Night of Fire

by Vonna Harper

  “If you have to ask that, you don’t understand men. Honey, we’ll take it any time, any way we can get it.”

  Not quite sure what he meant, she nevertheless smiled at him. She didn’t feel comfortable taking off her belt and dagger, but most times people didn’t have sex with clothes on. The shadows didn’t completely hide the other couples, but none of them would care what she and Taurus did.

  He watched, still and alert, as she untied the gold-dyed hemp belt and lowered it and the sacred dagger to the ground. Then she lifted the gown over her head, folded it and placed it beside the dagger.

  “I am ready,” she said.

  “Shit.” Shaking his head in time with the drumming, he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the garment she hadn’t known how to unfasten. His top was held together with small stones that effortlessly gave way under his experienced fingers. She thought about asking him why he dressed that way. Then she looked down at his seed-maker and forgot the question.

  Male horse and cow sex organs were much bigger than humans, but she’d never quite gotten used to the difference between how a man looked when he was going about his work and when his seed was ready to be spilled. Taurus’ organ looked larger than any man’s she’d seen, maybe because he was part bull. She didn’t see how it could possibly fit inside her.

  And yet the thought of feeling him in there caused her breath to catch and the place between her legs to swell slightly.

  He was naked. Seeing him standing there, his hands extending toward her, waiting for her, flooded her body with heat. Her lips, breasts, belly, and baby-place buzzed. She couldn’t move.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  He is your destiny.

  “I—nothing.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. Then he fastened his hands around her elbows and drew her to him. Light from the fire she could no longer see painted the sky. Her bones, skin, muscles felt the everything-music, but maybe he was responsible for her strange new and wonderful reaction.

  He bent his head toward her, and she found the courage to meet her mate. At first all she could think about was how soft his lips were. Then he parted them, and she opened hers in response, his tongue entered her mouth. She hadn’t known that would happen, her initial impulse was to bite him.

  His seed-maker ground into her belly, hard and huge and demanding. She felt her legs weaken. Something was growing up inside her, some part of her she’d never suspected existed making itself known. Sensitive. As demanding as his organ.

  She wouldn’t bite his tongue after all. Instead, she’d let him do what he wanted with her mouth. And because they wanted to, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

  His tongue probed and challenged, filling her and lighting even more of a blaze between her legs. Her parents had grunted and groaned, sometimes even screamed when they were having sex, but she didn’t think they’d been in pain or they wouldn’t have done it so often. Now she began to understand.

  By forcing her thoughts, at least a little, off what was happening inside her mouth, she concentrated on her fingers. A bull was all muscle and hair, but the man Taurus’ skin was nearly as soft as a child’s—at least the flesh over his buttocks was. Starting with the lightest of touches, she grew increasingly bolder, exploring everything she could reach.

  He must be ticklish because he kept shivering. When she sucked her belly and hips away from him so she could explore what of him existed between his pelvic bones, he withdrew his tongue and stood, still shivering, as if thinking of nothing except what she was doing.

  She’d touched his seed-maker before, it should be easy to do so again. But the first time she hadn’t felt so alive and hungry up inside herself. Still, because he’d soon place it in her, she needed to be certain about its length and breadth. At least that’s what she told herself.

  It was amazing that something capable of growing so large could feel like silk and stone at the same time. It was ribbed with what surely must be blood-filled veins. On top, she found nothing except an intriguing knob and warm moisture.

  Moisture? Had he already spilled himself? No, that couldn’t be, she concluded as she continued her exploration because—because it made her feel soft and full and alive inside to do so. There was so little fluid, surely much more was needed to hold the precious things that would become a new life. How would she get him to release more? Was there something she should be doing that she wasn’t?

  “You’re making me crazy.”

  His voice was a growl and came from deep inside him. His skin was becoming sweat-soaked, and he kept rocking from side to side. When her father was inside her mother, his buttocks pumped back and forth, back and forth almost like a drummer’s hand.

  “I do not mean to make you do that thing—crazy,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You have to ask? Ah, how important is foreplay to you?”

  She’d never heard the word. “It does not matter.”

  “Get right to the main course. Is that what you mean?”

  Not at all sure, she tried to think what he wanted. Her father always seemed pleased and tired after he’d had sex. Surely Taurus wanted to feel the same way. Besides, she wanted to get the first time over so she wouldn’t feel so uncertain.

  “The main course, yes,” she told him. She hoped she’d said the right thing.

  “Lady, you’re incredible.”

  She wasn’t a lady, she was a maiden. Now that she was no longer exploring his seed-maker, he’d stopped moving in that jerky way. She’d focus on getting him going again. That way, hopefully, he would take over.

  He was enough taller that she didn’t see how they could come together while standing up. Besides, usually her parents had sex in bed, although sometimes her father took her mother from behind or her mother would fasten herself to his hips. Thoroughly confused, she looked down. If she lay on her back—

  “Wait,” Taurus said. “We’ll use our clothes.”

  Chapter Four

  His shirt protected her back from brush and rocks while his slacks provided a cushion for her buttocks. As soon as he’d spread out his clothes, she’d lain down and spread her legs because that’s what she’d seen maidens do at Bel-fire. She wasn’t sure whether he approved because he’d again shaken his head and muttered incredible several times, but then he’d lowered himself between her legs, his knees pressing against her inner thighs.

