by Jory Strong
His face tightened and the familiar rush of feminine power coiled in her belly and spread into her pussy and breasts. Slowly she bared his chest.
"I want you," she said.
"I'm glad."
She stroked his smooth, bronzed chest and abdomen. Explored the tiny, dark nipples and reveled in the way he held himself completely still though the flush across his cheekbones and the hard line of his mouth said it was costing him not to lose control.
She nuzzled a nipple, licked her tongue over it and his breath caught. She took the nipple between her lips, lightly bit then sucked.
Tekoa panted. His hips jerked and his hand went to the front of his jeans, grasped his cock on a moan. He didn't know how much more he could take.
She nudged him over and he rolled to his back. She straddled him, took him prisoner with the press of her wet pussy against the back of his hand.
The flaw in his plan became obvious. He'd wanted her to come to him willingly and so he'd forbidden himself from taking control, but that didn't mean she wouldn't make him beg.
He should have factored in her relationship with Clay. He should have realized that she'd know exactly how to retaliate and bring a man to his knees—or put him on his back. He should have remembered how intelligent she was and questioned the wisdom of eliminating the threat of punishment.
Her teeth clamped down on his nipple and he bucked as an arc of erotic pain shot straight to his cock. "Jessica." It was a plea and a command, a helpless acknowledgment that she had him at her mercy.
She released the tortured nipple and smiled against his skin. Slowly she rose onto her knees.
The arrival of a hurricane wouldn't have made him look away as she freed the buttons on the shirt he'd left in the bathroom for her. His spirit eyes had seen her breasts the night before but now it was his human eyes that were riveted to the beautiful globes with their pink, pouting nipples.
His gaze traveled downward, over her sleek belly to the small triangle of gold and the swollen, flushed folds beneath it. His cock spasmed, leaked, the foreskin further retracting.
His hand twitched. He couldn't stop himself from stroking his shaft through the jeans.
She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was the only woman he would ever want.
Mine. She was his, would always be his though she didn't know it, couldn't know it. She wasn't ready to learn the full truth of what it was to be one of The People.
She tossed the shirt aside and his eyes jerked upward, devoured her breasts as his cock screamed for mercy.
"Does showing you my breasts mean you'll touch them?" she asked, confidence turning her into a wicked temptress. "Or do I have to put your hand on them like I had to do with my pussy?"
"Jessica," he warned. But without the threat of punishment to back it up, the sharp-edged need in his voice offered encouragement.
She cupped her breasts as if weighing them to determine their value. Her thumbs brushed over the nipples deepening in color, already like mouth-watering berries presented to a starving man.
He groaned. If she licked them…
He tightened his grip on his cock, used pain to chase away the overwhelming urge to come. Two could play at this game. "Does Clay like to see you touching your breasts?"
She shuddered and the flutter of her swollen pussy against the back of his hand was a small victory, a short-lived victory, a victory that ended when she took her nipples between her fingers and squeezed them. Leaned over so they were inches away from his mouth.
"He likes watching me play with my nipples, but he'd rather touch them himself. Do I have to ask you to touch them? Or is this good enough?"
With a growl he pulled her to him and then rolled so she was underneath him. His hands went to her wrists and pinned them at her sides. He gave her a savage, punishing kiss before he moved to her breasts and latched onto a nipple.
Jessica arched in pleasure, streaks of ecstasy shot to her pussy with each hard, hungry pull. He ravaged her nipples and she ground against him, each rub of her mound against rock hard abs making her channel clench and ache with emptiness.
"Take off your jeans," she begged.
He bit her nipple. Sucked. Turned her into a writhing, sobbing mass of need.
Slowly he lifted his face, masculine satisfaction stamped on his features. "Do you promise to behave?"
She lowered her eyelashes in a show of submission. "What do you think?"
His laugh was husky, heart-surrounding. "That I want you more than I've ever wanted another woman."
Her heart fluttered. They were the same words Clay had said on the day they met, when he'd pinned her against the car before allowing her to drive away from the bookstore.
Tekoa captured her nipple, pulled on it with hungry intensity. She moaned, loved being sucked as much as she loved to have a man's mouth between her thighs. She shivered at imagining Clay and Tekoa at her breasts, at imagining Clay fucking her with his tongue as Tekoa alternated between kissing her and sucking her nipples.
"Let me touch you," she whispered, tugging against his hands where they held her wrists shackled to the rug.
He gave her nipple a final, hard pull then stood. His shirt dropped to the floor. His hands went to the front of his jeans and she was mesmerized by the sight of him undoing the fly.
His cock jutted out, hard and proud. It was darker than Clay's but no less impressive. He was uncircumcised but she'd expected him to be. Clay was the same and she liked it, had discovered with him, that being with a natural man satisfied a deeply, primal need.
She rose to her knees and put her hands on Tekoa's hips. His cock jerked at the proximity of her mouth.
Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she slowly leaned forward and his nostrils flared. His body tensed and the tip of his cock gleamed as additional moisture leaked from the small slit.
"Stop."
She obeyed but a tiny smile played over her mouth as his cock demonstrated it had a mind of its own by bobbing to brush against her parted lips.
