He caught her hand. "Sheath your claws, madam."
She pulled her hand from his grasp and with her eyes locked with his scraped one nail gently over his nipple.
He sucked in a breath.
She lowered her head, hiding her smile of triumph as she sweetly kissed his other nipple. She could feel him go still beneath her, so she used the flat of her tongue to tease that small part of him.
"Coral," he growled, the sound resonating against her lips.
She looked up through her eyelashes and nearly forgot what she was about. His sensuous lips were slightly parted, his head tilted back, and those black eyes for the moment closed. She pursed her lips around his nipple and sucked.
He swore then, low and foul, and she felt herself contract at the sound. To make a man like this lose control was simply heady. She twisted on his lap—swiftly and not particularly gracefully. She'd lost some of her own control, but she didn't let herself think about that. Instead she gathered her skirts, pulling and yanking, until underneath her bare bottom was against him.
He opened his black eyes, staring at her. His thick brows were drawn together as if he meant to reprimand her, but he seemed distracted.
She smiled and wriggled her hands underneath the froth of her skirts, seeking and finding the fall of his trousers. Delicately—expertly—she unbuttoned him until his flesh surged unrestrained into her hands. She stared into his dark eyes as she held him. He hadn't changed expression, but a muscle ticked on his jaw, giving lie to his seeming unconcern.
She ran her fingers up his length, measuring, testing, the penis she couldn't see. "I want you. I want your cock inside of me."
He blinked and suddenly she saw sorrow at the back of his eyes. "Coral . . ."
No. No. She would not let him pity her. She rose up on her knees—braced on either side of him on the bed—and came down unerringly on his penis, taking him into her an inch or so.
He had his hands on either side of her waist as if to stop her—and he could have had he wanted to. But his cock was already lodged within her, pushing into her sensitive flesh, and she'd yet to meet a man willing to disengage at such a moment.
She looked down at him—feeling triumph, feeling loss—and pushed against his flesh. She still held him upright with one hand, but with one last shove she took him fully and her hand fell away.
He was inside her—all of him. She nestled against him, sex against sex, in the most intimate of human positions. Yet she was still fully clothed and her skirt covered them both. Had someone entered they would not know for certain what went on under her skirts.
She bent her head and licked his nipple. "Do you like this?"
He bared his teeth to her.
Her heart jumped and she laughed—a nervous puff of sound. She braced her hands on his shoulders and rose, just enough, not too much—she knew the exact amount—and let him slide from her. His nostrils flared as she reseated herself, swiveling her hips a little, making them both gasp with the force of their rejoining.
"Do you like this?" she panted, rising again.
He shook his head, but she hardly thought he meant for her to quit.
She set a rhythm, fast and sure and entirely unstoppable. He was hard and slick now with her moisture, and with every downward stroke he widened her, rubbing against her clitoris. Warmth was spreading through her pelvis and she could feel the slide of sweat down the middle of her back. That part she'd always disliked, but she barely noticed it with him.
This was different somehow from all the other times. He was different.
And he would not break. Even when she rode him hard, using all her considerable talent, even when the sweat stood on his upper lip and he grit his teeth.
Why wouldn't he break? "Do you like this?" she demanded.
And he arched his hips suddenly, taking her clean off the bed, embedding himself into so deep she swore she felt him brush her womb. He threw back his head and grunted, the muscles on his arms bunching as he gripped her waist. He opened his eyes and stared at her as she felt his semen fill her to overflowing, felt his cock jerk inside her again and again.
He exhaled a mighty gust and relaxed, her knees finally touching the bed once again. She still held his shoulders—awkwardly now. For a moment she wondered if she should dismount or wait for him to recover.
Then he inhaled. "Yes, I like this, but it's obvious that you, madam, don't."
Chapter 8
After many long days and nights of travel, the soldier stood before the Ice Princess herself. He bowed low, for he'd been taught proper manners by his mother, and said, "Good day to you, madam!"
The Ice Princess opened her icy eyes and said in a voice as cold as an iceberg, "Come kiss me."
"I thank you, no," the soldier replied. "Though I do appreciate the offer."
"Then why have you come?" she asked.
"To bring my brother Tom home," he said, "and I'll not leave without him." . . .
--from The Ice Princess
"Damnation!" Isaac threw the official letter down.
Lieutenant Cranston, sitting across the tavern table from him, looked startled. "Something amiss, Captain?"
"It's as we feared—we've been called back to sea early. We set sail in less than a week." He stared down at the congealing plate of beef before him, his appetite lost. There had been a time once, immediately after his wife had died, when he would not have minded the abrupt summons back to duty. Then there had been no one waiting for his return to land and home. Now . . .
"Damnation," he growled again under his breath. "The men will be barely rested. They'll be resentful and surly and there's bound to be fighting." He glanced up at Cranston. "Better make sure our supply of grog is in order."
Cranston nodded. "Aye, sir."
"And tell the other officers that discipline will be tight—no looking the other way over minor incidents. Better a flogging or a stay in the brig than one of my men maimed or killed in stupid fisticuffs."
"Aye, sir." Cranston stood. "With your permission, I'll begin preparations."
"Good man." Isaac watched the lieutenant weave his way through the tavern crowd. He had preparations to make as well—accounts to be settled, business to be transacted before he sailed again. The list was never-ending when one spent the majority of time at sea. But tonight he wouldn't do any of that.
Tonight he'd visit Coral once again.
He glared at his piece of beef, his mood foul as he remembered how she'd used him the night before. He'd known making love to Coral wouldn't be easy, but the woman had used him like a goddamned whore. And then she'd somehow expected him not to notice that she'd never been engaged in the act at all. He'd left her before he said or did something he'd regret later.