Page 74 of On Thin Ice (Ice 6)

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“Don’t be ridiculous. It was … a revelation. It just couldn’t have been much fun for you. I’m not really used to sex.”

“I know.” His slight smile took the sting out of the words. “It’s not performance art, Beth. It’s just bodies. Touching.” He reached for the snap on his jeans, and she forced herself not to look away.

She needed to say this, to get it out in the open. “Yes, but some people are better at touching than others. Like you. And some people aren’t comfortable …” she swallowed as he shoved his jeans down his legs and kicked them away. “… aren’t comfortable with other people’s bodies.”

“Come on, Beth. The worst is over. You’ve already had me and you liked it. Stop worrying.”

He lifted the covers and she scooted over quickly as he climbed into the bed. It was no longer nearly as wide as she’d thought it was, and he lay on his side, watching her out of eyes that would haunt her until she was an old, old woman. “I want to give you pleasure,” she said in a whisper. “I know I can’t give you as much pleasure as you gave me, but I want to …” He stopped her mouth with his, a slow, leisurely kiss, his lips soft, warm, touching hers lightly, and then harder, so that her mouth opened, and she took his tongue inside her. She could feel the last of her fears and doubt slip away beneath the slide of his tongue, and he was seducing her, teasing her with his kiss. She felt as if she were melting into the bed, and she kissed him back, letting him taste her, losing track of where and who she was, all that existed was their mouths.

When he lifted his head she was on her back in the bed, and he was over her. “Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” he whispered.

“You have. Many times.”

He smiled at her, and she felt something inside her lurch. There was no darkness in his smile, no hidden thoughts, no danger. He was looking at her the way he would look at someone he cared about, someone he loved, and she wanted to cry.

“You can talk all you want when I’m inside you,” he said against her ear, only a breath of sound. “In the meantime, stop trying to talk me out of this. You couldn’t.”

He moved off her then, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. She felt his eyes run over her. “Are you going to take off all those clothes, or am I going to have to?”

She hadn’t even thought about it. She stripped the sundress over her head, threw it on the floor, and then her bra and panties followed. She needed to be naked, in every way.

Except then she didn’t know what to do. He lay on the pillow, all delicious skin and muscle, the firelight illuminating each scar, each wound, flickering in his eyes. She realized with shock that she’d barely seen him, barely touched him the other night.

She forgot he had the inconvenient habit of reading her mind. “You can do anything you want, darlin’,” he whispered. “It’s up to you.”

For a moment she didn’t move, uncertain. And then she put out her hand to touch his arm, getting used to the warmth of him, the feel of his skin, the muscle and bone beneath it. She could see the healing wound of the knife cut, and on instinct she leaned over and let her lips touch it.

He lifted his arm to let her move closer, and she let go of the last of her fears. She moved over him, kissing each scar, each terrible wound, her lips soft and gentle, as if she were bestowing some kind of healing touch. His heart was sure and steady beneath her mouth, and she pressed her forehead against its reassuring beat as she let her hand move across his stomach.

He made a soft sound of approval, and she smiled against him. She lifted her head, and brushed her tongue across his nipple.

He jerked, and for a moment she thought she’d made a mistake. “Jesus, Beth,” he whispered. “Do that again.”

She did, watching with fascination as his nipple hardened just as hers did. She touched the other one, lightly, liking the way his body moved when she did, and then she fastened her mouth on him and sucked, the way he had sucked at her.

She’d been letting her hand brush his stomach, but his body arched at that, and she felt his cock push against her hand, insistent. She lifted her head to look into his eyes for a moment, and then moved down, kissing his stomach as her hand wrapped around him.

He swore again, and she wanted to laugh. She never would have thought touching him would give her such pleasure. Not just in the obvious pleasure of giving. But a deep, sexual response in concert with his, that was making her wet, making her tremble, making her want the darkness.

She slid her hand down to cup his balls, watching his cock jerk in response. It really was beautiful, the soft, silken skin over such astonishing hardness, the blue veins that danced across it, the head of it, suddenly looking like something she had to taste.

She leaned forward and licked him, just a taste, to see if she liked it. She did. She looked up at his face. He almost looked as if he were being tortured. His hands were fisted beside him, and his eyes were glowing.

“How do I do this?” she whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. I want to. So tell me.”

He lifted a hand to sift through her still damp hair. “Do anything you like,” he said. “Just don’t bite.”

She laughed. “You’re no fun.” And she moved back, letting her tongue run up the side of it, like licking an ice cream cone, tracing the heavy vein. She moved around it, licking, touching, until he finally broke.

“And you can’t kill me by teasing me to death,” he said in a rough voice. “I need you to suck me.”

Another shiver of response, and she didn’t wait any longer, closing her mouth over him, drawing him in deep.

It was .. astonishing. Wonderful. Like taking him inside her body, and yet she could focus on his reactions, how she was making him feel, what she was doing to him, and it was electrifying. She wanted more, sinking her mouth down, taking as much as she could, but there was too much of him, and she wanted that too. She wanted it, she wanted him to fill her mouth, to give her everything. She was lost in the taste, the scent of him, and she wanted nothing more than to take it all, have him lose control and give himself to her. She felt him shudder, felt his control start to give as his hands came up to hold her head, to guide her, up and down, and then, just as she felt him about to come he pulled her away.


Tags: Anne Stuart Ice Romance