Zonaton (22 page)

            He took her other nipple in his mouth, tonguing it before giving it a delicate nip. The nipple hardened against his tongue, and he pulled on it with a deeper, harder sucking motion.

            She gasped again, this time following it with a low moan. She rolled onto her back once more, and he rolled with her until he was nestled across her body.

            He continued to suckle, amazed by his ability, and more surprised by her reaction to his ministration. He felt her grasp his hand where it rested on her belly and bring it to her other breast. Almost instinctively, his fingers brushed over the still wet nipple that now was as taut as its twin, and he pinched it.

            Her skin puckered, and she wriggled her hips as her thighs parted. Removing his mouth from her breast, he placed kisses around the globe, savoring her soft skin. Delighting in the overall texture of her body. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

            Her hands framed his head, simultaneously stroking him and drawing his hair between her fingers. He didn't need to ask if she liked what he was doing. Her reactions alone told him she enjoyed every touch, every caress. Although their unique mental connection was gone, they had developed their own form of silent communication over the years.

            Memories, fragments of past dreams he had given her, floated to the surface of his mind. Some of the things she had wanted him to do when he had visited her as a phantom lover. He pressed his nose into the junction between her neck and shoulder, the way he remembered doing it, and inhaled her warm, womanly scent. It filled his lungs and slowly seeped into his bloodstream, until it reached into his toes and fingertips. Blood vessels pulsed with every heartbeat, and he became infused with her.

            Slowly, Zonaton slid down her body, gliding along her belly while he dropped more kisses across her navel. Another memory came into focus, and he dipped his tongue into the small indentation.

            This time her hips bucked, and her hands let go of his hair. She moaned again, prompting him to dig further into that erotic part of her as a strange sensation made itself known in his groin. Curious, he paused and lifted himself enough to where he could see that the shaft of muscle dangling between his legs had hardened. Grown thicker and longer. His human penis. So different looking from the one he'd had as a geron, yet the physical need was almost the same. His abdomen burned.

            She lifted her pelvis, and the soft curls between her legs brushed his chest. The action reminded him of another moment in her dreams, of the time he would lick her in the area hidden from view by a pair of faux lower lips.

            Scooting down, he found the small slit centered where he expected it. Emmala obliged his unspoken wish, and spread her legs farther apart. A quick look down the length of her trembling body showed she was cupping her breasts and lightly manipulating them in preparation for his intrusion.

            He opened the blushing folds to find her clit already turgid, poking out like a tiny pink tongue. Lowering his head, he took the bit of flesh and suckled it, once more amazed by what his new human mouth could do. There was no describing the sensations, the tastes, or the more intense smells he experienced because of the nearness of his nostrils to his mouth.

            A warm moistness gathered at her entrance. A creamy liquid that increasingly enticed him with its heady fragrance. He licked it, and her essence exploded on his tongue, all the way to the back of his mouth and down his gullet. Almost at the same time, his human penis stiffened until it hung, heavy and painful, between his legs, sometimes brushing along the rough cave floor.

            "Do that again." Her whispered plea was followed by a throaty moan, and he felt his erection stiffen painfully.

            He licked her again, and the tip of his tongue found the thin, quivering membrane surrounding her entrance. There felt to be a tiny tear, no more than a slit, within it. Zonaton gently lapped the surface, and Emmala trembled.

            Fingers tugged at his hair, urging him to bring himself back above her. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the inner part of her thigh and took a long, deep breath. Pungent. Spicy. Intoxicating.

            "I could breathe you in like this forever," he murmured. He was answered by another tug on his hair, and reluctantly he brought himself up and over her, suspending himself on his hands and knees.

            Emmala gazed up at him. Her long, wild hair splayed out across the blanket. He loved how her hair did that, and recalled how he often spent hours combing through the thick tresses with his claws to detangle them. It was times like that, spent with her in silent company, that he cherished.

            Her hands guided his head and face downward, bringing his mouth back to her neck and throat. He didn't need any urging to lick her there, tasting her sweat and filling his mouth and nostrils with her perfume. He could feel his erection quivering like an eager animal where it pressed between her hot thighs.

            "Zon, take me." Her breath tickled his ear.

            Almost immediately, instinctively, and without any thought or planning on his part, his hips jutted forward. His toes dug into the packed dirt floor, and his body claimed hers of its own volition. Emmala rose from the blanket, her hands gripping his hair painfully, as she whimpered softly from the force of his invasion.

            Zonaton paused to ask her how she felt, when he became aware of the hot, moist pressure surrounding his erection. Pressure that massaged him, undulated around him, and nearly swallowed his groin, as well as his sanity.

            "Emmala..."

            "Take me. Take me." She jiggled slightly beneath him, and her inner muscles closed around him more firmly, trapping him within her body.

            Zonaton groaned, dropping his head to press his cheek to her hair. Unsure what to do next, he frantically searched his memory for a clue, any vision, no matter how faint, to remind him what to do next. To let him know how to move, how to touch her and how to love her.

            But he couldn't concentrate. He was burning inside. Burning from the inside out. His penis was so firmly entrenched within her, he could feel her heartbeat throbbing in rhythm with his.

            "Zonaton, you have to move it in and out of me," she whispered breathily.

            Lifting his hips made him slide partway out. Sensations he never knew he could experience flared within him. His erection protested at her tightness, yet he had to do it again. He had to push back inside her, then withdraw it, and his hips mindlessly plunged downward.

