“You eat with your fingers,” he said. “Everyone does. It’s traditional.”
“It’s hot,” she said.
“It’ll soon cool. Look, I’ll show you. The rice is sticky so you can form it into a ball.”
He demonstrated, taking a small amount of rice, a little meat, and a chunk of carrot and formed it into a bite-sized piece. He offered it to her. Thinking somehow that she was taking an inexorable step, she accepted the bite from him, allowing her tongue to touch his fingers only the tiniest bit.
His breath drew in sharply and he leaned down to say, “You’re playing with fire.”
“I know,” she answered with a smile. She did as he had shown her, forming a small ball and then looking up innocently. “Would you like some?”
He bent and took the bite from her hand, but he didn’t give her fingers a tiny touch of his tongue. His laved her fingers, licked them, drew one into his mouth and sucked it with blatant sexiness. All the while, his eyes were on hers in the gathering darkness.
The whole action aroused her to a fever pitch and she released a moan.
He leaned over and whispered as he gave her a wicked grin. “Don’t come for me yet, Rebecca. Wait until I’m inside you.”
That shocked her back to reality and she remembered that she was in the middle of a group of people, any one of whom could see what she and Aaron were doing. With a scowl, she moved away from him, turning her plate away, taking a mighty gulp of hot tea.
A few minutes later, a group of elders approached them and indicated that they should stand. Aaron took her plate and cup and set them on the ground along with his own, then reached to pull her up beside him. He kept her hand in his as they faced the solemn men. One of them stepped forward and spoke a few words, and then another man did the same. They went through the group like that, with each one of them saying a few words of greeting. When they were finished, they bowed and walked away.
Everyone around them broke into cheers and applause. Becca smiled back and sat down feeling pleased and honored.
“That was very nice. What a lovely greeting.”
Aaron choked on a bite of food and she clapped him on the back.
“I’m fine,” he wheezed, but he seemed to be laughing. She gave him a puzzled look and returned to her food.
The entertainment started with dancers of all ages, from small children to old ladies, moving around, backlit by the fire, in a dance that was probably older than many civilizations. They were accompanied by drums that beat out a solid, primitive rhythm.
After a little while, Aaron reached over and took her plate and cup from her. He handed them to a smiling woman who was walking by, collecting them. She looked from Aaron to Becca, giggled, and moved on.
Becca looked after her. “Shouldn’t . . . shouldn’t I help with the dishes?”
“You’re a guest, Rebecca. They’d be insulted if you offered.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
In spite of the drumming noise and the movement of the dancers, Becca heard a murmur run through the crowd. She glanced around to see that people were looking at them.
“Aaron, what . . . ?”
“Come on,” he said, tugging her hand.
She followed because she had no choice, but glanced back to see much laughing and backslapping going on. As they approached their tent, she stopped suddenly.
“Wait, Aaron.”
He turned and looked down at her in the glow of the moon. “What is it?”
She twisted her hands nervously. “I just . . . This is a tent. Not very private.”
“This is a tribe of nomads in the Sahel Desert. Nothing is private. But if it makes you feel any better, no one will come around here.”
“What? They’ll be stopped by the thorn bush fence?”
“That, and it’s forbidden.”
“Forbidden? Why, is there some kind of disease here?”
“It’s forbidden to disturb newlyweds on their wedding night.”
She jerked back. “What?”
“That wasn’t a greeting we just went through. It was a marriage ceremony.”
She gaped at him. “The hell you say!”
He burst out laughing. “Rebecca, I’m shocked at your language.”
“A wedding ceremony? And you didn’t even ask me first.”
“You would have said no,” he answered reasonably.
“You’re damned right I would have. And besides, aren’t you the one who hates lying? You’ve made a real point of it with me.”
“Yes, I do hate lying. When I said that to you, I was hurt, striking out.”
“So?”
Hands on hips, he faced her. “Rebecca, this may be the only night we have together.”
As mad as she was at him, she didn’t like where this was going. “And?”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, or embarrassed in any way. Besides, the men of this tribe are very protective of their women. If they’d thought I was taking advantage of you, they would put guards outside your tent and shoot me on sight.”
“That possibility is becoming more and more attractive.”
“You really want them to shoot me?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Becca, it’ll be all right. Didn’t I tell you I would protect you?”
“Yes.”
“That means I’ll protect you from embarrassment, too.”
She took a breath. “See that you do.” She squared her shoulders and headed for the tent.
“You could look a little less like you’re climbing the steps of the guillotine,” he said dryly. “And there’s one more thing.”
“What now?”
He bent down and scooped her into his arms. “Just in case anyone is watching, they know you’re American, and they might be expecting this.”
Just that quickly, her mood went from annoyed and nervous to giddy. Laughing, she looped her arms around his neck and said, “Do they spend a lot of time watching American TV out here?”
He chuckled and bent his head to kiss her. As he tossed aside the tent flap, he murmured some words she didn’t understand, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him about it because they were inside the tent and she glanced around, then caught her breath in pleasure.
