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“Are you sore?” he moved lower to
nibble her chin first and then moved on to her neck while her arms
encircled his neck.

“Your wound-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He cut her off
as he tongue traced a lazy pattern across her. “I’ve been known to
perform with worse. There are courtesans in India who screamed my
name while I sported missing limbs and frostbitten
toes.”

She laughed helplessly beneath him as
she settled more comfortably. Her hair spread out beneath her in a
golden cloud that brought out the emerald in her eyes and Damon
couldn’t help but think what a beautiful creature she
was.

She hit him, but not very hard because
he was still injured.

“What’s wrong with you? Bragging about
that sort of thing to me?’ but there was a smile on her lips and he
kissed it away until she groaning in his mouth. He pulled back and
his voice came a little breathless.

“Are you sore?”

Her fingers tangled in the silky
strands of the hair curling at his nape, and she blinked passion
glazed eyes up at him.

“A little.” She lifted her hips and
rubbed herself against his hardening shaft. “But I think I can
handle it.”

He nearly came right then but he
reigned himself in. He’d taken her too hard last night and he
rectified the error by moving slowly with her now. He let the
passion rise between them like a slowly rising tide, his hands
feather-light as they skimmed across her trembling flesh. When he
kissed her he held her still for his assault by his grip on her
chin.

He teased her, stroked her when she
pleased him, and drugged them both with his barely there touches.
His fingers worked over the lithe grace of her body and he
memorized the taste and smell of her until her skin was slicked
with a fine layer of sweat and her voice grew hoarse from pleading.
When he pushed himself into her she was so hot, so wet and tight
around his length that a ringing set up in his ears. When he moved
above her, her moans came out a gasping sob.

She was just as greedy as the night
before, just as passionate, and he thought that she was an ideal
dancer because she knew how to express herself through her body.
She knew what the slide of her toes against his calves could
convey, what the simple press of her mouth against the corner of
his eye as his thrust inside of her willing body did to his heart.
She knew how to tell him she loved him with each smile and lusty
moan. And he returned the words the only way he knew how. He slid
his hands up her body and her arms lifted above her head with the
movement until their fingers tangled together. Her eyes were blind
again, large and beautiful in her flushing face. He pressed his
lips against hers and closing his own eyes, ignoring the pain in
his side, and the uncertainty in his chest he mouthed,

‘I love my Princess. I love my Jocelyn.
Love you and only you from now until forever.’

The words brought her sobbing his name.
Her release was violent, it shook her body, had her convulsing
under him and she went utterly silent as it dragged on. Damon felt
her muscles spasm and jerk, felt the way those tight, hot walls
milked his own release out of him almost against his will. He came
as violently as Jocelyn and barely pulled out of her in time. He
shouted her name as his seed shot into the sand and his back bowed
from the silky pleasure of it.

When he was done and the chills had
stopped racing up and down his spine, he collapsed beside her and
pulled her into his arms.

* * * *

Jocelyn practically force fed him the
fruit before she allowed him to get up. She had to help him to his
feet but once there he seemed well enough. Using a sturdy branch
she’d managed to find for him, he shuffled off in the direction of
the destroyed shelter to clean the boar’s body. While he worked,
she moved about the destroyed lean-to. She’d seen him building
often enough by that point that she knew what she was doing and by
the time he was done skinning, cleaning and gutting the carcass the
larger shelter had been fixed. This time there were no palm fronds
to separate them and Damon seemed so pleased with the sight that he
got enough energy to carve up the body. Using some of the salt from
the sea that they’d dried out in a small container, he rubbed the
meat they wouldn’t be eating that night down so that they’d keep
longer. While he did all that Jocelyn hurried to the pool to bathe
the gritty sand from her body, along with the accumulated sweat and
other … things from their lovemaking that morning. She would have
bathed with Damon but she doubted he could behave himself long
enough. Sure enough by the time she arrived back in camp he was
sitting by a fire he’d built to cook the roasting pork and looking
put out. He scowled at her as if she’d cheated him out of something
important before heading towards the pool as well.

He was strong enough at this point to
go by himself, and Jocelyn was happy for small favors. She didn’t
want him hurting himself just to pleasure her but for some reason
she couldn’t seem to stop. The act was so amazing that throughout
the day as she worked and then went down to the beach to form the
message in the sand, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he
fit inside her. Like a glove. He fit against her, in her, and
simply remembering last night and that morning had her core
hungering for more of it. Clenching her thighs together didn’t
help, nor did distance from the culprit in question. If anything
they made the symptoms worse and she was grateful when she walked
back into camp that evening and the boar was finished cooking
because all that avoidance and thigh clenching had given her an
appetite.

They were silent the first half of the
meal, with Damon tearing big greedy chunks from his own portion as
if he were getting back at the animal all over again. Jocelyn took
her time though and pretty soon a thought had occurred to
her.

“Why do you think he attacked
us?”

Damon paused long enough to swallow his
food down with a drink of spring water. He passed the flask to her
and she took a swig of the water and shivered as it went
down.

“From what I’ve seen that guy was here
by himself. Boars don’t usually live alone so chances are he either
washed up here from some other island or the rest of his family
died off.”

“What could have done such a
thing?”

He shrugged. “Anything really.
Sickness, maybe from something they ate or something in their
blood. Or maybe they simply died off since there wasn’t enough of
them here to continue on the line. This place is pretty small, not
nearly enough food or room for the number they’d need to
live.”

“But why attack us?”

“My guess is that we were trespassing
on his territory.”

“But we’ve been here for a while.
Wouldn’t he have come sooner?”

