Spirits Shared (11 page)

Her heart fluttered. They were the same
words Clay had said on the day they met, when he'd pinned her
against the car before allowing her to drive away from the
bookstore.

Tekoa captured her nipple, pulled on it with
hungry intensity. She moaned, loved being sucked as much as she
loved to have a man's mouth between her thighs. She shivered at
imagining Clay and Tekoa at her breasts, at imagining Clay fucking
her with his tongue as Tekoa alternated between kissing her and
sucking her nipples.

"Let me touch you," she whispered, tugging
against his hands where they held her wrists shackled to the
rug.

He gave her nipple a final, hard pull then
stood. His shirt dropped to the floor. His hands went to the front
of his jeans and she was mesmerized by the sight of him undoing the
fly.

His cock jutted out, hard and proud. It was
darker than Clay's but no less impressive. He was uncircumcised but
she'd expected him to be. Clay was the same and she liked it, had
discovered with him, that being with a natural man satisfied a
deeply, primal need.

She rose to her knees and put her hands on
Tekoa's hips. His cock jerked at the proximity of her mouth.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she
slowly leaned forward and his nostrils flared. His body tensed and
the tip of his cock gleamed as additional moisture leaked from the
small slit.

"Stop."

She obeyed but a tiny smile played over her
mouth as his cock demonstrated it had a mind of its own by bobbing
to brush against her parted lips.

Emotion and instinct rioted inside Tekoa. He
grasped silky strands of blonde hair.

He'd never had a woman enthrall him so
completely. He'd never had one capture him so thoroughly or claim
every part of him.

He'd known it would be like this. But
intellectual knowledge was nothing against the raw, primitive
need.

He wouldn't last once she put her mouth on
him. He'd come as quick as a boy with his first girl.

His fingers tightened in her hair. His chest
burned as he tried to control his breathing and keep from panting.
His buttocks clenched with the effort to keep from thrusting as his
cock repeatedly closed the infinitesimal distance between it and
Jessica's mouth.

He wanted her mouth on him but last night
he'd promised himself that he would press his mouth to her lower
lips, lick and suck and fuck her with his tongue and make her cry
out for him the way she had for Clay.

"Lie down," he ordered and experienced a
dark thrill when she obeyed him immediately. Before Jessica he'd
always kept this part of his nature out of his sex life.

He'd never questioned it and now he didn't
have to. He'd been waiting for her, waiting to experience this with
a mate.

Dominance was a two-edged sword. He would
crave her submission and at the same time feel an intense need to
care for and protect her.

He stripped out of the jeans then knelt on
the rug above her head, knees apart, the caress of her gaze on his
balls kicking his lips up into a wry smile. In a minute she'd have
him beating his chest and saying,
Me Tarzan. You Jane.

He could live with that.

Need shivered through him and his gaze
traveled from her lips to her pussy, returned to her face and blue
eyes filled with carnal knowledge. He got harder, which should have
been impossible. His cock could already double as the wooden baton
he carried in the cruiser.

He leaned down, traced her ear with his
tongue. He cupped her breast, rubbed his palm over her nipple and
she arched off the rug.

"I'm not sure I'm ever going to allow you
clothes," he said.

She trembled and his cock licked across his
abs, demanding he kiss his way down her body as she kissed her way
down his.

He made it as far as her breasts.

He'd always been a breast man. Loved looking
at them, cupping them, pressing them together and fucking through
them. But Jessica's breasts took his love of breasts to new
heights.

He moaned against them. Scented them. Kissed
and licked and sucked and stroked.

And her hands and mouth on his nipples sent
lightning bolts of icy-hot pleasure to his cock so it screamed
louder, harder.

His ass clenched. In another minute he'd be
air-humping. He had to grasp his dick again, counter the pleasure
with pain.

And still he kept worshipping her breasts.
He could spend a day in bed doing nothing but sucking, cupping,
kissing, pressing them together and gorging.

His cock spasmed. Warning heat flared at the
base of his spine.

