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I hesitated. How far was I going to let this go? How far could it go in the forest, on the back of a horse? I didn't think very far, so I nodded.
He reached out, running one finger down my cheek, across my lips, his fingernail scraping the lower one before tracing my chin, my neck, the swell of my breast above my bra, then beneath it.
Suddenly my clothes were too tight. I wanted to be naked in the night, feel the air caress my body, right before he did.
There was something incredibly erotic about the mist on my face, the wind in my hair, the distant drift of the music, and the murmur of the crowd. We were alone yet not alone. I didn't feel trapped as I had in the past, and I wasn't sure if that was because of him or me or the great outdoors. I only knew that I didn't want this to end. Not yet.
His eyes held mine as his finger rolled in a slow circle around my nipple. "May I keep touching you?" he whispered.
In answer, I let my head fall back, offering him more of me. His hands pressed against my shoulders, lifting me to him like an offering beneath the moon. My legs slid open farther; his erection pressed against me right where I needed it to, and I crossed my ankles at the small of his back. If I fell, then so did he.
I waited for his fingers to fumble at the catch of my bra; instead his dark hair sifted across my chest as he mouthed me through the fabric.
Pressing him closer, I tangled my fingers in the soft, curling strands. His tongue swept beneath the edge, and heat shot from my breast to my groin. I tightened my legs, pulling myself more firmly against him. His fingers moved to my bra strap; in just an instant, he'd free me to the night, to him, take me in his mouth, and suckle me as I came writhing in his arms.
He inched back, and I nearly shrieked in disappointment, thinking it was over, and I hadn't even started.
"Shh," he murmured, the sound but a breeze across my damp skin.
Then I heard it, a rustle, a footfall. Someone was coming.
Cartwright cursed; I wanted to. Quickly we rearranged our clothing, or at least I did. His shirt had flown onto a n
earby bush and lay there like a flag.
"Ruvanush?" a man called.
"What's that mean?" I whispered.
"My title. Leader, elder. "
"Elder?"
"The translation is vague. It means I give the orders and they obey. "
"Feudal much?"
He frowned, but before he could answer what hadn't really been a question, the call came again, closer this time.
"Ruvanush?"
"What is it?" Malachi asked.
Whoever was out there knew better than to show himself. He murmured something in their language, and Cartwright muttered several words in that language himself. From his tone, they weren't endearments.
"I must go. " He jumped from the horse, then lifted his arms for me.
"Now?"
The question was as stupid as I was. I flushed, happy for the trees, the night, the mist; he couldn't see.
My body screamed for release; my mind spun at the combination of lust and embarrassment.
I scooted off the horse. It was a long way down, and I slammed into Cartwright awkwardly rather than sliding gracefully.
He caught me, holding on when I tried to duck under his arm and run away.
"I'm sorry, but they need me. I'm - " He took a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. "The leader. You know how that is. "
