He growled, some of the irritation she felt showing in his expression. “That would violate our agreement.”
“Then perhaps I should go find someone who can instruct you on—”
Shoving her legs flat to the pelts, he buried his face between her thighs and feasted on her damp, needy flesh. Finally, finally. A smile stretched her lips wide, though she knew he couldn’t see it. She wanted to laugh, but his tongue thrust into her channel, lapping at the thick cream. Ela, but she’d never been so wet.
Sweat sheened her body, and the tent grew brighter with every moment as the sun rose, the day heating to match the way her blood boiled in her veins. Her muscles strained as she lifted herself into him, pressing as close to his mouth as she could. He licked her slit, suckling her clitoris while his fingers delved into her channel. He teased more moisture from her, hooking his digits so that he rubbed her in just the right place. Twisting in shameless ecstasy, she reached out to sink her nails into his shoulders. He jerked his fingers out of her, and she raked her nails over his skin for denying her what she wanted. He rumbled a laugh, and the vibrations had her writhing, the soft pelts she lay on stimulating her skin as she moved. Slipping his fingers downward, he stroked her anus. She froze, then opened her legs wide to give him access. He pushed in, his digits slick with her juices. Her muscles gripped him tight, and she had to concentrate to relax for his penetration. He added a second finger, working her open so he could thrust into her. She bit her lip on a whimper, shivers starting deep within her and spreading outward. Her sex flexed once, hard, and she knew she’d come soon. Another few plunges of his fingers, flicks of his tongue, and she’d shatter.
“Scream for me, Kadira. I want to hear how much I please you.”
He did please her. El and Ela, how he did. Panting for breath, she couldn’t drag in enough air to tell him. Her head tossed on the thick furs, and her sex spasmed every time he stroked her with his hand and tongue. The way he made her feel was so very fine. Nothing had ever been this sweet before, made her experience such a rush of elation. It was terrifying. It was perfection.
Thrusting his fingers deep into her ass, he blew a cool breath over her slick, swollen pussy. “Scream, Kadira. Now is the time for worship, not restraint. Scream to the heavens.”
She wanted to. She tried. Her mouth opened in a silent shriek, and when he withdrew his hand and pounded in again, every muscle inside her locked tight. His mouth closed over her clit, and she went off like one of his volatile concoctions. Her heels pressed to the pelts, and she arched high while he worked her faster and faster, dragging her into oblivion. When she could breath again, she collapsed back to the pallet, her entire body quaking.
Lunging upward, he shoved his cock deep inside her, and a broken cry bubbled from her throat.
“Good enough,” he rasped. One, two, three strokes, and he shook as he joined her in ecstasy. He slammed deep, grinding hard against her clit and she imploded. Orgasm crashed over her again like a raging sandstorm, sucking and swirling around her, battering at her defenses. She clung to him, an anchor in the storm, the only link to sanity she could find.
She held him close when it was done. Held him while the sweat dried on their skin, held him while their breathing slowed and their heart rates returned to normal. Even then, nothing felt normal. Her response to this man had never been normal, and a tiny part of her was grateful her days with him were numbered. He unsettled her, and while she liked everything they’d done together, wanted more of it, there was comfort in knowing his unsettling effect wouldn’t last past the end of the Rites of Spring, when their clans parted ways for half the annum. A relieved sigh heaved from her lungs, but she froze when she realized she was stroking his skin, petting him, curling and cuddling into him like a kitten. If she’d been one of the hunting cats the clans kept, she’d be purring.
When he hummed and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, she decided it was time to rise for the day. Sex was one thing, especially during the Rites, but these affectionate, caring gestures and letting herself go soft over a lover led to dangerous things—the kinds of dangerous ends her parents had met. No. Never. That path was not for her. She bucked hard, using his own weight against him in a move she’d executed in countless battles, and he landed on his back beside her with a grunt.