On a moan he moved downward across her
stomach, hyperaware of her lips and tongue as they trailed over his
abdomen.

In the ultimate test of self-control, he
released his cock. He nuzzled the small triangle of blonde hair,
inhaled the scent of her arousal.

A shudder of need gripped him. A possessive
growl escaped at remembering Clay's face between her legs.

He kissed his way to her clit and her mouth
brushed his shaft. She fisted his erection and his hips bucked.

Her lips locked around his cock head and he
was lost to exquisite sensation and ravenous hunger. He latched
onto her clit and there was no separating what he was doing from
what was being done to him.

She sucked him, tormented him with her
tongue. And he did the same to her with hard pulls on her clit and
equally hard thrusts of his tongue into her channel. He'd never
been so ravenous for a woman.

His balls pulled tight. The fiery warning at
the base of his spine intensified.

He didn't care. Couldn't care about anything
but first ensuring her pleasure.

His mouth returned to her clit, each suck,
each lick a demand that she come. And her cry of release, the hard,
helpless shuddering of her beautiful body was soul-deep
satisfaction.

Enough control remained to attempt to lift
away but she gripped his ass, prevented it. And it was his turn to
shudder hard and helpless as a hot rush of semen jetted through his
cock.

He rolled them to their sides, nuzzled her
mound as she lapped and kissed along the length of his shaft. He
should have needed a recovery period, but his cock filled.

His heartbeat became peals of thunder. And
at the edge of his consciousness drums and ancient voices rose from
the mists of the past in a prayer for fertility.

He fought to deny the primal call. But her
tongue flicked into the slit of his cock head and the need to be
inside her poured into him with the force of a violent storm.

He wrenched away from her body and rose to
his knees. He tried to stay in control and not yield to Thunderbird
spirit.

It was an impossible battle. That part of
him was in a fever to mate. Tender. Rough. It no longer mattered as
long as he staked his claim.

Jessica sat, got to her knees, wrapped her
arms around his neck and rubbed her pussy against his cock and he
was lost. He didn't need her formal words to forge the bond between
them and make it permanent.

It had already been forged when she drank
from the cup. He had to believe that on some level she knew that
this was permanent.

He pulled her tightly against him. He
couldn't tell her the full truth, it was too soon for that, but he
couldn't take her without giving her some warning. "This isn't
casual for me, Jess."

She shivered against him. "It's not casual
for me either."

* * * * *

Chapter
6

Tekoa gave her a hard kiss. And another, and
a third because his lips clung to hers.

He would never get enough of her kisses. She
was so soft and submissive, so totally enchanting that it almost
hurt to be with her. On a moan, he turned her so she faced the
fire, touched his lips to the back of her neck then kissed downward
along her spine.

She went to her elbows and knees, her thighs
open, her folds parted and glistening with slick invitation.

He nipped a buttock and she trembled. He
nipped her other ass cheek and her thighs widened.

He licked through swollen folds, slid the
tip of his tongue into her opening.

"Tekoa," she said, rocking backward, a needy
plea in her voice.

He gave himself to the song, touched his
cock to her entrance and shuddered in ecstasy. An inch at a time he
worked himself into her, and with each inch the Thunderbird rose
within him. He was man and mystical spirit and that spirit expanded
beyond the limits of his flesh so that a smaller version of the
Thunderbird's powerful form enveloped his mortal body and shimmered
around him in red and white splendor with splashes of blue and
yellow woven into phantom feathers.

The Thunderbird's wings spread in victory
and possessiveness. Its energy and magic vibrated through him so
each stroke of his cock into Jessica's channel was a profound act
of devotion and love, a complete sharing.

Each heartbeat sounded her name and in the
storm raging overhead, he imagined every peal of thunder carried
news of his claiming a mate, that every streak of lightning was a
warning that he'd kill anyone who threatened Jessica.

Mine! Every thrust of his cock proclaimed
it. Mine!

Jessica moaned and rocked backward, greedy
for more pleasure. His cock felt thicker, longer, as if it'd grown
beyond what she'd seen with her eyes.

