Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (45 page)

"Redskins?"  He gave the word an odd inflection but she was too dazed to look for hidden meanings.  "No.  We are alone," he assured her.

"Good."  Any second now he'd reach for her, yet she prolonged the moment with conversation.  "My name is Wendee - "

Disconcertingly, his eyes flickered and managed to disengage from hers.  "I know you are Wendee.  You are
Peter's
Wendee," he said, and abruptly released her shoulder to sit back cross-legged. 

Dee lay still, staring at him, lost to this sudden shift of intention.  Her body cried,
come back to me, take me
, but her mind argued caution. 

She knew he desired her.  She'd seen it in his eyes.  And he'd already touched her intimately... when he'd thought she was asleep. 

What did that mean?  He didn't look shy.  There must be another reason.  Perhaps he thought she belonged to Peter and was not to be tampered with?   

That was a misconception she could quickly dispel.  "I've been with the Lost Boys and the mermaids," she said, displaying her credentials.

"I know.  My camp overlooks the mermaid lagoon," he replied, his face curiously expressionless.  "I watched you there every day."

She caught her breath, the liquid desire resurging.  He'd seen...  "What did you see?" 

"I saw..."  He blinked, a slow deliberate motion.  "...two women."

"Making love?"

There was a pause where she held her breath.  Then he said, "Yes.  I saw that.  Many times."

Dee nodded.  She could feel the flow between them.  Their eyes were locked and sexual energy coursed through her.  The weakness she'd felt moments earlier was gone.  She wanted this man and she wanted him now.

"I wish I'd known you were watching," she said, her breaths coming more quickly as the heat of his gaze worked on her.  She could almost feel her juices flowing, her muscles growing lax.  She licked her lips and he followed the movement with deadly attention. 

"Someone always watches," he replied softly, his eyes still on her lips.

"Even now?"

"I watch now."

"What do you see?" she asked.  And as his eyes returned to hers, her hand rose to rest on his thigh.  Beneath the soft buckskin his muscles were tensed and hard, and the combination of sensations was breathtaking.  Her fingers spread in a stroking action, enjoying the feel of it.   

"I see a woman..." his voice was barely above a whisper, his chest, under the breast-plate, rising and falling faster than her own. 

"Who...?" she prompted, her hand drifting closer to the symbol of masculinity she'd so wanted Skye to experience - the testosterone driven force she herself wanted to feel rampant between her thighs. 

Lying so close to him, she could scent the muskiness of his desire.  But one sense wasn't enough.  She wanted to touch and taste and see this warrior's ultimate weapon.  She wanted it to conquer her.

And he knew.  His eyes were staring straight into hers and she knew it must all be there for him to see.

She wanted to hear it.  "What do you see?" she asked again, softly, seductively.

"I see a woman..."  A muscle twitched along his jawline.  "I see... a woman who's yet to regain her strength," he finished purposefully, his hand closing over hers to return it gently but firmly to her side.

Dee blinked, as though she'd been slapped, and her preoccupation with her own desire dissipated as the focus of her attention switched back to Long Shadow.

"I'll make broth," he said, only the slight tremor in his voice betraying his arousal.  "You're not ready for solid food yet."

She watched incredulously as he rose in a single smooth motion to move about the inside of the tepee collecting pouches and a gourd.  That done, he knelt at the fire with his back to her and began preparing the meal.

He wasn't going to make love to her. 

Dee felt panic welling up inside.  Sex was like eating and breathing to her now.  She needed it to survive.  But having accepted Peter's dominion over her life, she must have faith in him to provide for her. 

She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to blankness.  She heard his movements, the crackle of the fire, the slight breeze that had sprung up outside.  It was familiar, comfortable, and she let it soothe her feverish body.  After a time she felt some calm come over her.  But she was still a long way from understanding. 

Long Shadow seemed to be struggling with himself, but why?  Was he under some constraint, as Christophe had been?  It didn't make sense.

Unless this was another of Peter's tests.  

Long Shadow came back to her.  "Here it is," he said, seating himself beside her again.  "Can you sit up?"

She opened her eyes.  "I think so," she said, accepting his help and deliberately hiding how affected she was by his arm around her shoulders, the closeness of his body to hers and the scent of his skin.  She simply drank the broth, her eyes gazing at nothing over the edge of the wooden cup as she thought.

"That was good," she said blandly as she finished the cupful, all he'd allow for her first meal.  Then he settled her back onto the fur and they looked at each other.

"I think you should try to sleep," he said.

"Yes, I am tired," she lied, knowing the arousal that throbbed within her yet, would not allow rest.  "Can I have the compress back?"

Her question had been guileless but Dee could see he was unsure.  "You don't need it any more."

She probably never had.  "I want it," she persisted.  "My eyes feel sore."

He leant closer to look at them, his hair spilling over her breasts. 

"The right one especially," she said, pointing at it.  

He touched the pad of a finger to the delicate skin beneath her eye and drew down the bottom lashes, leaning closer.  The silky strands of hair slid up her chest, caressing the hardened nipples that strained towards him.  She held her breath.

"I can't see any damage." 

"Well it hurts."  She stared at his lips, memorizing them for future reference.

"Are you sure?"  He straightened, his hair sliding off her chest. 

She let out a shaky breath.  "Definitely," she said, and a moment later felt the familiar light pressure over her eyes.  Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled.  "Thank you.  I might want it on for a few days yet.  I hope that won't be inconvenient."

Dee heard no sigh of relief but was sure it was there.  "We'll... work something out," he said.

"Good.  And by the way, thank you for saving my life."

There was a pause.  She felt a touch on her forehead, light fingers brushing her fringe back.  Then the hand was gone.

"That's what Champions are for," he said enigmatically and Dee wished she could see the expression on his face. 

She wished that many times over the next few days.  But curiosity was easily subdued when the reward was a return to their earlier intimacy. 

Exactly as she'd suspected, as soon as the compress was back in place, she had but to feign sleep and he would lavished her body with attention.

Deliciously slow sponge-baths that made every nerve in her body tingle with anticipation were followed by drying with the softest of furs.  He would linger over her throat and the top of her chest before floating over her straining nipples on his way down to tease her inner thighs and the back of her knees.

It was heaven and hell.  She struggled with herself in an effort to lay still, so desperate became her need.  But she knew to wait.  The cream would be next.  He applied that at least five times a day, many more times than were necessary, she was sure, but as with the first, each time he gave her the release she craved. 

The waking hours were different.  At first he was distant with her, but the handicap of her dark world soon drew him in and he began to talk, about the beliefs of his people and their connection with the land.  In turn, Dee told him of the country of her birth, and her childhood among the pastureland, the dams and the stately gums. 

Neither made reference to their lives immediately prior to Never Land, and in that Dee was content.  She could maintain the fantasy Peter had constructed for her and also avoid the subject of women in Long Shadow's past, which whenever she thought of it, bothered her.  Despite the fact that he was clearly experienced, she wanted to think she was the only woman he'd touched.  And so, in the fantasy, she did.