The Ice Princess
Chapter 9
The Ice Princess stretched out a long slim arm, pointing to one of the ice statues that stood about her. "There is your brother Tom. You may have him if you but bring me three things."
The soldier cocked his head. "And what are those?"
"First the courage of six lions."
"Tut. Is that all?" the soldier said. He opened his sack and withdrew the severed manes of six male lions. "I have killed six lions and thus I have the courage of six lions." . . .
--from The Ice Princess
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 Coral felt awkward--foolish and uncertain. She'd never done this thing, never made love as Isaac called it. A week ago she would have laughed scornfully at the mere words.
Prostitutes did not deal in love.
But here, alone in this quiet room with Isaac, she was no longer a prostitute. She was a woman with a man she . . . cared . . . for deeply, and suddenly the notion of making love didn't seem so very naive at all.
Of course that didn't make her any more skilled at it.
She kissed him, feeling the warmth of his lips, the rough slide of his tongue. Her skin was almost too sensitive, too aware. She tried to hide the trembling of her hands by clenching them in his coat.
And then he suddenly lifted her, prompting an undignified squeak from her throat. She looked up and saw Isaac grin, his strong white teeth flashing, as he carried her to the bed.
"Yes," he said and for a moment she couldn't remember what he replied to. He laid her gently on her bed and stood back to take off his coat. "Yes, now we can make love."
She wasn't sure what to do, so she simply lay and watched as he efficiently shucked his clothes. His upper body was tanned from the sun, his lower limbs a shade lighter. He was tall and well-built with broad shoulders, long, powerful legs, and large feet. He looked like a man in his prime. A man aware and sure of his own strength. He glanced at her and she was suddenly aware that she'd made no move to disrobe.
"Oh." She fumbled at the hooks to her bodice, her fingers thick and clumsy.
"Let me." Isaac was beside her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He glanced up at her, his black eyes glinting. "Do you mind? I've been dreaming about this."
He'd dreamed of undressing her? Coral swallowed and let her hands fall away, feeling unaccountably shy. Isaac bent over her, his warm fingers working at the hooks to her bodice. His breath this close was intimate and slow. She watched his face as he worked, studied the planes of his cheeks, the firm set to his lips.
He glanced up and half smiled. "Lift up so I can pull this away."
"Of course," she whispered, helping him to divest herself of her gown.
But he pushed her back gently when she would've unlaced her stays. "My job, remember?"
She nodded, conscious of the rise and fall of her breasts beneath his hands. He opened her stays and pulled them from underneath her and then she lay in only her chemise, her breasts free underneath. For a moment he simply sat and stared at her and then he slowly stroked his big hands up to enclose her breasts in his palms.
"You are so lovely," he rasped.
She closed her eyes. She'd heard these words countless times before from countless other men and yet they'd never meant anything before tonight. She was beautiful to him and here, now, she was glad.
She felt him brush gently at her nipples through the thin fabric of her chemise and then the sudden warm heat of his mouth closing over one breast. She jerked a little at the touch and he immediately raised his head.
She looked at him in question.
He shook his head. "If there is anything you don't want to do, anything that makes you uneasy or feel sad, we don't have to do it. Just tell me."
She swallowed through the thickness in her throat. "No, it isn't that. Your touch pleases me. I was . . . surprised. That's all."
"Ah." He looked at her a moment longer before he grinned, quick and hard. "Then let us see what else you might find surprisingly pleasing."
He bent and placed his mouth once again on her breast, pulling strongly through the tissue of her chemise. Coral drew a shuddering breath at the exquisite sensation--and at the almost overwhelming feeling of heartache. She laid her hand rather hesitantly on his head. She'd never done this before, this making love. But she loved his hair and she gently pulled the ribbon holding his queue free. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he moved to her other breast to suck. She was used to being the one giving the pleasure, the one in control. To simply lie back and let him attend to her was strange.
Strange, but not unpleasant.
She closed her eyes, letting the erotic warmth fill her. She was already sensitive from her earlier orgasm and Isaac's attention to her breasts was making her come alive again. She squirmed under him.
"Lie still," he murmured, and she thought she heard a hint of laughter in his voice.