  For a moment she’d felt trapped, but then he’d leaned over her and kissed her breasts.

  He was still kissing them—occasionally taking one and then the other nipple into his mouth and washing them with his tongue. Why he’d want to do that was beyond her comprehension unless he didn’t think she was clean enough, but it felt so good! Her skin where he bathed her tingled in a way she felt all the way to her woman-place. Again she tried to comprehend how he was going to get his organ inside her and whether she needed to do anything to help him insert it, but she felt so alive that it was nearly impossible to think. Soft and hot at the same time.

  When her woman’s moon-cycle had begun, her mother had shown her how to use cloth and leaves to absorb the blood and had given her an herb tea to take away her belly cramps. She’d complained that she didn’t like this part of being a woman, and her mother had laughed and told her it was worth it. Back then she’d wondered if her mother was making fun of her.

  She no longer did. Becoming a woman meant feeling alive in ways the child she’d once been couldn’t have comprehended. Yes, she was here because her clan needed Taurus, but so did she.

  Somewhere beyond her sight, people were singing and clapping, and the drums seemed to be getting even louder and more urgent, but she didn’t care. In fact, the noise added to her pleasure. Taurus had an amazing amount of her breast in his mouth and now his hand—his hand was between her legs.

  The moment he touched her in that fascinating place, she felt something ooze out of her, but she didn’t think it was blood. This felt nothing like her m
oon cycle, more as if her baby-place were readying itself for him.

  She wanted—needed him inside her.

  When he used his fingers to push apart the two flaps of flesh there, she stopped existing anywhere else. She couldn’t remember how to breathe, and her hips didn’t want to remain on the ground. Instead, they lifted toward him, and her legs spread even wider without her telling them to—at least she didn’t think she had.

  His finger pushed deeper inside her to the most sensitive place on her body, the place that so often fascinated her. It was all she could do not to clamp her pelvis muscles around that finger so he’d keep it there forever. Putting her own fingers up in her had been pleasurable but nothing like this. She didn’t think a man’s hand had anything to do with making a baby or spilling seed, but that was all right. More than all right!

  He released her breast. “You’re tight in there,” he said.

  “I am sorry.” Had she disappointed him? If only he’d tell her what to do!

  “Sorry? Lady, a snug fit is what all men dream of.”

  That was good, wasn’t it? Eager to increase his pleasure, she again tilted her pelvis toward him and bent her knees outward. She wished she could see what he was doing. Much as she’d loved having him play at nursing her, she was more interested in having her opening explored.

  “Damn. You’re amazing.”

  He was still up inside her, but his finger jerked and slid here and there, she felt his legs brush against her right thigh. After blinking several times, she managed to get her vision to clear and saw that he’d repositioned himself so he was now stretched beside her, propped up on an elbow, staring at what she’d offered him.

  “Amazing?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t have a single, solitary hang-up, do you? What are you, some leftover flower child?”

  Did they speak the same language? So much of what he said made no sense. “Flowers, yes. Without them there can be no Bel-fire.”

  “Yeah, right. Whatever.”

  She was afraid he’d say something else she didn’t understand and she’d have to pull her mind off the sensations he’d ignited inside her, but he scooted down a little, probably so he could have a clearer look at her opening. His finger continued dancing inside her.

  No, not dancing—something more.

  Although she’d explored up inside herself and found the experience so enjoyable that she had no intention of quitting, it had never felt like this. Instead of checking to see if her cave was large enough to nurture a baby as she’d done, he seemed more interested in touching her here, there, everywhere. Some part of her seemed to be trying to push out. It was getting larger, more sensitive, she was positive of that. And when he touched it—

  “Ah! Oh…”

  “Like that, do you?”

  “Yes! Yes!”

  “I mean to please.”

  What was he doing now? Although her head roared, she struggled to comprehend. All those nooks, crannies and pieces inside her felt as if they were on fire and would blaze until she lost consciousness. In contrast, her arms and legs felt as if they’d been weighed down with rocks. It couldn’t be, yet she wouldn’t be surprised to find a burning brand resting on her belly.

  Her cave was now full, crammed with him. Not one finger but two. Maybe—maybe more?

  He kept touching, what?

  “I…I cannot breathe!”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “No one’s ever died from being finger-fucked.” She thought he said something else, but she couldn’t concentrate. Now he scooted into a sitting position and placed a hand over her mouth. The other—thank goodness—continued to plug her. Continued to dance, run, tiptoe, maybe gallop.

  “Ah—”

  “Hush. Hush. Let it go. Just don’t telegraph it to the world.”

  Tiny volcanic eruptions spread over and up and through her cave. They raced to her belly, lightly hammered her breasts. She felt herself begin to fly off in all directions, half terrified, she tried to sit up.

  Before she could, he pulled out of her. Then he gripped her inner thighs and splayed her legs. He was there—his seed-maker probing her opening.

  Pushing into her.

  Shoving.

  Hard!

  The pleasure she’d been experiencing evaporated to be replaced by a sharp pain. She gasped.

