A line in the ice, p.13
A Line in the Ice, page 13
“I heard.” Carefully, she set his foot down, though she kept her hand on his ankle. She liked the shape of it, the strength leading up to his calf, and couldn’t resist massaging it in slow, deep strokes. “I know that was hard for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t well enough to go out on this one.”
“No, I’m glad I went. It was difficult, but necessary.” He caught a piece of her hair, brushing it from her face. “I have long wondered how they use the leviathan. Besides, I want you to be healthy.”
The brush of his fingertips sent shivers down her spine. “Eh, I come from sturdy stock. It takes more than a little fall to take me out of the game.”
“I take it that means you’re feeling better now?” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Or has Julius given you more painkillers?”
“All I’ve been doing is popping pills and sleeping. If I’m not doing better, I’ve got more serious problems than a little boredom.” The casual conversation urged her closer. She’d missed this, more than she’d even realized. “The others will listen to you. They just need it explained to them, that’s all.”
“The leviathan will be a great resource for us.” He ran his fingers over her hair again, his touch light. “If we can use them, it will even our odds. On this side of the rift, and in Illyria, as well.”
She had thought herself braced to deal with anything he might broach, if only to get him close again, to get this chance again. But she’d been wrong. The name of the other world made her blood run cold.
“You’re still planning on going.”
“Yes. I do not know if there is anything worth saving in Illyria now. But there is something worth saving here. I’m not prepared to fail here…to fail you, too.”
“But if there’s nobody left, you’ll end up being alone.”
“Perhaps. But there might be survivors scattered through the mountains. I do not know what’s going to happen, but I can’t let that stop me.” He leaned forward, his fingers drifting from her hair to the side of her face. His skin was a little rough, but warm. “I want you to know I am not doing this because I want to leave.”
“I know.” She caught his wrist when his hand started to fall. How could he feel so solid, so sure, when she felt like she would fly apart? “Do you know how much I want you to stay?”
“Yes. As much as I wish I could stay.” Lysander leaned closer, close enough she could feel his breath. When he gently tilted her head back, she didn’t resist him. “There’s been so much darkness, so much horror. But when I look at you…when I touch you…I think there could be an end to it.”
Only if he stayed. If he stayed, she’d move heaven and earth to find some way for them to work things out. Because the distance between them killed her.
But he wasn’t staying. She didn’t get to try. She had now and here, and two basic choices. Continue on the way they’d been—miserable, angry, frustrated, terrified—or accept he would leave and give him everything of herself she could, everything he wanted, everything he might ever need and more.
“Then you can’t stop.” She kept her voice steady when she felt anything but. “Please. Don’t stop.”
His nostrils flared as he studied her face. She didn’t know what he sought, but she remained still, waiting for him to find it. His mouth softened the moment before he moved.
His lips had been gentle the first time he kissed her—an unspoken question. He still kissed her tenderly, but this caress immediately took a different shape. It was a declaration, punctuated by the welcome tip of his tongue. She moaned, parting her lips, answering him the only way she could.
Need didn’t cover what she felt. Neither did desire. She wasn’t sure what it was, only that it eclipsed both of them, enveloping them in warm arms and beckoning her to surrender. With every sweep of his tongue she rose higher on her knees, straining to get closer, desperate to feel the hard press of his chest against hers, the way they’d been wrapped around each other in his sleeping bag. She coiled her arms around his shoulders, too aware of the thick clothing separating them, and ignored the ache threatening her muscles. The pain didn’t matter. Lysander did. Here. Tasting him. Taking him in like she’d wanted to so badly for days now.
He cupped her face with both hands, his strong fingers holding her in place as he deepened the kiss, seeking more and more. Frustrated by the clothes in their way, she touched his cheeks, his neck, the back of his hand. Anywhere she found bare skin, she caressed him with the pads of her fingers, hungry for the texture, the warmth of his body. Her blood roared in her ears, but it wasn’t loud enough to obscure their moans, the hints that his hunger matched—maybe exceeded—hers.
