Christmas Tsar (Blood and Thunder 1)

She was clinging to his arms. “Stand up straight,” he insisted. “Let go of me. Don’t touch me. Just concentrate on what I’m doing to you.”

“I can’t, I’ll fall over,” she admitted with an edge of hysteria in her voice. “I can’t do this—I can’t hold on—”

“Yes, you can,” he said sternly. “And you will. You will take everything I have to give you, and you will not release until I give you permission to do so.”

Her body was out of her control. Alexei was in complete charge of her pleasure. That thought alone would have been enough to tip her over the edge, if his steely stare hadn’t been so commanding. She wanted to obey him in this alone. She wanted to feel the pleasure that only he could bring. His skillful touches, rapid little brushes growing firmer all the time, were setting up the sweetest, strongest clenches she’d ever known. Her entire body was awash with sensation.

“I’ve got no idea how long I can take this,” she admitted with a healthy dose of pleading in her voice.

“You will take it,” he told her evenly, staring into her eyes as he worked her with more intent than ever. “And you will not let go until I tell you to.”

She was on the edge, hovering. Alexei kept her there for the longest time. And then, quite suddenly, he pulled his hand away and stopped. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he dipped his head to stare into her eyes. “Now,” he murmured.

“Oh—fuck!” She let go. She had no option with a seismic event beating down on her. She was vaguely aware that she was making a lot of noise as she bucked repeatedly toward Alexei. Her hips were working as if his hands were still on her, and he had to save her from collapsing to the ground. Holding her steady, he kept her in front of him as the wild dance of pleasure continued.

“Better now?” he murmured when she was quieter.

She came to, to find him holding her safe in his arms. Alexei’s eyes were calm and assessing, with just the faintest suggestion of amusement in them when she groaned. “You fucking brute…”

“On the contrary, I am a skilled technician who takes great pride in his work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “Like I said before, you’re stone cold.”

Alexei enjoyed bringing pleasure, but he prided himself on remaining detached. Why was he like that? While he had been pleasuring her so expertly, she had lost touch with reality, but he hadn’t lost touch with anything. Sex was a necessary pastime for Alexei, an essential part of life, like eating and drinking and breathing, but no more than that.

Keep emotion out of it? Wasn’t that what she told herself to do? So why was she lifting up her face for his kiss? Tasting him, kissing him, inhaling his scent, and feeling his arms tighten around her was something she knew couldn’t last forever, so why not claim it now?

~o0o~

The intensity of Amber’s response had surprised him. Pressing her down on the b

ed, he stretched out his length against her. She was so tiny, so passionate, so tender, so vulnerable, and so utterly different from any other woman he’d ever known.

“Slowly,” he cautioned when she reached for him. “Pleasure is supposed to be savored.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed with disappointment. “Can’t we just glut ourselves instead?”

Trying not to laugh was his biggest challenge. He had never associated sex with fun, which made it hard to keep his usual detachment from a woman who refused to acknowledge that sex was a fact of life and simply a function like any other, and who insisted on behaving instead as if it were something so much more.

Winding her limbs around his, she snuggled close. “You’re very forward,” he observed.

“Must be making up for lost time,” she purred contentedly.

“And you’re certainly no lady,” he added, making her laugh as she mapped his erection enthusiastically through the painful constriction of his jeans.

“You should take them off,’ she told him, adopting a concerned expression. “You could cut off your blood circulation and do yourself a really serious injury.”

“You’re something else,” he said, reaching for his belt buckle.

“No. Let me do that,” she insisted, shaking her head. Putting her tiny hand over his, she took her time, turning the tables on him and leaving him in agony.

He raised his hips so she could snap his belt from its loops, and then he settled back on the pillows so she could work on his zipper. No woman had ever taken the initiative like this before. It was an experience that both intrigued and frustrated him.

“Now, take them off,” she instructed, having eased his zipper down. “You’ll feel so much better when you do.”

“Thank you, Nurse,” he murmured dryly. Swinging off the bed, he dumped his jeans.