She would've frowned at that, but he was pulling up her chemise, bunching the fabric in his hands, baring her legs, hips and belly. He drew the chemise over her head and then she lay only in her stockings and garters. She blinked up at him, feeling a bit silly. He smoothed his hands over the silk of her stockings.
"These are very pretty," he said as he pulled loose her pink ribbon garters.
She cleared her throat. "Thank you."
His lips twitched. "And these are pretty, too."
He ran his hands down her legs, pushing her stockings before them. She wasn't sure if he referred to her legs or the slips of silk. He divested her of those and then she was entirely naked before him.
As naked as he.
He placed his palms on her knees, spreading her wide, looking at her very center.
"But this," he said in a voice that had roughened and deepened, "is the prettiest of all."
And he bent forward to kiss her there.
Coral gasped--she simply couldn't stop herself. She'd been touched there, of course she had. Had even had men who had wanted to do what Isaac was so masterfully doing now. But all those times before she'd been working, had been very much in charge. She'd never let herself feel before.
Now feeling--almost painfully sweet feeling--overwhelmed her.
He was licking her, licking the flesh that he'd touched with his fingers so recently. Each pass of his tongue was slow, languidly thorough, explicitly right. Dear God, she wouldn't last a minute at this rate. His broad shoulders were between her thighs, holding them open, and she convulsively clutched at them. She mustn't clench her fingers too hard, she thought fuzzily as he opened his mouth about her bud, she mustn't hurt or scratch him.
"Coral," he whispered, his hot breath brushing over her wet, throbbing flesh. "Coral."
"What?" Dear God, he'd inserted his tongue into her and just as leisurely withdrawn it.
"Stop thinking."
How did he know? Her eyes were squeezed shut, her breath coming in pants and her hips were moving in quick little jerks that she couldn't seem to control.
He took her in his mouth and sucked, flicking his tongue over and over until she arched and cried out her ecstasy. Her world exploded, shimmering heat spreading from her center, her breath caught in her throat, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn't stop. He kept licking and sucking until she was near begging for mercy. Then suddenly he was crawling up her, big and feral, his erection brushing over her legs and thighs.
She opened her eyes, alarmed to find herself digging her nails into his shoulders. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--"
He silenced her with a hard kiss, open-mouthed and possessive. "Never apologize for the pleasure you feel with me."
She looked up at him in wonder, this good strong man who wanted to make love to her. Who wanted to give her pleasure without any of her apologies. She didn't deserve him, she'd always known that, but for now she'd lay aside that knowledge and take what he gave so freely.
So she wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer. "Please make love to me, Isaac."
"Together." He bent and kissed the corner of her mouth softly. "Together we make love."
He reached between them and positioned himself. Then he raised his head and gazed into her eyes as he slowly--oh, so slowly!--entered her.
"Like this," he whispered as his warm flesh parted hers, entered hers.
He was hard she was soft and they united as sweetly as if they'd been created to do this. Make love together. He settled on her, his hips fitted to the cradle of her thighs, his belly pressed flat to hers. It was an age-old position, a position that was impossibly intimate. She felt him inside of her and on top of her, dominant but not fearfully so.
"Is that it?" she whispered, daring to tease.
"Oh, no," he replied. "There's more, I assure you."
He withdrew and thrust into her, his rhythm sure and strong. She lifted her hips to meet his. It wasn't as elegant as merely laying and receiving him, but he said they'd do this together and she meant to fulfill their bargain. So she moved with him, their slippery flesh sliding. His penis rubbed against her and into her with each stroke. Her breath came faster.
"Wrap your legs about me," he panted.
She lifted them high, crossing her ankles above his buttocks, locking them together. They could hardly move apart to thrust together again, but somehow that made it even better. She felt a drop of his sweat splash on her shoulder. She heard the wet, squishing sounds they made. She smelled the rising mist of their bodies.
It was all so beautiful that she began to sob.
She was afraid he'd misunderstand, that he'd grow alarmed and stop, but instead he leaned down and nuzzled against her cheek. "Don't hold it in. Let yourself feel it."
She did. It was like a glorious sun, rising, bright and hot, between them. She arched back her head and shouted, crying and laughing at the same time, her emotions, her body, free and out of control.
He watched her, she knew, still rocking against her, still softly kissing her, until his own body jerked and stiffened and his own crest combusted with hers.
Until they both went up in flames together. |