She groaned in protest when he broke the kiss, but he didn’t go far. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth. Each point of contact seared her. He whispered her name, melting what remained of her strength, before their lips met once again.
His mouth had still been cold during their first kiss, but now it was hot, as hot as his hands had been. She whimpered at the way just a simple caress could make her thighs clench, her palms itch to tear away the barriers between them. The tightness in her throat was even worse, but this time, it was welcome, because she lost her breath to Lysander, to the seal of their lips.
Her nails scratched across his nape as she slipped her hand beneath his hair. Her free hand tugged at the fastenings on his coat, but she couldn’t wait for them all to open. As soon as she could slip her hand inside, she molded it over the sharp plane of his chest, absorbing the thud of his beating heart.
He released her long enough to finish tearing his coat open, and though he managed to shrug it off without breaking their kiss, it was just one obstacle among many between them. She tugged at his shirt, pulling at the thick material until it bunched up in her fist. He put a hand on hers, stopping her from tugging it off completely.
“Is the door secure?”
Damn it. “No. Hang on.”
She leaped up, practically tripping to get to it, slamming the bolt into place before dragging a chair over to shove beneath the handle as an added precaution. When she turned around, she froze, struck by the sheer gorgeousness of the man’s upper body. Bronzed skin to make her mouth water. The tattoos swirling around his lower stomach.
“How did you get those?” Her feet finally moved, bringing her back to trace over the ornate designs with shaking fingertips. “I’ve wondered ever since the night you got here.”
He took her wrist, guiding her finger along a series of red dots. “It is customary among my mother’s people to mark certain events with tattoos. This is the one I received when I came of age.” He shifted direction, dragging her fingers across his stomach. “This design is for my wife. And this one is my family’s design.” He stopped at a small circle on his ribs. The design was a jumble. “This one, I do not remember. I woke up with it after a night of drinking too much ale.”
She laughed. “Some things are universal, after all.”
Lysander smiled. “So that’s not an uncommon experience in this world, either?”
Pulling away, she grabbed the hem of her sweater and yanked it over her head, turning her back to bare her shoulder blade to him, and the dragonfly emblazoned there. “I got it the night before we shipped down here. Apparently Lisa talked me out of getting one that said ‘Yippee ki-yay.’”
She expected Lysander to ask what that meant, but he ignored her tattoo in favor of the splotchy bruises across her ribcage. He touched her skin so lightly, she barely felt him. And yet, she felt him everywhere. Especially when he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her loosely, as he followed each caress across her discolored skin with his lips.
“They don’t hurt anymore.” Which was the truth. His kisses drove any thoughts of pain away.
“They look like they do.”
Despite his declaration, he didn’t lift his head. He blazed hot trails across her skin with his mouth, leaving so many tiny kisses she couldn’t count them all. She tried to unbutton her pants, but her fingers didn’t want to cooperate. Occasionally, he strayed from a bruise, kissing her with more pressure each time he did. One hand snuck in front of her, completing the job she could not, allowing her to push her pants to the floor.
Standing there in her bra and panties, it dawned on her she could use this to explain what a bikini was, but those thoughts led to Hawaii and dreams that would never be. Distractions from the little nibbles he left behind, like flickers of flame, engulfed her beyond coherency. Her head dropped back, resting on his shoulder, and she turned to taste the salty sinew of his neck, her breath catching with each fresh kiss.
“You’re so beautiful.” His mouth traveled to her neck, his kisses growing harder. With her pants gone, he was free to explore her body. He traced the edge of her underwear before dragging his fingers up her flat stomach. She tried to predict his path, but he constantly surprised her, moving without any logic she could grasp. When his rough fingertips finally reached her nipple, caressing her through her bra, she arched her back with a sharp gasp. Lysander covered her mouth with his, his thumb circling the hardened flesh.
