Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (55 page)

His gaze slid to his hands pressed down on his breech-clout, covering the evidence of his arousal.  They were shaking.

"It's all right," Skye said, misinterpreting the reason for his turmoil.  "I'd have killed her myself if I'd had the chance.  She deserved to die.  Only I would have done it slowly."

"She suffered," Long Shadow said, and shuddered.

"I would have done to her what they did to me.  I would have - "

Long Shadow lurched to his feet.  "I have to go.  I can't - "

"Oh Lord," she whispered, and Long Shadow closed his eyes.  He knew what she was looking at.

"I can't stay," he said.  "You know why.  I have to go."

"Will you come back?" she asked, her voice more fearful than he'd ever heard it.  "If you leave me here alone the others will come.   I gave it to them once but I can’t do it again."

Long Shadow shook his head.  "I have to go," he said again and took a step sideways, towards the door.

Skye grabbed his ankle.  "Don't go.  Don't leave me.  I'm frightened."  She scrabbled across until she was kneeling in front of him to block his exit, her hand grabbing higher on his leg.  "Did I do this?  Should I wear more clothes?  I didn't - "

"It's not you," Long Shadow said, forcing himself to look down at her.

Her pleading azure eyes reminded him of the stone that had been his Grandfather's favourite and he tried to focus on that, but beneath them her breasts had fallen out of their scant covering and swayed invitingly.

"It's dark," she pleaded.  "I won't be safe if you - "

"You're not safe now," Long Shadow said, his voice deadly serious.  "Let me go."

Skye ignored him, looked down at her breasts again, then at the conspicuous lump that lifted the front of his breech-clout.

He wanted to groan.  He wanted to push her out of the way and run to the cliff and jump off it.  And he wanted to shove her back onto the rug and plunder her softness as violently as any of the other men who had defiled her.

"I'm going," he said and moved one leg.

In a swift movement, her hand came up and closed over his erection.  Mindless pleasure spiralled up into his brain as his penis jumped under her touch.  He stood still.

"I can't let you go," she said as her fingers moved along his throbbing flesh.  The burning sensation he'd experienced earlier in the surf came back to him.  His eyelids fluttered.  Fell.  She squeezed and it was all he could do to keep standing. 

Wendee
!  He tried to focus on Wendee, but all he could see behind his closed eyelids were quick-shutter  images of them making love.  So many times.  Then nothing.  All that desire, all that passion suppressed.

"No..." he groaned as Skye untied the coverings and released his erection to the warmth of the firelight.  It was wrong.  It was so wrong to let her do this, but he didn't stop her.  He just stood there.

"I know what to do," she said, and she did.  Long Shadow tried not to think of how she'd learnt the techniques she used on him - tried not to think of the instruction that had encouraged her to lick and suck so expertly.

But it was all there, swirling around inside his mind as the pleasure swirled around his loins.  The sucking, like a whirlpool drawing him down, drawing the sensations from all over his body to concentrate in the piece of flesh she quickly brought to climax inside her mouth.

"
Wendee
..."  He groaned and bucked against her, the torment pulsing out of his body with the warm fluid she accepted. 

But even before the spasm was complete, Skye released him.  He swayed slightly, his mind still locked into the rhythm of his orgasm, still following those last rivulets of pleasure back to the source.

Then the skin of his penis, made wet by her mouth, cooled, and his body came back to him.  He felt the grit of dried salt on his eyelashes, still-damp hair stuck to his back, and the trembling of his legs.

The euphoria faded and he remembered what he'd allowed.  What it must have been like for Skye.

He pressed his lips together, knowing there were no words to exonerate himself.  Yet he felt compelled to say something.  "Skye..."   He couldn't even open his eyes.

"It's all right," she said.  "I had to pretend I was Wendee too."  Long Shadow barely had time to assimilate that before she added, "I don't want you to go unless you have to.  Unless he calls you."

"All right."  It was the least he could do to make amends for what had happened.

There was an awkward pause.  Then she added, "If you want that again, just tell me.  Only don't go.  I'd go mad if they got me again."

"I understand."  Long Shadow sat awkwardly at the fire, but he had no appetite, and later when he was lying across the teepee from Skye who was pretending to sleep he hated himself for the thoughts that filled his mind - of the tapes he'd seen of her in that cavern with two men ploughing her body as another waited his turn, the sucking mouths, scraping teeth, squeezing and probing hands.  The looks of pained ecstasy on their faces as they'd filled her with their 'filth'. 

Then he hated himself more as his body reacted to those thoughts.  He rolled onto his side, away from her, but the more he tried to clear his mind the more he imagined what they’d done to her - what she’d allowed them to do because she loved Wendee.  That was the worst part, but instead of quelling his excitement, the thought of Wendee watching that debauchery fuelled his arousal.  It was nothing of love and all of sex and in despair he groaned, soft and low.  Seconds later he felt Skye’s hand encompass the resurgent flesh.  He covered it with his own, meaning to push her away, but when he tried to move, to stand, she shoved him back down with surprising strength and crawled onto his legs

"As many times as it takes," she said, and through a silent scream of denial he felt the lips encompass him again.

                                      
Chapter Thirty-Two

"You're either braver than I remember or remarkably desperate," Armande said, leading the way down a narrow steel passage.

"DeMartande's don't become 'desperate' as you well know, brother," Pietre replied tersely, taking comfort from the fact that Mr Black was two steps behind him.  "I've done as you asked.  Let me take what is mine and go.  I grow tired of your company."

Armande laughed, a dry knowing laugh.  "You grow uneasy in my company," he corrected.  "I remind you of our past.  Our family."

Pietre gritted his teeth.  "I do not care for reminiscing," he said.  "I look to the future."

"Is that why this woman is important to you?" Armande asked, stopping at an oval, steel door.  "Is she your replacement for Belle?"  He reached for the handle.

"She's more than that," Pietre said, deciding suddenly to take a risk.  A huge risk.  "Wendee is the future of our line.  She bears the DeMartande heir," he lied smoothly.

"A
child
?"  Armande released the handle and turned slowly to face his brother, all trace of cynicism wiped from his face.  "You have done this thing?"

Pietre inclined his head in assent. 

Armande looked away, dazed.  "Had I known..."

"She is not damaged?" Pietre asked imperiously, pushing his advantage.  "I assume your men - "

"No damage," Armande cut over him, "They're screened and cut.  There is no risk of disease or conception." 

"As are my men," Pietre confirmed.  "The child is mine."

Armande shook his head, looked at his brother in awe.  "I never imagined either of us would be able to - "

"It is done."

They were silent for a moment, each nursing their own thoughts, then Armande asked, "The gender of the child?"

"A daughter," Pietre lied.  "A woman-child."

Armande closed his eyes in rapture.  "A female DeMartande," he whispered, and Pietre felt some of that elation inside himself. 

It would be.  He would make it be so.  "Take me to her," he commanded.

Armande turned back to the door.  Stopped.  "I'd arranged a exhibition for you, before I knew..."

"Open the door, brother."

"Very well."  Armande turned the handle and swung the door wide, then stepped inside the large room.

Pietre hesitated, then he saw Wendee and was drawn into the room - into her presence, as though someone had gently grasped the front of his shirt and pulled.  His chest felt constricted and he noticed with some alarm that his breathing had become shallow, irregular.