If Wishes Were Horses (12 page)

“I need you, Justin. Now.”

She had no  warning. He dropped the belt, snaked his  arm behind her, around the small of her back so  her waist was cinched up against his body, and drove hard and  deep into her at the same moment, using the  power of his arm to hold her tight against  him. The force of his movement shifted them, pushing them both against the window  so she heard the frame creak ominously.

She imagined what it would be like for  that window  to pop free so her head, shoulders and breasts were bathed by the  wind  and  sunshine while her  thighs  and pussy were  clamped around him in the exotic shadows of his shop. Her hair fluttering  free even as  their thighs grew damp  with exertion, friction and need.

Last night had been wild, primitive. This  was primal. This was simple possession  and escape, escape from a body in the woods, possession of a woman he appeared to  want with an undeniable, raging hunger. She felt a matching need swell in her for him.

She dug her nails into  his shoulders and  groaned as he withdrew and surged back  in, long full strokes that he alternated with  a series of tiny movements. He drew out until she felt the ridges of his head tease  her clit and the sensitive opening, then he  drove in again, reigniting all her nerve endings. She couldn't breathe, couldn't even

56

If Wishes  Were  Horses

move, the power of the climax rising up into her like a paralysis where she had no  energy to speak or struggle, just take all of  him and pant for more. Each time she got  close on those furious small strokes, he'd pull  far out again, as if he were stoking a fire,  seeing how  hot he could make the embers  before the whole thing burst into flame.

“Now, Sarah,” he whispered in her ear. His fingers  stroked her between  her ass

cheeks. She shrieked.

An earthquake began within her, all the plates moving, splitting open to show the fire raging at the center of her being and  realigning whole continents of beliefs and conceptions. At the moment she was nothing but a new creation in  his arms, the Goddess in the arms of the Consort, overwhelmed by his power and strength, the thrill of that connection deep  inside her, the sense of completion.

It was both spiritual and blatantly physical  at once, his  grunts, her cries, the slap of flesh, her back rubbing against the rough wood  of the dividers, a low, long moan as her climax shook her.

He spilled  himself in her then, and she felt  the surge  of his seed rush along the contracting walls of her cunt. Long after the heaviest wave of the prolonged orgasmpassed, she continued to shudder and jerk  with the force of the aftershocks. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him, pressing her face to his neck.

The stillness of the room returned, punctuated only by their deep breathing. Sheshould let go. In a moment shame and doubt would swamp her. Perhaps that was why she continued to hold on, thinking if she stayed in the circle of his arms, feeling hisfingers tracing her spine, the flare of her  hips, she could stave it off a little longer.

The screen door at the front of  the  store squeaked. “Justin?”

Sarah stiffened and would have scrambled  away, but Justin tightened his arms around her.  “Sshh, be  still. Margaret?” he raised his voice. “Take the others  and go onup to the classroom to change. I'll be up in  just a minute. My partner for the night ischanging in here.”

“Oh, wonderful. All right.” There was a murmur of voices, men and women both.

“It's all right.” Justin slipped out of her and  eased her down to  her feet, holding her waist. “It's my Tantra class.” He slid the other strap of the teddy off her shoulder and eased it down her body before she could organize her thoughts.

“What?” She made a futile grab at it, but  he had it down to her ankles, and his broad back and shoulder were in her way.

“As beautiful as you are in this, I don't  think you can wear it for the workshop. It would be distracting to say the least, and the thong and underwiring might constrictcertain energy centers.”

She was completely naked now, standing  in the dying sunlight of the window.  Herne straightened, his gaze caressing her as  he tucked himself back  into his underwear and re-fastened his trousers.

57

Joey W. Hill

Before she could protest or ask the whereabouts of her clothes, he covered her mouth with  his  in a gentle but firm kiss,  holding her naked body against his fullyclothed one as he melted her fears, pooled  them in the liquid heat in her lower belly.

“Justin.” She struggled for orientation. “I'm dripping.”