Emotion and instinct rioted inside Tekoa. He grasped silky strands of blonde hair.
He'd never had a woman enthrall him so completely. He'd never had one capture him so thoroughly or claim every part of him.
He'd known it would be like this. But intellectual knowledge was nothing against the raw, primitive need.
He wouldn't last once she put her mouth on him. He'd come as quick as a boy with his first girl.
His fingers tightened in her hair. His chest burned as he tried to control his breathing and keep from panting. His buttocks clenched with the effort to keep from thrusting as his cock repeatedly closed the infinitesimal distance between it and Jessica's mouth.
He wanted her mouth on him but last night he'd promised himself that he would press his mouth to her lower lips, lick and suck and fuck her with his tongue and make her cry out for him the way she had for Clay.
"Lie down," he ordered and experienced a dark thrill when she obeyed him immediately. Before Jessica he'd always kept this part of his nature out of his sex life.
He'd never questioned it and now he didn't have to. He'd been waiting for her, waiting to experience this with a mate.
Dominance was a two-edged sword. He would crave her submission and at the same time feel an intense need to care for and protect her.
He stripped out of the jeans then knelt on the rug above her head, knees apart, the caress of her gaze on his balls kicking his lips up into a wry smile. In a minute she'd have him beating his chest and saying, Me Tarzan. You Jane.
He could live with that.
Need shivered through him and his gaze traveled from her lips to her pussy, returned to her face and blue eyes filled with carnal knowledge. He got harder, which should have been impossible. His cock could already double as the wooden baton he carried in the cruiser.
He leaned down, traced her ear with his tongue. He cupped her breast, rubbed his palm over her nipple and she arched off the rug.
&nb
sp; "I'm not sure I'm ever going to allow you clothes," he said.
She trembled and his cock licked across his abs, demanding he kiss his way down her body as she kissed her way down his.
He made it as far as her breasts.
He'd always been a breast man. Loved looking at them, cupping them, pressing them together and fucking through them. But Jessica's breasts took his love of breasts to new heights.
He moaned against them. Scented them. Kissed and licked and sucked and stroked.
And her hands and mouth on his nipples sent lightning bolts of icy-hot pleasure to his cock so it screamed louder, harder.
His ass clenched. In another minute he'd be air-humping. He had to grasp his dick again, counter the pleasure with pain.
And still he kept worshipping her breasts. He could spend a day in bed doing nothing but sucking, cupping, kissing, pressing them together and gorging.
His cock spasmed. Warning heat flared at the base of his spine.
On a moan he moved downward across her stomach, hyperaware of her lips and tongue as they trailed over his abdomen.
In the ultimate test of self-control, he released his cock. He nuzzled the small triangle of blonde hair, inhaled the scent of her arousal.
A shudder of need gripped him. A possessive growl escaped at remembering Clay's face between her legs.
He kissed his way to her clit and her mouth brushed his shaft. She fisted his erection and his hips bucked.
Her lips locked around his cock head and he was lost to exquisite sensation and ravenous hunger. He latched onto her clit and there was no separating what he was doing from what was being done to him.
She sucked him, tormented him with her tongue. And he did the same to her with hard pulls on her clit and equally hard thrusts of his tongue into her channel. He'd never been so ravenous for a woman.
His balls pulled tight. The fiery warning at the base of his spine intensified.
He didn't care. Couldn't care about anything but first ensuring her pleasure.
His mouth returned to her clit, each suck, each lick a demand that she come. And her cry of release, the hard, helpless shuddering of her beautiful body was soul-deep satisfaction.
Enough control remained to attempt to lift away but she gripped his ass, prevented it. And it was his turn to shudder hard and helpless as a hot rush of semen jetted through his cock.
He rolled them to their sides, nuzzled her mound as she lapped and kissed along the length of his shaft. He should have needed a recovery period, but his cock filled.
His heartbeat became peals of thunder. And at the edge of his consciousness drums and ancient voices rose from the mists of the past in a prayer for fertility.
He fought to deny the primal call. But her tongue flicked into the slit of his cock head and the need to be inside her poured into him with the force of a violent storm.
He wrenched away from her body and rose to his knees. He tried to stay in control and not yield to Thunderbird spirit.
It was an impossible battle. That part of him was in a fever to mate. Tender. Rough. It no longer mattered as long as he staked his claim.
Jessica sat, got to her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her pussy against his cock and he was lost. He didn't need her formal words to forge the bond between them and make it permanent.
It had already been forged when she drank from the cup. He had to believe that on some level she knew that this was permanent.
He pulled her tightly against him. He couldn't tell her the full truth, it was too soon for that, but he couldn't take her without giving her some warning. "This isn't casual for me, Jess."
She shivered against him. "It's not casual for me either."
* * * * *
Chapter 6
Tekoa gave her a hard kiss. And another, and a third because his lips clung to hers.
He would never get enough of her kisses. She was so soft and submissive, so totally enchanting that it almost hurt to be with her. On a moan, he turned her so she faced the fire, touched his lips to the back of her neck then kissed downward along her spine.
