Night of Fire Read Online Free PDF

her opening explored.
    “Damn. You’re amazing.”
    He was still up inside her, but his finger jerked and slid
here and there, she felt his legs brush against her right thigh. After blinking
several times, she managed to get her vision to clear and saw that he’d
repositioned himself so he was now stretched beside her, propped up on an
elbow, staring at what she’d offered him.
    “Amazing?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
    “You don’t have a single, solitary hang-up, do you? What are
you, some leftover flower child?”
    Did they speak the same language? So much of what he said
made no sense. “Flowers, yes. Without them there can be no Bel-fire.”
    “Yeah, right. Whatever.”
    She was afraid he’d say something else she didn’t understand
and she’d have to pull her mind off the sensations he’d ignited inside her, but
he scooted down a little, probably so he could have a clearer look at her
opening. His finger continued dancing inside her.
    No, not dancing—something more.
    Although she’d explored up inside herself and found the
experience so enjoyable that she had no intention of quitting, it had never
felt like this. Instead of checking to see if her cave was large enough to
nurture a baby as she’d done, he seemed more interested in touching her here,
there, everywhere. Some part of her seemed to be trying to push out. It was
getting larger, more sensitive, she was positive of that. And when he touched
it—
    “Ah! Oh…”
    “Like that, do you?”
    “Yes! Yes!”
    “I mean to please.”
    What was he doing now? Although her head roared, she
struggled to comprehend. All those nooks, crannies and pieces inside her felt
as if they were on fire and would blaze until she lost consciousness. In
contrast, her arms and legs felt as if they’d been weighed down with rocks. It
couldn’t be, yet she wouldn’t be surprised to find a burning brand resting on
her belly.
    Her cave was now full, crammed with him. Not one finger but
two. Maybe—maybe more?
    He kept touching, what?
    “I…I cannot breathe!”
    “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “No one’s ever died
from being finger-fucked.” She thought he said something else, but she couldn’t
concentrate. Now he scooted into a sitting position and placed a hand over her
mouth. The other—thank goodness—continued to plug her. Continued to dance, run,
tiptoe, maybe gallop.
    “Ah—”
    “Hush. Hush. Let it go. Just don’t telegraph it to the
world.”
    Tiny volcanic eruptions spread over and up and through her
cave. They raced to her belly, lightly hammered her breasts. She felt herself
begin to fly off in all directions, half terrified, she tried to sit up.
    Before she could, he pulled out of her. Then he gripped her
inner thighs and splayed her legs. He was there—his seed-maker probing her
opening.
    Pushing into her.
    Shoving.
    Hard!
    The pleasure she’d been experiencing evaporated to be
replaced by a sharp pain. She gasped.
    “Shit! No.”
    He was starting to withdraw, leaving her. No, that couldn’t
be! He hadn’t spilled his seed inside her. The earth, and she, hadn’t been
fertilized!
    Panicked, she clamped her legs as best she could around him
and held him where she needed him. At the same time, she grabbed his shoulders
with all her strength. Already the pain was fading.
    “No! Please! Feed me.”
    His seed-maker was still in her, filling her, it seemed,
clear up to her navel. He couldn’t have felt more tense if he’d been a bow
string. “You’re a virgin,” he whispered.
    “Yes.”
    “Damn. Why didn’t you…?”
    She felt him start to draw back again and increased her hold
on him. “Please,” she begged. “Please do this. Tonight. Now.”
    “Holy shit. What is this? You’re looking for a stud to take
your cherry?”
    She knew what a stud was, and although there weren’t any
cherry trees near where her people lived, they’d traded for the delicious dried
fruit. “Yes,” she said, hoping that’s what he