He smiled, reached behind him and tugged a soft towel off the screen. She extended her hand to  take it  from him, but instead let out a surprised noise as he insinuated hishand between her legs and began to clean her with soft rubs and pats, touching her thighs and her smooth folds.

“I can do it,” she said, embarrassed.

“I know. But it's a pleasure to touch you, Sarah, and to take care of you. I was a bit rougher than I should have been.”

“I liked that,” she mumbled.  Because she wasn't a coward,  she looked up at his face. “You lost control. I liked that.”

“I'll bet.” A rueful smile touched his lips.  “Now you know how it feels.  I like it  when you let go, too.

“Here.” He pulled a robe from the screen,  a soft satin creation of ivory, and  threaded her arms through it. Some reality returned, and with it, a flutter of panic.

“Herne, I can't participate in some weird  sex class you have. I'm a police chief.”

“Weird sex class. A spiritual tradition that’s  over a thousand years old.” He rolled  his eyes, folded the fabric across her body  and tied  the sash.  Justin held  the ties wrapped around his knuckles to  keep her from  twisting away. “I have three couples in  this class, Sarah. The women consist of a  school teacher, a doctor and a housewife. I  promise you, there is nothing about this workshop that will impugn your character in  any way, and we will not be naked.”

“So why am I wearing this?”

“Tonight, we're focusing on the woman, and  I told all three of them to bring robes  so they can stretch out comfortably and not be restricted in any way. Energy flow is  important in Tantric practice. Tantra is,  very basically, increasing the spiritual  connection with your  partner through erotic and intimate practices, and thereby  increasing your closeness  to whatever you call God.”

“Using sex to get closer to God. I don’t remember that from my Baptist Sunday  school lessons.”

He grinned. “It may be a little left of conservative, but it’s not quite  trucker massages in  a trailer by the interstate either. Sarah.” He let go of the robe ties, framed her face with both of his hands in  a semi-impatient caress. “Trust me. I understand the importance of your job. I wouldn't endanger it.”

Her jaw flexed under his touch. “You tricked me into this. Don't think I'm going toforget that.”

“You can handcuff me and beat me with your nightstick  later.”

“Smart ass.”

58

If Wishes  Were  Horses

Chapter 8

He was right about the composition of the class. They ranged from Margaret and  Bill Robertson, parents of teenagers and dressed in casual conservative clothes that suggested middle-class America,  to Dr. Erin  Stouffer, who was aerobically toned, in her late forties, with a husband who wore his  corporate business acumen as easily as histan. The third couple was a pair of snowbirds down for the winter from Connecticut, and about to head back up in their sailboat before Florida began its sweltering summer.  They were in their sixties,  and the  man sported a gray ponytail and  twinkling eyes. His wife wore a soft night shirt in tie-dye colors.

Justin moved smoothly into introductions  and welcomed them all back to what  Sarah learned was their second class. He  shook every man's hand, and kissed eachwoman lightly on the  mouth. He made genuine warmth look so easy that Sarah found herself enjoying being in his presence as much as the others did.

“Thank you all for coming,” Justin said.  “You all may be aware that Sarah is Lilesville's new police  chief. She and I have  only recently met, and I’m hoping we’rebeginning  an intriguing and long-lived friendship.  I coerced her into being my guineapig for you  tonight, so  you will be  our chaperones to make sure I  don't get out of handand ruin my chances with her.”

There was laughter and some speculative looks, but nothing unpleasant or affronted. So often, a cop learned to be polite and reassuring, but distant. It was best not to plan to get too close, because the potential  friend could be involved in shit she didn't want to know about. It  was easier to make  friends with cops and their families, or other emergency personnel. During her marriage,  she’d become the silent arm appendage at hangouts with her ex’s friends.  There was no  one to blame for that but herself. It was just hard for her to let down her guard. She was uncomfortably reminded that Justin had zeroed in on that about her right away.

