The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [297]
“Ayla, all you have to do is be there to encourage me.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I don’t know how to tell you when I want you to make Pleasures with me. I don’t know the ways.… You said some women know ways to encourage a man.”
“Oh, Ayla, is that what’s bothering you? You want to learn how to encourage me?”
She nodded and put her head down, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Clan women were not so forward. They exhibited their desire for a man with excessive modesty, as though they could hardly bear the sight of such an overwhelmingly masculine male—yet with demure glances and innocent postures that resembled the proper position for a female to assume, they let him know he was irresistible.
“Look how you’ve encouraged me, woman,” he said, knowing he had developed an erection while talking to her. He couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t hide it. Seeing him so obviously encouraged brought a smile to the woman’s lips; she couldn’t help it. “Ayla,” he said, and swept her up in both arms, “don’t you know you encourage me just by being alive?”
Carrying her, he started across the beach toward the path. “Do you have any idea how it encourages me just to look at you? The first time I saw you, I wanted you.” He continued up the path with a very surprised Ayla. “You are so much woman, you don’t need ways to encourage—you don’t have to learn a thing. Everything you do makes me want you more.” They reached the entrance. “If you want me, all you have to do is say so, or better yet, this.” He kissed her.
He carried her into the cave and put her down on the bed of furs. Then he kissed her again with open mouth and gently probing tongue. She felt his manhood, hard and hot between them. He sat up then and had a teasing grin on his face.
“You said you were trying all day. What makes you think you weren’t encouraging me?” he said. Then he did something totally unexpected: he made a gesture.
Her eyes flew open with surprise. “Jondalar! That’s … that’s the signal!”
“If you’re going to make your Clan signals to me, I think it’s only fair to give them back.”
“But … I …” She was at a loss for words—if not actions. She got up, turned around and went down on her knees, spreading them apart, and presented.
He had meant the signal as a Joke; he didn’t expect to be stimulated so quickly. But the sight of her round, firm buttocks, and her exposed female opening, deep pink and inviting, were irresistible. Before he knew it, he was on his knees behind her, entering her warm, pulsating depths.
From the moment she assumed the position, memories of Broud crowded her thoughts. For the first time, she would have refused Jondalar—if she could have. But as strong as the repellent associations were, her early conditioning to obey the signal was stronger.
He mounted and plunged. She felt Jondalar fill her, and she cried out with the unexpected pleasure. The posture made her feel pressures in new places, and when he drew back, the rubbing and friction excited in new ways. She backed to meet him when he dove in again. As he hovered over her, pumping and straining, she was suddenly reminded of Whinney and her bay stallion. The thought brought on a shudder of delicious warmth, and a pulsing, tingling pull. She reared up and backed to him, matching his pace, moaning and squealing.
The pressure was mounting quickly; her actions and his need drove him faster. “Ayla! Oh, woman,” he cried out. “Beautiful, wild, woman,” he breathed as he thrust and thrust and thrust again. He held her hips, pulled her to him, and, as he filled her, she reared back to meet him as he surged into her with a shudder of delight.
They stayed there for a moment, shaking, Ayla’s head hanging down. Then, taking her with him, he rolled them both over on their sides, and then they lay there unmoving. Her back nestled against him, and with his manhood still in her, he curled around her and reached one hand over to cup her breast.
“I must admit,” he said after a while,