Marek smiled in his sleep and snuggled down into the imagined warm comfort of his dog, Atlas. Soft and furry Atlas. He was glad that he’d bathed the big, white mutt because he could be smelly after a day spent tromping through the woodlands and streams surrounding his childhood home. The hound followed him everywhere and, to the constant dismay of his fastidious mother, lay up against him at night.
“Marek,” she’d say, “push that filthy beast away. He’ll give you fleas.”

Acting on the vividness of the dreamy memories, he nestled against the dog, relishing the warm comfort. As consciousness came to him, he slowly determined that the warm body pressing against him had a waist, and it definitely wasn’t hairy or smelly. And it had breasts!

Huh? His senses jolted awake; his eyes popped open. Marek’s curious fingers crawled over a round curve, the hard bud of a nipple poking his palm. Marek growled deeply in his throat. The woman. Janney must have come to him in the night. Rolling his hips against her bottom, he savored the contact.

In no mood to question this turn of events, his hand stilled, letting the fullness of her breast fill his palm. He wanted to feel her skin; there were too many layers of clothing between them. She pressed her bottom back into him, sighed, and covered his hand with her own. Marek nibbled the side of her neck, under her ear, nipping until she groaned. He felt her heart pounding under his hand.

A log dropped into the dying flames. He briefly though of replenishing the fire but he certainly wasn’t cold. He was going to make sure she wasn’t either.

When Janney rolled to her back, Marek took this as an invitation. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed with a little frown. Firelight haloed one side of her face. Beautiful. He closed his eyes, urged her lips apart, and then lushly filled her mouth with his tongue. His fingers spanned both breasts, caressing them and gently pinching each nipple. She arched in arousal. His answering groan rolled out from deep inside.

He cursed that she wore her own clothing. It would be so much easier to sweep a tunic out of his way. He slid his hand under the cloth of her shirt and again found the same undergarment as the first night. He couldn’t open it from the back this time, but he could push it up. He did. Its position compressed her breasts thrusting them up. Lust curled through his stomach. Naked full breasts. He had to feel them against his skin. He rose above her, reached behind his neck, and tugged his tunic off over his head.

“Janney, I want” he whispered and lowered his body. Oh, gods, the soft cushions flattening under him. Her stiff nipples poking into the sensitive skin of his chest. He was mad with need for her.

She whimpered, arching her back, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as she moaned softly and sleepily. He wanted to feast on her nipples, the nubs pale in the firelight, hard and enticing. By the gods, he wanted them. She cried out when he closed his mouth over one tip and suckled it hard up against his teeth. He held her securely while she writhed wildly against him. Her hands dove through his hair, holding his head to her breast. He’d hoped for just this response from her, but he wanted more.

Raising himself again above her, he released her nipple with a wet pop. Watched it bounce down. Her head tossed from side to side. She begged him not to stop.

Marek slid his knee between her thighs, pressed it up and stretched out over her. She surged up, moaning and squirming, rubbing her breasts sensuously against his chest, straining for his mouth.

Yes! Blood thundered through his veins. Her succulent, soft lips opened for him, and he thrust his tongue in, filling her, making love to her mouth. Marek felt her body rubbing against his, asking, no, begging him to take her. He wanted every part of her, wanted every part of her body naked. Naked, as he’d imagined her at the Baths under that gown. Marek ached to take her, to plunge inside her hot, tight passage until she screamed his name.

Urgently rising to his knees above her, he thought she looked like she was strangling with her shirt and undergarment up around her neck. In one swift jerk, he pulled them over her head, then began tugging at the button of her jeans. By the gods, he had to get these things off her. Now! He couldnt wait to touch her. She groaned when he pressed his palm over her mound. He rubbed the seam of the jeans against her clitoris.

She squirmed like an eel under his hands, wiggling, sobbing, begging for more. Janney opened her eyes. Frantic with passion and need, she pushed at her jeans, helped him push them down to her knees.

