My Familiar Stranger (45 page)

Likewise, Elora traced the length of his scar with her tongue, end to end, wanting him to know that he was all the more attractive for what it represented. She sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth, then licked her way around the exquisitely curved point as he alternately shivered and laughed. She said she’d been wanting to do that ever since the night she first encountered her elf with the beautiful ears.

He drove her wild with light, little, teasing kisses and nuzzles to the sensitive area underneath her pelvic curls that were, to his delight, the same improbable, multihued color as the hair on her gorgeous head. When finally he rose above her she thought he had taken mercy, but merely ratcheted her excitement higher by repeatedly drawing his engorged shaft along her channel, teasing until, out of sheer desperation, she stopped begging and dug nails into the flexing cheeks of his perfectly formed buttocks.

He chuffed with surprise and amusement and submitted to her demand by sinking into her, but continued the divine torture - moving in and out so slowly and deliberately that pleasure became a wanting tinged with painful need.

As Elora became less inhibited and more wanton, her vocalizations grew in volume and intensity. Later, he joked that “they probably heard your screamin’ in the village”. But he loved it. His male ego was gratified beyond measure. Every squeal, giggle, gasp, cry, shout, growl, moan, murmur, and purr served as confirmation that he had, in fact, ‘guaranteed feminine satisfaction’. Though he cherished every noise she made, what he craved hearing most, was, “Ah, Ram, you feel so good!”

And she told him often.

When he stood to poke the fire and add logs, he noticed she shivered when the night chill, beginning to set in, made contact with the moisture on her skin. He urged her to climb back in bed and get warm under the covers. More accustomed to the cold, when he came to bed, he flopped on his back with the covers kicked away, the firelight making a visual ecstasy of his body.

At length he said to the ceiling, “I’ve no’ had a woman in my bed before. Ever. Just wanted you to know.”

“You mean this bed?”

“I mean any bed designated as mine whether permanent or temporary. No' hotel or tent or Romanian fortress.” He put his hands behind his head and lolled on the mattress next to her. Elora threw the bed clothes away from her shoulders so that she could lean up on one elbow and rest her head in her hand.

“Was there someone in a Romanian fortress who wanted to crawl in bed with you?”

He tilted his head at an angle and gave her a playful leer. “You tell me.”

“You’ll never know,” she said playfully as she reached down and lightly ran her fingertips up his thigh until she cupped his sack. That earned her a surprised, hissed intake of air. Emboldened by that reaction, she continued upward until she could grasp and partially encircle the base of his erection. She began caressing with alternating pressures, massaging the underside of velvet on steel with sophisticated strokes. He barked out a laugh as he jerked into an involuntary half sit up.

“And just where did you learn that, Little Miss Innocence?”

“On the plane to Edinburgh.
Vogue Magazine
. “The Lost Art of the Handjob.” She smiled wickedly. “Like it?”

“Astoundin'.” He found it very amusing until she changed stroke techniques. Suddenly his gaze shuttered, the merriment ceased, and he got very serious about intense orgasms that make semen shoot like a water pistol. Watching wide eyed, greedily learning about sexual power and the marvels of ejaculations, Elora found that display so spectacular that she couldn’t wait to see it again.

He laughed. “I will be happy to oblige with a repeat performance, but my balls need a little break to manufacture more juice for your viewin’ pleasure.”

“Well, hurry up then! Consider it a Command Performance.”

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had told Kay he had no choice but to love everything about her, but those were just words he’d been taught since childhood, words he repeated by rote. The reality of mating went far beyond the mundane limits of description. It was perfection. Pure joie de vivre.

He loved that she was so responsive to his touch, so demanding when excited, so receptive to new experiences, affectionate to a fault. He was contented as an elf can be.

During the night he rose to put logs on the fire. He supposed the instincts of provide and protect must include a make-comfortable impulse as well. The bed that had been so cold all his life felt downright toasty with Elora’s body heat working like a generator. Her temperature was always a little warm and she slept even hotter. His eyelids grew heavy listening to the sweet, rhythmic lullaby of her breathing and he drifted into sleep again smiling.

The next time he roused he knew without opening his eyes that it was light outside. He ran his hand over the sheet next to him, eyes still closed, but found no extra warm body. That spiked a momentary fear that he had just imagined that the Lady Laiken found her way cross the sea to his bed in the New Forest cottage.

Hearing something behind him, he rolled over to face the kitchen, his eyes immediately coming to rest on the site of Elora bending over looking in a lower cabinet. The word JUICY was proudly displayed across her exquisite derriere. He suppressed a delighted chuckle, wanting to remain still and simply enjoy the experience of waking to see Elora exploring the cottage kitchen. Yesterday had begun in a dark pit of despair, a place in the heart with no room for anything lighter than hopelessness. But it had ended in rapture.

“I knew those very fine pants would look amazin’ on your gorgeous ass.”

She turned her head. “You said ‘very fetchin’ britches’. And I said you don’t have permission to talk about my gorgeous ass. But thank you for the present. Happy Yule.”

He smiled. “What are you lookin’ for?”

She stood and turned around. In addition to the JUICY pants, she was wearing a white, long sleeve tee with no bra and fuzzy brown slippers with moose heads and antlers. He was positive that it would not be possible for a person to be cuter.

“Breakfast. I found peanut butter. Which looks and smells really good right now, but it has to be an import. I’m sure they used fuel powered machinery to make it so it must be contraband.” She narrowed her eyes. “Have you been bad?”

“
I have been bad, but no’ with peanut butter. ‘Tis legal. Will there be enough left for me?”

“Can’t say. We’ll have to wait and see.”

