Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan Page 3

  Shanee became aware of Barat hurrying back the way they’d come, stripping off his offending clothing as he walked. “T-thank you, Barat,” she managed to say, her gaze never leaving the man in front of her.

  Reluctantly her attention went from his faultless form to the tall spear he carried as though it were a natural extension of his powerful physique. She was reminded of tales of ancient legendary warriors from such places as an Éigipt and an Ghréig

  “Ailyn Harmattan?” she asked, picking up her travel bag.

  “Aye. Come, little Amazeen,” he said, and held out his hand.

  Almost as though in a trance, she dropped the water bottle and moved toward him. “You know who I am?” she asked as she slipped her hand in his. The moment her flesh touched his, she knew she was lost.

  “I have been reading your thoughts since you crossed the stream near the Rain Tree,” he replied. “Is your bag too heavy for you to carry? If so, I will carry it for you.”

  “No,” she mumbled. “I’m good.”

  He glanced down at her. “Not always I would imagine.”

  Shanee blushed beneath that penetrating amber gaze and could have kicked herself for showing such a feminine weakness. With his firm grip surrounding her fingers, he led her down the path and away from the beautiful stream. She looked back longingly at its inviting waters and sighed.

  “You are hot and the water beckons,” he said in his mesmerizing voice.

  “I would love to take a swim,” she said, and was stunned that her voice had taken on a low, very feminine quality.

  “When we reach my home, you can do that,” he said.

  She was keenly aware of his physicality as they walked. He was barefoot and looking down at his feet, she realized that everything she could see of his was absolute perfection—even down to his toes.

  His hand tightening around hers and her face flamed. She knew he had intercepted that silly thought.

  “Have you news of the Burgon?” he asked as he used his tall spear to push aside broad leaves for her to pass under their emerald umbrella.

  Shanee had to swallow before she answered for her mouth had gone dry as dust. “The last we heard he was in the Aneas Quadrant.”

  “He’ll catch his quarry,” he said evenly. “Reapers always do.”

  “I would not like to be O’Shay,” she said.

  “Nor would I,” he replied.

  It was to a cave that he led her. Outside the sweeping archway luxuriant foliage grew up to the dark gray stone and vines curled downward to hang like swags over the entrance.

  “You live in a cave?” she asked, and when he laughed, she felt that laugh to the very pit of her womb.

  “Don’t judge yet, mo ionúin,” he chastised her.

  A ripple of pure pleasure went through Shanee at his use of the Gaelachuan form of endearment. His calling her his beloved did strange things inside her, setting her heart to fluttering.

  They walked under the hanging vines and into darkness. He halted her, bidding her to give her eyes time to adjust to the change. As they stood there so quietly, so still, his fingers caressing hers in that powerful grip, she became aware of his heady male scent and it began to play havoc with her senses.

  “Can you see the light there?” he asked softly.

  Shanee could make out a faint glow to the rear of the cave entrance. “Aye.”

  He tugged lightly on her hand and they began moving down a long stone corridor toward the source of that flicker of illumination. With every step she took, she knew she was going deeper below ground. Normally that would have concerned her, made her uneasy, but with her hand tucked safely in Aliyn’s, she felt no claustrophobic anxiety.

  Within the stillness of the cave, she could hear the whistle of wind and feel it plying gently over her face. It was warm but wasn’t unpleasantly so. The closer they came to the light, the louder the sound of the wind and along with it the unmistakable resonance of falling water.

  “Is there a waterfall within the cave?” she asked, hearing the eagerness in her voice.

  “You’ll see.”

  It was growing brighter and by the time they came to a turn in the corridor partitioned off by a massive jutting stone, she could smell the wild exotic flower scents that had so intrigued her in the jungle as well as the faint tang of saltwater.

  He guided her around the stone and into a fairyland of such raw natural beauty and overpowering sensual delight, she gasped, her eyes going wide.

