“The four points represent all important things symbolized by four. Four directions.” Hip thrust. “Four seasons.” Oh, so good. “The four phases of man.”
She closed her eyes. So close. So very close. “What about the feathers?”
“The seven feathers and black points represent the seven sacred fires and the seven ceremonial pipes.”
“Keep going.” Oh God, yes. Her bones were melting. Seven more should get her there.
“Ninety-one.”
Law smiled. He was going to make it. “Seven times seven is forty-nine, the age at which a man or woman is recognized as having survived all tests and difficulties of life and proven through deed, reaching the peak of his or her spiritual power.”
“The peak. Yes, please. Let’s do the peak. Now!”
The slow glide of his body in and out of hers altered.
The slow grind became a series of deep hard quick thrusts that forced grunts of need from Law and cries of need from Jori.
She came first, the release this time like an assault of sheer pleasure. Hard, bursting ripples that seemed too much.
Law rode her through her climax, taking her long past pleasure to a new intensity that set off a second orgasm before the first had left her.
She cried out, “Enough. Oh please, Law.”
Smiling, he buried himself deep, pumping hard and fast until there was nothing left but the hunger denied and inflamed by one hundred strokes.
In the silence that followed, their slick bodies glued together chest and belly, his soft penis still stirring inside her, Jori heard his voice as deep and soft as the night.
“One hundred and nineteen.”
*
“For a man who walks alone, that’s a lot of community commitment you’ve inked permanently into your body.” Jori watched Law towel off from the safety of her bed. They’d showered together, satisfied to do no more than fool around under the water, kissing and touching like necking teens.
“I never said I didn’t feel things deeply.” He flexed his arm and looked at his tattoo.
“Maybe so deeply you must protect yourself?”
He didn’t answer.
Then he dropped his towel and came toward her, the intent in his eyes reflected in his amazingly resilient body. Well, one particular part.
When he had climbed in beside her, he flipped over on his back and tucked an arm behind his head. Maybe a man who’d accomplished 119 strokes needed a bit of rest.
“Can I scare you a little bit more?” She rolled over onto her belly and half on top of him and propped her arms on his chest.
“I like you, Lauray Battise. A lot. I know. You did everything your father told you to do to get rid of me. I’m sorry. It’s not working.”
He watched her, his eyes darkening with that golden glint of fire in their dark depths. “Why not?”
“I told you before. I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do.”
“It wasn’t a challenge, Jori. It was a warning.” His voice was no more than a deep breath of air.
“That you’re unlovable?” She lunged forward and kissed his jaw. “They lied. Everyone who ever said that lied. Look in my eyes and tell me you still believe them.”
He did look, looking so far and deep into her open gaze that he began to see something he did not know he wanted until now, a future.
“What if I screw it up for us?”
“You can’t screw it up. If it’s what you want.” Her turn to whisper. “You get to decide.”
He felt her warm breath stir his chest hair, the fragrance that was Jori already familiar to him. He’d never been this close to another person before. Not in this way. He stopped breathing. “I do want it, Jori.”
“Good.” She slid back down to snuggle against his warmth.
There was a long silence before he said, “So how will this work?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to go all nesting pigeon on you. Your cabin is safe. I have a job nearly two hours away. Your solitude is safe, except maybe on the weekends.”
“You may have a job. What if I don’t? I didn’t get to pass the trooper physical.” A beat. “I’m not even sure I want to be a trooper any longer.”
“No biggie. Mr. Task Force guy practically offered you a job at the veterinarian hospital. You can still be in law enforcement if you want.”
“Maybe I don’t want that anymore.”
Jori stilled. “If this is about what I said a few days ago about not liking the idea of you risking your life I—well, honestly? I meant it. But that’s not my decision. It’s what you do. It’s who you are. I’ll figure out how to live with it.”
He turned and came up on his elbow. “I have problems, Jori. It’s why we met. I’ll be a burden.”
“Says the cop whose girlfriend’s an ex-con.”