The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [105]
“This water is cold!” Jondalar protested when they ran in.
“Yes, it is,” Ayla said, crouching down so that the water reached her neck and covered her shoulders. She splashed cold water on her face, then used her hands to rub herself all over under the water. She ran out, picked up the chamois towel and wrapped it around herself, and dashed toward their shelter. Jondalar was close on her heels. They hovered over the fire and dried off quickly, then hung the wet skins on a peg. They crawled into their sleeping roll and cuddled close to get warm.
Once they felt comfortable again, he whispered in her ear, “If we go slowly, do you think you can be ready again?”
“I think so, if you can.”
Jondalar kissed her, searching with his tongue to open her mouth, and she responded in kind. This time, he didn’t want to rush it. He wanted to linger over her, explore her body, find all the special places that gave her pleasure, and let her find his. He ran his hand down her arm and felt her cool skin that was beginning to warm, then caressed her breast, feeling the contracted, hardened nipple in his palm. He manipulated it between his thumb and finger, then ducked his head under the cover to take it in his mouth.
There was a noise outside. They both lifted their heads above the covers to listen. There were voices, coming closer, and then the flap over the entry was pushed aside as people walked in. They both lay still listening. If everyone went right to bed, they could continue their new explorations. Neither one of them felt entirely comfortable sharing Pleasures while other people were sitting nearby fully awake and talking, although some people didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t all that unusual, Jondalar realized, and tried to remember what he did when he was younger.
He knew they had grown used to seclusion when they spent a year traveling alone together to his home, but he thought that he was always a man who liked his privacy, even when Zolena was teaching him. Especially when the teaching became more than a donii-woman and her young charge, when they actually became lovers, and he wanted her to be his mate. Then he recognized her voice along with that of his mother and Willamar. The First had come with them to the camp of the Ninth Cave.
“Let me get some water heating for tea,” Marthona said. “We can get a light from Jondalar’s hearth.”
“She knows we’re awake,” Jondalar whispered to Ayla. “I think we’re going to have to get up.”
“I think you’re right,” Ayla said.
“I’ll bring you some fire, mother,” Jondalar said, pushing the covers back and reaching for his pouch thong.
“Oh, did we wake you?” Marthona said.
“No, mother,” he said. “You didn’t wake us.” He got up and found a long, thin piece of kindling and held it to the fire until it caught, then brought the fire to the main hearth in the shelter.
“Why don’t you have some tea with us,” his mother said.
“I guess we might as well,” he said. He knew that they were all fully aware that they had interrupted the young couple.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to both of you anyway,” Zelandoni said.
“Let me go back and put some warmer clothes on,” he said.
Ayla had already dressed herself when Jondalar got back to their small sleeping area. He quickly put on his clothing and both of them went to the main hearth, carrying their personal drinking cups.
“Someone filled up the waterbag,” Willamar said. “I think you saved me the trouble, Jondalar.”
“Ayla noticed it was empty.”
“I saw Wolf and your horses out back of the dwelling, Ayla,” Willamar said.
“No one was in camp all day, and a snow leopard tried to get Gray. Whinney and Racer fought him off and killed him, but they broke out of the surround,” Jondalar said.
“Wolf found them way in the back of this meadow, near the cliffs and a small stream. It must have been terrible for them. They were even afraid of him and us at first,