Page 123 of A Sword of Ice
“Fine.” The head of his cock pressed inside her and he stopped, balancing at that edge, giving her just a fraction of what she wanted so she’d beg for more.
“I swear to fucking Mana if you don’t—” He slapped her ass, abruptly cutting off the words she was about to say.
“Don’t threaten me, little mate. You won’t like it.”
“Then stop teasing andfuck me.”
He slammed inside her to the hilt, his body doubling over hers. She almost slipped, but one of his hand’s clamped down on hers, keeping her tethered in place.
“Fuck, you’re so tight; always so damn good.”
He thrust as if to the prove a point, and she squeezed his thick length inside herself. He eased the desperate ache of desire he’d caused in her, but it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted rough friction, she wanted him pounding her body against the ice.
“Is that what you want?” he purred near her ear, causing a shiver to roll down her spine.
“Yes,” she croaked, knowing he’d felt what she’d thought down their bond.
Nifty, that.
“Then hang on.”
And Julius began to thrust. The furious glide of him in and out of her body pushed her harder and harder against the ice chair until she was all but plastered against it. He closed her against it, his hips pushed against her own, pressing her clit against the slick, cold surface with every move of his body.
She groaned at the sensation, at the unexpected desire it caused inside her, pushing her higher and higher to the edge where she wanted to drop. Before she could reach that sudden release, Julius pulled her back, his hand splaying against her stomach, taking away the cold friction and replacing it with the warmth of his fingers.
The sudden change of temperatures made Iona cry out, hand slipping. His thumb swiped against her clit and a finger slid inside her, stretching her even fuller. He played with her folds, spreading them wide open for every deep, hard thrust inside her channel.
“Fuck,” she gasped. “Fuck, Julius, I’m so close.”
“I know.” His hips pounded harder against her. “I canfeelyou, squeezing me with that tight little pussy.”
“Julius…” she warned, but the word fell on deaf ears. He spoke, each word filthier than the last, promising pleasure beyond imagining in that rumbling, seductive voice until he all but shoved her over the edge, and she was falling.
She screamed her orgasm, and the sound echoed through their little igloo, cut off from the rest of the world, if only but for a moment. She prayed to Mana that there would be more moments like these. More stolen times before the war began. Before everything else was doused in the cold uncertainty of what the next day would bring.
For now, at least Iona could have this.
She could have pleasure, spiraling through her body.
She could have Julius’ punishing thrusts as he reached his own peak.
She could have his lips, pressing against the soft lobe of her ear.
She could have his words, whispered with a certainty she felt down to her soul, and she could say them with equal conviction.
“I love you.”
* * *
Stars scatteredacross the sky in blinking clusters that framed the peaks and spires of Castle Aileach like a crown.
Iona supposed it could have been grand, once upon a time. But it was nothing but a hollow, crumbling structure with broken windows now that promised temporary safety for the Fae.
She breathed out a sigh at the melancholy turn of her thoughts, and it puffed in front of her like a cloud.
“What’s the deal with this place?” she asked quietly.
They were laying against the side of her familiar in the whispering cold of the mountains, staring at the sky. The cold usually bothered her, but in this tight huddle, she barely felt anything beyond her own storming thoughts.