  “Shit! No.”

  He was starting to withdraw, leaving her. No, that couldn’t be! He hadn’t spilled his seed inside her. The earth, and she, hadn’t been fertilized!

  Panicked, she clamped her legs as best she could around him and held him where she needed him. At the same time, she grabbed his shoulders with all her strength. Already the pain was fading.

  “No! Please! Feed me.”

  His seed-maker was still in her, filling her, it seemed, clear up to her navel. He couldn’t have felt more tense if he’d been a bow string. “You’re a virgin,” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Damn. Why didn’t you…?”

  She felt him start to draw back again and increased her hold on him. “Please,” she begged. “Please do this. Tonight. Now.”

  “Holy shit. What is this? You’re looking for a stud to take your cherry?”

  She knew what a stud was, and although there weren’t any cherry trees near where her people lived, they’d traded for the delicious dried fruit. “Yes,” she said, hoping that’s what he wanted to hear.

  “Shit.”

  “I—I have come so far,” she managed. “What I ask is not so much, is it? Surely it is not so hard for you do to.” If she kept him inside her, would a little of his seed dribble into her? Would it be enough?

  “Lady, this is hardly a hardship on me. But damn it, a virgin.”

  “I thought you would want—”

  “I want. Believe me, I want.” He took a ragged breath. “Shit, I’m going to burn in hell for this.”

  “No, you will not burn,” she said, although she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “I hope to hell you’re right. What a—you’re sure about this?”

  “Yes.” Yes!

  Apparently that was the answer he wanted to hear because he stopped trying to draw away and pushed himself deep into her again. While they’d been talking—and even before that when she’d felt the pain—she’d lost touch with at least some of her inner volcano. But its strength hadn’t been spent. It waited for her, ready to grow and heat again.

  How could a man be so strong? She understood the kind of muscles needed to hunt, farm, even fight, but this? He pushed and pushed at her, jolting both of them so she wasn’t sure she was still on the ground. Maybe he’d speared her and was carrying her along.

  Along where?

  Her cheeks were so very hot, as were her arms and breasts and stomach. Most of the fever, however, was centered in her baby-cave. She felt enough discomfort to know she’d be sore once their mating was over, not that it mattered.

  “Virgin. Virgin. Damn.”

  She wanted to tell him—tell him something. But he had become part of her. Her cave felt as if it were trying to empty itself and suck all of him into her at the same time. His thrusts increased in intensity, he grunted with each breath. Suddenly something warm and wet flooded her cave, and he rammed into her like a stallion mounting a mare. She rode the wave, sensed it rise up around her, cover her. Drown her.

  “Ah—ah!”

  Chapter Five

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?” Taron demanded when finally he could talk again. Maia—that was her name, wasn’t it?—was lying beside him, looking for all the world as if she’d been poleaxed. He wasn’t all the way back to the here and now himself, but enough progress had been made that he at least had a toehold on reality.

  “Would you not have mated with me if you had known?”

  Like him, she was drenched in sweat. He didn’t need to ask to know he wasn’t the only one who’d come. Shit, she’d had a climax during her first
sex act. Either he was stud of the year or this was one sexy broad.

  “Mated? All right, if that’s what you want to call it, who am I to argue? And no, I wouldn’t have gone at it the way I did if I’d known, that’s for sure,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You did not. Not really.”

  Noting that she was trembling, he pulled her onto her side and into his embrace. It was cool enough that they wouldn’t be able to lay here in the buff much longer, but he’d take all he could get. Hell, the last thing he wanted to do tonight—or for the foreseeable future—was let go of her.

  “Look, let’s don’t play games, all right?” he said. “The way you came on to me—hell, I figured you had more experience than I did, and that’s saying a lot.”

  When she didn’t ask for an accounting of his experiences and tentatively—at least it seemed tentative—curled down enough that she could kiss his nipple, he went on. “I’ve only had one other virgin. And since I was in a like condition, it was pretty awkward all the way around. You’re so uninhibited, prancing around the next thing to naked—what gives?”

  “Gives?”

  Guessing this was going to be another of those conversations that went nowhere, he tried to rub away the goose bumps on her shoulder. Before long, his effort progressed to what he could reach of her flattened breast with their bodies sealed together the way they were.

  “Look, I’d like to know one thing,” he managed despite the stirring of a certain part of his anatomy. “I need to know. Are you on the Pill? Maybe you’re wearing a patch. IUD?”

  “Yes,” she whispered after a too-long silence.

  If he’d been set up—”I’m holding you to that,” he said firmly. “Believe me, lady, you better not be lying to me.” She didn’t say anything, which made him feel more than a little uncomfortable. “You don’t sound as if you’re from around here,” he said in an attempt to pull more out of her. “Where do you live?”

  Instead of answering, she arched her back, giving him greater access to her breasts. Despite her somewhat roughened fingers and the calluses on her heels that told him she spent most of her time barefoot, the rest of her lush and freely offered body was silken. Maybe that’s what came from clean-living, not that he knew what she did for a living, where she came from, who the hell she was, whether she was wearing a wire and had been hired by the competition, unimportant things like that.