Of course, he couldn’t throw any stones.  Justin offered warmth but still maintained his professional distance. He made everyone feel included  and welcome withoutrevealing the reserve. His quiet charm distracted them from seeing it. A cop had tomake sure  that reserve showed  to keep his  or her authority, but he was so clever at covering his she would have missed it, if she hadn’t seen him when it had slipped.

But sex was one thing, real life was another. Who was Justin Herne? And what was the powerful thing that kept drawing the two of them together?

“If you all will make yourselves comfortable on the floor,” he gestured  to thescattered cushions and rugs, “I'll prepare the  area. Sarah, if you'll sit there,” he pointed to one pile of cushions.

59

Joey W. Hill

“Now, in our first class I explained the history and the philosophy. Tonight’s about  practical application. To start us off, I want  to give you something to think about.” He  pressed the start button on a CD player and withdrew  a long stemmed match from a  blue ceramic vase. He lit it with a silver scrolled lighter  shaped like a dragon’s head as the first strains of a relaxing percussion piece filled the room. “First rule. To have the type of sex you’ll both enjoy, every time, it's  got to be all about her. If anything ever  goes wrong during sex, go back to Rule One.”

There was laughter, some elbowing between  the spouses. Justin moved around the  room, lighting candles, and Sarah saw she  wasn't the only  woman intrigued by the elegant long fingers hovering above the  tapers, just a hair from being burned.

“First, you  create your  sacred space.” He  gestured at the candles,  nodded toward  the CD player. “We prepare ourselves. Bathe,  cleanse our bodies, dab on scents that we  know will please our lover. This is your time, your sacred hour. Take the time. It will  help her, but gentlemen, you will find you’ll  get the benefit of it as well. It’s the  difference between the steak dinner you choke down, versus the one you savor. You taste the juices in your mouth, enjoy it with good company, an attractive woman, a  glass of wine, or a good beer.

“In this space,” he waved his hand at their circle, “sex may or may not happen. The point is, you create a circle of intimacy in  which anything can happen and  likely will, because you are open to each  other. There is no dissembling  here, no shields. There may  be some teasing.” A smile flirted about his  lips as he looked at Sarah. “But there is  nothing in this circle except how you desire  each other, in all ways. It works because  your attention begins to center. All those peripheral spirals, work, cable schedule, kids,  household chores, they  are not  allowed inside this inner circle. You step inside and  you  ward your space by whatever means necessary to keep all of that out.”

He took a  seat on a cushion in front of Sarah and motioned to the  others to take the  same posture with their partner. “Now, sit,  knee to knee, and place your hand on your  lover's heart. Not breasts,” he warned, with a  quick male grin that elicited  snorts and some nervous chuckles. “That comes later.
 
Don't rush  this.
 
This is the time  you have  together, just the two of you. It’s a miracle. We  all  want  to  rush  to that grand climax, but isn’t the view most amazing from the greatest  possible height? We’d never get there if  we flung ourselves off that first available cliff ledge.”

He positioned himself cross-legged in front of Sarah, his knees touching hers. She  felt silly, but when she stole a glance at  the other three couples, she saw they were  looking at each other, so she relaxed somewhat. Justin took her right hand in his, raised  it and placed it over his heart. He did the same with his right hand, sliding it under the  loose neckline of her robe so the palm of  his flesh met the skin between her collarbone  and the beginning slope of her firm breast. He  took her left hand  loosely with his left hand, linked fingers and let their two hands lie that way between  them, resting on the  slope of his calf.

“Now, breathe. Deeply. Slowly.” He raised his voice to instruct his students, but his  gaze focused on Sarah's face. “Close your eyes. Don't strain to listen. Just open yourself

60

If Wishes  Were  Horses

to it. Become aware of each other's breathing, the thump of that heartbeat beneath your hand, that heartbeat that is yours, yours to  cherish. The feel  of the skin. The heat.  Become aware of the circle of space around you, just for the two of you.”