Night Hunter (12 page)

He stepped toward her.

She stumbled, closed the distance between them.

He reached for her, but at the last instant, she sidestepped him. Releasing herself, she took possession of his cock and either dropped to her knees or collapsed. Truth was, she didn’t remember planning this in advance. Mouth open, not believing how lustful she felt, she looked up at him. He didn’t move, gazed at her through hooded eyes, waited for her.

No more waiting.

Leaning toward him, she licked the head of his shaft. A drop of semen was already there. Capturing it, she pulled it into her mouth. Another drop instantly formed, and she kept her attention fixed on his great, commanding cock, even now only half comprehending that he was letting her do this to him. Last time he’d been the one in control, the one doing. Quite possibly he still held the balance of power.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing escaped her wet tongue. She laved the opening slit, pressed the tip of her tongue into it and tasted his sweet, salty come. She couldn’t believe her boldness or how erotic the act. Almost before she knew it was happening, an intense shudder shook her. She tilted on the edge of a climax.

Go for it! Let it happen.

No, not yet. This is about him. Him!

She sucked in air, but instead of it calming her, she inhaled Laird’s earthy scent. Refusing to touch herself, she pushed out with her pelvic muscles and panted, taking shallow breaths so his scent couldn’t reach her again. After a hard and exhausting minute, her body merely hummed, no longer burning its way to explosion. Waiting. Content. For now.

Although she hadn’t had nearly enough of tasting his come, she didn’t trust herself to go back to doing that. Neither, however, could she make herself leave his cock. Living in the moment, she turned her attention to the corona, gliding over sensitive flesh until he gasped and grabbed a handful of her hair. Just like a man, he was ready to get down to business.

But not yet. Not yet.

Settling herself lower on her knees, she took his balls in one hand, his cock in the other. She tried counting sheep, remembering the names of all the states, even mentally designing her dream home. None of those distractions worked. Giving up and hoping that her commitment to keep him rooted in today’s world would be enough to keep her under control, she gently drew on his scrotum until his balls retreated into his body, then let up on the pressure until they emerged. Control could be heady…not that she really knew since she couldn’t stop her pelvis’s rhythmic thrusts, the need to press her butt cheeks together.

To have him fill her.

A fresh droplet appeared at the tip of his penis, and she licked it away, then moistened her lips, opened her mouth even more and breathed a hot breath on him. His grip on her hair increased. The tension helped distract her from her just-out-of-reach climax, but it didn’t hurt.

Looking up at him, she showed him her wet tongue and lips before licking the base of his shaft. Inch by inch, she worked her way up the rigid column, then ran her tongue around the sensitive underside of his head. He moaned, the sound low and primal. A twin groan escaped her.

No longer able to ignore her inflamed cunt, she released his balls and caught one of her nether lips between thumb and forefinger. Her clit slipped free of its sheath, and she turned her attention to it, teasing and touching. Groaning.

Half mad, she swung her tongue around and around his knob, lingering at the underside because it obviously gave him so much pleasure. He clamped his hands over the sides of her head, holding her in place, pressing his cock against her lips. For a moment—only a moment—she resisted his thrust. Then, with her forefinger deep inside her cunt and curving forward toward her aching clit, she drew his cock into her, and closed her lips around the knob. She sucked gently, moistened him with her saliva, and tilted her head so she could accommodate perhaps half his length. Her forefinger danced between the lips of her cunt. Her nail feathered her clit, causing her to sob deep in her throat.

Her pelvis, beyond her control, drove toward him, begging him to somehow complete what she was doing to herself. She was aware of nothing except his size inside her mouth, filling her. No longer gave a damn about making it last.

He began an urgent and disjointed thrust and retreat, thrust and retreat. Somehow she kept pace, sliding her lips back up to the tip of his cock and flicking her tongue against it. She twisted her head from side to side, up and down, around and around. She sucked—sometimes gently, sometimes hard.

