She glanced down distractedly as he slid his palm under her skirts, along her bare thigh. "What?"
"Making love," he stated and traced a gentle circle against her warm skin. She was so soft, it was like petting a kitten. "To you the phrase means an exchange of money, a business transaction with only one of the parties deriving pleasure. To me making love is a mutual thing of benefit to both."
She caught his wrist, stilling the hand on her thigh. Her eyes were a little desperate. "What do you mean to do?"
"I'd like to show you my way of making love," he said gently.
She hesitated, clearly thinking it over. He let her, patiently waiting. She had to agree to the act—he'd not make her.
Finally she let his wrist go.
"Good girl," he breathed, and traced the fine line of her leg up until he touched maiden hair.
She bit her lip.
His cock jumped at the sight, but this wasn't for him tonight. He threaded his fingers through the springy hair, letting her get used to his touch. When she began to relax he moved lower, finding soft, damp flesh.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Making love to you." He bent his head to hers and touched his mouth gently against her lips, parting them as he parted the lips below. It had always amazed him, how delicate a woman was here. How sweet and soft. His wife had been ashamed of her sex, refusing to let him explore her as he'd like. He opened his eyes as he kissed Coral and wondered if she'd let him spread her naked on her bed one day. Let him look and touch and kiss.
That thought had his balls tightening, the blood pounding through his veins. He wanted to put himself inside her, to feel that lush, wet heat again. Instead he gently stroked, seeking and finding that special place.
She jerked, her eyes flying open.
He watched her. Surely she'd been touched here before? But maybe she didn't allow her lovers this intimacy. He felt a surge of possession at the idea—that she'd let no other man play with her.
Give her pleasure.
Because she was pleasured, he could see it in the pink flush rising in her cheeks, in the dazed expression in her eyes. His fingers were becoming slippery with her desire. He circled that little bud, felt it stiffen and come erect.
"Don't," she whispered suddenly, her legs clamping together so his hand couldn't move.
"Coral," he said sternly. "Let me."
She looked at him, and at the sight of her eyes he nearly let her go--they swam with tears. But if he backed down now they might never reach this place again.
He held her gaze. "Please."
She closed her eyes and her thighs eased apart.
He leaned close and kissed her temple lightly. "You're so beautiful I am awe-struck. I want to lay beside you and simply watch you sleep. I want to hold you in my arms and make you tremble."
She gasped and he smiled against her ear. "I want to touch you until you forget yourself, forget where you are, forget the world."
He could feel her fine tremors now and his fingers were drenched. She was so close! The animal part of him wanted to lay her flat, pound himself into her until he felt his own release. He grit his teeth and reined himself in, keeping his fingers gentle, trying to ignore the soft hip pressed into his erection.
"Come for me, Coral," he whispered, and circled her nub. "Come for me."
She jerked suddenly and he thrust a finger into her heat, groaning at the tightness, the slippery wet. This was his woman, the primitive whispered, and he'd bring her joy no matter what cost.
Her hands were wrapped about his wrist now, but not to stop him. He watched her eyes close, watched as her teeth worried her lip, and even if he couldn't be joined with her when she climaxed, he could take a small sip. So he kissed her—savagely and open-mouthed, thrusting another finger into the place his cock wanted to be, using her roughly now.
And she came apart in his arms, moaning under his mouth, jerking against him, her cream flooding his fingers.
He continued to pet her, his strokes becoming softer as she descended from her peak until he finally broke their kiss and laid his forehead against hers.
"That," he whispered in a voice he struggled to contain, "is making love."
She swallowed, opening her magnificent green eyes, looking almost shy. "Thank you."
He wanted to smile, but damn it, he was too near the edge.
She framed his face with her small, cool palms, and kissed him chastely on the mouth. "Now can we make love together?"
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
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.