            It was glorious and all-consuming. It was too much to try to think about, to find a reason or comprehend how it could feel this wonderful. He was unable to stop forcing himself into her, repeatedly withdrawing to do it again. Fast or slow, it didn't matter. His body reacted with a vengeance. He barely had a chance to glance down at Emmala and see the look of absolute ecstasy on her face. She was trying to match his movements with her own, thrusting her pelvis upward as his came down.      

            Their bodies slapped noisily, wetly, and with increasing speed. Both of them were grunting now, lost in their individual maelstroms of lust and the frantic need for completion.

            Zonaton felt the tightness in his groin as he entire body readied to erupt with pleasure. He barely had time to adjust his stance, to prevent himself from falling on top of her, when every muscle stiffened. Gasping for air, he rammed himself on final time into  her pulsating channel, and Emmala screamed. Her body convulsed, her fingernails drawing blood where they dug into his arms and shoulders, but the pain mixed with the excruciating perfection of that moment, and he continued to pound into her to relish every lasting second.

            Their bodies were coated with sweat when he finally slowed, and she wrapped her arms around him to keep his warmth against her. For what seemed like forever, they lay in mutual exhaustion, savoring the finality they never knew existed until now. Zonaton managed to press a kiss to her forehead, but otherwise his body refused to respond, refused to move or shift to the side. Gritting his teeth, it took several tries before he was able to roll off of her. He heard Emmala take a deep breath.

            "Zon."

            "My Emmala."

            "Hold me?"

            That he could do with less effort. In fact, his body seemed to seek hers without any thought from him. Enfolding her against his chest was automatic, instinctive. A possessive motion that also protected her from the cold. Feeling his chest at her back, she rolled over and snuggled along his length.

            "Zon?"

            "What?"

            "We can do this for the rest of your life? Your second life?"

            "Yes, my beloved Emmala. For the rest of my second life, and the rest of yours."

            Her hands rested on his chest, palms pressed against his nipples. He felt her kiss at the hollow of his throat.

            "Then I have all I ever wanted," she murmured before sinking into blissful sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Mob

            They left the narrow roadway and entered what remained of their village. As they milled together, all eyes were focused on the sight of the burnt buildings and the remains of the dead who had been caught in the destruction.

            The surviving two councilmen who had led the villagers from the neighboring town where they had fled motioned for all to gather around to discuss what their next step would be. Gleesar, the man everyone now looked upon as their new leader, took a stance upon a flat boulder.

            "Reconstruction will be hard, but it can be done. Our first order of business will be to find all the bodies and take them beyond the boundary wall for proper burial."

            "What if one of those gerons discover us out there?" a voice from the crowd wearily addressed.

            "I doubt they will object once they see what we are doing."

            "That is shit, and you know it," another voice belligerently objected. "Those things won't give us any slack. They won't take accept any excuse for us being outside the wall."

            The councilman pressed his lips together as he sought out the young man who had called out. "You don't know that for sure, Hawse."

            "Damn right, I'm sure!" Hawse yelled back. "Those things won't be happy until all of us are dead or gone, and everyone here knows it!"

            "He's right," another anonymous voice agreed.

            "Look! There goes one now! Do you think it spotted us?"

            "It's got someone with it."

            In the far distance, outlined by the setting moons, a geron winged its way toward the tall peaks. There was no mistaking the fact that a figure rode on its back. Although they couldn't tell who the rider was, there could be only one possibility. "It has Emmala," Hawse told them. "It's taking Emmala back to its cave in the mountains."

            He pushed through the group to take a stance beside the boulder.  The councilman glared at him but didn't comment. One villager turned to the young man. "But we killed the silver geron. Why would she ride with another one?"

            "Because that's the type of bitch she is," Kell continued from where she stood nearby. "She probably Paired with another one soon after the first one died. Did you happen to notice there probably wasn't anything wrong with her? I'll bet you she came out of this unscathed. Not a burn or a scratch on her, unlike the rest of us." The woman pointedly noted how many of their number sported various injuries due to the attack.

            "But do you honestly think she had anything to do with the gerons having the aliens attack us?" the other councilman named Burette inquired. He stood to the side of the boulder, beside Gleesar.

            It was Hawse who answered him. "What do you think? Of course she did! In fact, I'll go so far as to say she gave them all our secrets. Told them our weaknesses and what kind of weapons we have. She's a traitor. She deserves to be punished for what she's done.
I say we go get her!
"

            Many in the group agreed with a loud
Aye!
However, Gleesar held back and waited for them to quiet down before commenting. "There's something that still doesn't ring true," he calmly remarked.

            Burette eyed his fellow councilman. "What doesn't?"

            "If the gerons are responsible for sending the aliens to attack us, why did they fight them? Why did they put their own lives in danger to try to defeat them?" The man turned to address Hawse directly. "I saw with my own eyes one geron get hit with those green rays from two of those black rectangular ships. If the gerons and aliens were supposed to be working together, why did they attack each other?"

            Hawse shrugged, and immediately regretted it. He suffered mostly first- and second-degree burns on his face and arms. Plus his thigh was bleeding again from all the running and walking he'd been forced to do during his escape from the village.

           
And it's all because of that bitch, Emmala.

           
"Who knows? Maybe the aliens broke some stupid geron law, and the dragons fired on them. One thing led to another, and the next thing you know, they're fighting everyone. But I can tell you this. It all started with Emmala. All our problems started when that bitch went to live with that geron. Killing it wasn't enough, I tell you. We won't be a free people until we kill
all
of those motherfuckers!"

            Again, the crowd roared its approval.

            "We first need to deal with our dead," Gleesar insisted. "We need to find food and adequate shelter before—"

            "We need to get rid of those gerons!" Hawse interrupted. "Them and that traitor who joined them."