The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [41]
He bent down to her neck as he pushed the shirt back to bare her shoulders and reveal her upright young breasts with their swollen areolas, and felt his manhood throb. He kissed her shoulders with open mouth and moving tongue and felt her quiver, and caressed her arms as he pushed her shirt off. He ran his hands up her spine, and his tongue down her neck and chest, circled her areola, felt her nipple contract, and sucked gently. She gasped but didn’t pull away. He suckled the other breast, ran his tongue back up to her mouth and, as he kissed her, pushed her back.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him from the furs. Her eyes were dilated and luminous. His were so deeply blue and compelling that she could not look away. “Jondalar man, Noria woman,” she said.
“Jondalar man, Noria woman,” he said huskily, then sat up and pulled his tunic over his head, feeling the surge as his manhood strained to burst free. He bent over her, kissed her again, and felt her open her mouth to taste his tongue with hers. He caressed her breast and ran his tongue down her neck and shoulder. He found her nipple again, sucking harder as he heard her moan, and felt his own breath heaving faster.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, he thought, and wanted to take her that instant. Go easy, don’t scare her, he reminded himself. It’s her first time. You’ve got all night, Jondalar. Wait until you know she’s ready.
He caressed her bare skin below her swelling mounds down to her waist, and searched for the thong that gathered her skirt together. Pulling the tie, he reached in and rested his hand on her stomach. She tensed, then relaxed. He reached lower for the inside of her thigh, brushing over her pubic rise of soft down. She spread her legs as he moved his hand along her inner thigh.
He pulled his hand away, sat up, then worked her skirt down below her hips and dropped it on the ground. Then he stood up and looked at her soft, rounded, not quite fullblown curves. She smiled up at him with a look of trust and longing. He untied the thong from his trousers and lowered them. She gasped when she saw his upright swollen member, and a hint of fear returned to her eyes.
Noria had listened with fascination to stories other women told of their Rites of First Pleasures. Some women didn’t think they were such a pleasure. They said the Gift of Pleasure was given to men, that women were given the ability to give men pleasure so men would be bound to them; so men would hunt and bring food and skins to make clothes when a woman was heavy with child or suckling young. Noria had been warned there would be pain in her First Rites. Jondalar was so swollen, so big, how would he fit himself in her?
Her look of fear was familiar. It was a critical moment; she would have to get used to him again. He enjoyed awakening a woman for the first time to the pleasures of the Mother’s Gift, but it took delicacy and finesse. Someday, he thought, I wish I could give a woman pleasure for the first time and not have to worry about hurting her. He knew it wasn’t possible. The Rites of First Pleasures for a woman were always a little painful.
He sat down beside her and waited, giving her time. Her eyes were drawn to his throbbing member. He took her hand and led her to touch him, and felt a surge. It was as though his manhood had a life of its own at a time like this. Noria felt the softness of his skin, the warmth, the firm fullness, and, as his member moved eagerly in her hand, she felt a sharp, pleasurable, tingling sensation within her, and a dampness between her legs. She tried to smile, but fear still lurked in her eyes.
He stretched out beside her and kissed her gently. She opened her eyes and looked into his. She saw his concern, and his hunger, and some unnamable, irresistible force. She was drawn, overwhelmed, lost in the impossibly blue depths of his eyes, and felt the deep, pleasurable sensation again. She wanted