After I showed him how to use his arms, Anyan’s second lesson was how to kick his legs, and we were doing that age-old swim teacher technique where he was face down and horizontal in front of me. My arms were under his belly, helping him float and keeping him from actually swimming away. His arms were outstretched in front of him, his strong legs growing more confident in their paddling kicks. Again, whatever the combination of things, in that moment I fell utterly in love with that damned man. My heart swelled at seeing him vulnerable, and trusting me, and trying something new.
Admittedly, the feel of that gorgeous body in my arms probably didn’t hurt, either.
When we were ready to try some real swimming, he took my hand again with that combination of trust and nervousness. I cocooned us with my power, and we swam together, side by side. Granted, my magic was doing most of the work, but he was still doing a fabulous job for his first time in the water. And he looked magnificent, all long lines and smooth flesh.
But this time, as much as I wanted his body, I realized how much I wanted his heart. I found that just as scary as he found the ocean.
Soon enough I could tell he was tiring, even with the help of my power. Swimming was hard, especially for someone who wasn’t used to it, so we headed back towards shore.
A few strides up the pebbly beach and Anyan used his own power to create a lovely cushion of earth that he flopped down upon, pulling me down on top of him.
“You survived,” I joked, gazing into his iron-grey eyes.
“I actually enjoyed that,” Anyan said, his hands buried themselves in my hair. “Eventually,” he added, as his mouth found mine.
I giggled, and then kissed him back thoroughly. The kiss quickly became something more, however—something heated, something raw. We’d had such a day, and I still had about a thousand emotions roiling inside me from that last meeting, especially. The swim had been a fabulous escape, yes. But it had also driven home all those times today I’d relied on Anyan, or let Anyan help me, or been buoyed by Anyan. He was a very, very good puppy.
And good puppies deserved a treat.
Placing small hands on his thighs, I shifted up onto my knees, maneuvering myself so that I knelt between Anyan’s legs. He was half sitting up, undoubtedly wondering what I was playing at, and I kissed him one more time before beginning to move my lips down his body. I savored the taste of the sea on his skin as I moved down his chest, his belly, lingering over his hipbones, before moving lower.
Anyan was already hard, no mean feat after the cold water we’d just been swimming in. When I was where I wanted to be, I let my warm breath serve as a warning, causing him to give a low, throaty growl. Another reason he deserves a treat, I thought, as my tongue went next. I lapped gently at the drop of liquid on his tip, savoring the taste of him. Then I moved my head lower, seeking out his heavy balls with my mouth. He moaned, his hands tightening in my hair.
“Jane,” he whispered, repeating my name as I sucked and licked at his soft, hair-brushed skin, “Oh, Jane.”
When he was panting—and might have howled a few times—I moved back upward. My libido sang Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop” as I did just that—treated him like he was ice cream on a hundred-degree day.
Granted, Anyan’s Klondike Bar was more of an Entire Continent of Antarctica Bar, but still, if I was enjoying Anyan, Anyan was definitely enjoying me. The sounds he was making were driving me wild. That I’d made this strong man mewl like a kitten, and to know I was giving Anyan that much pleasure was almost too much for me.
He tried to pull me away, warning me that he was close, but that’s what I wanted. I wanted him to break, to lose himself in me. So I answered his pleas by meeting his iron-grey gaze with my own eyes and taking him as deeply into my mouth as I could, reaching up a hand to caress him. His protests grew weaker as my lust swept up both of us, and the hands in my hair trying to pull me away now drew me tighter to him.
Soon enough he was shuddering, gasping my name. Then his body stiffened and he came, crying out inarticulately. I drank him down, loving the sound of his pleasure and the taste of him. I kept up the gentle strokes of my tongue and lips, until he pulled me up to kiss me roughly. Then he cuddled me close.
“You are easy,” he said, after he’d gotten his breath back.
I chuckled, pinching his ribs gently in retribution.
