would allow that, but not fascinating - not so engrossing that Pietre should have no time for business.  No time for Belle.

And this morning, as thought her antagonism hadn't already been deadly, Pietre had been indiscreet enough to say...  to... 

Belle felt herself slipping back into the drug and frowned, struggling with the elusive memory.

He'd said... something.  What had he said?

She concentrated, trying to conjure the scene from the fuzzy recesses of her mind but the drug seduced her, whispering for her to stop splashing and kicking and float on its warm, undulating surface. 

"No," she moaned softly, her fingers scrabbling uselessly beside her head, tangling in her hair.  Beneath that undulating surface was a memory and if she dived one last time...

A sliver of reality, like a replay, came to her.  They'd been here, in the control room.  Pietre in his chair, she at his side, one hand resting on his sleeve.  The screen had been on, displaying... 

The Wendee bitch, she could remember that much. And she'd been with... someone.  Fucking them probably.  Such a waste of -

The memory wavered and Belle dragged her attention back to it, trying to focus, but the players were indistinct.  And unimportant, she remembered, as it had been the conversation, not the action that had interested Pietre.  What had been said?

Belle's forehead tightened and she fought for the words.

Mother
.  Something to do with a mother.  Pietre had said...  Belle grimaced, forcing the memory, making her head ache. 

Pietre had said, 'What an interesting concept.  The incestuous mother.  Fascinating.'  Belle relaxed slightly.  She had the memory now.  Next he'd said, 'I think I'll let Wendee have access to Christophe after all.  Left to follow her instincts, she may well decide to hurt him rather than make love to him.  You'd appreciate that, wouldn't you
Ma Chere
?'

Pouting her slack lips against the cold steel of the control panel, Belle remembered her outrage.  'Let me hurt him,' she'd demanded.  'She's an amateur.  She'll ruin him.'  But Pietre had shook his head, a strange animation in his eyes as he'd gone back to studying the screen.