ClaimedbytheNative (3 page)

Navin’s fingers moved between our bodies, deftly finding the
slick, hard nut of my clit. The gentlest touch had my hips jerking forward,
bringing a smile to his lips as he pressed his mouth to my throat. I wondered
if he could feel my heartbeat as it pulsed in my vein in a beat similar to the
tabla
drums I had heard resonate all over India. The touch of his tongue to the
tender spot below my ear had the drumbeat increasing tenfold.

My fingers, splayed across his back, dug into the taut
flesh. He twisted beneath my touch, wincing at the bite of my nails. I heard
the hissing intake of his breath and dug harder. Whatever warning he issued in
Malayalam, I failed to understand, but I loved how much it sounded like a
reprimand, as though he were telling me off.

My bad behavior was punished by Navin thrusting two large
fingers into my pussy, hard and without warning. I cried out, my voice
operating without any conscious command from my brain. I tried to jerk away,
finding it impossible to move, sandwiched as I was between the doorframe and
Navin.

Moving suddenly, Navin swept us across the room, bringing us
to the mattress with deft ease. Although the bed was basic, it served its
purpose well, ensconcing us in cushiony softness. I was beneath him then,
pressed to the bedding by the weight of his body. It occurred to me how strong
he was, holding me down so easily. The thought—and the blast of panic it
brought—vanished as his lips settled over mine once more, his kiss teasing and
soft.

He captured my wrists, thumbs pressing against the curve of
my palm. While Navin kissed me, I yearned to touch his bare skin again. I could
smell my arousal, as heady as the scent of incense that seemed as much a part
of his wooden shack as the man himself. When the length of his cock brushed
against my inner thigh, I released a whimper against his mouth, my hips jerking
in response.

Soft lips traced my jaw, ever downward, leaving me
breathless. Navin’s hands remained against my wrists, binding and restricting
me, forcing me to be at the mercy of his touch. His lips sealed over the peak
of my right breast, suckling on the hard pebble of my nipple. The wet tip of
his tongue flicked across the nub, rapid and dexterous. His mouth alternated
between gentle, playful nips with his teeth, to soft licks and hard sucks.

“Please…” I said, not quite sure what I was pleading for. I
half wanted him to stop, feeling tortured by the sense of unfulfilled desire.
The other half—or perhaps a little more than half—wanted Navin to continue his
quest forever, driving me demented by his endless teasing. When one hand
released my wrist, moving downward to cup my left breast, I took advantage of
the momentary freedom and my fingers delved into the smooth, inky strands of
his hair. He really needed a haircut, for the tendrils curled at the nape of
his long neck, softer than they should have been with such a rugged image.
Still, I couldn’t reconcile the picture of Navin the Farmer being groomed and
smart. His hard body and chiseled features personified a man used to physical
labor. How much he differed from the men I knew in London was startling.

He stopped suddenly, reclining back just a few inches to
look down at me. In the dim light of his home, Navin’s eyes were impenetrable
and yet impossibly emotive. I sensed he might want to say something—something
profound and filled with wisdom—but he seemed to think better of it, shaking
his head before lowering it to kiss me hard and thoroughly.

I let my hand wander across the planes of his back, stroking
the tight muscles that rippled beneath my fingertips. When I reached the firm
curve of his backside, Navin’s teeth nibbled at my lips, eliciting a groan from
my throat.

His slipped out of my touch, moving downward, peppering
kisses across my skin as he did. An intake of breath caught with a hitch, my
mind anticipating what this mysterious man intended to do. I felt
simultaneously sexy and shy. Navin knelt between my knees, his touch easily
fighting against my defiance. His eyes lowered to my pussy, a small smile of
appreciation toying with his full, Cupid’s bow lips.

My eyes fell shut, snapping open in a moment when Navin’s
fingers stroked my swollen clit in a slow circle. Our gazes fused, watching each
other while he masturbated me. My lips parted, my breath releasing in a
trembling shudder; his ability to pleasure me was extraordinary. Even his
preliminary touches were exquisite, leaving my hormone-addled brain to wonder
just how good the main event would be.

