Love Never-Ending (6 page)

He fisted it with an idle stroke or two and then thought,
Why
not?
This bath was all about relaxing and de-stressing from the jumbling
rush of impressions and events in the past few hours. There weren’t many better
ways to de-stress alone than a little hand job. Helping himself to another dab
of the fragrant soap, he spread the slippery stuff over his cock before cupping
his balls in his soapy hand.
Might as well get really clean while he was at
it!
After a while he grasped his cock in his fist and stroked with slow
purpose, enjoying the pure sensuality of handling his hard flesh while lazing
in the tub.

Normally a shower man, he’d never understood why women found
the idea of a bath so attractive. Was this what they did when they were in the
bath? Did they finger themselves to orgasm in the warm embrace of silky scented
water? He thought again of the valley woman who had stared at him and wondered
if they had sex toys in the valley. Would she fuck herself with one while she
lounged in her bath? Were her nipples the same dark blue color as the
bare-chested men he’d seen that day?

His cock swelled in his hand. Did the woman use the blue
salve on her pussy? Was she bare? Or did tawny brown curls that matched the
sleek braids on her head cover her soft slick folds? He didn’t know why but he
was certain that she was very, very soft and swollen between those long legs.
He squeezed his cock as he slid his hand up and down the length more rapidly.
His balls tightened and drew up close to his body. Fiery strands sparked up his
spine to the base of his skull.

Then with a low groan, he came, hot semen spurting over his
fingers into the bath water. He slumped back against the sloping tub, sprawled
in replete ease until he realized he was in danger of dozing off in the warm
water. Reluctantly he quickly finished bathing and climbed from the tub. With a
swift twist he pulled the plug and placed it in the basket where he found it.

Minutes later his body was patted dry and the bathroom was
straightened up. With a weary sigh he staggered into the bedroom and stretched
out on the bed. Before his head touched the pillow he tumbled into a deep
sleep.

* * * * *

In the dome that Robyn and Wrenna normally shared, Dancer
and Eppie lay spooned together in a hanging bed, gently rocking as Dancer
slowly thrust his cock in and out as far as her
schela
permitted. “Hmmm.
You’re tight this afternoon. Your
schela
is squeezing my cock like a
vise.”

“That’s what you always say,” she teased as she pressed her
soft ass closer to his groin. “Surely you’ll get used to it soon and it won’t
be a novelty anymore.”

“I don’t think so.” He panted and shoved his cock deeper in
her hot, wet pussy, straining to reach farther than ever before. He didn’t
understand but every time they made love there was an incredible urge for more,
a deeper, harder connection with the woman he was bonded with. He couldn’t
recall ever having the same need to link—almost on a cellular level—with any
other woman. Only Eppie had ever generated this soul-deep drive for communion.

She burrowed closer and sighed. “Traveller looks a lot like
you did when you came to the valley. I would have known he was your brother.”

“Yeah? Even though he’s not a pretty shade of blue like I
am?” He nuzzled her ear and gently nibbled at the point. “And he doesn’t have
neat pointed ears or fangs.”

“Well, I’m sure that Wrenna will help him get past those
handicaps.”

Dancer nipped her ear. “I’m
sure
she will. You
Llewellyn women are relentless.”

“And you love that. Tell me about your friend,” she said
softly. “I understand why you were angry this morning but now you’re not?”

He snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding
her tightly. “I, uh, I don’t know why I was so angry. Maybe on some level I
felt betrayed. I wasn’t very rational this morning when Wrenna came to tell us
that Trav was in the valley.” He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, finding a
deep comfort in her closeness. Her breasts filled his hands as he squeezed
before catching the tight nipples in his fingers, plucking and tugging them
while he moved with increasing intensity. “Bishop has—
had
a little
undercover gig going.”

“Gig?”

“Job. He was gathering information about Mama and Papa’s
murders. I thought he was a good friend. Then when he suddenly appeared in the
valley and turned out to be related to you… I had to wonder if he was really
just stringing Trav and me along.”

“And now? What do you think?” she asked.

“Now? The poor son of a bitch ended up in the valley because
Trav kidnapped him. Of all the places he could end up, this place is probably
the worst place for him to be. On every level, he’ll find it hard to adjust to the
valley culture. And sexually? I can’t even imagine how he’ll deal with the
valley laws. Can. Not. Imagine.”

“Dancer?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and fuck me. Hard. I need to feel your cock
stretching me, filling me.”

“Oh, well, your wish is my command.” He rolled with her
until she was on her knees, ass up in the air. Kneeling between her spread legs
with his cock deep in her pussy, he bent over her, covering her back with his
chest. “Are you ready for me to pound your greedy pussy?”

