He laid her on his sleeping platform, then knelt over her. She sighed languorously when his lips found her hot, moist place and he began pleasuring her again with his lips, tongue, and hands, soon sending her into a spiral of ecstasy.
She had never felt so alive, or so needed, as now.
Her body was turning to liquid, with a lethargic feeling of floating.
Soon he raised his head. As he peered down at Leonida with passion-heavy lids, she began undressing him, slowly and methodically. When he was finally naked and she saw his arousal, she bent on a knee before him and as he stood on the floor, with his legs widespread and his hands on his hips, her fingers surrounded his manhood.
She gazed up at him and noticed that his head was thrown back, that his eyes were closed, and then she began moving her hand on him. When he uttered a groan and she realized the intense pleasure she was giving him, she fisted him even more tightly and moved her hand more rhythmically on him.
She watched him grow even larger within her hand, and she became in awe of the size of him all over again.
Trembling hands on her head urged her away from him. Allowing him to lead her in which way to make love again, she followed him to the bed, stretching out on her back on the soft pelts.
Sage moved over her, his hard, taut body and his smooth copper skin against hers. As their stomachs touched, and her breasts pressed into his powerful chest, she placed her fingers on the nape of his neck and brought his lips to hers.
Her stomach churned wildly as she became lost in the kiss and the wondrous way his manhood was so magnificently filling her after entering her with one insistent thrust.
Her whole body quivered as he began his rhythmic strokes within her and his kisses became more demanding, even savage.
She responded to the heated thrusting of his pelvis, his strokes speeding up, and moving deeper, deeper. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, opening herself wider, her hips responding in a rhythmic movement, matching his.
His mouth moved from her lips and her blood surged in a wild thrill when his tongue began circling one of her nipples, burning into her skin, it seemed, the heat of passion that was growing so intensely within her. He rolled her nipple with his tongue, over and over again, drawing a lingering sigh from deeply within.
Surprising her, he suddenly lay still above her. He framed her face between his hands and looked down at her, his eyes glazed over with passion. “My woman, you have become the center of all my thinking,” he said huskily. “I have never loved before as I love you. We must marry soon.”
Clinging around his neck, Leonida’s eyes filled with joyous tears. “Yes, oh, yes,” she whispered. “Soon. I find such joy within your arms, oh, so much joy. I love you, Sage. I want to be your woman, forever and ever. I want to be your wife.”
Sage smiled broadly, then brought his lips down upon hers in a crushing kiss. His body began moving more quickly, and soon they spasmed together, their bodies rocking and swaying together gloriously.
Afterward, Sage rolled away from Leonida. She turned on her side to face him, and placed a cheek on his heaving chest. “What brought me from the hogan was you, darling, when you were singing a song about your horse,” she said, gazing up at him. “It was so lovely. You had said something earlier about songs and their importance to your people. You also said that you would explain this meaning to me. I would love to hear it now, darling. I want to know everything about you and your people. I want to feel one with them soon.”
Sage placed an arm around her and drew her closer. “The Hozhonji songs have been given to the Navaho by the gods,” he said softly. “They are songs of peace and of blessings. They protect the people against all evil. We sing a Hozhonji song to purify or bless ourselves, or others.”
He turned and faced her, one arm draped over her side. “The Navaho sing as white men say their prayers,” he further explained. “The Navaho hero, Nayenezrani, is like the white man’s Bible hero David. By our Holy Ones were the songs made, even as the Bible was made by holy people.”
Leonida thought back to how impressed she had been by the singing of not only Sage but the others as well. She had been listening to traditional songs which had been learned and handed down through generations. The quiet, monotonous quality of the chant had seemed heightened by Sage’s concentration as he had sang; with closed eyes, he had seemed to bend his every thought upon his singing.
“You sang of your horse,” she suddenly blurted out. “Is he sacred to you, Sage? Is he something holy?”
“A horse comes second only to a man’s woman,” Sage said, then drew her against him and smothered her lips with his mouth, stifling any further conversation.
Chapter 14
There we will sit upon the rocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
—MARLOWE
The sound of someone softly weeping awakened Leonida from her restful sleep. She tensed and listened more closely. When she did not hear the sobbing any longer, she thought perhaps she had been dreaming. There had been enough sadness of late to cause such nightmares.
Yawning, Leonida wiped her eyes, somewhat disoriented as she looked slowly around her. When her gaze fell on Sage, sleeping so soundly beside her, remembrances of their lovemaking washed over her. She felt nothing even akin to shame over having given herself to this handsome headman before wedding vows were spoken. Deep within her heart, where she always separated right from wrong, Leonida knew that loving Sage so freely was not wrong. She could never allow herself to think that it was, for never would they have the opportunity to stand before a minister. His Navaho marriage ceremony would have to do, and she accepted this without reservation.
Leonida’s eyes widened and she sat up quickly when she heard the soft sobbing again. This time she realized that it most definitely was real, and she knew without a doubt who was crying.
Trevor!