“Hey, I like it,” he amended, finding my lips with his, again. We kissed gently, then, for what felt like decades. His gentle, sucking kisses and the weight of his arms around me felt like home, and I could have lain there necking with him forever.
But Anyan had other ideas.
Too soon, he manhandled me till I was cradled in his arms, the top of my head tucked under his chin. He held me then, like that, for a long moment. This time I let myself think of everything we’d been through today: my knowing he was there for me in that crowd, him supporting me through everything, and then having him trust me swimming.
There were so many things I wanted to say to Anyan at that moment that I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, articulate. It had been harrowing enough wanting him. The idea of loving him was terrifying.So instead I stroked a hand gently across his chest, swirling my fingertip gently around his nipple. He sighed with pleasure, his own big hand stroking down my side.
I raised my head to meet his gaze, kissing him lightly. He smiled at me.
“Thank you,” he said. “I enjoyed that.”
“I know you enjoyed that last bit,” I teased. “But did you really like swimming?”
“I did. It was scary at first. But you’re a good teacher.” With those words, his lips twitched in a smile as his hand found my breast, squeezing gently. I sighed while he watched my mouth with hunger in his eyes.
“Yes, well, I learned from the best.”
He smiled, acknowledging his role. Then he shifted me about so that I was lying across his lap, and he had full access to my body. For once I didn’t resent being treated like a sack of flour. He could toss me around all he wanted if it meant I got to be sprawled like this before him.
He had one hand supporting my neck, but his other hand was free to rove my body. Anyan did so, his fingers gentle but insistent as he touched me everywhere: stroking my stomach, behind my knees, up the tops of my thighs, up and down my sides. It was like he was memorizing me. For my part, I let him see all of my reactions, holding nothing back.
“Now I’m going to give you your own lesson,” he told me. “And then we’re going to go back.”
With those words, his fingers stroked the insides of my thighs. I shivered, opening myself to him.
“We’re not going to have sex, yet,” he said, pushing my knees even farther apart. I obliged, keeping faith with the word “yet.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but this is only our second date. And I, for one, am not nearly as easy as you are.”
Before I could protest, his fingers parted my folds, finding the center of my pleasure. He dipped into me, wetting his finger before gliding it against my clit. I gasped, clutching at his calf that lay underneath my arm.
“Instead, I want to get to know your body. Get to know everything that makes you scream. So that when we do have sex for the first time, I’ll know exactly what you need.”
“Anyan,” I gasped, my overtaxed body already shuddering beneath him as his fingers drove me towards orgasm with insistent dexterity.
He smiled. It was an implacable, knowing, and very sexy smile.
“We’ll start by discovering how many times you can come, Jane, with just my fingers. How’s that for a lesson?”
I cried out, seeing stars, as he brought me for the first time that evening. I had one last coherent thought that night, before Anyan’s clever hands broke me into a thousand pieces, putting me back together again only to break me apart one more time.
Teacher’s going to deserve more than just an apple for this one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
And again,” came Anyan’s patient voice. Last night, those demanding “and agains” had driven me into paroxysm of pleasure, but this morning they were not nearly so fun. Arms aching, I raised the labrys and imitated the movements he’d taught me a few minutes ago, for what must have been the hundredth time. It was a complicated series of swipes using both sides of the double-headed ax, and it was by far the most difficult thing I’d learned yet. A lot of ax fighting seemed to consist mostly of bashing, but this took some technique.
“Excellent form,” Anyan said, prowling around me in a circle and keeping his eyes on my body. There was nothing lewd in his gaze—he was fully in teacher mode. But I couldn’t help but react to his eyes on me in a way that was very inappropriate for a student.
Focus Jane, my virtue warned. My libido backed down without a fight, rather surprisingly. I think it understood I would have to survive a battle with the Red in order to have as much sex as possible with Anyan.
We were already in York after a few hours drive in the white van through the dead of night. So far, I loved what I’d seen of the medieval walled city. York was a fabulous combination of old and new, with tons of history. We hadn’t seen too much yet, but what I had was gorgeous.