He had opened the back of the tent, exposing it to the night air, the full moon, and the faint, spicy perfume of the acacia thorn bushes that circled the tent. He had spread out the sleeping bags and turned back the top one, then placed their pillows on it. The low table had been moved beside the bed and was decorated with flowers stuck into a water bottle. The floor was scattered with the acacia blossoms. She couldn’t imagine how much time and care it must have taken for him to collect them from the bushes outside.
Unaccountably, tears filled her eyes. “Thank you for making this special, Aaron. No one . . . .” She paused and cleared her throat. “No one ever did anything like that for me before.”
“The fools.” He kissed her again, then reached up to remove the keffiyeh from his head. He folded it and lay it down on the small stool.
This was it, she thought. Something about which she’d only had the vaguest notion when she’d been sixteen, something that she’d thought about over the years was about to happen. She was as nervous as if it was her first time, but excited too, and so ready for him.
Her eyes on his, she unwound the scarf, folded it and laid it on top of his. Next came his robe, and then hers. When it looked as though her courage might fail her, he stepped forward and began whispering to her in French. She didn’t know what he was saying, and she could have asked him to translate, but it was so enthralling, so musical and lyrical, she listened, falling under his spell.
His hands unbuttoned her shirt, sweeping it from her shoulders and down her arms. He dropped it onto their growing pile of clothes and then reached for her bra. When it was gone, he began to unzip her pants, but she reached out to stop him.
“You first,” she said, amazed at her own boldness. She unzipped his pants, then rea
ched in to smooth them, and his briefs off his flanks, and down his legs. She helped him pull off with his boots and when she straightened, she saw that his penis was free, ready for her.
A moment of fear gripped her and she looked up swiftly.
“Remember,” he said. “I told you I’d protect you.”
His reassurance soothed her so he unzipped her pants, then leaned over to remove her boots.
“Lean on me, Becca,” he said, and she did, balancing herself with her hand on his broad, strong back, lifting first one foot, and then the other. He pulled off her jeans, and then her panties. Finally, she stood naked before him, her eyes fixed on his, refusing to think about anything except this moment, this man, these feelings she’d had at sixteen and hadn’t known how to deal with and which she had now and knew were so strong it would take her years to sort them out.
“Perfection,” he said, as he had said before, and at last, he kissed her.
His mouth was hot and full, his taste spicy and delicious from the food they’d eaten. His tongue touched hers as his hands moved down to cup her breasts. His thumbs flicked over her nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.
“Becca,” he whispered against her mouth. “You’re so responsive, so warm to my touch. It’s as if you’ve been waiting for me.”
“I have,” she said. “Forever.”
He liked that answer, she could feel him smiling against her lips. “Let’s try some of the things we saw in the temple.”
She laughed. “We can see if you’re as lithe and inventive as your ancestors.”
“Don’t worry, it’s bred in the bone of us desert types.”
His mouth left hers and feasted on her jaw, her throat, her breastbone, and then her breast. As he took one into his mouth and flexed his cheeks, suckling her, he slipped a finger inside her, deep inside, touching a spot that sent a lightning bolt of joy through her.
“Aaron,” she cried, her knees buckling.
With a satisfied chuckle, he drew her down with him to the pallet. His mouth devoured hers, filled it. Becca’s hands were in his hair, holding him in place so she could get her fill of him, though she realized hazily that it would never happen.
~*~
Aaron knew he would never get enough of her. The memory of her had been with him for ten years. Now he knew her taste would haunt him forever, her scent would fill his dreams, keeping him hot and ready – and unable to sleep.
He wouldn’t get enough of her tonight or ever, and she would always fill his mind, his thoughts, exactly as he planned to fill her body with himself tonight.
He pulled his mouth away and said, “There are other places to kiss, Becca.” He began moving down her body, kissing, nibbling, suckling until she bucked and moaned beneath his touch.
At last he reached his goal, sliding his tongue inside her. The touch and taste of her was heady, erotic as nothing he’d ever known. In and out, he found his rhythm, causing her to pump her hips erratically. Fearing she would pull away before he could bring her to full satisfaction, he reached up and grasped her hips, holding her in place.
“Aaron.” Her voice came out in a sob. “I’m . . . I can’t . . . .”
He could feel the tension building in her, in the tenseness of her muscles, the arch of her back. It was as if she was afraid of what was about to happen.
He lifted his head, unsure of what was causing her fear. “Yes, Rebecca, you can. Let me give this to you. Let me give you this gift.”
“It’s too . . . .”
“Too what, Rebecca? Tell me.”
“It’s too good.”
He chuckled, kissing the inside of her thigh. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Trust me. Let me give this to you.”
With a moan, she settled. Her hands came down to twine in his hair, holding him in place, giving him permission to present her with intense bliss. He found his rhythm again, building her passion until his mouth, his tongue pushed her up and over into a climax that had her bucking and writhing, gasping with delight, and then collapsing.
Satisfied with what he’d done for her, smug in fact, Aaron lifted his head expecting to see her head tipped back, her eyes glazed with pleasure. Instead, he saw tears running down her cheeks.
