The Ice Princess (Princes #3.5)(15)

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.

"Will ye be wantin' more ale, sir?" the tavern wench asked flirtatiously at his elbow.

He looked up and unconsciously transferred his glare to the poor woman. Her pretty blue eyes widened in fright.

Isaac smoothed his expression and made his voice gentle. "Nay, lass, I'm done here."

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, taking her warmth with her. Isaac pulled his cloak about his body as he walked to Aphrodite's Grotto. All the way he brooded on Coral and her deceptions and the kind of fool who would return to a woman such as she. But when he at last stood before her little door and watched it open he forgot all that.

Coral's chin was lifted, her mouth stretched in a faintly mocking smile, but he could see the uncertainty that lurked in her exotic green eyes.

Isaac sighed. "Invite me in, love."

He saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes before she stepped back. "Please come in, Captain Wargate."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Her small concession soothed him a bit. He entered the room and turned to study her. She didn't seem to know quite what to do, now that he was here.