by Jade Carr
"You know who I am?"
"Of course."
"Do I know you?"
"Good question."
Chapter 9
Lowering himself so far his heels had to be pressing against his buttocks, the man leaned toward her and claimed her space. As his hands stole over her forearms, her already erect nipples tightened into pulsing points.
"Where did I come from?" His breath slithered over her breasts. "Out of the ocean, yes, but how did I get there. and where was I before?"
"I don't know, damn it."
"Then I'll tell you. From inside your mind."
"You—you're saying I imagined you?"
"In a way. Have you ever had a dream this vivid?"
Oh, a dream. But she'd never had one with a complex conversation, a sense of smell, or the wonder of touch.
"Am I to conclude that you're confused?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Let me see what I can do about that. First, do you feel safe?"
Wasn't that supposed to be her question? After all, she had hold of his most prized possession. "I want to."
"Terena, I need you to do something for me. It isn't what I want, but right now, my needs don't matter."
The more she considered what he'd just said, the more confused she became. Not only that, she was losing circulation in the arm under her, and the effort of staying on her side was distracting her from her hungering body.
"Relax," he said. "Let go of me and roll onto your back. Let me take over."
A million years ago, Aunt Lenmana had warned her not to let a man stomp through her world the way her mother had let happen too many times, but surely her aunt hadn't been talking about moments like this.
And even if she had, it was too late.
On a sigh, Terena did as he said and positioned herself so she was looking up at his indistinct outline. Her hands ached with the loss. What was it he'd said? A question, something about maybe them already having had sex. Why couldn't she think?
"Your need brought me here," he said, making her wonder if he'd read her mind. "Now let me thank you for it."
His breath left heated moisture on her already damp skin. Little as he'd said, should she feel so much heat on her throat, between her breasts, and along her right shoulder?
"Who am I, Terena? Real or imagined?"
That wasn't a voice. Rather, she sensed the words' essence throughout her. Feeling even more alive than when she'd cradled his cock, she tried to place her arms around his neck. Shaking his head, he captured her forearms, crossed one wrist over the other, and placed them on her belly. He didn't need to say a word for her to understand he expected her to leave them there.
"Real," she muttered. "You're real."
"Are you sure?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Maybe nothing."
Before she could decide whether to respond, a warm, damp mouth engulfed the breast closest to him. The drawing, grinding sensation sped to her spine. She pressed her crossed hands against her belly in a crazed attempt to keep her arousal under control. He tightened his mouth and the hold he had on her breast and straightened, bringing her breast with him. She loved the feel of her stretched-out flesh, loved the way her nipple pressed against his mouth. Perhaps most of all, she loved the loss of control over her world and body.
Sand-dusted fingers slid over her pubic hair and ignited sparks throughout her mons. A flame sped to her clit, and she gasped.
"No fair. How do you expect me to answer your damn crazy questions if you—"
Not letting go of her breast, he mumbled something. Adding vibration to heat was all it took for her to arch her back. She couldn't see much beyond a blur, but did she really want anything except sensation? When he fell silent, she tried to ease back onto the beach towel. He opened his mouth a little so her breast started to slide out. Fearing the impending loss, she leaned toward him. He backed off, catching her nipple between his teeth as he did. The change from soft mouth to something with the ability to injure forced her to try to ignore her sexual response.
He ran his wet tongue over her nipple. Another spark nipped at her core, and she sucked in a breath through flared nostrils. His chuckle caused more delicious vibrations to attack her. Wanting more of everything, she slowly drew her upper body away from him.
Sudden pressure on it flattened her free breast against her rib cage. Determining that his hand was responsible was the easy part. Trying to handle yet another layer of sensation was quite another. Maybe she didn't care.
Yes, that was it. Simply let go and let her body respond!
A third, or was it a fourth, electrical spark burned her. This time more than her pussy reacted. Twisting did nothing to kill the heat. If anything, her movements fed the flames. Beyond caring whether he'd disapprove because her hands were no longer where he'd positioned them, she ran a hand between her legs. Hot moisture reinforced what she already knew.
"Having fun, are you?" he asked.
"I wouldn't call it that. Look, you want me to determine whether we've had sex, right? There's only one way for me to do that. I need to experience—"
"Not yet."
"Not yet? Damn you."
The delicious attack on her nipple continued to sear a trail to her pussy. Desperate to feed her response, she stroked her wet core. Flames built. Another moan burst free.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
The sudden loss of his teeth and tongue on her breast that accompanied his question rendered her incapable of responding. She reached up with her free hand, wrapped her arm around his neck, and tried to draw him down to her.
He easily pulled free. "My rules."
"What if I don't like them?"
"You will."
His sensual voice was nearly more than she could handle. Between it, her cooling, drying breast, and the pulsing inside, she longed for the strength to attack this damn potent man and bring him down to her level.
Yes! She'd wrestle him into submission, climb on top of him with her legs spread wide so his cock had no choice but to slip into her. Once she'd imprisoned him—
"My way. My rules."