His cock touched the back of her throat, half gagging her and driving her insane at the same time. She swallowed, briefly catching and trapping him.

He again grabbed twin handfuls of her hair and forced her face even closer to him. His muff tickled her nose, adding to her pleasure. He pierced her throat over and over again, grunted and fought for breath. She repeatedly flicked her clit, duplicating his thrusts. Even with him deep in her, she moaned, moaned again.

His powerful hips pounded away, grinding and jerking. She danced to his rhythm, found one of her own, and melted the two together. The Everglades hissed and hummed, steamy heat rose around her. She felt herself diving into the heat, didn’t give a damn how much came from her surroundings and how much she was responsible for.

Fighting off her climax earlier had been exhausting, but she’d become strong again—a marathoner heading for Olympic gold.

Let it rip! Let it come.

It didn’t matter which of them broke out in a sweat first, who had the first climax, even who lasted the longest.

Higher. Even higher. To the mountaintop. Standing on it, arms flung wide and accomplishment hurtling through her.

Done.

Done and begun.

Someone was trying to get her attention, but she wanted to remain inside the fog and concentrate on her still-purring nerve endings. She’d never felt so weak—or satisfied. So encompassed by male sexuality. She was vaguely aware of aching jaws and a burning in her chest, probably from breathing so deep and fast.

“Mala?”

Laird! She’d know that voice anywhere.

“What?” Her throat felt raw and she tasted his come.

“Too fast.”

“What—no it wasn’t,” she protested, although her plan had been to slowly drive him crazy. To make him her sex slave. “It was perfect.”

She’d collapsed onto her haunches following her climax and was now curled up in something approaching a fetal position. Somehow her underwear had wound up around her ankles, and she felt hog tied. Eventually she’d have to do something about it. He’d knelt beside her and was massaging the back of her neck. From his glazed expression, she guessed he wasn’t thinking about what he was doing. Just the same, the tender gesture brought her to tears.

“Nothing like this has ever happened to me,” she started, then wound up laughing. “No kidding. I’d dare say it’s new for you too. Maybe not the sex, but why we’re here.”

She turned so she could study his features. He’d stopped massaging her neck and remained on his knees scant inches away. Strangely, she felt as if she’d known him forever, yet had never seen him before. One thing: her half-assed plan to control him through sex had backfired. Royally. “Have you ever fucked in the Everglades?”

“It does not matter.”

She wanted to believe that, to agree with him and not have to think about the women who’d come before and why he’d changed everything about her, but she couldn’t.

“I nearly got married last year,” she told him.

“Why did you not?”

“A lot of reasons. We’d been going together for a couple of years and when he asked me…he was kind, considerate. Brought me flowers and always wanted to know what I wanted, you know, in bed.”

“Why did you not marry him?”

The answer was beyond complex and yet unbelievably simple. She ran her fingers over Laird’s chest, not stopping until she was halfway down his flat belly. She wanted to claw at his belly until she found her way inside, wanted his blood to run over her fingers.

“Because we never fucked.” She laughed again, delighted that she could say the word. “We had sex. He called it making love, so I guess that’s what it was. In bed with the lights out. Sometimes soft music on the stereo and sometimes with wine on the nightstand.”

She absently—or maybe not too absently—massaged first one of his hip bones and then the other. If anyone asked, she’d say yes, she was content to spend the rest of the day sitting here looking at Laird’s naked body. Touching him.

“You and I have not fucked,” he said.

That caught her attention. From the first time she’d seen him, she’d thought of precious little else, but he was right. Despite all the liberties he’d taken with her, and she with him, his cock had yet to bury itself inside her.

She didn’t know how he felt about her masturbating and didn’t feel bold enough to ask him. Maybe he believed that the only way a woman could, or should, satisfy herself was with a man’s cock buried in her. But she’d wanted to do everything possible to make his climax memorable. She thought she’d accomplished that. There was nothing wrong with getting a little pleasure out of it herself—more than a little, if truth be told.