“Yes! Now!”

His scope of movement was limited by her
schela
’s
lock but that didn’t prevent him from thrusting powerfully against the tight
grasp on his cock. It didn’t stop her from grinding her ass in the cradle of
his groin, gasping and moaning with pleasure. The glide of nerve-rich skin
against silky skin impelled them toward the inevitable climax.

Abruptly, he stopped and wrapped his arms around her belly,
pulling her back against him as he rested his ass on his heels. “Sit up on my
lap!”

“What? Now?”

Wondering what he was doing, Eppie did as he directed with
her knees planted on the soft bedding on each side of his thighs. When she was
in position with her back brushing against his chest, he cupped her breasts in
his hands. “Play with your clit,” he demanded roughly. “I want to watch you
touch yourself while I feel you gripping my cock with your
schela
!”

“Yes. Are you going to play with my nipples?” she teased as
her slender blue fingers delved into the slick bare folds of her pussy. She
lightly tickled the base of his cock before pressing the small nub of her clit
and massaging it with slow circles.

“You’re part sorceress,” he declared with a groan as her
schela
clamped down around his cock. “Damn! Pinch your clit!” He tugged and pinched
her nipples as he thrust up inside her.

Eppie rocked down, savoring every sensation as he swelled
and grew harder in her slippery passage. She could feel his body gathering
itself for climax. With fierce concentration she plucked and massaged her clit,
desperately needing to come with him, needing to be the one who lured him to
completion. Then with a flash of heat and rippling internal muscles, she came,
calling out, “Now! Come now!”

He shouted her name as he surrendered to the insistent
tugging contractions deep within her sheath. She moaned and gasped as she
wallowed in the erotic aftermath, savoring each pulse as his hot seed spurted
against the subtle movement of the
mhital
as it sucked at his cock.

“I love you.”

The incredible tenderness in her voice brought tears to his
eyes. With a deep shuddering sigh, he rested his head on her shoulders. “Oh
God, Eppie. I love you so much it hurts.”

Lost Market—Bishop wears a sharda

Samara leaned against the counter in her sunlit kitchen and
peered out the big round window at the butterflies that flitted among the
flowers in her garden. Bees droned in the sweet clover. The sunflowers lifted
their bright faces to the late afternoon sun.

It was a peaceful scene so why was she so restless? Her mind
went to the stranger, sitting with Dai on the Llewellyn steps frowning at her.
Why did he frown? It wasn’t as though she had done anything to him.

She went back to her chopping and dicing. Peppers, garlic
cloves and one precious
dracka
she’d spied in the woods near her garden
were sizzling in the pan while she minced the rich
rowan
meat cubes
she’d fetched from Eron the butcher. There was a rumor running through the
village that Dancer had brought seeds with him from out-valley. Part of the
rumor was that there was a type of
dracka
called an
onion
that
would grow in a garden. How wonderful it would be to have them all the time!

After stirring the pungent vegetables, she tossed in a
handful of the minced meat and smiled when she inhaled the heady scents that
made all the work well worth it. Yes, this was exactly what she needed—chili
and
barbahla
bread and time to contemplate the rapid changes in the
valley.

She added the rest of the meat and when it was browned, a
pot of her chopped stewed tomato preserves from the year before and the black
and white
harlequin
beans that had simmered all day in the heavy bean
crock. While the chili bubbled gently she cleaned up the kitchen and then sat
at the table to work on her beadwork.

Soon it would be time for the Midsummer Gathering and her
beadwork bags were usually in great demand. The tiny jewel-colored beads were
fashioned from the same material as the
chinkas
. Years ago, her father
and his partner, Nathan, had devised a way to make the beads from the leftover
scraps from
chinka
production.

A small grin crept over her face when she thought of the
other things they’d invented.
Singing stones
, jeweled bottles for
precious oils and the tiny jewel-handled knives called
sliths
. Men and
women all over the valley spent barter credits on the baubles so they could
gift their loved ones—especially bond mates. Samara just happened to know that
Eppie had commissioned a special
slith
for Dancer with his personal
glyphs on it.

She snickered. Dancer had commissioned a beaded bag for
Eppie for the Midsummer Gathering. Who did they think they were fooling? It was
a silly dance they had led each other to the bonding circle, to be sure.

For a brief flashing moment, pain tightened her chest when
she wished for her own silly dance but she pushed away the heartache and bent
her head over the painstaking beadwork, following a pattern she carried only in
her mind’s eye. In a little while she realized she was squinting in the growing
dusk and she rose to twist the light stones on and taste test the chili.

After adding a pinch of the spicy herb mix that Robyn
Llewellyn prepared for her, she stirred the chili once more and removed it from
the fire. She inhaled deeply, savoring the sharp scent of spice and meat.