Even with everything she was trying to keep a lid on, she recognized a threat. Just then, he pulled her hand off her sex. Furious, she slapped his chest. It felt like striking a tree trunk.
"I don't think you want to do that," he said, "because my guess is you're going to like my way."
"That's the problem. You want to call the shots."
"Because I know what I'm doing."
Weight against her mons drew her attention there. The more times he rolled the heel of his hand over her there, the deeper the sensation became. It took all her will to massage where she'd struck him, but hopefully he knew she was apologizing. When his fingers slipped between her legs, she patted his forearm in silent approval.
"You're right." She bent her knees outward. "I do like."
He took his sweet time exploring her sensitive flesh. He wasn't deliberately being cruel, she told herself. He simply wanted her to anticipate. The way he ignored her pulsing nub while touching her everywhere else had her tossing her head in frustration and anticipation.
She tried to keep her touch light and teasing as she ran her fingers over his forearm, but every time she put her mind to what she was doing, he pushed her ever closer to the sensual edge. His forefinger—at least she thought that was what he was using—sank a fraction of an inch inside her. Then his finger went still.
Confused, she stopped moving.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "You forgot what you're doing?"
"What was I doing?"
"Maybe looking forward to climbing into bed and getting some sleep?"
The notion of being able to fall asleep was so far off her radar she couldn't wrap her mind around it. She tightened her hold on his arm. His finger dove a little deeper. Awoke more nerves.
"There," she whispered. "Like that."
He brushed one nipple and then the other. B
linking the world into focus, she shivered every time his hand descended on a breast. To say there was a rhythm to what he was doing was a lie. He teased one breast until it became so sensitive she squirmed. Just when she was certain she couldn't take it anymore, he abandoned it and finger-kissed the other. Then he returned to the one he'd been assaulting.
She breathed like a race horse.
When she'd been—or believed that's where she was—in the water, she'd loved how the waves massaged her flesh. Her hopefully lover-to-be was doing the same and more. By turns, she all but levitated off the towel only to sink back to earth. He was tearing her apart with nothing more than a masculine finger just inside her and his other hand taunting her breasts.
"Who am I, Terena?"
"I don't care."
"You should." Bending low, he ran his tongue between her breasts. Her legs trembled.
"If you want me to concentrate, you'll have to stop what you're doing."
He licked again. "Is that what you want?"
Turned on, she lifted her butt off the ground. The finger at her sex slipped deeper.
She might not know his name, but that didn't mean she didn't know what a man wanted. Turning the woman on was a necessary part of his having sex, nothing more. Fighting to ignore the tongue now bathing her breast, she arched even farther off the ground. When she could go no higher, she willed her sex to clamp on to him while fighting her straining thigh muscles.
"Don't leave me," she begged.
"What makes you think I will?"
"You're a stranger."
"No, I'm not."
His words caressed her, and she settled back down. He stayed with her. "I don't understand," she admitted.
"Neither do I."
At his note of uncertainty, she brushed his cheek. Then, somehow, her hand was on his throat and from there to his shoulder. When she reached his chest, he sighed and pressed his mouth against her breast. The finger inside her crawled deeper.
"I want to trust you," she admitted as her body threatened to fly apart.
"You can. For now."
Now was good enough. She wouldn't ask for more. Letting her arms sink to her sides, she willed relaxation throughout her. Gave herself up to him.
Her lover, this man who expected too much from her, took her body and made it his. He didn't stimulate her so much as teach her what her pussy was capable of feeling. It didn't matter whether he touched her with his mouth or hand, it was all good. She'd floated before during foreplay, but never like this. Never with every cell. Never mindless.
She wasn't just aroused, more like disconnected from everything except sensation. Awareness nibbled at her spine and heels, spun around her clit, and awakened her hair follicles.
Wanting to thank him, she reached for him. One hand slid down his arm while the other found purchase on his shoulder. She held on and breathed in his scent.
His familiar scent.
"I love the way you smell," he said.
"I was just thinking the same thing."
Had he been waiting for an invitation? It didn't matter, because suddenly he was straddling her. His finger was no longer inside her. Much as she mourned the loss, his cock dragging over her belly made up for it. She guided him toward her opening. His cock kissed her. Then suddenly he was gone.
He rematerialized so sudden she nearly believed she'd imagined the loss, but even as he filled her, she dug her fingers into his arms to keep him with her. This man whose name she didn't know belonged to her tonight. He'd brought her so far. She wouldn't let him go until he'd finished what he'd started. Until he'd given her answers.
He drove deep, opening her and straining her inner tissues. His balls pressed against her. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks and pushed her heels into him. He loomed over her, a massive presence. With her, damn it. No more disappearing act.
Heaven and hell.
"Now," he said. "Now."
"Yes. Oh, shit, yes."
He didn't just fuck her, he attacked. Muscles designed for a physical life pounded at her with every thrust. Her head spun, her skin burned, and she loved it. Loved him! Clung to him while he repeatedly pulled back only to assault her. She gave no quarter, refused to be passive. As far as she was concerned, she became part of him, holding on while fighting to close her sex muscles around the invasion. She'd grant him release, hell, yes. But not yet. Not until…
Sweat ran between her breasts and coated the small of her back. His breathing reminded her of a thoroughbred at the end of a race, and hers was no better. They sounded like horses fucking, a mare in heat and a powerful, potent stud.