Rolling to her feet, she picked up her clothes to pull them over her head, twisting the leather pieces into place over her breasts and loins. Ezra’s hand came up from behind her and tightened the laces on the bottom half while she did the same for the top. One teasing finger slipped under the garment and flicked over her clit, which raised her on tiptoe. “Ezra.”
He chuckled, and the sound was low and warm. Brushing her hair over her shoulder to trail over her breasts, he pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “This is a very interesting mark you have here.”
A flinch she couldn’t halt jolted her forward, and she twisted to get out of his arms. “The kabu says I’m not really a Wanderer. That’s hardly interesting.”
“If you were adopted into a clan, then you’re as much a Wanderer as any other. That’s our way.” His voice was colored with confusion, as though he knew he treaded on treacherous ground, but wasn’t certain how he’d stumbled upon it. “I’m afraid I hadn’t known you were adopted into the Badawi clan.”
“If you had, would you have chosen someone else for your arrangement?” She wanted to cut her own tongue out for daring to voice such a question.
He caught her shoulder, and she pivoted to face him rather than engage in a wrestling match over whether he could move her where he wanted. His expression was wary, but a tinge of annoyance shaded his gaze. “Do you really think your bloodlines have anything to do with why I want you?” He shook his head. “Is that why you train harder than anyone, became a kabu shaman, participate in the ritual drumming instead of just relaxing? Because of your bloodlines?”
“My parents were traders. That’s my bloodline.” It wasn’t an answer to his questions, but she didn’t want to think about the way he wanted her, about the way he made her feel, about why she lived her life the way she did. She owed him no explanations or justifications. Her jaw jutted. “They say the traders were once Wanderers.”
He pulled a pair of supple buckskin breeches off a neatly folded pile of clothing. The table they sat on looked…odd. Some invention of his, no doubt. She looked anywhere but at him, wishing she never had to speak of her bloodlines again, or the kabu that would always mark her an interloper.
Ezra’s long fingers laced the front of his pants, and she couldn’t glance away. “I wouldn’t doubt that, since traders travel as we do, but they are not like us any longer. They are their own people, like the fisher folk and the city dwellers. Not bad, just…different. More peaceful, less prepared to defend themselves against threats.” His gaze narrowed on her face, the intensity of his focus sending a shiver over her skin. “There are no female traders. Who was your mother? Or, rather, what was she, and how did you come to be raised by traders?”
“My mother traveled with my father, with our trader caravan.” The mere mention of her long-dead parents sent a shaft of pain through her heart. She made her face go blank. She would not speak of them. Not ever. Not of how they lived, and especially not of how they died. Her gorge rose, and she fought to swallow before it choked her. Her words were clipped, making it clear this was not a discussion she wished to continue. “I was born and raised among them—my mother, my father and my many uncles, though I doubt any of them were related by blood.”
“How did she—”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her hands and let them flop down. “I don’t know how she came to be with a caravan of traders. I don’t know how she met my father. I don’t know if she was born a Priestess, a Breeder, a Whore or a Wanderer. Did she run away? Was she stolen? I was too young when they died to have ever asked. I just thought it was a special adventure for me when my father took me into the cities dressed as a boy to trade while my mother stayed beh
ind with some of the other men in our caravan.”
If anything, his scrutiny heightened, and she felt pierced by his amber gaze—those eyes that always saw more than she was comfortable with. He propped his hands on his hips. “Huh. That is an unusual upbringing, to say the least.”
She merely shrugged, flashed a tight smile. “Are not we all unique? Different?”
“Ha.” He slapped a palm against his thigh, his eyes twinkling. “My words used against me, clever woman.”
The heavy moment passed, and she got the feeling he’d allowed it because he’d seen how desperately she needed to not talk about her strange upbringing, her time before the Wanderers, her family and what had become of them. He could push, but it would make her angry, so he didn’t push. His courtesy irritated her, and she disliked how irrational that was. She hated how he threw her, how he peeled away her shields with just a glance. She knew her place, knew who she was, where she’d come from and where she was going. This time with him was simply a passing moment of sexual pleasure in her life. It should affect her no more than any other carnal encounter, no matter how much she enjoyed the encounter. Her body responded to the reminder of all they had done together, and how good it had felt to assuage her curiosity about him, to have his hands on her, his cock inside her, his mouth pressed to hers. El and Ela, but his mouth was divine.
