Page 34 of The Spirit of the Wolf

“You are going to rub my back?”

“Hau. But you sound shocked. Has no one ever done this for you?”

She shook her head. “No. Never.”

“Then I am pleased to know I will be the one to impart yet another new experience for you this night.”

“Yes,” she agreed, as she obliged him by rolling over.

“Hmmm,” was all he said, and then his hands were spreading themselves all over her nude body. From the top of her shoulders, down to her buttocks, and even then, no place was left untouched. He massaged her there, in the junction between her legs, and she caught her breath.

Dear Lord, it was pure enchantment. As his hands found the knots in her muscles and gently assisted them to let go, Marietta did also. She closed her eyes, content.

“Hmmm,” she groaned, as his hands worked over her buttocks, his caress discovering again the place on her body most feminine and wet. His massage didn’t stop there, however. He continued rubbing her, her legs, her calves, her feet. She sighed deeply.

Up once more came his touch, his fingers finding her moist recess, and as he touched her there, she felt the same rousing sensation afresh, there, in the pit of her stomach.

Before she could roll over to accommodate him, he had joined with her, there at her back. It was unusual, she thought, committing the love act this way. Yet it was so erotic she found herself meeting her pleasure almost at once. He followed her, spilling his seed into her, and one more time, wrapped in one another’s arms, they fell into an exhausted sleep.

The pattern, however, had been set, and they made love over and over the night and morning through, as though on the morrow they might find this had all been no more than a lovely, passionate dream.

As she drifted off to sleep, the last memory before being consumed with slumber was a kiss on her neck, followed by masculine arms shrouding her in his warmth. She curled herself into those arms, and strangely, she was aware this was, perhaps, the happiest moment of her life.

How odd, she thought sleepily.

Yes, indeed. How odd.

She awoke, blanketed with warmth and fully content, though very much alone. Was it as she feared? Had it all been a dream? She sat up, bringing the buffalo robe with her, and scooting forward toward the opening of their little nook, she peered outside.

Grey Coyote was sitting quietly before her, facing her, about five or six feet away, skinning what looked to be a recently killed deer. As she brought her face into prominence in the entryway, he looked up at her, and his entire countenance broke into a most engaging smile.

“You are awake at last,” he said.

“Yes.” Curiously, she gazed toward the sky, noting that the sun was directly overhead. To her horror, she realized she had slept well into the noon hour. Is this what happened to a woman when she found a lover? “It is late. You should have roused me.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes beauty needs its sleep.”

She grinned at the compliment. “I will dress and help you with your chores.”

“Must you?”

“Must I what? Help you?”

“Must you dress?”

She giggled slightly. “Yes. I’m afraid I must.”

He gave her a quick shake of his head, then quietly muttered, “Shame.”

She beamed back at him, but she disappeared nonetheless into their shelter, where she hurriedly pulled on her clothes.

What she really needed, she decided as she glanced down at the evidence of her recently surrendered virginity, was a bath. She stopped. For a moment, shame engulfed her.

She had given away her virginity to a man she did not intend to marry. He might call her his wife, but she had not lost sight of the reality of the situation.

What did this make her? A woman of the world, or was she still simply herself?

Oh, if only there were a way to confide in a sister, a friend or a mother…someone who could guide her. But there was no one.