She whimpered and clutched at the rug.
Tekoa's hands slid up her back and then around to possessively cup
her breasts.

You're my mate,
those hands and the
thrust of his cock said, and that message echoed in her mind and
lodged in her soul as if some primordial voice had spoken a truth
that could never be denied.

"Yes," she whispered, the acknowledgment
forced from her with the powerful pistoning of his hips, the
possessive filling of her channel and the nearness of his cock head
to her womb.

Tekoa's hands swept along her sides and
stopped on her hips. With a low, growly sound, his grip tightened,
holding her in place.

Her channel fisted and unfisted, clutched
desperately at his cock as it slid almost completely out, then
plunged home.

His cock retreated. Filled her again.
Retreated. And at the edge of her consciousness a drum beat in time
to Tekoa's thrusting, slow at first, but gaining in power and speed
as his cock filled her, stretched her, became all that
mattered.

Over and over his cock delivered ecstasy and
then retreated, created a desperate craving to be filled again, a
cycle of need that cast her into a sensual haze.

The fire in the fireplace roared and
flickered as if feeding on the wild emotion and sexual pleasure.
The flames rose and flared, became so hot they forced Jessica to
look away. Up. To the Thunderbird carved into the mantel.

It seemed to hover above her, a real
presence that filled the room with ancient, unknowable power. And
Tekoa's thrusts became more aggressive.

Her moans and cries joined the phantom drum.
Reminded her of how she'd imagined hearing drumbeats when she and
Clay drove past the totem poles.

Lightning seemed to flash in the
Thunderbird's dark, dark eyes. Ecstasy shimmered within her
grasp.

"Please," she begged as the imagined drum
and song grew in intensity.

Tekoa's hand left her hip and moved to her
clit, caressed, commanded. And orgasm thundered through her so she
screamed, the sound of it echoing in her ears like a raptor's
call.

Her channel spasmed violently, repeatedly.
She milked Tekoa's cock of hot seed, strength whooshing out of her,
leaving her boneless, weak. And still she whimpered in protest when
he pulled from her body.

Tekoa's heart soared. The only thing that
would be better than this moment would be the one that would come
when Jessica and Clay understood what it meant to be Thunderbird
chosen, and the three of them lay together, mated.

He lay on his side and pulled Jessica
against him so her back pressed to his chest. He kissed her
shoulder, her neck. They'd been here less than a day but the cabin
would feel empty without them. He'd feel empty without them.

His hand lay on her abdomen. He'd prefer to
wait but the choice wouldn't necessarily be his to make. She might
well be pregnant with Thunderbird twins by the springtime, one
blond like Clay, the other black-haired.

He rubbed her stomach in small circles
before slipping lower to cup her pussy possessively. "How'd you
meet Clay?"

She rolled to her side so she faced him, the
blue in her eyes like still, deep water. "I was at a local
bookstore during their daily story time, reading a book I'd
illustrated. The audience was mostly eight-year-olds with a couple
of interested moms. He came in, sat right down in the front and I
lost my place in the story and blushed. Some of the kids were
mature enough to catch on. A few of them giggled and one
romantically inclined Hispanic girl asked if he was my
husband."

"What'd you say?"

"Before I could say anything, Clay said,
'Not yet, but I'm going to be.'"

Tekoa grinned. "That sounds like him. How
long ago?"

"A year." Her lashes lowered, a tremor went
through her as if she was asking herself how it was that she was
lying naked with another man, his semen inside her, her mouth
swollen and nipples bruised because of him.

He placed her hand on his chest, cupped her
cheek and forced her to look at him. "The three of us are meant to
be together."

His lips covered hers. His tongue pushed
into her mouth. There was a tiny resistance, a tiny hesitation, but
then renewed acceptance.

He kept the kiss gentle, reassuring. He
already understood her well enough to know she was much more
cautious than either he or Clay.

He suspected Clay would have rushed her to
Vegas shortly after meeting her, but a year later he probably
counted it a victory that she wore his ring and belonged to him in
all the ways that mattered.