Night Hunter

by Vonna Harper

  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 th
rough 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?

  Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts, he touched her wet opening, floated away, touched and again retreated. She swore she could feel her clit slide past its sheath. She dripped, dampening his fingers. Her clit was so heavy, so hot. Incredible!

  “Laird, please!”

  “Already?”

  “Yes! Yes.”

  Using his wet fingers, he opened her outer lips. Much as she wanted to watch what he was doing, she had to be satisfied with her imagination. Her sex would be rose-tone, maybe red. In contrast, his fingers were dark. Her flesh was soft and smooth, pliant when he was all hardness and control.

  Control? God yes!

  Her fingers dug into his thighs as he gently, so gently, played with her inner lips. Once, twice, maybe three times he touched her clit. Each feathered brush drove her half out of her mind. Her clit danced under his direction.

  He dove and retreated, spread his fingers slightly, plunged even farther. Small firecrackers exploded inside her.

  Heaven!

  But not, damn it, not the real thing!

  So? What does it matter? He likes what he’s doing. You sure as hell do.

  I want to fuck him! Damn it, I need to be fucked!

  “No!” she gasped. On the brink of a climax, she squeezed her legs together, immobilizing his fingers between her trembling thighs. “No. Not—that—way,” she insisted when he tried to pull free. Laird, please.

  Chapter Ten

  “I want to do this for you,” Mala told Laird. “It isn’t about me.”

  “It was a minute ago.”

  “I know,” she admitted. Damn, talking was hard. If only she wasn’t so hot and bothered and the mental argument she’d just had with herself hadn’t taken so much out of her. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.” She focused on breathing. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing. She couldn’t begin to direct the words tumbling out of her. “I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been through, the responsibilities they want you to assume. A week ago you knew nothing about your heritage. Now it’s become everything, or at least they’d want it to be.”

  He’d stopped walking his fingers over her belly and had rocked back on his haunches to regard her. Sunlight and shadows played across his features and naked body. He no longer seemed real—a spirit or ghost, maybe.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she continued. She made no attempt to sit up but that didn’t stop her from running her hands up and down his rock-like thighs. In another time and place, there’d be nothing except their bodies speaking to each other until they’d been rendered deaf or died in the attempt. “I’m not sure I ever will. But that’s not important.”

  He cocked his head to one side. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Laird, you don’t dare lose contact with the world that’s been your reality up until this point. That’s why I came back.” She slid her fingers around to the insides of his thighs. “To make sure you don’t forget what’s always sustained you.” To bring you back with me.

  “It does not matter.” He placed his hands over hers but didn’t try to stop her exploration.

  “Yes, it does.” This wasn’t the time for conversation. “Laird, I want to be on top. Do things to you, be in control, instead of the way it’s been between us so far.”

  He stared at her still-exposed cunt. “You did not like it?”

  “I loved it,” she admitted. He’d see through her lie if she told him anything else. “But bringing myself to climax because you weren’t in a position to do it—a certain something was lacking. And just now, you wanted to play with me the way I’d done with you. It felt—wonderful. But it’s not the same as sex the old-fashioned way. Something—was missing.” At the moment, she couldn’t think what that something might be, but he didn’t need to know how good her earlier explosion had felt.

  Without explaining what she had in mind, she slid out from under him and sat up. Before today, no matter who she’d gone to bed with, she’d always been aware of being naked and the sense of vulnerability that went with it. Now, however, wearing nothing felt more right than it ever had. She wasn’t particularly proud of her body. It was all right, she guessed, particularly her large breasts, but a lifetime of wearing clothes had left her uneasy with the alternative. At least it had until now.

  After checking to make sure the ground was covered with a soft carpet of vegetation, she took hold of Laird’s shoulders and pressed against them. He gave her a quizzical look, then allowed her to position him on his back with his legs together. His erection saluted her. Not making any effort to hide her excitement, she straddled his legs. When he reached for her hips, she pushed his hands away and placed them at his waist. She couldn’t take her eyes off his swollen cock, could barely think beyond the throbbing in her cunt. She smelled, not just her own excitement, but his sun-drying come.