Damon shrugged. “Maybe his family lived
here before they died. Maybe he didn’t like smelling his wife and
children beneath the scent of humans. I’m a cynical bastard so what
do I know about it?”

She reached up a hand and stroked at
the thick stubble that coated his jaw. He tried to shave with the
edge of the spear as often as possible but he was growing to hate
the way the blade nicked his face. Personally she liked the way it
tickled her fingers and she tugged at a few strands now.

“That was a pretty sentimental thing to
say for a cynical bastard.” She said quietly and watched his eyes
shift. Something vulnerable flashed in their depths before it was
gone.

He shrugged, “You caught
me.”

Jocelyn jumped when the hot splash of
the juices from the roasted pork still in her hand landed on her
legs, and she looked up to see Damon’s eyes glued to the juice
slowly sliding towards her inner thigh. He growled and Jocelyn
whimpered from a helpless rush of heat.

“Are you still sore?”

Chapter Ten

If you’ve read everything up to this
point without having tossed the letter aside in aggravation, then
I’m sure you’re celebrating the fact that it’s fast reaching its
end. It saddens me to know that the extent of all my wisdom can fit
on two little sheets of paper but then I have to tell myself,
‘John, with as much drinking, gambling, smoking and fighting you’ve
done these last fifty years, it’s a miracle you can even fill up
that much.’ Hmm, I just read over the last line. I think that’s the
first good joke I’ve ever told. Talk about irony. Well, better late
than never right?

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Well … because it isn’t
proper.”

“You did it to me.”

“Well that was because …
because….”

Damon gave her innocent eyes and
grinned up at her from where she straddled his shoulders. Her back
was against the tree she’d been climbing and her thighs were on
either side of his cheeks. He blew a soft breath across the
juncture between her thighs, and she shuddered and slapped her
hands over her dress.

“Stop that. Do you want to make me
fall?”

“You already fell.” She hated the
reasonable lilt of his voice. It drove her crazy because she always
felt so foolish arguing against it. Just like always, he was right.
She had fallen. She wanted to climb towards the top of the tree she
was currently leaning against but her foot had slipped off the
branch just as she’d stepped from Damon’s hands. He’d managed to
catch her, his arms tight around the back of her legs and his face
buried against the juncture of her thighs. It had been a week since
the first time they’d done … that. Jocelyn was just as eager for it
as she ever was while Damon only grew hungrier the more he had her.
His wound had healed well and Jocelyn was more grateful than she
could say that it hadn’t caught fever. When she’d wiggled
uncomfortably in his grip he’d said something unintelligible that
tickled and made her throb all at once as he moved against her
flesh.

She grew wet from the heat of his mouth
on her and she was terribly embarrassed since he was pressed so
close and so she’d told him to let her down.

He said no.

And then came the words that had seemed
to turn her world upside down.

“Your yoni wants my tongue.”

She’d blinked, thrown by the word and
somehow knowing that it was improper by the simple way he said
it.

“What?!”

“Your yoni. It’s Hindi. It’s your
cunnikin, your cunny, your cunt. It’s this-pretty-thing-here.” With
each carefully spaced word his lips worked at the front of her sex.
When she tried to push his head away his teeth nipped her flesh
through the cloth of her chemise. Jocelyn cried out and tried not
to squirm. The bark dug into her back, scratched it, and if she
fought him too vigorously chances were he’d drop her.

And that was how she’d gotten where she
was now.

He looked up the length of her body and
his nose brushed back and forth across the sensitive lips of her
sex.

“You’re wet for me. So why don’t you
admit it. I’ll taste you if you say what I tell you to.”

Her eyes narrowed on him but she
couldn’t deny his words. Her hands were shaking as she clenched
them in his hair. She was no longer holding herself so rigidly
against the trunk of the tree, instead allowing her body to slump
and her core to press more solidly against his mouth. They were
separated by her clothes but the material clung to her as it
dampened with her excitement and the heat of Damon’s tongue. This
would be a different type of lovemaking. She enjoyed the things
they did, the things he taught her, but it wasn’t perfect. It
wasn’t perfect because he never stayed inside of her body when he
reached fulfillment. He’d explained his reasons, and she understood
them, even agreed with them, but she hated when he left her. Hated
when he spilled his seed in the sand rather than in her body where
it belonged. If they did this … if they did this then there
wouldn’t be that flash of disappointment when they lay exhausted
and satisfied against one another.

She gave in with a desperate nod and
bit her lip.

“I want you to say, ‘I want your tongue
in my yoni.’”

The man had a surprisingly large
appetite for anything offensive and he delighted in teaching her
phrases for the things he did to her and the words for the places
he did them. There was one phrase he always had her whisper into
his ear whenever their lovemaking became as intense as it had that
first night. He refused to tell her what it meant but he warned her
that if she ever said the words in the presence of anyone who could
speak the language, they’d cart her to the nearest brothel and keep
her for the night. Now he was making her even more corrupt but she
couldn’t bring herself to deny him.

“Princess,” he cajoled. All sweet and
pleading. “Please say it. It’ll sound so sweet and you’ll get so
excited when you do.”

She stared down at him and forcing
herself to hold his eye she opened her mouth.

“I want … I want your tongue….” he was
using his face to snuffle breath the hem of her chemise and his
biceps flexed from where they rested beneath her buttocks as he
pressed his hands against the tree. It was like he could hold her
there forever. But as soon as his mouth made contact with the heat
of her body Jocelyn realized that while Damon might be able to drag
this on all day, there was no way she could handle such a
thing.