“Rosie.” His voice was gentle, reassuring almost, as he
lowered himself between my thighs. Speaking my name, Navin reminded me of a
pilgrim at a temple, kneeling in worship of a deity—and the caress of his lips
against my inner thigh echoed the sentiment. He was careful and thorough, each
kiss bringing him closer to my throbbing, wet pussy.

I was almost lightheaded by the time fingers parted my lips,
his tongue pressing against my clit. My groan of pleasure and his murmur of
approval merged, sounding loud in the small space. My hips jerked upward, my
hand sinking back into his hair. Navin was a blissful assault on all my senses
for I was tormented by the perfection of his touch, the perfume of flowers,
coconut oil and some lingering but likely permanent scent of sandalwood. I
could still taste the Indian tea on my tongue, could hear the sound of my own
uninhibited pleasure and, when I lifted my head and looked down, I could see
what I thought was the most beautiful man I’d ever glimpsed.

His tongue stroked the length of my pussy, dipping into the
slick well, tasting my arousal and how he had affected me.

“Oh my…” I breathed, my voice high and piercing in
surroundings where only exotic birds punctuated the silence. Navin peered up at
me and I imagined he was pleased at my response.

My limbs felt like jelly as I lay there. He sucked the slick
bud of my clit between his lips, pressing one large hand against my hip,
holding me against his bed. I felt his fingers slide into me, thrusting in
long, gentle strokes. His fingertips seemed to brush teasingly, elusively
against a sensitive spot inside me.

“Navin…” I breathed his name, bewildered by the sparks
firing inside me with each torturous stoke of his fingers and every suckle of
his lips against my clit.

My pussy gave a squeeze, the familiar tightening in my belly
beginning with a vague, twisting knot. Navin seemed to understand, the
thrusting of his fingers gaining momentum until he was almost rough. I
whimpered, trying to grind against his mouth despite the persistent weight of
his hand on my hip, spreading across my belly. He sucked harder, thrust deeper,
and just when I knew my orgasm would peak to that moment when it could not be
halted or reversed, Navin ceased to touch me.

His fingers slid out of me and he pulled back. “
Illa
,”
he said gruffly, admonishing me.

I felt robbed, laying naked and panting against his bed. The
orgasm that had been so close diminished by the second, ebbing away to leave
only a dull ache as my clit continued to pulse.

“Not yet,” said Navin, slipping off the bed and getting to
his feet. His cock remained hard, the smooth bulbous tip glistening wetly. I
held my breath, watching him grip the thick shaft in his hand.

Sitting up, I found my limbs were wobbly still. Shuffling to
the edge of the bed, I was level with his narrow hips, the indent of his
bellybutton and the crisp black curls that trailed downward to his shaven
groin. Navin gazed down at me, his eyes hooded, shadowed by his thick lashes. I
sensed his anticipation then, his hopefulness that I would be bold enough to
take control.

I had never been confident sexually. While I had often
longed to take control, something always stopped me. What if I made a fool of
myself? What if my technique was lacking? I sensed no judgment from Navin as I
placed my hands upon his thick thighs and shimmied a little closer. Catching
the musky scent of his pre-cum, I inhaled deeply. My hand shifted, pressing
hard against the back of his leg. He was immoveable, rooted to the wooden floor
boards. Beneath my hands, Navin was solid muscle.

I thought of a horse with liquid muscles and unimaginable
power. There was something incredibly sexy about a strong man, and Navin’s
unassuming and humble persona made him even sexier.

My lips parted, sliding over the wet, mushroomed tip of his
cock. For a moment I thought his unflappable calm might waver as he gave a
sharp exhale. Navin’s hand cupped the back of my head, lightly prompting me as
I took his length into my mouth, my tongue stroking his shaft. He jerked forward,
filling my mouth, almost choking me.

My fingers flexed over his buttocks, squeezing the taut
flesh. My lips caressed him, tongue sweeping across the tender ridges of his
cock. I groaned, and the gentle vibration of my voice only seemed to encourage him.
His fingers tightened in my hair, knotting the strands roughly. Navin thrust
his hips again, backward and forward, his head falling back in pleasure. The
warm wetness of my mouth cocooned him, spurring him to repeat his approval in
Malayalam. I understood his words based solely on the guttural tone.

