Page 68 of Throwing Fire

“Yes,” she whispers. “Oh, God, yes. Hale.”

Mmm, I like when she says my name. I reward her immediately. With the arm I’ve got wrapped around her, I reach up so I can cup her throat.

She knows where this is going, shudders and moans.

I hold her, thrust hard and slow, all the while keeping my hand around her throat. Caressing the soft, sweaty column with my fingers and thumb. Not tightening. Not until she’s gasping of her own accord. When I feel her movements become frenzied, I tighten my hand. I count into her ear. Twenty seconds, then I release my hand. Kez pants harshly, her body heaving against mine. Her head’s pushed against my shoulder and I look down into her face to make sure she’s okay. Her eyes are rolled back, whites showing between the dark arcs of her lashes. Her expression is utterly blissful.

I tighten my hand again. A count of twenty-five this time, each number punctuated by a deep, full stroke. Kez is thrashing against me. Her hands flail, grab at me. I release my hand, watch her gasp. Watch the blood-flush rise to stain her cheeks and chest. She’s so beautiful when she comes. I kiss her hot throat, catch her earlobe between my teeth and whisper to her, “Take more for me, kitten.”

“Yes, yes,” she gasps, her voice roughened to a rasp.

“That’s it.” I tighten my hand again and begin to count. Feel her go. She shudders, tight vibrations that are the beginning of a second, more intense orgasm. Grinds her head so hard into my shoulder I hear her vertebrae pop. Her strong internal muscles grab me like a fist. Grunting with pleasure, I thrust against her contractions. She feels so good like this. Slick and hot and still soft but behind her softness there’s such strength. Beautiful. I release her throat at twenty. She doesn’t need any more and I’m ready; I don’t want to crush her throat while I’m coming. She screams my name hoarsely, swept up in her orgasm. I echo her cry as I come. Heat and bliss.

She turns her head so she can look at me, her eyes heavy and hooded. Pants against my cheek. Trembles all over. I wrap her tight in my arms.

She reaches back to slide her arm around my neck. “H-Hale.”

“Easy, kitten.” I’m breathing almost as hard as she is, and I can’t manage much conversation. But I want to make sure she’s okay, and that she knows how much I enjoyed that. I cup her cheek in my hand. Spread my fingers against her throat and feel her pulse. It’s slowing now. I rub my thumb over her chin and look down into her glazed eyes. “Can you breathe okay?”

She smiles, a smile that starts contented and turns beatific. “Yes.”

I stroke my thumb down her throat, testing to see if she flinches. She doesn’t, but there’s too much redness where I gripped her. “You sure? This is gonna bruise.”

“I don’t feel it,” she murmurs dreamily. “I feel like I’m floating. It’s perfect.”

“It is, huh?”

I can relax. The gasping’s extreme. I’ve never done it with anyone. Never even contemplated it until I noticed Kez holding her breath as she was coming one morning. I’m feeling my way along, knowing that I could really hurt her if I get it wrong. But tonight, tonight I’ve gotten it right.

“Mmm-hmm.” She runs her fingertips over my scalp. Smiles when I control a shiver. “Do you remember ... you told me a storyabout how you knew what you wanted. You were playing with your girl, and you held her down and you knew what you wanted?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I never had that,” she says, but she doesn’t sound sad or regretful. She’s still floating on the endorphin cloud of her orgasms. “I always knew there was something missing, but I didn’t know what it was. Then you do... the intense stuff, like that, and it’s perfect.” She sighs. A very happy sigh. “I feel-I feel like you’ve taken out all the bad parts and filled me up with white light.”

I kiss the tip of her nose. “That’s beautiful.”

She stretches up and kisses me. Settles back down against my shoulder looking extremely sleepy.

“Anythin’ you don’t want me to do? Seriously now.”

Her eyes drift closed as she considers my question. She grins sleepily without opening her eyes. “Don’t come on my feet. Not that I think you would, but I saw it once. On the vloop. It looked really icky.”

I kiss her forehead. “I promise I’ll never come on your feet.” That’s a promise I have absolutely no problem making.

“Promise me,” she begin, but she trails off before she tells me what she wants me to promise. Her breathing trips over the threshold between waking and sleeping. I hold her and listen to her breathe. Decide that finding out what she wanted me to promise is not as important as letting her sleep.

I can always ask her in the morning.

In the morning,Kez has a necklace of bruises and a grin brighter than Acker’s million-K fence.

“They’re gonna think I’m beatin’ you,” I say, watching her light up the room with that grin as she dances around, picking out clothes. She’s just wearing a scrap of lace around her hips and a bunny across her shoulders. Several others watch her from the bed,where they’re trying to crowd me out. I have the bulk, but they have the numbers, and they’re slowly edging me off the bed.

“They think that already,” Kez says gleefully. She does a fancy two-step. Her ankle’s clearly not bothering her anymore. “Do you think they haven’t noticed my ass?”

Since I’m not the only one who has to share the bathroom, I should have expected that. “As long as no one calls the C.P.,” I say.

There’s a scrabble of soft paws at my waist. I glance down to find Baby Bunny Mix scratching at the covers. Probably trying to get under them. Again. I scoop him up and lower him to the floor while he kicks in protest. That’ll keep him busy for a few minutes. It’s not easy for the babies to get up on Kez’s bed.

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