Stunned, he loomed over her. His hands cupped her face. His fingers brushed away her tears, smoothed her hair. His eyes searched her face, shining in the moonlight. “Rebecca, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No . . . no.” Her voice broke on a sob. “It’s just that . . . I’ve never felt that before. I’ve never . . . .”
He jerked and stared at her in amazement. “You mean you’ve never had an orgasm before?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head, with her eyes closed. More tears seeped out. “I thought I had, but not like that. I didn’t know that’s the way it should be. It could be like that.”
Delighted, her kissed her. “Tell me what it was like.”
“Waves, crashing waves that started from . . . from your mouth and went right up through me, from my center all the way out, hitting every nerve.”
“You’ve described it perfectly. That’s exactly what those mosaics want you to feel. What I want you to feel.”
“Is there more?”
He grinned a wicked grin and said, “My greedy darling, there’s more where that came from.” Reaching beside the pallet, he picked up a foil packet, ripped it open with his teeth and then rolled the condom into place.
She lifted her head. “Are you sure? I can’t . . . .”
“That’s what you said before. Of course you can, again and again and again. Let me show you.” He eased her legs apart a little more to make a place for himself, and then slipped into her, as naturally, as easily as if he was coming home. She was tight and lush around him, responsive and so ready for him. He savored the moment, buried deep inside her, as far as he could go. He looked down at her bright hair spread across the pillow, her eyes warm and glittering in the moonlight.
To his delight, she lifted her legs to hold him in place, adjusted her hips to bring him in further when he’d thought he was in as far as he could go. He loved being this close to her, being inside her, having all of her thoughts, every sense focused on the ecstasy they were finding together.
Her lips curved in a satisfied smile – satisfaction that he had put there.
“Show me,” she whispered.
And he did, lifting his hips and moving into her, again and again, his rhythm in time to the gasps of pleasure coming from her throat. When her eyes began to drift shut, he said, “Becca, look at me. I want to see your face, your eyes when you come again.”
They opened and remained fixed on him. Vaguely, he was aware of the drums still beating in the background and found he was moving in time to them, and that she was meeting him thrust for thrust. For a woman who’d had her first orgasm only a few minutes ago, she was learning quickly. He loved this, loved knowing he was giving her the pleasure no one else, not even her husband, had given her.
He felt his own orgasm building, pushing him to let it go, but he held back, waiting for her, waiting for that keening moan she’d made before, wanting it more than he wanted his own satisfaction.
“It’s all right, Rebecca,” he said, urging her, praising her. “You can let go. I’ll protect you, remember?”
And at last, she did, arching her back, throwing her head back, calling his name in a long, slow rush of breath that released his own satisfaction. He pumped into her one last time as he held her tight.
~*~
Rebecca stared in glassy-eyed contentment at the ceiling of the tent, her arms wrapped tightly around Aaron. His head was on her shoulder, his lips lazily placing kisses on the side of her neck.
She was stunned, delighted, ready to leap up and dance – not that she’d ever be able to move again. She also suspected she couldn’t speak since he’d permanently stolen her breath away.
His hands slid down her side to her rump and he lifted her leg up to drape it casua
lly over his hip. She let him do whatever he wanted to with her. He’d earned that right.
He raised his head and looked into her eyes as he scooted them onto their sides so that they faced each other.
“Rebecca?”
“Hm,” she gave him a lazy, sex-dazed smile.
“Why is it you’d never had an orgasm before?”
She stirred and frowned. “Don’t want to talk about that.”
“I do,” he said in a reasonable tone. “And since I’m still buried inside you, I think I have a right to ask.”
Yes, he did. He’d given her pleasure such as she’d never known before. It was mind-boggling. How could she have been married, lived twenty-six years and never known this was possible?
“Aaron, I was never any good at this.”
“I find you damned good at it.”
“Thank you.” If there had been anything beyond moonlight, she knew he would have seen her blush. “It was probably the dirty pictures you made me look at.”
“Hey, that was your idea. I did offer to catch you if you fainted.” When she smiled, but didn’t respond, he said, “Tell me the rest.”
She took a breath. She had to say this and once she’d said it, she would never have to say it again. “I married Craig Perris when I was twenty-three. I’d finished college and had been teaching for a year. I met him through friends at Luke Air Force Base. He was cocky, had a swagger, was sure of himself. He was fun and exciting and things were still so unhappy in my family that I latched onto him. He had no family of his own, so I had this crazy vision of the two of us, facing the world together, creating our own family since mine had fallen apart. He took me places I hadn’t gone before. In fact, he rented a plane and flew me to Vegas one weekend. It was crazy and impulsive. We got married there.”
She paused, lost in thought, sinking into those unhappy memories.
Aaron lifted his hand, ran it down her side, cupped her bottom and scooted her closer to him as if to comfort her, to seal her to himself, to bind her to him. To her, it was touching, comforting, exciting. Solid.
“And then what?”
“We were married for a few months, but things never seemed to work right. He was never happy. The sex was disappointing. It was like he expected me to be able to fulfill all of his fantasies and I couldn’t even figure out what they were.” She paused again, unable to get past the miserable recollections. “He was relentlessly critical.”
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 69