As if he sensed her thoughts had turned to sex, he snaked an arm around her waist with that lightning speed of his and hauled her up against him. Her breasts flattened on the hard wall of his chest, and his hands curled over her ass to bring her up on tiptoe, mating their sexes. Goddess and god, they’d just fucked and her body was ready for more. A week with no sex had primed her like a powder keg for him. This couldn’t last for the whole of their time together, but lying with him should have eased her sexual frustration, not sharpened it. His mouth slanted over hers, and he kissed her until she shoved her hands in his soft hair to hold him closer. His tongue mated with hers, and she ran her hands over the muscled planes of his back, her fingertips tracing a few scars, the raised skin of a kabu mark between his shoulder blades, the long line of his spine.
He lifted his mouth from hers, his lips as swollen and red as hers felt. His pupils were so huge they nearly eclipsed the gold of his irises. “Come to me tonight.” He snorted and shook his head, self-derision flashing in his gaze. “I don’t know if I can wait that long to have you again, Kadira.”
“You have trading to do, and my clan will need me.” She tried to be reasonable, but couldn’t force herself to step away from him. “I also have a few requests to do additional kabu rituals for those wanting bond or battle marks.”
Claiming her lips again, he explored her with a leisure that made her insides melt. He was panting when he released her, his hard cock branding her belly through his breeches. “Thanks to El and Ela that the maturity marking is done and you no longer need to remain pure.”
“Yes.” She pulled him down to her again, craving his taste. She could kiss this man forever and never tire of his distinctive flavor, but she pushed the notion away before it could drift into strange territory. Better to enjoy the moment than worry about the future.
Even if he was the best sex she’d ever had, it didn’t change their arrangement, or the fact that neither of them was compatible with the other for a longer-term relationship. Three weeks of exclusivity was about as much as she could take, but she wondered at his demand for it if he wanted no part of an exclusive, permanent bond, ever. Another odd quirk to the man who was already so different than any other she’d ever known. She just wished that didn’t fascinate her so much. Thank the god and goddess that the Rites of Spring would be over soon, and she could return to a life where she understood everything and everyone in it.
Including herself.
It had been a struggle to stay away from her all day, to keep his mind focused on business. Rites were some of the most important times for the clans, and he could not afford to misstep, yet he’d been unable to stop thinking about her and what they’d done, anticipating all he would do to her during their three weeks together, imagining what she might do to him. His cock had been semi-erect for hours, and it was a damned uncomfortable experience. He hadn’t been this randy since he’d been a mere youth, fresh from his first Rite.
Even the desert night’s frigid air couldn’t quell the surging pressure in his loins. On the way out of his tent, he scooped up a new invention he thought might please Kadira and slipped it into his pocket. He wrapped a soft goat-wool blanket around his shoulders, accepted a peeled prickly pear from a passing clansman, and crunched on it as he went to find a large rock to sit on a short distance from the bonfire. He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles as he watched the revelry begin. The drums thumped in time with pipes and mizmars, the music picking up beat, and many Wanderers leaped into dances of smooth twists and sensual undulations. Soon, they would move on to different, more sexual, kinds of dancing.
“Bla grog, Chieftain?” A handsome youth proffered a mug and meaningful grin. The alcohol made of blue potatoes was an offering to the goddess for Her Rites by the Haroun clan. Ezra had invented a new kind of distiller that enhanced the taste, and he was doing good business with people wanting to buy one for their clans. An unexpected boon for the Haroun.