He got out of bed and strode toward the kitchen allowing the sweep of her gaze to fully appreciate the grand sight of a healthy, young elf first thing in the morning. Her voluptuous stare made his erection distend even further. So he and it headed straight for her.

She laughed and moved to the other side of the butcher block island putting it between them.

“Oh. No sir. I’m hungry. Keep that very fine penis away from me unless it’s covered in peanut butter.”

He grinned. When she saw the look on his face, she immediately grasped the implication of what had been said guilelessly and could see that he was choosing to accept the statement more as an offer than a joke.

Without missing a beat he went straight to the jar of peanut butter, dipped two fingers inside, withdrew a huge dollop, and, with a roguish gleam, began smearing it over, under, and around his cock, being careful not to miss one centimeter. His pelvic curls were a gold much darker than his hair, but very close in color to the peanut butter.

The sight of Ram handling himself was a turn on that Elora was unprepared for. It had her breathing faster and pressing thighs together. When he was satisfied that nothing of importance had been left uncovered, he stood there with his proud challenge and devilish smile, sucking the remainder from his fingers with relish.

He held his arms out. “Well?”

“Diabolical,” she said.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Love spelled backward is evol.”

She laughed, but, watching him lick the clingy ambrosia away, her body moved toward him without conscious direction from her brain. Her tongue involuntarily peeked out to wet her bottom lip in readiness and his eyes locked on the movement like a target seeking missile.

With exaggerated grace and ladylike dignity she lowered herself to her knees without taking her eyes off the prize. Ram seemed to be holding his breath with anticipation. When her tongue tentatively reached out to touch the tip, the peanut butter covered treat jumped of its own accord. The movement sent a spike of thrill racing through her own body ending in a puddle of welcome at the entrance to her sex.

One of his hands reached down to hold his cock in place while the other rested gently on the side of her head. When she took more of him into her mouth, he made a primeval sound akin to a growl. Which was sexy as hell, ramping her interest even higher.

Having read all of Istvan Baka’s steamy romances, she wasn’t completely without information on the subject. Encouraged by the shine in Ram’s eyes and the sounds he continued to make - something between a growl and a hum - she began to lap more enthusiastically. By the time the sweet coating was licked clean, Elora had decided she liked fellatio and the intense pleasure her elf took from it.

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her tasting himself and the residue of the gooey mixture on her tongue, then turned her around pulling her back against him. While he cupped her braless breasts through the white tee shirt, teasing nipples, he nuzzled warm breath in her ear until she began to shudder and pant.

Feeling his erection pressing from behind, she squeezed her cheeks together reflexively. Ram moaned and gently urged her forward over the butcher block island. When he slipped his hand inside the JUICY pants over the smooth skin underneath, he bent over and said in her ear, “This was my fantasy when I gave you these lovely britches.”

He entered her so slowly that she lost patience and pushed back which drove him all the way into the glove of her body, but also threatened to topple him.

“Easy,” he laughed. “You’re strong, remember. You’ll throw me across the room.”

She stilled. He bent over her, covering her outstretched arms with his and began a torturously slow bump and grind that confirmed how carnally fulfilling that position could be while he talked dirty in her ear. That was when she discovered that laughing during coitus renders unique rewards that can both feel sublime and drive a male to frenzy.

“So this was really a Yule present for yourself. That means you owe me a present.”

“Anythin’ you want.” The words burst out as he was nearing climax. He suddenly straightened and thrust into her so hard she saw the edge of oblivion.

She gasped. “Don’t stop! Please don’t stop.”

"Never."

He reached in front of her and began to massage her clit which, he decided, must be directly connected to her vocal cords. When he felt her walls clenching and rippling around him, he finally let go and collapsed over her, his hips continuing to rock while he spent.

They broke fast with more peanut butter, fresh baked bread, and a cup of hot mulled wine while Ram explained the finer points of the cottage’s plumbing. He looked supremely self-satisfied in the way males can when they think their sexual performance is media worthy. Elora had no trouble with stroking his ego. Or anything else for that matter.

The tub had a French drain running underneath so that water could drain through a pipe under the cottage and down the hill away from the water supply. The stationary pump was piped directly to an underground hot spring while the pump with the swinging arm brought cold well water that could be used to regulate the temperature.

He filled the tub with hot water while she used the privy which was a closet close to the same temperature as the outdoors, with a wooden bench toilet over a hole dug so deep that there wasn’t an issue with odors, at least not in winter. It was the least desirable thing about their love nest, but she thought it was a small price to pay.

In the low light of a gray winter day and a small, kitchen fire, Ram rested against the back of the copper tub while Elora lay back against him, taking comfort from the throb of his strong heartbeat and the feel of his hard body supporting hers. The hot spring water was soft, steamy and divine and she was thinking there was nowhere she’d rather be.

“So you were hunting yesterday?”

“Oh, no. The creatures in the New Forest are under the protection of the king. My brother owns everythin’ here.”

“You were carrying a bow.”

“For self defense. Some of the creatures in the wood have no’ got the memo that this is a more civilized time.”

She splashed a little water and fiddled with the linen cloth covering her abdomen. “I’ve decided you’re officially an enigma; an elf who shreds metal, worships Metallica, and chooses to retreat to a society that bans electricity.”

“An enigma, hmmm? Well, I'm hopin' that will keep you interested for a long, long time.”

He felt Elora tense at that. “What do you mean? I thought mates are forever.”

“Aye, in elfdom that is true. But I have observed that humans are no’ always so…committed. Seems that, for humans, ever after is hard to come by.”

“My people don’t divorce. We choose. Then marry and stay together. I’ll never leave you, Ram. No matter what.”