His tongue’s invasion stole her breath. He seemed determined to devour her, no matter what, and for the first time Charlie could remember, the desire to let it happen consumed every rational thought. She wouldn’t be able to have him except for these few stolen moments. She had to make them count. She had to make sure she never forgot him, that he would carry memories of her to Illyria and beyond.
She twisted in his arms, tearing away from his questing fingers to mold their bodies together. “I want to see more of you.” She licked over the stubble rising along his jaw, each prickle a new and welcome sensation. “You wouldn’t tease a girl, would you?”
“You can see any part of me you desire.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before she tugged at the buttons on his pants. He helped her, pushing at the clothing as soon as it was loose. The body suit hung around his hips, and she gave it a hard tug, freeing his erection from its confines. As soon as he stepped out of the layers, she pulled back, eager to drink in the sight of him. This wasn’t the first time she had seen him naked, but it was her first opportunity to enjoy each small detail of his body.
His narrow hips were finely muscled, without a spare inch of fat to hide their powerful sculpture. The dark hair curling at the base of his thick cock crept further down his thighs, enticing her wayward fingers to play with the coarse strands. Muscles danced beneath his taut skin. Captivated by his reaction, she stretched her thumb to stroke along the side of his heavy sac.
Lysander sharply sucked in his breath. His eyes shone brightly—almost as if he was feverish. Without looking away, she stroked him again, moving her thumb in a slow circle, her skin catching the coarse hair. His cock twitched with each touch, the tip curved toward the ceiling and glistening beneath the harsh yellow light.
He licked his lips, drawing her attention back to his mouth. “Do I get to see all of you?”
She didn’t want to break away from the heat of his skin, but it would only be for a moment, just long enough to shuck her underwear before resuming her exploration. Bending her arms behind her back, she unhooked her bra, thrusting her breasts toward him. She deliberately slowed, soaking in his appreciation, especially when his nostrils flared at the sight of her puckered nipples.
His fingers caught in the strap, pulling the garment down her arms to expose her breasts. He cupped her with one palm, moving his hand in a slow circle, while he bent his head to capture her other nipple between his lips. At first he moved as if in no great hurry. Each flick of his tongue, each flex of his fingers, fanned pleasure through her stomach. She was so sensitive to his touch it almost hurt, but even that discomfort was just another face of her desire. Instead of trying to twist away, she arched her back, silently begging for more pressure.
The soft hair of his moustache tickled across her skin, but tenderness no longer interested her. She wanted it to scrape, for him to brand her with something as simple as this suckling. She already burned for him. All it would take was a nibble, or the harder suction of his lips. Cupping the back of his head, she urged him to take more, the word whispering between them. If he heard, he didn’t obey immediately. He tortured her with his careful devotion, alternating the flat of his tongue with the hard flick of its tip. She reached for his jutting cock, grasping it in her hand to ground her in the moment.
A soft squeeze of her fingers finally goaded him into using his teeth. He caught her nipple with just enough pressure to send a jolt from her throat to her pussy, her muscles clenching tightly. She flexed her fingers in further encouragement, sliding her palm down his velvety skin. His flesh throbbed, and the heel of her hand caught the pre-come leaking from the slit. She spread it across the head, eliciting a shudder, his moan vibrating through her.
How long had it been since she’d been free to touch a man like this? Not since arriving in Antarctica, and actually, in spite of Lisa’s best efforts, not for several months before that. Part of her reaction to Lysander could have been sheer, basic need, but each catch of his teeth, each ragged breath, proved that wrong. She’d called it chemistry, and maybe it was, but the more she couldn’t define was just as strong, just as potent, as any sort of primal need driving them together.
When he lifted his head to turn to the other breast, she did the impossible and released him, stepping out of his immediate reach.
“Sit.”
She waited until he obeyed, her throat tightening in anticipation at the thrust of his cock. Her fingers caught in the waistband of her panties, and she pushed them down, kicking them away to join the rest of their clothes. She fell to her knees to smooth her hands up his legs. Her mouth followed the same path. The touch of his fingertips pushing her hair out of her face, over her shoulder, so he could watch her lips, sent a fresh rush of desire straight to her pussy.