  The walls surrounding this subterranean chamber seem to ooze with blood red limestone stalactite. Fantastical twisted, gnarled and chiseled cones extended from the immense high ceiling alongside thick tree roots, both of which appeared to be arching their stone and fibrous fingers toward the green glowing pool of water that stretched around this hidden room, its waters lapping gently against a pebble-strewn beach. A shaft of light speared downward from the dark canopy of rock to shed wavering beams of light upon the undulating waters. To one side a waterfall poured its dark waters into the vast pool.

  “The Diabolusians call this a cenote,” he explained to her as he leaned his spear against one craggy wall. He pointed to the tree roots. “They pierce the ceiling in search of water.”

  She saw his pallet laid out beside the gently rippling water. “What a glorious place in which to live,” she whispered.

  “I like the serenity of it and it is as close to the water as I can get.”

  She glanced up at him. The low light in the chamber played seductively across his face, swirling shadows over the handsome plains and passing now and again through his topaz irises.

  “Reapers cannot go into running water, can they?” she asked, remembering something she had read in the report on the men who had been created at Riezell-Nine.

  “Actually they can,” he said softly, “but I’ve yet to attempt it.” A slight smile tugged at his lips. “That was just one of many lies the scientists fed us on R-9.” He let go of her hand. “Why don’t you test the waters in the pool, little Amazeen?” He hunkered down at her feet. “Give me your foot.”

  It was almost as though she had no will, no mind of her own. She lifted her foot and watched as he pulled off her boot, her sock. Obediently she lifted her other leg. The soles of her feet tingled as they touched the damp stones. She gazed down at him as he knelt there looking up at her and felt her heart thudding almost painfully in her chest.

  “The water is cool,” he said in a husky voice. “It comes from a deep subterranean well.”

  She found herself unbuttoning her uniform tunic, peeling it from her shoulders. Pushing her trousers down her hips, stepping out of them. Without thought, without a single moment of shyness or restraint, she unhooked her bra and let it fall away. She slid her panties off and stood there revealed to him in all her unadorned defenselessness.

  Ailyn was on his knees before her and reached up to push his hands from the sides of her thighs and around her neatly turned rump to cup those firm cheeks. He pulled her toward him and when his mouth touched her core, Shanee let her head fall back, closing her eyes to the perfect pleasure his lips wrought.

  The sweep of his tongue, the thrust of it, the absolute heaven of his warm breath fanning over the wiry curls at the juncture of her thighs, the slick, wet feel of his tongue parting her cleft and slipping inside her channel made her shudder from head to toe. Her hands went to his sleek black hair and she held his head against her, breathing deeply then more shallowly as he increased his rhythm, the movement of his tongue. He was lapping at her, nibbling, pressing, flicking, and when she came, she came with a trill of release that echoed through the stone chamber and came back at her.

  Shanee was trembling, her heart pounding, the blood rushing through her ears and her body felt strung as tightly as a new bow. Her release had been momentary and already she wanted his touch again, the feel of her climax rippling through her once more.

  “Cool yourself in the pool,” he invited, letting his hands slide from her. “We have all t
he time in the world, ionúin.”

  As though in a trance she stepped back and walked toward the milky green glow of the waters. So unlike the skilled warrioress she was, she didn’t ask about the depth of the pool. She didn’t inquire of creatures that might be lurking in its deepness. She did not question how she knew to step up upon a broad flat area and then jackknife her body below the rippling surface.

  The waters were sheer paradise—cooling, soothing, washing away the sweat and grime of her trek through the jungle. Beneath the plane of the water’s expanse, the light turned the waters to a mystical shade of green. She cut through that glorious color like a fish for nearly two full minutes and when she broke the surface at last to gulp air into her depleted lungs, she was amazed anew at the absolute beauty of her surroundings.

  Her hair had come free of its tightly controlled chignon and now hung behind her, floating in the water.