Ezra accepted the mug with a grateful nod, and they sipped in silence as the bonfire carousing continued. The lad cast him a sideways glance that was almost hopeful, and Ezra shook his head with a small smile. Even if he weren’t to be occupied with Kadira, he preferred his lovers a bit more seasoned. This youngling couldn’t have more than a handful of Rites under his belt. “Enjoy your Rite. And the Haroun bla grog.”
“I will. Thank you, Chieftain.” Disappointment flashed in the boy’s eyes, but he disappeared into the crowd of dancers without another word.
Ezra dismissed all thought of the lad the second he saw Kadira’s form reflected in the firelight. Mighty El, but she was beautiful. The roll of her hips with each stride was unconsciously feminine, and her eyes focused on him, but she didn’t so much as smile a greeting as she approached and stationed herself beside him. Though she wore a simple blue shift that ended at her knees, she must have recently performed a kabu ritual because her hair crinkled in such a way that said it had just been released from braids. An icy blast of wind swept through the camp, blowing her long tresses sideways.
“This night is cold.” He uncrossed his ankles, set his drink on the ground beside him and sat up straighter on the rock, slanting an easy smile in her direction. She was far too contained and serious. He had far too many ideas about how to loosen her restraint. “Come share my blanket, and I’ll warm you.”
She tipped her head in a courteous nod. “I have no need of such comfort. I am fine.”
The few comments she had made about her bloodline told him much about why she pushed herself so hard to be a better and stronger Wanderer than any other. The way she doubted herself and her place astounded him. It may not always have been thus, but she had more than proven herself a Wanderer. So little was thought of her adopted status that it had never even been mentioned in his presence. He would have noted any comments made of her—she had always roused his interest. She was like this night, fire and ice existing in the same environment, uninhibited and yet always in control. A contradiction that fascinated him, and that fascination had only increased in the last day. If it were merely the sex, he could explain it, but he found he wanted to know more than just what pleasured her most in bed. He wanted to uncover all her secrets. Only then could he move past his distracting fixation. He shifted to look at her more fully. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, Kadira. Your prowess as a warrior is not in question.”
Folding her hands behind her in soldierly fashion, she lifted her chin. “Says the man whose rank in his clan was always assured.”
He arched an incredulous brow. “Surely you don’t believe that. My mind doesn’t work the same way others do. As a child
, they thought I might have been cursed by El and Ela. It wasn’t until my skills proved useful to the clan that my place was assured.” And it was only then that he’d been able to overcome the stigma of his parents’ dishonor. His jaw flexed, and he had to force himself to relax. All of that was long ago and far behind him. “I fought for what is mine, just as you no doubt did, but there is no fight between us.”
Unless they counted the rough sex while she held a blade to his throat. The thin cut was a small price for the pleasure of sliding his cock inside her slick pussy. Her hand moved to her hip, where she normally kept her dagger sheathed, so he knew her thoughts had followed the same lines as his. The slightest curve of her lips gave her away.
“Perhaps it is I who need your…warmth tonight.” His voice dropped to a soft, coaxing purr.
Her breathing hitched, and his gaze fell to her breasts, outlined to perfection by the firelight filtering through her thin shift. He could see how her nipples beaded, jutting against the pale fabric. From the chill or something more? Her gaze sparked with heat when she looked at him, and his cock rose to full, throbbing attention. She swayed toward him, and he opened the blanket for her. Easing her weight onto his lap, she perched sideways in stiff silence.
Wrapping the blanket and his arms around her, he pulled her into his embrace. He rubbed a hand up and down her back, hoping to soothe her. The boisterous noise of the clans celebrating Rites roared before them, two men falling to the ground near them to couple in feral abandon. She stared at them, but her body only grew tenser. Ezra kissed the side of her neck. “Be easy, Kadira.”
“I don’t normally…”
“Relax? I know.”
She nudged him with her shoulder, the barest hint of tension leaching from her. “I don’t normally sit on men’s laps. I like to be more active than that.” She slanted a glance over her shoulder. “Perhaps that’s why I choose drumming when I cannot have fucking at Rites.”
Wasteland: The Wanderer Page 4