“Touch me. Oh, God, touch me.” She pleaded with a dazed sob.

Was she still asleep? She couldn’t be. She gripped his arm, pushing his hand more firmly down on her mound.

She didn’t need to be any more explicit than that. He tangled his fingers in the pale hairs, drenched with her desire. Separating her slippery, round lips, he fingered the plump folds with their fringe of silky strands.

“Yes. Yes.” She panted, short, sharp breaths.

Her entire torso, warm, pearly-skinned, and curvy was spread out before his eyes, rough ground, and coarse blanket ignored. He slid his fingers in to find the opening of her body, soft, hot, and welcoming. His own groan resounded in the clearing as he stroked in circles, indulging his senses. She thrust her hips clearly wanting him deeper, her face suffused with passion; her eyes squeezed shut. She’d gone from gentle moans to sobbing, begging, and wild thrusts of her hips.

Never had he seen a woman respond so erotically, so quickly. He thought he could watch her forever. His breath caught, his own face turned hot. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“More,” she pleaded, straining upward. “Please.” Her quivering thighs gripped around his wrist. “Harder.”

“Zeus,” he whispered at the same moment that he thrust two fingers inside her slick, pulsating vagina. Gods! Beautiful and passionate.

Her head tossed back and forth on the blanket, tight fists grasped the cloth, her body drew rigid with unrelieved tension.

“Deliciae, sweetheart, come for me,” he urged, his lips close to her ear. Slowly he moved in and out of her, her inner muscles clutching and fluttering around his fingers.

She shook her head.

“Don’t struggle. Let it come,” he urged. Brushing his lips down the center of her body, he dipped his tongue into her belly button. Her stomach trembled as she inhaled sharply. Smiling inwardly, he continued down and nuzzled his way between her nether lips seeking the sweet swollen nub that he knew would relieve all her tension. Firmly planting his lips on her clitoris, he suckled. At that same moment, he crooked his fingertips to massage the bundle of nerves inside her woman’s body that he knew would drive her wild with pleasure.

Janney’s screams echoed through the clearing. Deep, guttural, satiated screams.

Triumphant that it was his mouth that had given her such satisfaction, Marek kept up the gentlest of suckling, riding with her through the aftershocks of her long orgasm. She bucked, pulsing into his lips, her vaginal passage spasming, her female cream bathing his fingers. Zeus, but he wanted his phallus inside her!

Blood pounded through his body, desire unslaked, his erection swollen, aching. When he finally regained his senses, he became aware that she was crying. Her body jerked and protested as he slowly released her clitoris and gently removed his fingers from inside her. Both of her hands covered her face. As soon as she was able, she scrambled to pull up her jeans and then rolled to her side, arms hugging her bare breasts, to curl up into a ball.

Marek was bewildered. What in the god’s name was wrong? He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

She stiffened. “Don’t touch me.”

She sounded angry. She had come to his bed. She had been satisfied. Why was she angry? He was the one left with a raging hard phallus. He was the one left without release.

“Leave me alone!”

Marek reeled back in shock, his eyes wide, his mouth falling open. She’d wanted him. He had not mistaken that. Ever since the incident in battle, the boy’s death, Marek’s responses hadn’t been normal. He’d been living by rote, not quite able to make decisions, not really caring about anything. The sudden appearance of this strange woman changed all that. He was now thrust back into the land of the living with all his senses awakened.

It had been a few, well many, months since he’d had a woman, but not so long that he didn’t recognize reciprocated feelings. Whatever game she played, she was just fooling herself.

As carefully as he could, considering that his erection still hadn’t diminished, Marek lay down and gathered her close. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to, or needed to hold her. Only that he could not do anything else. She didn’t resist, which surprised him. He didn’t understand what was going on in her mind now, but she had welcomed him and had explosively orgasmed. He snuggled his erection against her bottom, and wished he’d been able to snuggle it up inside her creamy passage. Pleasuring Janney had turned out to be more satisfying than it had ever been with another woman.