Finding Destiny (9 page)

He flushed even redder and bit out the words with a grimace. “... Expect you to suckle me.”

Comprehension dawned, aided by the bulge now evident in his loincloth.
If he had that done to him every day, it must have trained his body to respond in expectation from the moment a woman kneels in front of him, like the way a pampered horse or donkey would learn to expect a bit of fruit before and after being harnessed to the plow. But now he doesn’t want to
expect
it, in the sense of demanding it as a right. Though surely it can’t be good for him to suffer without release; Sundra knows he hasn’t courted any other woman since coming to the village, or I’d have heard of it by now.

Rising to her feet, Chanson caught his hands and gently drew them out from under his elbows. She smiled at him gently, letting him know it was alright. “Then I won’t kneel ... even though I find your pale thighs rather fascinating and just wanted a closer look.” She flashed him a grin and he relaxed a little. “Maybe when
I
feel like it at some point in the future ... but since you don’t want me to do it right now, I won’t. So come, sit on the bench with me. Like equals. Equals sit together, yes?”

Nodding, he relaxed further and let her guide him back onto the cushions of her window seat. “Yes, equals sit together.”

A thought occurred to her, and she smiled wryly. “Actually, to be equal, I’d have to take off my blouse and skirt. Shall I do that?”

From the instant interest in his exotic blue eyes, she figured she didn’t really have to ask. But she waited until he gave her a quick, eager bobble of his head, then stood. It didn’t take long to untie the lacings at the ruffled neckline of her blouse, but she took her time in letting that neckline droop down over her shoulders. She also watched her soon-to-be lover, enjoying the way his blue eyes roved over her skin.

She didn’t let it down quite far enough to expose her breasts just yet, but instead removed the belt holding the aquamarine fabric in place, then loosened the lacings of her skirt. That, she let slide to the floor, exposing her legs down to her sandals. That also dragged his gaze down to the floor, and he took his time bringing it back up again.

From the increased shape of his loincloth, he was enjoying the view. Once his eyes returned to her face, she loosened her blouse just a little bit more and let it flutter to the floor. His gaze lingered on her breasts, long enough to make them feel tight with the longing for a more tangible caress. He lowered his focus to her hips, next.

Like his, her loincloth was crafted from plain, undyed linen, bleached only by repeated dryings in the sun. And like his, hers had the same long, ribbonlike tapes that wrapped around her hips, as well as the fall which passed from back to front, looped around the waistband, and returned to back where it was tucked into itself once more. Unlike his, which blended in with his pale thighs, hers stood out prominently against her sun-dark skin.

“I find,” Eduor murmured, staring at her loins, “your own thighs fascinating. Very dark and exotic.”

Pleased, Chanson stepped out of the light blue puddle of her clothes. Before he could protest, she straddled his pale thighs and settled on his knees, bringing their contrasting flesh together. His hands lifted as if to ward her off, then hovered a moment, no doubt unsure if he had the right to touch her. She could only imagine what he had gone through. Catching his fingers, she brought his palms down on the tops of her thighs.

“I
want
you to touch me,” she murmured. Sliding her fingertips to his wrists, she explored up his forearms. Here, his skin wasn’t as pale as his thighs, but rather tanned to a nut brown from long exposure to the sun. “And I want to touch you. What do you want, Eduor of Oba’s Well?”

Knowing he wanted to fit in, she watched his eyes brighten with her intentional phrasing. “I want ... you. I want to touch you.”

She smiled. “I want you to.”

His hands, resting on her thighs, moved. They slid up and down, caressing her legs, then moved to her waist. She drew in a breath of pleasure, only to squirm a moment later when his fingertips grazed her ribs a little too lightly.

Blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She stared back at him. He wriggled his fingers again. She squirmed a second and gave him a dirty look, but it was spoiled by her grin. He matched it with a wicked one of his own, and attacked. Within heartbeats she was squirming and laughing so hard, she could hear her voice echoing off the walls of her room, and no doubt across the roofs of the buildings beyond her open window.