Awareness slipped away until only the mountain she desperately needed to climb remained. Selfish and eager, she lifted her ass off the ground and set herself so she'd be ready for his next thrust. His strength knocked her down again. Even more willful, she drew as far away from him as she could. Holding her breath, she drove forward and up, meeting him in the middle. His strength melted into her, and she fed off it.
Everything fell apart. She saw the mountaintop but couldn't reach it. Then she was there, sweating and crying out. Gripping him with everything she had while he emptied himself inside her. Her climax tossed her about, refused to end.
Gulping in air, she gave herself up to the explosion.
When she was done, when she had nothing left to give or receive, she let her mind go to his question about whether they'd had sex before. She didn't know, damn it. Maybe. Maybe not.
"What's your name?" she asked when she could speak.
"What do you need it to be?"
Nokoni.
Maybe Hah-Tee.
Maybe both of them.
Chapter 10
Terena pulled over to the side of the street opposite the motel and convention center near Tuba City. She rested her head against the back of her seat. Darn it, she wasn't going to relive last night's erotic dream! Time to put that insanity behind her. Insanity and arousal.
She half expected Quana to call again as he'd done several times during her trip here. Because she didn't access her cell while driving, she hadn't listened to his three messages until she'd stopped for gas. Alerted by his concerned tone, she'd called him back.
She was fine, she told him, had no intention of seeing Nokoni or Hah-Tee again, nothing for him to worry about. As she'd expected, he'd sounded skeptical and still worried.
"I need to talk to some people," he'd said at the end. "Once I have, hopefully I'll be able to tell you more than I have."
Instead of pushing as she'd wanted to, she'd told him she'd wait to hear from him.
"Be careful," he'd finished with.
Of what, she'd wanted to demand, but if Quana had been able to tell her, he already would have.
In other words, she had no idea what, if anything, she'd learn or when. Good thing. She had more than that on her mind. She sat up and took in her surroundings.
Her aunt had sent her pictures of the three-story motel, but they hadn't done it justice. The structure, which had been built on Hopi land, was a rough replication of an ancient village. Traditional Hopi houses had been built from stone while this place was all modern construction. Just the same, the varied-level flat roofs, stone-fronted walls, and natural colors took her back to her childhood. She couldn't think of a better way to entice visitors to travel through the reservation.
After taking several pictures, she drove across the street and parked in front of the hotel. As she was dropping the key in her purse, she caught sight of the scrap of paper with the California license number she'd written down. She hadn't thrown it away yet.
Still holding her camera, Terena walked under the large overhang and through the front door of the hotel. The open-concept lobby took her breath away. A stone fireplace dominated most of one wall while vertical timbers drew her attention upward to evocative Southwest paintings. A number of insets held Hopi baskets, while the furniture carried out similar Indian patterns. Browns and rusts dominated. Feeling dwarfed, she walked pa
st the reception area and headed toward a photographic display that had been set up near the middle of the large space. Aunt Lenmana had told her she'd be here for a couple of days demonstrating dry-farming methods at an expo. Seeing photographs that had been taken more than a hundred years ago in a modern setting was a bit disconcerting, but she was pleased that people were looking at them.
A familiar voice stopped her in midstride. Just like that, she became a child again, one who'd turned to her aunt for love and guidance because her mother hadn't known how to fill that role. The voice came from behind a bank of photographs. She walked around it.
Aunt Lenmana was in Hopi dress from her deep purple, long-sleeved top to a bright red ankle-length skirt. Terena recognized the exquisite turquoise-and-silver necklace her aunt's father had made. A wide leather belt was decorated with more turquoise while silver bands covered both of her aunt's wrists. Her long, graying hair flowed over her shoulders.
Seeing her aunt in her finery instead of the practical jeans she usually wore warmed Terena's heart. No matter how far her job took her from where she'd been raised, this woman would always represent her roots.
"Let's say it's a matter of agreeing to disagree," her aunt told the sixty-something couple facing her. "The Navajo are hardly the enemy they once were, but I'm not sure we're ever going to be fully compatible neighbors."
"Why is that?" the woman asked.
"The Navajo reservation surrounds ours. They have their ways, and we have ours. Besides, disagreeing with the Navajo gives us something to do."
All three chuckled. Then the man asked if it was true that cameras weren't allowed in the Hopi villages, and her aunt nodded. "Our kivas—and every village has several—are sacred. We use them for meditation, prayer, and our ceremonies. Our most important spirit beings are kachinas. They don't approve of outsiders stealing what they consider sacred images."
"What happens if an image is, ah, stolen via photography?" the woman asked. "I'm sure people have taken pictures when they aren't supposed to."
Aunt Lenmana sighed. "All my life I've heard the kachinas might get so angry they'll withhold rain. There's little enough of it here. Any less would be a real hardship."