Gathering up her beadwork, she put it away for the evening.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to finish the tiny bag. Then she set out a heavy
soup bowl and a plate for her bread. The
barbahla
bread was warm from
sitting near the fire. She sliced several narrow strips from the flat bread and
set them on her plate. Everything was ready except for a quick dash of hot
water to freshen her tea.

She froze in the act of pouring the hot water when a sharp
knock reverberated from her front door. It was late for visitors. Setting her
kettle back on the stove, she went into her living room and twisted on a light
stone near the door.

“Who is it?”

“Mali and Arturo.”

Puzzled, she opened the door. Mali stood on the porch, while
Arturo waited down on the walkway. “Mali? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he hastened to assure her. “I’m sorry if
we alarmed you. I volunteered to bring you this from Mama.” He held up his arm
and she watched a heavy metal wind chime jangle into place. “It’s her
housewarming gift.”

Down in the yard, Arturo chuckled at her dumbfounded
expression. “It took a while for Micah to finish it. Then he hung it up in the
shop and forgot about it.”

“And he remembered it this time of night?”

“No. He broke his leg this morning. Hoel and Jago were
checking the shop to see what will be needed to be done before he’s fully
healed. Jago spied it hanging from the rafter.”

Arturo leaped up onto the porch and examined the hanging
plants in the deepening gloom. “Do you have an extra hook, Samara? If so, I’ll
put the wind chime up for you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Since suffering a brutal
attack earlier in the spring, Arturo seldom volunteered anything, even words.
“I believe I have several of the hooks left. Just a moment. I’ll fetch the hook
and a light stone.” In a few moments, she returned with an assortment of
cast-iron hooks, a hammer and a bright light.

After a brief deliberation, Arturo chose a hook and pounded
it in the porch roof with her hammer. Mali solemnly hung the wind chime and
gave it a small nudge. The deep ringing tones drifted in the evening air.

“Oh, it’s lovely! Please tell your mother I will stop by her
shop tomorrow to thank her properly!” Samara leaned her head back and closed
her eyes, listening to the cheerful ringing as a gentle breeze set them moving
again.

“Of course.” Mali hopped down from the porch, patiently
waiting as Arturo gravely returned the hammer to Samara. Things had gone well,
he decided. Arturo had resisted accompanying him out to Samara’s but it had
turned out very well. Very well, indeed. Mali had a notion that Arturo would be
most comfortable with Samara since they had suffered similar experiences and
apparently his notion was correct.

Arturo joined him and they made their goodbyes. They were
nearly out of the small yard when Arturo remembered a bit of news that surely
would please Samara. He turned and faced her as she stood silhouetted in the
doorway. “I almost forgot to tell you! Llyon and Tyger are moving out to
Eppie’s cabin. So soon you will have neighbors once again!”

“That will be wonderful! I must admit that it is far
lonelier out here than I anticipated. Who could dream that Dancer would
suddenly arrive in the valley and sweep Eppie off to the bonding circle?”

Arturo snorted in disbelief. “You have it the wrong way
around, I think. Surely Eppie was the one who dragged him to the bonding
circle? The way I remember it, he was barely in the valley before she had him
wound around her finger.”

Mali snickered in the darkness. “I don’t think that’s what
she captured him with.”

Arturo gave him a hearty swat. “We must go. Have a good
evening, Samara.” And then they were swallowed in the darkness as the evening
insect chorus resumed. She closed and locked the door, suddenly eager to get
back to her dinner.

* * * * *

A perfunctory knock on the door was all the warning Bishop
received before Dai bustled in unencumbered, followed by several of Bish’s
nephews toting the boxes and bags from the cave. Though not inherently modest
about his body, Bishop was used to a modicum of privacy and therefore the
sudden invasion left him feeling out of kilter.

Without even thinking about it, he found the
sharda
,
still lying on the bed, and tugged it over to cover his groin. Dai hid a grin
that threatened to sneak out. Bishop was going to find the valley a difficult
adjustment to be sure.

When everything was piled against the wall the boys left,
eager to get cleaned up for dinner. Robyn and Arano were serving a rare
treat—country fried
rowan
steak with rice and creamy white gravy. The
scent of honey-glazed carrots and
mako
, the vegetable normally used in
sweet pies, wafted through the domes, filling the air with the hint of sweet
spices.

Dai placed a small basket on the chest in the corner. “There
are a few personal items for you in the basket. You will be more comfortable
with your own things, so the brush and toothbrush and tooth cleaner are yours
to keep.”

“You always just barge into people’s rooms when the door’s
closed?” Bishop asked grumpily.

