Spirits Shared by Jory Strong Page A

a mate, that every streak of lightning was a
warning that he'd kill anyone who threatened Jessica.
    Mine! Every thrust of his cock proclaimed
it. Mine!
    Jessica moaned and rocked backward, greedy
for more pleasure. His cock felt thicker, longer, as if it'd grown
beyond what she'd seen with her eyes.
    She whimpered and clutched at the rug.
Tekoa's hands slid up her back and then around to possessively cup
her breasts.
    You're my mate, those hands and the
thrust of his cock said, and that message echoed in her mind and
lodged in her soul as if some primordial voice had spoken a truth
that could never be denied.
    "Yes," she whispered, the acknowledgment
forced from her with the powerful pistoning of his hips, the
possessive filling of her channel and the nearness of his cock head
to her womb.
    Tekoa's hands swept along her sides and
stopped on her hips. With a low, growly sound, his grip tightened,
holding her in place.
    Her channel fisted and unfisted, clutched
desperately at his cock as it slid almost completely out, then
plunged home.
    His cock retreated. Filled her again.
Retreated. And at the edge of her consciousness a drum beat in time
to Tekoa's thrusting, slow at first, but gaining in power and speed
as his cock filled her, stretched her, became all that
mattered.
    Over and over his cock delivered ecstasy and
then retreated, created a desperate craving to be filled again, a
cycle of need that cast her into a sensual haze.
    The fire in the fireplace roared and
flickered as if feeding on the wild emotion and sexual pleasure.
The flames rose and flared, became so hot they forced Jessica to
look away. Up. To the Thunderbird carved into the mantel.
    It seemed to hover above her, a real
presence that filled the room with ancient, unknowable power. And
Tekoa's thrusts became more aggressive.
    Her moans and cries joined the phantom drum.
Reminded her of how she'd imagined hearing drumbeats when she and
Clay drove past the totem poles.
    Lightning seemed to flash in the
Thunderbird's dark, dark eyes. Ecstasy shimmered within her
grasp.
    "Please," she begged as the imagined drum
and song grew in intensity.
    Tekoa's hand left her hip and moved to her
clit, caressed, commanded. And orgasm thundered through her so she
screamed, the sound of it echoing in her ears like a raptor's
call.
    Her channel spasmed violently, repeatedly.
She milked Tekoa's cock of hot seed, strength whooshing out of her,
leaving her boneless, weak. And still she whimpered in protest when
he pulled from her body.
    Tekoa's heart soared. The only thing that
would be better than this moment would be the one that would come
when Jessica and Clay understood what it meant to be Thunderbird
chosen, and the three of them lay together, mated.
    He lay on his side and pulled Jessica
against him so her back pressed to his chest. He kissed her
shoulder, her neck. They'd been here less than a day but the cabin
would feel empty without them. He'd feel empty without them.
    His hand lay on her abdomen. He'd prefer to
wait but the choice wouldn't necessarily be his to make. She might
well be pregnant with Thunderbird twins by the springtime, one
blond like Clay, the other black-haired.
    He rubbed her stomach in small circles
before slipping lower to cup her pussy possessively. "How'd you
meet Clay?"
    She rolled to her side so she faced him, the
blue in her eyes like still, deep water. "I was at a local
bookstore during their daily story time, reading a book I'd
illustrated. The audience was mostly eight-year-olds with a couple
of interested moms. He came in, sat right down in the front and I
lost my place in the story and blushed. Some of the kids were
mature enough to catch on. A few of them giggled and one
romantically inclined Hispanic girl asked if he was my
husband."
    "What'd you say?"
    "Before I could say anything, Clay said,
'Not yet, but I'm going to be.'"
    Tekoa grinned. "That sounds like him. How
long ago?"
    "A year." Her lashes lowered, a tremor went
through her as if