She went to her elbows and knees, her thighs open, her folds parted and glistening with slick invitation.
He nipped a buttock and she trembled. He nipped her other ass cheek and her thighs widened.
He licked through swollen folds, slid the tip of his tongue into her opening.
"Tekoa," she said, rocking backward, a needy plea in her voice.
He gave himself to the song, touched his cock to her entrance and shuddered in ecstasy. An inch at a time he worked himself into her, and with each inch the Thunderbird rose within him. He was man and mystical spirit and that spirit expanded beyond the limits of his flesh so that a smaller version of the Thunderbird's powerful form enveloped his mortal body and shimmered around him in red and white splendor with splashes of blue and yellow woven into phantom feathers.
The Thunderbird's wings spread in victory and possessiveness. Its energy and magic vibrated through him so each stroke of his cock into Jessica's channel was a profound act of devotion and love, a complete sharing.
Each heartbeat sounded her name and in the storm raging overhead, he imagined every peal of thunder carried news of his claiming a mate, that every streak of lightning was a warning that he'd kill anyone who threatened Jessica.
Mine! Every thrust of his cock proclaimed it. Mine!
Jessica moaned and rocked backward, greedy for more pleasure. His cock felt thicker, longer, as if it'd grown beyond what she'd seen with her eyes.
She whimpered and clutched at the rug. Tekoa's hands slid up her back and then around to possessively cup her breasts.
You're my mate, those hands and the thrust of his cock said, and that message echoed in her mind and lodged in her soul as if some primordial voice had spoken a truth that could never be denied.
"Yes," she whispered, the acknowledgment forced from her with the powerful pistoning of his hips, the possessive filling of her channel and the nearness of his cock head to her womb.
Tekoa's hands swept along her sides and stopped on her hips. With a low, growly sound, his grip tightened, holding her in place.
Her channel fisted and unfisted, clutched desperately at his cock as it slid almost completely out, then plunged home.
His cock retreated. Filled her again. Retreated. And at the edge of her consciousness a drum beat in time to Tekoa's thrusting, slow at first, but gaining in power and speed as his cock filled her, stretched her, became all that mattered.
Over and over his cock delivered ecstasy and then retreated, created a desperate craving to be filled again, a cycle of need that cast her into a sensual haze.
The fire in the fireplace roared and flickered as if feeding on the wild emotion and sexual pleasure. The flames rose and flared, became so hot they forced Jessica to look away. Up. To the Thunderbird carved into the mantel.
It seemed to hover above her, a real presence that filled the room with ancient, unknowable power. And Tekoa's thrusts became more aggressive.
Her moans and cries joined the phantom drum. Reminded her of how she'd imagined hearing drumbeats when she and Clay drove past the totem poles.
Lightning seemed to flash in the Thunderbird's dark, dark eyes. Ecstasy shimmered within her grasp.
"Please," she begged as the imagined drum and song grew in intensity.
Tekoa's hand left her hip and moved to her clit, caressed, commanded. And orgasm thundered through her so she screamed, the sound of it echoing in her ears like a raptor's call.
Her channel spasmed violently, repeatedly. She milked Tekoa's cock of hot seed, strength whooshing out of her, leaving her boneless, weak. And still she whimpered in protest when he pulled from her body.
Tekoa's heart soared. The only thing that would be better than this moment would be the one that would come when Jessica and Clay understood what it meant to be Thunderbird chosen, and the three of them lay together, mated.
He lay on his side
and pulled Jessica against him so her back pressed to his chest. He kissed her shoulder, her neck. They'd been here less than a day but the cabin would feel empty without them. He'd feel empty without them.
His hand lay on her abdomen. He'd prefer to wait but the choice wouldn't necessarily be his to make. She might well be pregnant with Thunderbird twins by the springtime, one blond like Clay, the other black-haired.
He rubbed her stomach in small circles before slipping lower to cup her pussy possessively. "How'd you meet Clay?"
She rolled to her side so she faced him, the blue in her eyes like still, deep water. "I was at a local bookstore during their daily story time, reading a book I'd illustrated. The audience was mostly eight-year-olds with a couple of interested moms. He came in, sat right down in the front and I lost my place in the story and blushed. Some of the kids were mature enough to catch on. A few of them giggled and one romantically inclined Hispanic girl asked if he was my husband."
"What'd you say?"
"Before I could say anything, Clay said, 'Not yet, but I'm going to be.'"
Tekoa grinned. "That sounds like him. How long ago?"
"A year." Her lashes lowered, a tremor went through her as if she was asking herself how it was that she was lying naked with another man, his semen inside her, her mouth swollen and nipples bruised because of him.
He placed her hand on his chest, cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him. "The three of us are meant to be together."
His lips covered hers. His tongue pushed into her mouth. There was a tiny resistance, a tiny hesitation, but then renewed acceptance.
He kept the kiss gentle, reassuring. He already understood her well enough to know she was much more cautious than either he or Clay.
He suspected Clay would have rushed her to Vegas shortly after meeting her, but a year later he probably counted it a victory that she wore his ring and belonged to him in all the ways that mattered.