“Frequently.” Dai trotted over to the door. “How else would
I catch the children when they’re misbehaving?”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? Hurry up and
get dressed. Dinner will be served shortly.” Dai went out, softly closing the
door behind him.

Bishop scowled as he tossed the
sharda
to the side
and rolled from the bed. His mouth tasted like an old sock and it aggravated
him no end that Dai undoubtedly knew that. Irritated and cranky from not
finishing his nap, he grabbed the basket and stomped into the bathroom. Maybe a
splash of cold water on his face would work.

His wild reflection in the black glass mirror had him
hastily twisting the cold water tap. He dunked his head under the rushing water
and groaned. While rubbing the worst of the damp from his hair with a small
towel, he studied his grim reflection in the mirror. The stubble on his chin
and cheeks plus the wild bits of hair poking out at all angles from his head
gave him the appearance of a demented serial killer. He found the blue salve
and covered his stubble. A few thorough swipes with a warm washcloth and a
hearty pass or two with the brush and he was almost a new man. But it was going
to take several hours of uninterrupted sleep to deal with the burning red eyes.

Next he doubtfully eyed the odd toothbrush and small pot of
tooth cleaner. Something told him this was going to be the least of his
adjustments to the valley but he wasn’t anxious to put unknown substances in
his mouth. He dipped a fingertip in tooth cleaner and tentatively tasted it.
Some type of minty herbal mix. With a tiny shrug, he poked the toothbrush in
the tooth cleaner and set to work on his teeth. Surprisingly he found the tooth
cleaner was quite refreshing.

By the time he finished with his ablutions, he had almost
resigned himself to wearing the sissy skirt.
Almost.
Bishop examined the
tabs closely, making sure that they would fasten securely. Then he flipped the
sharda
around his hips and fastened the tabs. He stared down at his bare calves and
shook his head. Thank goodness it wasn’t winter because there was definitely a
draft. Just the idea of his balls and cock swinging free beneath the fabric had
his cock poking at the fabric. Now that was embarrassing. What was he supposed
to do about that?

He snatched up the
shera
and shrugged it on over his
shoulders. The sensual feel of the soft silky fabric caught him by surprise. He
pinched the material between his fingers and speculated about the source of the
fine threads. It didn’t quite feel like silk but certainly something close to
it.

A sharp thump on the door heralded the arrival of yet
another of his nephews, this time a very young one with a pair of sandals in
his hands. “Uncle Bishop, Dai said to bring these to you ‘cause you need shoes.
Why do you need shoes?” he demanded with a puzzled scowl. “Did someone steal
your shoes?”

Bishop took the sandals from him and slipped them on, unsurprised
to find them a decent fit. “Something like that. What’s your name, son?”

“Cougar.” He gave Bish a considering glance from dark eyes
very like his father’s. “I don’t think I’m your son, though.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” Bish agreed gravely. “Where I
come from you would be my nephew.”

“Okay. Are you finally ready? Everyone’s waiting to eat. And
tonight is country fried steak. It’s my favorite,” Cougar confided.

“Oh, well. In that case, we must go at once.”

When they reached the kitchen, Bishop found them patiently
waiting for his arrival. It shamed him that he had taken his bad temper out on
the family. Merlyn and Jade were missing but Dai was supervising the
well-behaved group with an air of longtime experience. Bish was still sorting
out who was who but he easily recognized Llyon and Tyger and after his
conversation with Wolfe, he was able to separate him from his older twin
brothers, Arano and Arturo. There were still many of the children that he
couldn’t put names and faces together.

Cougar led him to a chair at one end of the enormous kitchen
table. “Sit here, Uncle.” Then Cougar scampered down to the other end where he
scooted onto a bench next to a small girl.

In passing Bish noted the boys outnumbered the girls by far.
Once he was seated, two of the middling boys began the serving process which
was efficient and fast. Serving dishes were started at the far end of the
table, one for each side. When they reached Bish, a youngster was there waiting
to take the dish away as soon Bish served himself. In a remarkably short time,
everyone was served and eating with silent gusto.

After observing the smooth flowing muscles his nephews
sported under their pale blue skin, Bish decided that their dedication to their
dinners was easy to understand. Clearly they all worked hard doing something
that expended energy. Llyon still looked a little pale for a blue guy but it
seemed that his nap after his healing session with Trav had helped a little.

As though he’d read Bish’s thoughts, Tyger asked, “Are you
feeling better after your nap, Uncle?”

“Actually,” Bish realized with surprise, “I am.”

“Dancer also found the first day very difficult.” Llyon’s
quiet observation reminded Bishop that Dancer and—Eppie?—were also missing from
the table.