The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [300]
“I don’t want you to give me Pleasures,” she said. His jaw dropped, and lines creased his forehead. “You don’t want me …” He let go of her.
“I want to give you Pleasures.”
His heart started beating again. “You do give me Pleasures, Ayla,” he said, taking her back in his arms.
“I know it pleases you to give me Pleasures—that’s not what I mean.” Her eyes were serious. “I want to learn to Pleasure you, Jondalar.”
He couldn’t resist her. His manhood was hard between them as he held her close, and he kissed her as though he couldn’t get enough of her. She kissed him back, following his example. They lingered over the kiss, tasting, touching, exploring each other.
“I will show you how to please me, Ayla,” he said, and, taking her hand, he found a place of green grass near the water. When they sat down, he kissed her again, then reached for her ear and kissed her neck, pushing her back. His hand was on her breast, and he was reaching for it with his tongue, when she sat up.
“I want to Pleasure you,” she said.
“Ayla, it pleases me so much to give you Pleasure—I don’t know how it could possibly please me more for you to Pleasure me.”
“Will it please you less?” she asked.
Jondalar threw back his head, laughed, and took her in his arms. She smiled but wasn’t sure what had delighted him so.
“I don’t think anything you did could please me less.” Then, looking at her with his vibrant blue eyes, he said, “I love you, woman.”
“I love you, Jondalar. I feel love when you smile like that, with your eyes like that, and so much when you laugh. No one laughed in the Clan, and they did not like it when I did. I don’t ever want to live with people who will not let me smile or laugh.”
“You should laugh, Ayla, and smile. You have a beautiful smile.” She couldn’t help smiling at his words. “Ayla, oh, Ayla,” he said, burying his face in her neck and caressing her.
“Jondalar, I love when you touch me, and kiss in my neck, but I want to know what you like.”
He made a wry grin. “I can’t help myself—you ‘encourage’ me too much. What do you like, Ayla? Do to me what feels good to you.”
“Will you like it?”
“Try it.”
She pushed him back, then bent over to kiss him, opening her mouth and using her tongue. He responded, but held himself in check. Then she kissed his neck, flicking her tongue lightly. She felt him shiver a bit, and she looked at him, wanting confirmation.
“Does it please you?”
“Yes, Ayla, it pleases me.”
It did. Restraining himself under her tentative advances fired him more than he dreamed. Her light kisses seared through him. She was unsure of herself, as inexperienced as a girl who had reached puberty, but had not yet had First Rites—and no one was more desirable. Such tender kisses had more power to arouse than the most ardent and sensual caresses of more experienced women—because they were forbidden.
Most women were available to some degree; she was untouchable. The untried young woman could drive men, young and old, to a frenzy with secret caresses in dark corners of the cave. A mother’s worst fear was that her daughter would come into her womanhood just after the Summer Meeting, with a long winter to face before the next. Most girls had some experience by First Rites with kissing and fondling, and Jondalar had known it was not the first time for a few, though he would not disgrace them by revealing it.
He knew the appeal of those young women—it was part of his enjoyment of First Rites—and it was that appeal Ayla was exerting on him. She kissed his neck. He quivered and, closing his eyes, gave himself up to it.
She moved lower and made ticklish wet circles on his body, feeling her own excitement rising. It was almost torture for him, exquisite torture, part tickle and part searing stimulation. When she reached his navel, he couldn’t stop himself. He put his hands on her head and gently pushed her lower until she felt his hot shaft on her cheek. She was breathing hard, and drawing, pulling