PHOENIX
Female Barbary macaques have loud sex. They scream and fake orgasms to attract multiple mates in hopes of confusing the males.
It starts with one look. I’m sure many things start that way: fights, affairs, lies…
With Jackal...with me...us—that look changes everything.
When he comes in the door, his eyes square on me and suddenly my senses are no longer languid and sleepy. I have the fleeting thought that I’m glad Gwen has gone to bed because something about him is different tonight. By the light of the fire, his eyes glow gold. The way he’s seeing me disables my lungs so that I’m not able to take a full breath. I can smell him, his distinct male scent mixed with the cedar logs in the fireplace. If I lifted his shirt to my nose, I know I’d smell wood burning. It’s not so much lust that’s in his eyes, but rather a soft vulnerability. He’s leaning forward in the chair across from me, elbows resting on his knees.
“And all that’s left is the predator and the bird,” he says softly. “Will she fly away?”
I want to tell him that I want him, but those are hard words to say; they’d scrape like nails coming out of my throat. My vulnerability sounds like anger. Everything I say comes across hostile, it’s probably why people don’t talk to me. So I say nothing, staring at Jackal and hoping he can hear what’s in my heart.
Outside the window the toads are singing—I try to focus on that sound rather than the feel of my pulse thrumming in my throat. I’m waiting for Jackal to say something.
“Come here, Phoenix.”
My temper sparks. I don’t like being told what to do, but then I see the look on his face.
“It’s not going to be the only time tonight that I tell you to come.”
I walk toward him, all thoughts fleeing my brain.
His fingers skate across my neck. He leans back and looks at me, eyes glazed and shimmering in the firelight. He stares at me intently while the seconds tick by and then he stands, his face an inch from mine.
“I want to savor you. Lick you clean and mark every inch of your skin with my tongue and teeth and—”
I groan and my head falls back, while his mouth on my neck makes me lightheaded. He shifts and we’re against the wall, his mouth hard on mine while his hand pushes my shirt and bra down. As soon as my breast is free, he tugs my nipple with his teeth and I cry out. He raises his head to look at me and I push him back down. I feel his smile across my skin and I laugh; it quickly turns into a whimper when he sucks me harder.
“Jackal,” I moan.
“Tell me…what do you want?” He kisses under my breast and traces his tongue down my stomach then lifts me from the wall and moves us to the alpaca rug in front of the fire. He spreads me out there and lifts my shirt over my head. He studies my short wraparound skirt and makes quick work of untying it and slowly opening it up on either side.
His chest rises and falls, slightly uneven, as he looks me over, studying me with smoky eyes. His fingers tease and tickle as they brush over my skin. I become squirmy the lower his fingers venture.
I unclasp my bra and fling it to the side. His eyes widen and he grins, savage. He bends down and pulls my lacy thong down, two fingers hooked on either side. It’s his fingers I watch with fascination, large hands with ropey veins, skin dark from the sun. My heart thuds so rapidly, I know he must be able to hear it.
I reach down and touch his face, moving to his hair and pushing back the hair falling over his eye.
“I want you,” I whisper.
He sits between my knees, my legs spread wide and reaches a finger down to trace the throbbing between my legs.
“Oh my God,” I cry out, hips bucking.
His fingers run across my wet skin, tracing the outside until I want to scream. When I think I’m going to explode, he sinks a finger inside me and I feel my muscles clench around it. His finger slides in and out of me over and over, until finally, he lowers himself between my legs and replaces his hand with his mouth. His tongue moves up and down in rhythm, dipping once inside of me before rising up to circle my most intense spot of pleasure.
I writhe around, tugging his hair with one hand and pounding the floor with the other when I come the first time. Then his fingers join his tongue and I can’t take it, coming so hard my eyes roll back in my head.
He kisses down my legs and to my feet, slowly making his way up my body as I catch my breath.
“You’re exquisite,” he says, his face inches from mine. “And you taste so sweet.”
I flush under his gaze, embarrassed that I came undone so easily by him, yet emboldened by the honesty I see in his eyes. I pull his shirt off and run my hands across his chest, leaning up to kiss the space between his shoulder and neck.
“Take your pants off,” I tell him and he moves quickly, the firelight casting shadows across his legs. I pull his briefs off the rest of the way and his cock bobs out, thick and long, making me swallow hard. He lowers himself onto me, and I gasp when his body lines up perfectly with mine.
“I’d die a happy man right now if this was all we did,” he says.
I lean back slightly. “You’re done? But—”
His expression is far from the cocky Jackal I’m used to. “I’m trying to tell you something. I don’t even know how to say it, but...this...with you. I’ve never been present...I’ve never even wanted to be...like this. I only want to make you feel good. That’s all I want.”
I kiss him then. All of the feelings I’ve been trying to hold back, flooding into our kiss. My body reaches for him; inside and out, I need him.
“Please,” I pant, “please, Jackal. I want more.”
He rests his weight on his hands and plunges inside just enough to make me moan but not hurt. When it gets tighter, he teases my clit with his fingers until I’m begging him to go in all the way. He works his way in, each inch deeper relieving me with the sting. When he’s balls deep, I feel complete. And then he pulls all the way out and eases back in, and I scream, the feral in me coming completely out.
“Oh God,” he says, watching me. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
He does it again and again, dragging in and out of me, the sounds of us slapping against each other and groaning enough to make me crazy. He pulls out one more time and when he comes back in deeper than ever, I grip him tight and hold him there, both of us convulsing together.
We lay there for a while in front of the fire, his elbow on the rug, face leaning on his hand as his fingers continue to explore my body. Each freckle and scar that he finds, he leans down and kisses it. When I shiver, he picks me up and carries me to my room. He’s about to put me in bed when I say, “Shower with me?”
He changes direction and we go into the bathroom. When he sees the large clawfoot tub, he says, “Would you rather have a bath to yourself?”
“I think you can fit in there with me,” I tell him and he seems happy with that answer. I lean over and run the water, and his hands explore my backside.
“I just remembered how flexible you are,” he says in my ear. “I’ll need weeks, months—longer even—to discover all the ways.”
The way he says it almost feels like a promise.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, dragging the loofah across my skin.
“I’m a ballerina. I love pain.”