Longing's Levant (6 page)

“Ah,” Tamara sighed, as his tongue darted against the puckered rim of her ass. She dug her fingers into the pillow—dragging it around her face for the sensation the Akkadian was causing demanded loud and fervent moans of supreme pleasure.

“You like that?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Um,” was her reply. She was quivering, her stomach muscles clenching and unclenching as her lover replaced his tongue with the insistent tip of a cool finger. Her breath coming faster, shallower, expectant, she groaned as that finger delved inside her.

Not deeply, not enough to cause even a suggestion of pain, the probe was gentle and possessive as it wiggled slowly within her.

“Warrior, please,” she whispered, lifting her rump.

Evann-Sin did not answer her need. He gently removed his finger to trail his fingertips over her goose pimpled flesh. Trailing his nails down her thigh to the very sensitive surface of her inner knee, he smiled at the grunt that came from his lady’s throat.

Tamara was about to demand he do more than tease her with the promise of fulfillment when he whispered for her to turn over again.

Quick to do his bidding, she flipped over, her eyes going wide at the sight of his handsome face. He was staring down at her with a look that was all male, all conquering warrior. Possessiveness ran rampant through his amber eyes. As she turned, his hand had remained on her flesh so that now it rested coolly against her knee, caressing her.

“You are a beautiful woman,” he said as he moved his hand up her thigh.

The sensation of his calloused palm trailing along her leg brought instant heat to Tamara’s loins. She ached to have that hard hand clasped along her mound, those strong fingers thrusting deep within her moistness. She arched upward, the movement more a demand than a suggestion that he move his hand where she wished it to be.

“Patience, wench,” Evann-Sin said.

With a moan of disappointment, she relaxed as much as she could as his hand made a serpentine path across her upper thighs, her sides, her abdomen and up to one breast. As he took the weight of that heavy orb into his hand, his thumb moved over the turgid nipple and Tamara growled low in her throat.

Working the engorged nub, running the pad of his thumb across the pebbly surface, the Akkadian lowered his lips to Tamara’s neck and trailed kisses along the column, His heavily muscled thigh moved over her silken leg, capturing her as his knee slowly nudged her legs further apart. While his thumb drove her mindless with desire as it moved back and forth across her nipple, he moved his leg up and down hers, the wiry texture of his leg hair sending electric impulses along her nerve endings. When his index finger joined his thumb in tormenting her swollen flesh, plucking at it, his fingernails lightly scoring the inflamed point, Tamara could stand no more teasing and reached up to wrap her hand around his neck to pull his face to hers.

Claiming the warrior’s mouth with hers, she thrust her tongue deep between his chiseled lips. Expecting warmth instead of the coolness that greeted her probing, she was taken aback for a moment but was soon lost in the heady feel of taking what she wanted. Invading him, conquering the warrior’s sweet mouth, made her bold. As his hand lay flattened over the mound of her breast, caught between their bodies, she reached down for his manhood and circled him, gaining hold of the territory she wanted to possess.

Evann-Sin grew steel-hard beneath her firm grasp. His sword leapt in anticipation of its own thrusting, the tip oozing a plea to take full ownership of the female clutching it. Heavy passion spread quickly through his abdomen and a low, feral snarl started low in his chest and pushed its way upward as he freed his mouth from Tamara’s ravaging and slid his body over his woman’s.

Tamara drew her legs up and clamped them tightly around the Akkadian’s slim hips, locking her ankles together as she felt the bulb of his penis pressing against her moist opening. She pulled him against her, needing the deep thrust hinted at by the size of his erection.

“Easy, wench,” he cautioned, but he was fumbling between their bodies, positioning himself at her hot opening.

“I do not want it to be easy, warrior,” she said through clenched teeth. “I would know your strength to the very core of me!”

Her words galvanized Evann-Sin and he took her at her word. He thrust himself into her hot center with a fierce grunt of possession so forceful, Tamara shrieked. “Damn, warrior!” she gasped.