Reaching between his thighs, I pressed my palm against the
weight of his sac, my fingertips touching his perineum. Navin gasped, tugging
my hair. I sucked harder in defiance, pressing with more insistence upon the
spot beneath his balls. His cock gave a pulse and I pulled back, releasing him
with a final, devilish lick upon the shiny, wet tip. I watched as clear, slick
juice leaked from the little slit, forming into a teardrop.

He swore. Navin’s fingers relaxed, untangling from my unruly
hair.

“Do you carry protection?” he asked, his sudden directness
surprising me. He sounded impatient, his cock wetly glistening an inch from my
parted lips.

“I take the Pill,” I explained. I wasn’t in the habit of
finding myself in the beds of random men. There had been no plans to sleep
around on my trip to India. “I…” I cleared my throat, finding the topic to be
mortifying and personal. Odd, considering his tongue had been inside my cunt
only a few minutes earlier. “I’m clean. I don’t have anything.”

Navin reached for me, urging me to rise. When I got to my
feet, he turned me around. I stood facing the wall, and caught sight of a
beautiful bronze medallion, twice the size of my palm, depicting the Hindu
symbol “Om”. Inscribed around the edges in a script I believed to be Hindi, was
a mantra. I wondered what it meant to him, but had no time to contemplate as he
pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me to kneel on the bed.

I found myself on my hands and knees with Navin poised behind
me.

“I am too,” he said, his palms settling over the globes of
my ass. I held my breath. This was not a position I had been in before. “Doggy”
was a concept that played into my worst fears about myself. I was vulnerable,
left with absolutely no way to cover myself. When he lifted his hand from my
ass, I prepared to breathe a sigh of relief that turned to a yelp as he slapped
me. The resounding noise and momentary sting startled me.

“Beautiful,” Navin said, rubbing his palm across what I was
certain was a growing red mark. It surprised me just how much I enjoyed the
branding. “You are so beautiful.”

I had heard these words before, yet something about how
he
said them made me believe it was true.

He shifted forward, grasping my hips, his cock easing into my
pussy. I was more than ready for him, my body still reeling from the
almost-orgasm earlier. He filled me, stretching my wet flesh. I realized we
were both holding our breath when we exhaled at the same time, groans of two
different pitches merging in a symphony of satisfaction. Navin remained still
for a moment. I wondered if he was relishing the feel of me around him while I
adjusted to him being inside me. Then, with unrestrained vigor, he thrust hard
and deep.

“
Yes
,” I sighed, my fingers clutching the bedding.
“Like that.” His cock bumped the same cushion of nerves his fingers had
caressed. With each thrust, I felt the telltale beginnings of my climax. I
wondered at the power he wielded over me, at whatever innate ability he had to
arouse me.

Navin reached around, cupping my little breasts in his
hands. His chest was against my back, his skin hot. When he pulled on my
nipples, I jerked back against him, my backside slapping against his groin.

“Rosie…” he murmured. I could feel his breath against my
neck, coming in hot bursts over my skin.

My forehead lowered to the thin mattress and my ass rose
higher against him and Navin was somehow deeper then, filling me. His thrusts
were rough, reflecting his loss of control. I felt his hands come down over
mine, linking our fingers and forcing me to relinquish my hold upon the
blankets. Odd though it was, I felt more connected with this man I had known
only a few hours than I ever had with anyone before. He had somehow tapped into
the deepest recesses of my insecurities and had blasted them into oblivion. I
felt no embarrassment in being fucked rigid in this position. In fact, I didn’t
want it to end.

I was bereft at the loss of contact when Navin straightened,
reaching under me and between my thighs to rub my clit in tight, firm circles.
The combination of his cock inside me and the strumming of his fingers was
divine. The orgasm that had eluded me earlier was building in my belly, gaining
momentum with every hard, unforgiving thrust of his hips.

Navin’s cock bumped the spongy cushion of nerves inside me
at just the right angle and then, without any warning, I was coming in a
blinding rush of pleasure. My cry was muffled by the blankets beneath my face,
and I wasn’t sure what words I was speaking. He didn’t stop, thrusting again
and again, each time hitting the secret spot. My words turned to pleading
whimpers, every nerve coming alive as I came in a torrent of flooding wetness.