She took her time, acquainting herself with each inch of his strong thighs as though she would never get another opportunity. Each kiss was a test of his responses, but he had a strong reaction regardless of where she caressed him. Just how long had it been since a woman touched him at all? He had said there had been others besides his wife, but his extreme sensitivity made her think even they had been a long time ago.
The closer she moved to his cock, the more her mouth watered. The vague scent of soap told her he had taken advantage of the water rationed to him for a short shower, but the musky smell of his flesh drove her forward. She lifted his heavy length, holding it flat against his stomach while she sought out his sac. His breath hitched as her lips caught the loose skin, and his palm settled over the crown of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair.
Even such a simple connection felt like a natural extension. His hand fit around her skull as if it was made to, and they moved in tandem as she ran her tongue around his sensitive balls. She rubbed her cheek against the inside of his thigh at the same time, the coarse abrasion sending an array of gooseflesh over her body. A moan escaped. He tasted even better than she’d imagined. Getting his cock into her mouth, his salty come on her tongue, would leave her ravenous for even more.
She sucked on the sac for long seconds, letting her thumb caress the velvety skin along his shaft. She didn’t remember men feeling like this, like a bundle of nerves barely held together within his skin. She’d certainly never had a man who tasted this good. Desire to satisfy the next of her fantasies finally spurred her to let him go.
Charlie looked up at him through her lashes. “I’m not doing anything against Illyrian religion or customs by wanting to suck you, am I?”
The playful question startled a warm laugh from him. “No, I don’t believe there are any rules banning that behavior. Unless you do something different here that I’m not aware of.”
“There’s only one way for us to find out.”
With his shaft cradled against her palm, she held it away from his body while she dragged her tongue up its length. It throbbed against her, the musk emanating from his skin making her want to consume him completely. When she reached the ridged crown, she nibbled around its circumference, letting the tip rub along her cheek and chin. It put her in close, mouth-watering proximity to the leaking slit. She licked across it, gathering the clear fluid, and they both groaned in response.
Hungry for more of his salty taste, she closed her lips around his crown, holding his flesh just inside her mouth. She glanced up to watch his reaction, studying his face through the fringe of her lashes. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his free hand propped behind him on the bench to support his weight. She swirled her tongue around his smooth skin, and his face contorted, his eyes scrunching with silent pleasure.
Exhaling slowly, she moved to swallow another inch. He pulsed against her fingers, even more intoxicating proof of how much he wanted her.
The shape of his cock against her tongue felt familiar enough to startle her. Part of what had drawn her to him from the beginning was the sense of knowing mingled with the fascination of discovery. Curiosity blended with knowledge. Everywhere she touched—whether it was with her hands, her fingertips, her lips—was imprinted with the memory of him, searing into her brain until it was impossible to remember where she was, or that she’d ever had another purpose than to worship him with her mouth, taking him deeper inside at an excruciatingly slow tempo.
Lips met fingers where she held his shaft, his length pressed against the roof of her mouth. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath—not until he let it out in a long, low sigh. He lifted his hips from the bench. Just enough to push another inch past her lips, the head brushing her throat. Instead of swallowing him completely, she pulled back, enjoying the texture of his skin against her tongue a second time.
“Oh…Charlie…I never thought…” The rest was lost in a moan as she sucked on his sensitive tip.
She could ask how he was going to finish the sentence, but that would mean releasing him long enough to speak, and she wouldn’t do that. Her second pass down his length was swifter as a result, her lips sealed tight to ensure she learned every inch of him. Her breasts ached for his touch again, and she reached down to toy with her nipple. She mimicked how she thought he would touch, pulling carefully, caressing the soft skin of the lower swell, but it wasn’t enough. It only reminded her how badly she wanted his hands instead.
