Ice Planet Barbarians (Ice Planet Barbarians, #1)(27)

“Kiss,” I say, stifling a giggle. I’d almost be offended at his expression of surprise, but I know Vektal’s not familiar with kissing. Maybe he doesn’t make love like humans do, either. The thought intrigues me.

“Kiss,” he agrees, and when I lean forward again, he doesn’t pull away.

I brush my lips over his firm mouth. His lips don’t part under mine. If anything, he’s stiff and unresponsive while I kiss him. I decide to coax him a bit more, pressing my lips to his over and over again, then nibbling on his lower lip. He doesn’t open up no matter how much I coax him, so I gently brush the seam of his mouth with my tongue.

He jerks back in surprise, eyes narrow as he gazes at me.

“Still a kiss,” I tell him. I wrap my arms around his neck. “It’s called a French kiss. It’s where tongues mate. I think you’ll like it if you’ll give me a chance.”

Vektal’s gaze remains focused on my mouth as I speak. He leans in and presses his mouth to me, quickly, and then gives me a suspicious look, as if waiting to see if I’ll correct him.

“Kiss,” I agree and press my mouth softly to his again.

When I feel his tongue brush my lips, I capture the tip of it and suck lightly.

He groans . . . and so do I. The ridges creasing his brow, his chest, his cock . . . they’re also on his tongue. I’ve forgotten about this, and I moan when I remember how it felt as he licked my pussy.

Vektal thrusts his hands into my tangled hair and holds me against him. “Kiss,” he demands again. It’s clear he wants more.

So I give him more. I lock my mouth to his and slide my tongue against that textured one, moaning again as he rubs against mine. He’s still against me, as if judging my movements. Learning them. So I brush my tongue along one of his long fangs, pleased to feel the purr in his chest escalate. When I’m breathless from kissing, I pull away from him and give him a pleased look. “How was that?”

“Kiss,” he says again, and then he takes charge. Pulling my mouth to his, Vektal begins an all-out kissing assault that leaves me utterly dazed. He nibbles and sucks at my own tongue, and then starts a slow, languid thrusting that reminds me of sex and leaves me aching with need.

By the time I pull up for air, we’re in the furs together, and I’m pressed against his bare chest. My pulse is throbbing a beat between my thighs, and I’m aching with need.

“You’re pretty good at that.” Boy, really, really good. He’s going to kill me if he gets any better at it.

“Georgie,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Kiss.” And his hand goes to the collar of my grimy jumpsuit. He presses his mouth along my upper lip. Then my cheek. Then my jaw. “Kiss,” he says softly again.

“Yes,” I say and pull at the fastenings of my jumper. I tug it open, and my breasts spill free.

He looks at my bare skin with something akin to wonder. His large, three-fingered hand lifts, and he presses his palm not to my breast, as I expect, but the smooth valley between them. He strokes my skin, then runs his knuckles up and down over my breastbone, fascinated.

Then, Vektal’s attention turns to my breasts, and he brushes those knuckles over my nipple. I gasp, feeling arousal bolt through my body, and he seems equally surprised at the texture of my skin there. He lightly touches one with a fingertip and the nipple hardens and puckers at his touch.

“Sem,” he says in a low, reverent voice. Then he touches my skin between my breasts again. “Sem.”

“Soft?” I ask. I touch his chest, the ridges there, and then shake my head. “Sem?”

“Georgie sem,” he says, voice ragged. The thought looks like it tortures him.

“Yeah, I guess I’m pretty soft,” I agree, smiling. “But fun to touch, right?” And I grab his hand and put it back on my breast.

He responds by kissing me again, and I lean into his caresses. There’s something about him that’s so very delicious. His kisses turn hungrier, and I moan as his hand cups my breast. I press against him, wanting more of his touch.

Vektal’s big hand moves over my body, exploring me. He pushes at my open jacket, and I remove it because I want him to touch all of me. Pressing my skin against his is warmer than any piece of clothing. I want to be against him, naked, and the thought of his big body covering mine sends shivers of anticipation through me. I shimmy out of my jacket, the tight sleeves resisting a little thanks to my bad wrist and the wrappings around it, but I’m topless soon enough.

I push at his vest, because turnabout is fair play, and he removes it. Then we’re both half-naked and gazing at each other, exploring the differences in our bodies. He has the textured, armor-like patches on his arms and chest; I’m soft all over. He’s got suede-like skin that feels like heaven against mine. We both have belly-buttons and nipples. I run my hands over his, and they feel hard, textured, like the armor plates. Maybe that’s why he’s so fascinated at the softness of mine.

I press my breasts against him and tuck my chin against one hard shoulder. This allows me to run my hands down his back, and I sigh with pleasure as I continue touching him. He’s purring so hard his entire chest is practically vibrating, and it feels good against my skin. His shoulders are enormous, the strength in them turning me on. His back has more of the textured ripples down his spine, and they lead to his tail. I have to admit that the tail makes me smile. It’s a long cord tufted with black hair like on his head, and it’s currently lashing back and forth against the blankets.