He turned his massive head and nuzzled her neck. “I have other things than sleeping in mind.”
“Work first.”
Serah led the way to the poachers’ rendezvous.
Chapter Four
Jack’s first attempts at telepathic communication didn’t always work. He was okay responding to what she said, but his own questions and comments came out muddled.
“What plane have you?” he signaled.
“No plane. We stay on the ground.”
He pawed the earth in frustration. “What plan do?”
She understood. “We pin down the poachers when they close in on the elephants. Then we hope like hell the rangers arrive at dawn.”
They covered the ground quickly, slinking like shadows through the darkness. Amid the aromas of crushed plants and dry dust, she caught his scent and her mind filled with images of power and strength.
They skirted a herd of zebra, their babies corralled in the middle of the group, older animals standing watch on the outside. One scented the two lions and the zebra wheeled to move further away. If Serah and Jack had been hunting, they would have selected one animal on the fringe of the herd, their eyes unable to pick out individuals amongst the milling black and white stripes.
A family of cheetahs lay in the grass waiting for dawn and the signal to hunt breakfast and a hyena slunk past, searching for anything small and unwary.
Jack stopped in his tracks and lifted his head, scenting the air. “Men.”
He was right. The poachers were hidden in some thick bush where the elephants liked to shelter at night.
Dropping low on the ground, Serah led the way until they were within a few feet of the group of men.
A rustle in the bush at her side caught Serah’s attention. Jillo edged closer.
“I help,” she signaled with a twitch of her tail.
Serah put a paw on her half-sister’s side in thanks.
Carefully they inched their way until the poachers were caught in a pincer of three lions, closing off the escape toward the open area leading to the trail used by safari vans.
Two would have been enough, but three was better. The two lions, Ghost and Darkness, who had terrorized the builders of the railway at Tsavo in Kenya, had used the same strategy, herding their prey into a tight box before pouncing.
The group of men got to their feet as the first streak of dawn sent a bar of light across the horizon. It was still more than an hour to dawn, but the shadows were lifting, making the dark shapes a muted gray.
As the men moved toward the elephants, the lions followed. Jillo slid from her position and stationed herself in a crouch in front of the elephants. With one accord the three animals rose to their feet and let out a roar.
The men froze in their tracks. One made as if to shoulder his weapon then hesitated. Serah saw more shapes moving silently into position. Daudi and his harem were here, all except Mwangi who must be cub-sitting.
The men knew they might deal with one lion, but a whole pride was impossible. The lions formed a circle around the men and waited.
* * * * *
When the Park Rangers arrived, all the guardian animals slid away into the half-light of dawn. Serah and Jack made their way to the acacia bushes, where Jack had to experience his first transformation back to a man.
Sara watched him anxiously until she was sure he was safe and then triggered her own shift. When she sat beside him in human form, he put out a hand to stroke her arm.
“What a rush!” he murmured.
“How do you feel?”
“What I said. Incredible. No headache, no aches.” He flexed his muscles. “I feel great. When do we do it again?”
“You should rest for a day or so. Then I’ll take you out on the savannah at night. It’s wild and beautiful—”
She kissed him long and hard and handed him his robe. “Two Siri Mtu,” she whispered against his mouth. “An unbeatable combination.”
No one noticed them slip through the back gate of the lodge. On her way to her tent Sara met the woman tourist who had taken the walking tour.
“Oh my dear,” she twittered. “You missed all the excitement.” She took in Sara’s robe and bare feet and very obviously refrained from comment. “Yes, well,” she continued, “it seems there are lions out there. I knew it. They must have been hunting last night and decided they would like a different kind of meat. They caught four men who were poaching elephants. Amazing isn’t it? Almost as if they knew what they were doing.”
Sara smiled and made some noises of interest, trying to slide past. “And what is more,” the woman went on, “the rangers have arrested the manager here and the pilot. Now no one knows how we’ll get out of here. Can you believe it? A white man involved with a gang of poachers.”
“I can believe it.” Sara managed to break away from the woman at last and hurried to her tent. There would be a lot of work to do.
Sara spent the day in a whirl of paperwork. She eventually managed to contact the main offices of the airline and arranged for transport for some guests. Others who had no connecting flights were happy to stay an extra day. She sorted out the accommodations and breathed a sigh of relief when everyone seemed happy.
She looked up from the last form she was filing and met Jack’s deep brown gaze as he leaned on the counter.
“Tired?” he said.
She rolled her shoulders and nodded. “And you?”
