Jory Strong - Spirit Flight

«Ukiah,» he said, rubbing his cheek against Marisa's, giving her the name the townspeople and guests at his lodge knew him by. The name he went by in the physical world.

He tangled his fingers in her hair in order to keep her from turning her face away as he settled his mouth on hers, coaxed her lips into parting so his tongue could slip into the wet heat of her mouth, tasting her essence along with the drink the Creator had directed him to give her.

She was lush and sweet, utterly desirable. His. Given to him by the one who had called up the storm and drawn the thunderbird into the air. Leading him to where Marisa lay dying, her soul ready to flutter away.

It was not Ukiah's place to question the Creator's choice of a wife for him and he had no desire to do so. She was beautiful. Long-limbed and exquisitely feminine. Her breasts tipped with large dusky nipples, her pubic hair trimmed into a small dark triangle left to arrow downward toward a delicate clit and bare cunt lips.

He hadn't known what reaction to expect from her. Had thought only of carrying her to the cave and stripping her of the wet clothing, of starting a fire and beginning the sing, offering up prayers and supplications and promises that he would accept her and care for her and teach her so that she would answer the call as a thunderbird.

Until she opened her eyes and became aware of her surroundings he had tried to respect her privacy, to not stare at her naked body where it lay on furs, warmed by a fire that was created by the Creator's will, just as the drink Ukiah had given Marisa was.

Ukiah groaned as his cock pressed against the loincloth. His heart soared as her tongue twined with his. As her arms wrapped around his neck and she clung to him, the smoothness of her skin and scent of her arousal tempting him to lay her back down on the furs and cover her with his body.

He ached for her as he'd never ached for another woman. Wanted desperately to peel away the loincloth and bathe his penis in her wetness before pressing into her, merging his body to hers.

He'd waited so long. Had dreamed of having a woman at his side. A helpmate and companion. A mate who would fly with him when the thunderbird was called to the sky, who would winter with him when the snows came and celebrate with him when spring kissed the land.

But even as his cock demanded to be sheathed in her wet heat, Ukiah wanted to finish caring for her. As he'd promised to do. He wanted them to know each other better, to have their first joining be more than an urgent, mindless rush toward physical release. He wanted her to welcome him into her body as a soul mate, not simply as the man who had rescued her.

It took all of his strength to lift his mouth from hers. «I need to bathe you first.»

«No, I need this more,» she whispered against his lips, her arms tightening around him as her tongue forged into his mouth, as she became the aggressor.

Marisa knew she was reacting to the betrayal, to the wild run which had very nearly ended in her death. A part of her mind argued for her to pull away from Ukiah and put some distance between them. But that part of her seemed powerless against the deep anguished cry of her soul, the clamor of her body for warmth and comfort, for the security he represented.

She shivered when he responded, when he moaned and eased her backward so she was once again lying on the luxurious pelt of fur. His body straddled hers, making her whimper and arch in a futile attempt to rub her pelvis against his. She slid her hands down his sides and settled them on his hips with the intention of removing his loincloth. But he grasped her wrists and held them to the ground above her head.

«No,» he said, lifting his mouth from hers, the rich waves of black hair a curtain on either side his face. The narrow braids with their beads and bright feathers brushed against her cheeks, overlaying the present with the past in a burst of deja vu that made her think they'd once been like this before, in another lifetime.

His eyes widened slightly and she wondered if he was experiencing the same thing, but before she could ask him he lowered his head and her breath caught in her throat. Need pulsed through her cunt at the glimpse of herself reflected in the dark pools of his eyes. Her naked body made golden and sensuous, wanton, in the flicker of a fire that seemed too small to provide so much light.

Ukiah's tongue traced her bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. His knees tightened against her hips to keep her from arching high enough to rub against him. He altered his grip, shifted so he could hold both of her wrists with one hand while the other moved to her breast, cupping it, worshipping it with his touch. A thin sheen of sweat formed on his upper torso as the ghost drums sounded in his mind, as ancient, long-dead ancestors joined their voices in a prayer for fertility rather than a healing song.

He groaned as he slanted his mouth, penetrated hers with his tongue. His testicles heavy with seed. His cock pulsing in time to the mystical drum beat.

Images of other lives fluttered past with the swiftness of a falcon, whispered voices called him by names his spirit had once answered to. Whispered the names he'd known Marisa by.

The tempo of the ghost music increased, built, urged Ukiah to consummate his union with Marisa. Filled his chest with echoes of a long ago emotion, the fierce pride of ownership. She'd once been his captive, his war prize.

The drums and songs and whispered voices blended, so tightly knit that they stripped him of control. He freed her wrists and kissed downward, no longer able to separate the man known as Ukiah with the ones who had come before him. From the thunderbird who knew this woman as its mate and wanted to reclaim her.

He circled and laved her nipples with his tongue until they were ripe and hard. The sounds of Marisa's moans and the sharp sting where her fingers buried in his hair, tugging as if she would pull him into her very skin, only made him feel more. Only made him crave her more.

He bit and suckled as his hands roamed over her breasts possessively. Exploring their fullness. Imagining the sight of them hanging free beneath her like ancient symbols of fertility when he took her on her hands and knees.

With a groan he forced himself away from them, kissed down her belly and buried his face between her thighs, doing nothing at first but inhaling her, filling his lungs with her unique scent. She whimpered and arched into him, a primitive plea for succor and pleasure and protection. A submissive yielding as if she too was locked in a long ago role where she lived or died at his will.

Ukiah tilted his head so he could see her face, wanted to watch her expression as he took the first taste of her, his tongue gliding along her lower lips, dipping into her slick channel in a primal claiming.

Her skin glistened, her eyelashes were delicate black crescents against taut skin. He wanted to command that she look at him but he couldn't bring himself to leave her silky wet cleft.

She gasped when he pierced her with his tongue, tightened her grip on his hair, her luscious breasts flushing a deeper color. He thrust again and the muscles of her sheath clamped down, trying to draw him deeper even as she drowned him in arousal.

The cadence of the ghost drumbeat demanded that he thrust again, and again. His hips jerking in time to the press and retreat of his tongue. His cock pulsing, rigid and confined, making him as much of a captive as she was.

Her cries of pleasure filled the cave and he could imagine them drifting upward and rolling through time like a supernatural thunder. Carrying a message, a scream of victory, a promise for the future.

Ukiah spread her thighs further, bent her knees and tilted her pelvis so that every inch of her was exposed, open, his to lick and suck. To fuck with his tongue.