Somewhere in the middle of arching her back, he swooped down and captured the tip of her left breast. Her laughter turned into a choked gasp, then a moan as he suckled and licked. Swirling and flicking his long, agile tongue, he tasted her from one breast to the other and back.

She wasn’t sure which one of them moaned first, or who groaned in reply. Nor was she sure when her fingers buried themselves among the thin braids confining his soft curls, though she did note that every time she tugged gently, he suckled more strongly. Murmuring his name, she stroked and tugged in encouragement. His arms hooked around her hips and pulled her close, until her linen-wrapped groin was snuggled enticingly tight against his. Well, as tight as her restless circling and his own rocking would allow.

He mumbled something against her breasts. She managed a noise of inquiry between moaning breaths, and he dragged his lips from her flesh.

“I
need
,” he panted.

“Need?” Chanson asked, attention distracted by the way he flicked his tongue in circles around her right nipple.

“Need ... to be
inside
you,” he groaned.

“Oh,
yes
,” she agreed, shivering with anticipation. He hitched her closer, then stood. Clutching at his shoulders for balance, Chanson pressed a kiss to Eduor’s forehead. He crossed to her bed and laid her down, then reached for the tapes on her loincloth. Pushing up on one elbow, she reached for his, smirking as they untied each other’s final garment. If one didn’t count their sandals.

Before she could comment on their lingering footwear, Eduor captured her mouth in a kiss. Pressing her back onto her goat-hair-stuffed mattress, he helped her lift and part her knees, making room for him. She felt his manhood bump against her groin and reached down to grasp the hot, hard shaft. He grimaced and pulled back.

“Please ... please don’t ...”

“Don’t, what?” Chanson asked, worried at this new trouble spot in their lovemaking.

“Don’t
stop
me,” he all but whimpered.

Suspecting what his owners had done to him, or rather, denied to him, Chanson gently stroked his warm, dry shaft as she spoke. “I’m not stopping you,” she soothed him. “I’m guiding you—wait, lie on your back.
Trust
me, Eduor. I’m going to give you pleasure, because I
want
to give you pleasure.”

Hesitating, he finally nodded and eased onto his back. Curling up and over his stomach, Chanson brought her lips to his shaft. He sucked in a sharp breath, then let it out in a long, heartfelt groan. Her tongue wasn’t nearly as long as his, but he clearly appreciated her efforts to dampen his flesh. She in turn enjoyed both the taste of him and the close-up view of his pale golden thighs.

Once he was sufficiently wet and restless, she debated climbing on top, but decided he had conceded enough control to her. Uncurling, she lay down beside him and urged him up over her. “Make love to me, Eduor. Please.”

Groaning in relief, he shifted to climb over her. She parted her knees in invitation and drew his gaze to the crux of her thighs. Seeing him hesitate, guessing at the conflicts rising within him, she caressed his jaw, returning his eyes to her face.

“Another time, and only if you want it. Right now, I want the same thing you want. I want to feel you inside me, Eduor.”

He didn’t even groan, just captured her mouth with his. This time, when she reached for his shaft, he didn’t pull back in fear of rejection, but let her guide him home. Right after he prodded and sank about halfway in ... the first bell for the midday harvest prayers rang.

Eduor froze and whimpered, lifting his lips a fraction from hers. As much as she wanted to curse Jimeyon for his lousy timing, Chanson knew instinctively that she didn’t dare stop her lover. Not with that look of anguish in his
dyara
blue eyes. Instead of muttering imprecations, she whispered encouragements, telling him how warm he was, how strong and how wonderful he felt. Groaning, he sank deeper, accepting her words and the fingers stroking the side of his face. Accepted the pacing of those strokes as his own, until his need took over and his hips snapped to hers.