With her memories swirling around her, she stretched out on her side, propped herself up on an elbow, and regarded him. After a few seconds, he did the same so they were reclining face to face, nude bodies inches from each other. He used the hand not engaged in supporting his powerful body to lift her slightly drooping breasts.

“A woman’s breasts,” he said from low in his throat. “Full.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Much as she enjoyed having him explore her, now that sanity had returned, she acknowledged that she’d come for much more than sex. “What’s it like? Being where you are now, what does it feel like?”

“I am learning. I know they are my people. For the first time in my life, I have a family. But I am a stranger to their world.”

He’d been speaking in that distinctive way again, as if English wasn’t his native language. Determined to keep the commitment she’d made to return him to the only world he’d known, she rolled toward him. He met her halfway, his lips parted. She opened her mouth and sealed the contact.

It was, she realized, their first true kiss. Tears filled her throat. Desire stirred inside her, and yet it went deeper than lust. If she wasn’t careful, she might fall in love with him and love, with his world turned on end and hers ruled by passion, could shatter her. Later, please, when all this was behind them, they’d talk about where their relationship was going and what each of them was capable of bringing to it—at least she hoped they could.

Determined not to lose sight of that hard reality, she nonetheless ran her tongue over his teeth before nibbling on his lower lip. His hold on her breast tightened.

Without warning, her supporting left arm went numb, forcing her to roll onto her back. She flexed her elbow. “Old age catching up to me,” she admitted. “Either that or I weigh more than I used to.”

“Your weight is perfect.” He demonstrated his approval by scrunching closer and spanning both her breasts with one large hand. As he drew them together, she glanced at his cock. So much for having spent himself a few minutes before. She slid her hand under the swollen shaft and supported it and his balls as best she could.

“So is yours,” she whispered.

He chuckled. The sound made her wonder what it would take to have that laughter freely given. His laughter felt like a gift, something she’d cherish forever.

“Have you ever been to Disney World?” she asked despite the distraction of what she held and was beginning to feel again. Discovering his layers was vital. “Living here in Florida, maybe when you were a child—”

“No.”

She swallowed back tears. “That says so much, doesn’t it? A boy no one thought to take to Disney World.”

“It does not matter.”

Yes it does! And soon, somehow, some way, they’d go there.

“What you need is a second childhood—a real first one, that is,” she told him with his manhood safely in her grasp. “Only you don’t feel like a child to me today.”

“I am not. And neither are you.”

Hopefully there’d be time for more conversation, but not now. Turning her attention to his balls, she squeezed them together. He responded by sitting up, straddling her, and supporting his weight on his knees which improved his access to her and freed his hands. His fingers tiptoed over her belly, lightly brushing her navel until she swore the sensation went clear through her.

“You’re ready for this?” she managed.

“Are you?”

She gave him her answer by shifting her hold on his cock, spreading her fingers as far apart as they’d go so she cradled his entire length. Doing so gave her an intense sensation of power. At the same time, she felt a little the way she had once when a hurricane had come dangerously close to where she lived before veering away.

Almost before it registered, he’d slid his hands under the back of her knees, drawing them first up and then out. Forced to release his penis, she grabbed his wrists and arched her back, increasing his access to her.

You’re a mare in heat, aren’t you?
she asked herself.

So? Is there anything you’d rather do than get mounted?

No,
she answered herself as he slipped his fingers through her muff, paused at the entrance to her pussy. Leaving her nether lips untouched, he pressed into the crease between legs and cunt and rubbed until she lifted her hips off the ground, begging him to fill her.

He ignored her, increased the torture by now repeatedly brushing his thumbnail over her cunt as if he was painting it. Staring at him, she noted that he was looking at her, bold and intense as if memorizing her core’s contours. When she’d first become aware of the sensations the area between her legs was capable of, she’d been almost afraid of herself. Even now, even when she played with herself, she almost never looked at her sex organs.

Because she’d been repressed or afraid of herself before he’d come into her life?