The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [441]
Jondalar laughed. “Ayla, women are beautiful. Not men.”
“What is a man then?”
“You might say he’s strong, or brave.”
“You are strong and brave, but that’s not the same as beautiful. What would you call a man who is beautiful?”
“Handsome, I suppose.” He felt a little embarrassed. He had been called handsome too often.
“Handsome. Handsome,” she repeated to herself. “I like beautiful better. Beautiful I understand.”
Jondalar laughed again, his rich, surprisingly lusty laugh. The uninhibited warmth of it was unexpected, and Ayla caught herself staring at him. He had been so serious on this trip. Though he had smiled, he’d seldom laughed out loud.
“If you want to call me beautiful, go ahead,” he said, pulling her closer to him. “How can I object to a beautiful woman calling me beautiful?”
Ayla felt the spasms of his laughter, and she started giggling. “I love it when you laugh, Jondalar.”
“And, I love you, funny woman.”
He held her after they stopped laughing. Feeling her warmth and soft full breasts, he reached for one and pulled her down so he could kiss her. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and felt herself respond with a surprising hunger for him. It had been some time, she realized. All the time they were on the glacier, they both had been so anxious and so exhausted that they hadn’t been in the mood, or able to relax enough to get there.
He sensed her eager willingness and felt his own sudden need. He rolled her over as they kissed; then, moving the furs out of the way, he kissed her throat and neck on the way to finding her breast. He enclosed her hard nipple with his mouth and suckled.
She moaned as a sharp shiver of unbelievable Pleasure charged through her with an intensity that left her gasping. She was stunned by her own reaction. He had barely touched her, and she was ready, and she felt so eager. It hadn’t been that long, had it? She pushed herself toward him.
Jondalar reached down to touch her place of Pleasures between her thighs, felt her hard knob and massaged it. With a few cries, she reached a sudden peak, and was there, ready for him, wanting him.
He felt her sudden moist warmth, and understood her readiness. His need had risen to match hers. Pushing at the furs to get them out of the way, she opened to him. He reached for her deep well with his proud manhood and entered.
She pulled him to her as he thrust forward, penetrating deeply. He felt her full embrace, and she cried out with her joy. She had needed him, and he felt so right, it was beyond delight, more than Pleasure.
He was as ready as she. He pulled back, then thrust again, and only once more, and suddenly, there was no holding back. He felt the surge rise, reach, and overflow. With a last few motions, he drained himself, then pushed in, and relaxed on top of her.
She lay still with her eyes closed, feeling his weight on her, and feeling wonderful. She didn’t want to move. When he finally got up and looked down at her, he had to kiss her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“That was wonderful, Jondalar,” she said, feeling languid and satisfied.
“It was fast. You were ready; we were both ready. And you had the strangest smile on your face just now.”
“That’s because I’m so happy.”
“I am, too,” he said, kissing her again, then rolling onto his side.
They lay together quietly and dozed off again. Jondalar woke before Ayla did, and he watched her while she slept. The strange little smile appeared again and made him wonder what she was dreaming of. He couldn’t resist. He kissed her softly and caressed her breast. She opened her eyes. They were dilated, dark and liquid, and full of deep secrets.
He kissed each eyelid, then nibbled playfully at an earlobe and then a nipple. She smiled at him when he reached for her mound and felt her soft hair, receptive, if not quite ready again, making him wish they were just beginning instead of just through. Suddenly he held her tight, kissed her fiercely, stroked her body, her breasts and hips and thighs. He could hardly keep his hands away