It felt good. Like his tongue, his shaft wasn’t thick, but it was long, and he wielded it with skill, lifting one of her knees and hitching his own so that he rubbed against both of her pleasure points, the one inside and the one outside, with each grinding stroke. Drawing his mouth down for a kiss, she let her tongue tangle with his, enjoying her rising desire. Until he choked, stiffened, and shuddered.

Pushing in a few last times, he sagged over her, face buried in the crook of her neck. Hidden against her skin, he muttered something. Chanson couldn’t quite understand. “What was that?”

“... I’m sorry. I didn’t ... I wanted to last, but ... I’ll make it up to you,” he stated and shifted his weight to one elbow, freeing his other hand.

Chanson caught it before it could brush lower than her belly. She smiled to reassure him. “Another time. We will get to do this again.”

“But you didn’t have fun,” he pointed out, his expression sober, serious. “I don’t want it to be like I’m using you. I’m not. You need—”

Shifting her other fingers to her lips, she quieted him. “Shh. Real lovemaking is neither simultaneous nor absolutely equal in every regard. After all, some women can climax six or seven times, and her poor man is often exhausted after two or three—mostly, when he’s young, and less when he’s older.

“What
is
equal is that both parties enjoy themselves. And I enjoyed you, just now.” Chanson grinned. “It doesn’t have to be a climax. In fact, I felt
very
good when you attained your pleasure. I was giving you what you needed most, and that pleased me very much.” She stroked his braids back from his face. “Later, we can see how good you might feel when giving me pleasure. But
only
if you feel good about doing it.”

The bell rang out again, echoing over the oasis. Eduor wrinkled his nose. “That’s the second bell. The farmers will be coming in for prayers. Dammit. I don’t have time to ... to show my appreciation for your generosity.”

She nodded wryly. “Yes. I need to bathe and then purify myself in the
mikwah
, dry off, and get dressed before the fourth bell rings. I’ll admit it was foolish to start this so close to the midday prayers ... but I don’t regret being so wonderfully foolish.”

He stared at her, visibly thinking, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Your Goddess is very generous, Chanson, in letting me be here with you. I don’t want to get you in trouble with Her.” Pulling free, he shifted to the side and kissed her cheek. “Go. Bathe and purify yourself. I’ll sneak out of here.”

Rising, Chanson lifted her brows. “
Sneak?
Goddess, no! I want you to
swagger
downstairs,” she instructed, grinning wickedly. “After you get dressed, of course. I’d rather keep those sexy pale thighs all to myself, if you’re willing. I like being with you, Eduor. In
all
things. I see nothing wrong with both of us proclaiming that fact to everyone else.”

“Up to a point,” he agreed, watching her shrug back into her clothes. “I think I’d like to keep my pale thighs reserved just for you, too.
And
my tongue. Um, you haven’t told ... ?”

“Told anyone?” she asked and shook her head. Knotting the laces on her skirt, she tightened the neckline of her blouse with two efficient tugs and a bit of tying, then crossed to the cabinet holding her blue-dyed clothes. “The length of your tongue is your own business. As is the length of your ...”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him a feminine smile. He blushed. She chuckled and grabbed one of the linen-wrapped packets of cleaned and blessed garments. Returning to the bed, she dipped and kissed his cheek, meeting him as he sat halfway up.

“I’ll see you at midday prayers, Eduor. And afterward, too, I hope?” she asked.

“Yes. I’d like that,” he agreed. “A lot.”

Heading for the door, she paused and looked back at him. “Thank you for understanding about my duties, Eduor. I’d rather stay with you and cuddle, and other things, but ...”

He nodded. “We can do those things afterward. Go on.”

Smiling in relief, she left.

SIX

Sagging back onto her bed as the door closed, Eduor cursed himself silently.
Fool! Fool, thousand times fool ... Idiot. Inconsiderate ass.
It was hard dredging up enough energy to castigate himself. His first chance at intercourse in years had drained his strength along with his wits.
Yes, an ass ... as dumb as a donkey headed for the acacia bushes ...