“I was able to doze during the day, like the lazy male simba that I am.” He grinned. “So I’m fit and full of energy.”
The prospect sent a tingle through her.
She got to her feet.
Jack came round the counter and took her in his arms. “There are three things on my agenda,” he said. “Dinner, a swim and you. Not necessarily in that order. You choose.”
She frowned, pretending to consider. “There’s still my chocolate bar,” she said, and kissed him on the lips.
“Indeed. We’ll start with dessert.”
He took her hand and led her at a fast pace to his tent. As soon as he’d unzipped the flap she was inside, stripping off her clothes.
Jack scooped up the sticky puddle of chocolate. “Perfect,” he said. “Lie down.”
He coated her nipples with some of the chocolate and then spread more around her belly.
“Take some,” he commanded and held out his palm. She scooped a gob of the sweet confection and held it up on her finger. First she placed a small dab on her mouth, then slowly she spread her legs and raised her knees. Her eyes holding his, she inserted the chocolate-covered finger into her opening.
Jack sucked in his breath.
“Don’t move,” he said in a strained voice.
He lowered the window flaps in the tent, creating almost complete darkness, then she heard him ripping off his clothes.
“My mission now,” he said close to her ear, “if I choose to accept it, and I most certainly do, is to find every scrap of chocolate.”
She felt his weight on the bed, the warmth of his body next to her. Her heightened senses distinguished the musky scent of his arousal. The sound in her throat was a gentle purr of contentment.
“I’ll start here,” he murmured and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue probed and stroked and she began to move in rhythm with him. He held her shoulders and traced his way with butterfly kisses down her jaw to the hollow in her throat.
“Am I getting warmer?”
“Most definitely.”
She felt him move again and saw the dim bulk of him over her. He’d raised himself on his knees and positioned his body between her legs.
He placed a hand on each side of her head to support himself and began to lick her breasts, touching delicately at first, taking the chocolate in tiny sips that drove her wild for more. Her hips were lifting off the bed now, inviting, cajoling, longing…
But he took his time with each breast, sucking her nipples deep into his mouth, teasing, nipping at them until her moans followed
each other without pause.
He inched his way down her stomach, licking and stroking with his tongue until he reached her throbbing pussy.
“Now,” he said. She held her breath.
He lifted her knees and placed her feet flat against the bed. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, and she could see him quite clearly. If she raised her head just a little she could see the head of his penis, standing up thick and wonderful, waiting for her.
He slid one hand under her ass and lifted her a little. He paused to consider her, wide open before him, then slid one finger inside her and scooped out some chocolate. He held up the finger.
“Chocolate and cream,” he said. “My favorite combination.” He opened his mouth and closed his lips around the finger, drawing it out slowly. All her muscles tightened in response.
“All clean,” he said. “But I think there’s more in there.”
He took hold of her ankles, placed them on his shoulders and dipped his head between her legs. “I love chocolate cunt,” he murmured.
She almost lost it when she felt his mouth on the lips of her vulva. She drew in a deep, deep breath and he paused. “Take it easy,” he said. “We have a way to go yet. I need to make sure I get it all. Are you okay?”
The spasm slowly subsided, leaving a trace of tenderness like the aftermath of a burn. “Yes,” she whispered.
He dipped his head again, and this time it was his tongue that slid inside her. He thrust it deep, his lips pressed tight against her flesh.
He placed his hands on her shoulders to hold her while he began to stroke her inner walls and suck at her clit.
She lost all coherent thought as her body was centered on her tormented cunt. She rolled her head from side to side, moaning in desperation, begging him to continue, to finish, to drive her completely mad.
At last she succeeded in moving her arms enough to touch his penis. It was wet and weeping, hard as rock and thick. She placed her hand flat against it. It was longer than the span of her fingers.
He paused and looked up at her from between her legs. “I have found it all.”
“Good.” The word came out in a croak. “Now fuck me, damn you.”
“Happy to oblige.”
He thrust inside her, hard and true.
The End
About the author:
Margrett Dawson has been a nomad most of her life, and has lived in six different countries. She is settled for a while with her own romance hero on Vancouver Island on Canada's Pacific Coast, where she loves to craft sexy stories about people who fall in love. She will move on again (this time to Africa for a few months) but will continue to spin tales, especially about people who find romance when they least expect it.
Margrett welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337 Commerce Drive, #13, Stow, Ohio 44224.
Also by Margrett Dawson:
Bella Donna
Secret Services
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