“You said you didn’t want it easy,” Evann-Sin chuckled.

“Well, I didn’t want you to shoot out through the top of my head, either!” she complained, but giggled to ruin the severe look on her lovely face.

“Poor little one,” the warrior crooned. He held still within her for a few seconds then started to withdraw. “If you can’t take…”

Tamara’s legs tightened around his lean hips. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “You’d best start what you finish!”

Evann-Sin cocked his head to one side. “Like this?” he inquired, and began thrusting gently inside her, his large staff causing a delicious friction that captured the breath in Tamara’s throat.

“Ah, perhaps with a bit more force?” she suggested, wiggling beneath him.

“Like this, then?” he asked, and put a bit more speed to his thrusts.

“More,” Tamara whispered.

“Now?” he questioned as he added a slight circling motion with his cock.

“More,” she repeated as she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

Evann-Sin drew in a long, heavy breath. “Well, if you insist,” he said on the exhalation. Increasing both his speed and the depth of his thrusts, he heard a long, protracted groan escape his lady’s throat. “Like that?” he asked.

“Ah,” was all Tamara could reply, for the rhythm of her love’s strokes had increased and the tip of him was pressing against a spot inside her that was causing more pleasure than she had ever experienced before.

Getting a better grip on Tamara’s hips, Evann-Sin lifted her a bit higher and pushed himself deep within her.

“Yes!” Tamara shouted as she arched against him.

There was fierceness in the Akkadian’s eyes as his speed increased. He slapped his body against hers, reveling in the sound of their flesh meeting. His penetration was as far as it would go and he worried that he might hurt her, but as her nails raked his back and he heard her growls of pleasure, he lowered his head to her shoulder and thrust one last time, and held himself still.

Tamara’s orgasm began as a slight itch then increased to a roaring ripple that undulated through her lower body, bringing with it wave after wave after wave of intense pleasure. Her eyes went wide, her fingers dug into the warrior’s hips and she released a scream of pure, physical release that left her trembling violently beneath her lover’s hard body. Sapped of energy, she collapsed on the bed, her arms falling to her sides, her body as limp as she had ever known it to be.

The Akkadian, too, collapsed. His heavy body pressed along hers in such a way that Tamara found it entirely comforting. With an effort, she lifted her arms and encircled his waist, delighting in the light kisses he pressed against the side of her neck.

“You’re damned good at that, warrior,” she sighed. She lay exhausted in her lover’s arms. A faint sheen of sweat dotted her upper lip.

“Glad to know you enjoyed it, wench,” he chuckled.

* * * * *

The jackal caught the scent just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. It lifted its muzzle and sniffed the air, the hackles on its back stirring, its oversized ears twitching this way and that in search of movement. Though the scent was one of sustenance, the scavenger tucked its bushy tail between its spindly back legs and stood there undecided. There was something not quite right about the scent wafting its way across the desert sands. As his mate joined him, the jackal growled low in its throat, warning the female that unseen danger was close by.

With one more look toward the spot from which the strange scent originated, the male jackal shook its sandy-colored coat of wiry fur and turned with the female close at his side to lope back toward the den where the litter of pups awaited their evening meal.

Slithering across the ripples of cooling desert sand, the Saw-Scaled Viper stilled, lifting its triangular head, its forked tongue lashing out to sense the nearness of its prey. Swaying as though mesmerized by music only it could sense, the viper wavered in position for a moment longer then dropped back to the sand. As it moved, the rough scales made a harsh rasping sound across the sand. Whatever had caught its attention was obviously not something the snake wanted to encounter and it quickly disappeared beneath a rocky outcropping.

The yellow scorpion arched its lethal stinger and scuttled away, looking for a place to hide from the danger it sensed. The falcon and vulture, eagle and buzzard spied the danger as they rode the currents and flew quickly away, screeching a warning as they went.