  “Like it?” he asked. He was sitting on the rock from which she’d dived with his bare feet dangling over the edge. Beneath the hem of the breechclout, she could see his privates and a tingle of pure lust drove straight through her lower body.

  “Join me,” she said, and hardly recognized her husky voice.

  He hesitated for a moment then got to his feet, stripped the breechclout from his hips and arched into the water like the champion she knew he’d been from reading his file.

  Though acute pain had clawed at his back as he dared to go against his hellion, the moment he entered the water, his queen released her tight control on him, without doubt feeling the exhilaration and pleasure he was experiencing at being in the water after so long a time denied its soothing delights.

  The pool was deep and Shanee treaded water as she watched him cut through the water with purpose, his powerful strokes pulling him along. She could see the muscles bunching in his upper arms, his shoulders, and now and then a glimpse of his perfect backside made her lick her lips.

  Oh how she wanted this man! she thought as she watched him dive deep below the surface. She ached between her legs with such fiery need she wanted to drag him out of the water, stake him upon the crushed pebbles and straddle him, impaling herself as deep as he could go. She longed to taste him, to feel the weight of his body pressing down on hers, the hot warmth of his hands and mouth on her breasts.

  When he shot up right in front of her—his body sliding sensually against hers, his strong legs churning the water—she had no other thought in her head than to lift her legs and lock them around his hips, her arms around his neck, flattening her breasts to his broad chest.

  He never faltered, never even batted an eye. He just stretched out on his lean flanks and moved backward in the water, his arms pulling them toward the shore until his feet could touch the sloped bottom of the pool. His cock rested along the cleft of her ass and it was hard and thick and hot, pulsing now and then against her.

  “I want you,” she said as he turned and walked with her out of the water.

  “I know.”

  It had not been said arrogantly or with conceit but as an acceptance of her need that matched his. When he carried her to his pallet and knelt down to allow her to lie on her back on that soft expanse, she did not break her hold on him, and he stretched out atop her, his weight a heavenly burden that sent shivers of delight through her groin. He touched the wound that marred her shoulder.

  “Who did this?” he asked, anger leaping in his amber gaze.

  “A dead man,” she answered.

  He held her gaze for a long moment then lowered his head to the wound and kissed it gently, laving it with his tongue. As he did, his cock leapt against her.

  She wriggled against him, wanting that delicious cock inside her, but when he shook his head, she wanted to scream. “Why not?”

  He smiled gently and put his hands to either side of her face. “Because you are ovulating, ionúin, and I would not give you a child until we are legally Joined as man and wife. I want no bastard son of ours to ever feel the disapproval of his peers.”

  From all the reading she had done about the men who had been experimented on at R-9, Shanee knew Reapers mated only once in their lives. No other woman would ever know the power and thrust of them. They would allow no other man to have what was theirs. She knew when Ailyn Harmattan took her, he would be the last man she would ever allow that right.

  “You must be sure it is I you want, little Amazeen,” he said, looking down into her eyes.

  “Am I what you want?” she asked, staring at his sensual mouth.

  He stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Morrigunia Herself sent you to me. I’ve no doubt in my mind about that. Can you not feel Her hand in this?”

  Shanee knew they shared the goddess in common in their religions but she’d never thought much about such things. Though she gave lip service to the deities, she had never really believed in Their existence or Their supposed power to sway fate. At that moment though, she believed.

  “Of all the women in the megaverse who could have been sent here, it was you who came,” he said. “I felt the pull as soon as your ship sailed overhead. I didn’t know what awaited me or who, but I knew my life would never be the same again. I accepted that the moment I felt your thoughts last eve.”

  “We could be all wrong for one another,” she said, trying to be a responsible adult.

  “You don’t believe that and neither do I,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  As experienced as she was, Shanee had never known a kiss could be so enthralling, so devastating and so powerful that it literally made her toes curl. His mouth was a warm haven into which her very soul sank as he drew upon her lips. She throbbed in places she didn’t even know she had and such a powerful sense of rightness with this man passed over her that she melted into his embrace.

