he wanted to. But his cock was already lodged within her, pushing
into her sensitive flesh, and she'd yet to meet a man wil ing to disengage at such a moment.
She looked down at him—feeling triumph, feeling loss—and pushed against his flesh. She stil held him upright with one hand, but with one last shove she
took him ful y and her hand fel away. He was inside her—al of him. She nestled against him, sex against sex, in the most intimate of human positions. Yet
she was stil ful y 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 al the other times. He was different. And he would not break. Even when she rode him hard, using al 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 a s he gripped her waist. He
opened his eyes and stared at her as she felt his semen fil her to overflowing, felt his cock jerk inside her again and again.
He exhaled a mighty gust and relaxed, her knees final y 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 cal ed 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 b e resentful and surly and there's bound t o be fighting." He
glanced up at Cranston. "Better make sure our supply of grog is in order."
Cranston nodded. "Aye, sir."
"And tel the other officers that discipline wil 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 kil ed in stupid fisticuffs."
"Aye, sir." Cranston stood.
into her sensitive flesh, and she'd yet to meet a man wil ing to disengage at such a moment.
She looked down at him—feeling triumph, feeling loss—and pushed against his flesh. She stil held him upright with one hand, but with one last shove she
took him ful y and her hand fel away. He was inside her—al of him. She nestled against him, sex against sex, in the most intimate of human positions. Yet
she was stil ful y 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 al the other times. He was different. And he would not break. Even when she rode him hard, using al 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 a s he gripped her waist. He
opened his eyes and stared at her as she felt his semen fil her to overflowing, felt his cock jerk inside her again and again.
He exhaled a mighty gust and relaxed, her knees final y 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 cal ed 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 b e resentful and surly and there's bound t o be fighting." He
glanced up at Cranston. "Better make sure our supply of grog is in order."
Cranston nodded. "Aye, sir."
"And tel the other officers that discipline wil 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 kil ed in stupid fisticuffs."
"Aye, sir." Cranston stood.
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