  Guided by instinct and need, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his penis. The gesture felt both familiar and new—exciting. Her breasts dangled over him, the nipples puckered and so hard it was almost painful. Moisture pooled at her pussy, and a single drop broke free to run down the inside of her leg. Dispensing with preliminaries, she positioned herself over his cock, reached between her legs to spread her wet lips and slowly, easily slid him inside her.

  He fit. Belonged. Filled her.

  “There,” she moaned.

  “There,” he repeated.

  With her hands resting on his chest, she settled herself over and around him, sealing the connection. She’d been intent on his response and making sure he understood that this time she called the shots. As a result, she wasn’t ready for the unbelievable sensation of having him inside her. This was sex, pure and simple. Primitive and elemental!

  His cock twitched inside her, then seemed to expand even more until it filled her being. She might never be free again.

  Gasping, she threw her head back and sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold. She’d taken one breath and was reaching for another when she felt him grasp her hanging breasts and pull her close. Not sure why, maybe because she felt as if she was on a roller coaster ride, she leaned away from him. He held on, clamping down on her breasts until they burned. She tried to meet his eyes, but her vision had blurred.

  Over and over again, he lifted his pelvis off the ground, the thrust and rhythm vibrating deep in her. She swore she could taste him. Not content to let him do all the work, she rode him as if he were a stallion.

  It didn’t matter that their timing was off. No matter what he did, she adjusted herself to him, lost herself in his force. A mare might stand straddle-legged while a stallion plunged into her, but she refused to act like a dumb animal. She rocked, retreated and advanced, caught the last seat on the roller coaster and hung on with all her strength.

  He plunged deeper and deeper inside her, his cock grinding against the sides of her throbbing cunt. Determined to keep him buried in her, she clamped her muscles around him, trapping him.

  Control! This time I’m in control.

  Yeah, sure!

  He released her breasts and quickly clamped his hands over her rib cage and pushed. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt as if he was trying to push her away from him, to free himself.

  “No,” she said. No, you’re mine.r />
  Giving weight to her thoughts, she ground her pelvis against his, her weight holding him in place. At the same time, she rocked back and forth, back and forth, taking his cock with her. She straightened somewhat and pressed the inside of her knees against his hips. She tried to slide her fingers between them so she could grip the base of his shaft, but the seal between them was complete, and there wasn’t room. Undaunted, she again leaned forward and rested her forearms on his chest. He’d stopped trying to push her away, but his hands remained locked around her hip bones.

  She rocked, pushed and pulled, sealed him inside her.

  “Fuck me,” she insisted. “Give it to me!”

  He surged upward, nearly dislodging her.

  “No! Damn it, give it to me.”

  Another surge followed by a quick retreat as if he was trying to suck her into him. Laughing, she slightly decreased her lock on him, allowing him the freedom to pump. He did so—again and again. Slammed his body against and into her. She laughed, nearly howled.

  He came, came again, grunted and sweated. Dug his nails into the earth and used that to shove himself so deep inside her that she felt impaled. His sperm flooded her.

  Riding the crest of his ejaculation, she leaned over and onto him. Pumped and pumped, pushed and retreated. Her clit quivered, shook, spasmed. She turned her head to the side and screamed.

  Came.

  Mala felt drenched in sweat. She couldn’t remember where she left off and Laird began. They occupied two separate bodies. She knew that. But now she lay exhausted on top of him with his flaccid penis still tucked inside her. When finally she could put her mind and body to it, she tightened her pelvic muscles around him.

  He looked up at her through sleepy eyes. “Not yet,” he whispered. “In a few minutes—”

  “I’ll need more than that,” she admitted. “I just—I just wanted to feel you in me.”

  “There is not much of me left.”

  “I don’t care.” On the verge of admitting how precious this union was, she held back. Years of playing the man/woman game should have taught her to be cautious, to not let her heart take command. Still, acknowledging how close she was to admitting he’d reached her heart frightened her.