  “I want… I need…”

  “I know what you need, ionúin. Let me provide it.”

  He eased off her to lie beside her, sliding his hand to her silken curls as he bent over and claimed her breast between his lips. His fingers—first one then two then three—slid into her warm sheath and began a deep, penetrating rhythm while his thumb grazed her swollen clit.

  She writhed on the pallet, her hips arching up to meet his sure strokes. Her breast tingled where his mouth plied it. He went deep, held and then slowly withdrew, going deeper still when she groaned. He twisted his fingers gently inside her moist box until he found that mysterious spot that drew him like a magnet.

  The moment he touched that button within her, Shanee bore down on his fingers and wrapped her arms around his neck to press his mouth firmer over her breast. His teeth were grazing her nipple, plucking at it, grinding it tenderly, and she was on fire with a lust that sent waves of heat coursing through her entire body.

  “Ailyn,” she said, and the word was a pleading, a begging and a needing that set his own soul aflame.

  He pressed deeply into her, suckled her nipple hard, stabbed its swollen tip with his tongue and felt the ripples of pleasure undulating through her moistness.

  “Ailyn!” she shouted, her body quivering as wave after wave of intense pleasure moved through her. She rode that concentrated tickle, ground against it, pushed up toward it and it seemed to go on and on and on until she couldn’t take the enjoyment any longer. “Stop. Stop!”

  Very slowly he withdrew his fingers and with his gaze fused with her half-lidded, sated one, he brought those fingers to his mouth to lick away her juices, to taste her, to revel in her spilled passion.

  She drew in a harsh breath as she watched him. Never had she seen anything so carnal, so forceful. It sent ripples of desire through her, igniting her senses. Her breathing was so erratic she thought she might pass out from the sheer intensity of the passion that had rocked her to her foundation.

  When every bit of her moistness was gone from his flesh, he smiled lazily at her. “Want to taste me now?” he asked in a deep, throaty growl.

  “Aye,” she said, and sprang up and over him with such
fierce purpose she surprised him. His laugh was all the goading she needed to position herself between his legs—her knees spreading his thighs farther apart—and sit back on her haunches to stare down at the perfection of his hard cock.

  His was larger than any man’s she’d ever seen. Even Tariq seemed small in comparison and she thought that man’s root to be massive when she’d surreptitiously ogled it. Ailyn’s shaft was long and thick with prominent veins running along its length. The glistening head was darker than and as soft as a baby’s ass when she touched it with the tip of her finger. His sac was full and pendulous as she slid her hand beneath him to heft the weight of those hairy orbs.

  “You should be sculpted,” she said in awe. “At the very least painted.”

  He stretched out his arm so he could trail his fingers down her breast. “Paint me with your saliva, ionúin. That will be art enough for me.”

  Completely amazed, her hand shook as she wrapped her fingers around his erect length, she was further stunned to find she could not encircle that straining flesh completely within the span of her closed grip. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes met his.

  “When the time comes, it will fit,” he told her.

  “I’m not so sure,” she said breathlessly.

  “I will stretch you on me, little Amazeen,” he said. “And I will seat myself so deep in your cunt you won’t want me to withdraw.”

  She had no doubt of that. Just staring down at that magnificent rod made her insides quake with a need so powerful she thought she well might come with him in her hand.

  “I’ll never get all of this down my throat,” she said. He was so long she could put both hands around him.

  “Probably not, but you can try,” he said with a wag of his thick black brows.

  And try she did, bending over him to take the head between her lips. Her jaws reacted to the stretching as she suckled him. She relaxed her throat and slid him as far into her mouth as she could without gagging and didn’t begin to touch the base of that huge shaft. She pulled him out, swirled her tongue over his slit, suckled him, drew on his head and lowered her lips over him once again with her hands twisting gently, alternately in opposite directions.