As the sun set and darkness settled like a heavy mantle on the sands of the Quesa desert, a hand thrust its way from the grave to claw at the evening air. Another hand shot up and sand cascaded from a naked chest as harsh, rasping air was dragged into lungs that had lain dormant. A bellow of rage broke the stillness of the night as a body pushed away from the ground. Growling sounds punctuated the movement of feet being pulled from the sand.

From its hiding place behind a date palm, a sand cat watched in terror as the being righted itself, coming erect with another roar of fury. It watched as the being trudged woodenly to the nearby stream and bent over the slow-moving water, staring at the moonlit surface for a long moment before raising its balled fists to the heavens and shaking them. Unable to stop itself, the sand cat mewled pitifully, catching the attention of the thing that had risen from the sand. A little stream of urine ran down the little animal’s leg as the being turned scarlet eyes toward it and bared long, wicked fangs. For a moment, sand cat and entity looked at one another then the entity turned away and began plodding purposefully across the desert, its bare shoulders hunched against the chill, its powerful legs digging deep furrows in the sand.

* * * * *

There was a light scratching on the tent flap and Tamara came awake, flinging over on the pallet to reach for her weapon.

“Be easy, wench,” Evann-Sin said. “I suspect it is my friend from Samarkan.”

Tamara looked around at him, her eyes wide. “Your
dead
friend?” she whispered.

Evann-Sin grinned and called out, “Is that you, Rabin?”

“Aye,” came the gruff reply from the other side of the door.

“Are you presentable?” the Akkadian inquired.

“How would I know? I can’t see myself!” the gruff voice complained.

“Stay here,” Evann-Sin told her. “I’ll see if Rabin looks any the worse for his time underground.”

“You don’t really think that is your friend,” Tamara gasped.

“I know it is,” the Akkadian snorted.

Tamara winced at the thought, but remained where she stood as the Akkadian stomped over to the flap and flung it open. She was relieved when she heard him announce to his friend that he was as ugly as ever and not the oozing pulp he should have been. She watched a very handsome Dabiyan stride nonchalantly into the tent.

“You look none the worse for being nearly sucked dry as a husk, either,” Rabin snapped. He looked at Tamara, bowed his head in greeting then turned to his friend. “How the hell am I to see to shave?”

“I suspect nothing will grow on you from now on,” Evann-Sin replied.

“That can’t be true,” Rabin grumbled. “I’ve seen corpses with hair down to their hips and fingernails a good six inches long.”

“But have you seen corpses with beards?” his friend inquired.

Rabin frowned, thought about that for a moment then smiled. “Nay, I have not!”

“And think of it, Rabin. There will be no need for water or food!” the Akkadian exclaimed.

“And I suppose no more long, satisfying pisses or healthy dumps,” Rabin sighed deeply.

Both men looked at one another and grinned, saying at the same time, “No boogers to pick and flick!”

Tamara winced. She wondered why the two of them would think of such a gross thing at the same time, but knew she probably wouldn’t want to be enlightened. A vague thought of some disgusting contest passed over her mind and she swept it away as the men clapped each other on the back and laughed.

“I am glad you are here, my friend,” Evann-Sin said, sobering. “Together we will find those who did this to you and seek our vengeance and renewal there.”

“The Magi said what I do with the ones who murdered me is up to me,” Rabin acknowledged. “I can either take their lives as they took mine or make them wish they had never been born!”

“Vengeance is sweeter the longer it lasts,” Evann-Sin stated. “I’ve no desire to take the lives of those who waylaid me, but I have a great desire to make them regret having done it.”

“As do I,” Rabin agreed. “That I fell victim to women who…”

“Women?” Evann-Sin and Tamara questioned at the same time.

Rabin nodded. “Hell Hags,” he said.

Tamara’s face drained of color and she put a hand to her mouth. Slowly she turned her gaze to the Akkadian. “Sylviana spoke of him. It was done before I joined them on the road to Nonica.”