Page 60 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
The way she’s looking at me right now, the honesty of our conversation just before, makes me feel as if she’s letting me see her soul and she’s not even aware of what she’s doing. And I want to be careful with that soul. I want to keep it safe, keep it protected…
I hear her gasp as I slide my hand up her thigh. Her skin is warm and smooth, and as my fingers edge higher she trembles and her breathing gets ragged. Her gaze clings to mine and I see the molten heart of her begin to blaze as I stroke her. ‘Spread your thighs for me, ice queen,’ I tell her softly. ‘Let me give you what you need.’
Slowly, hesitantly, she obeys, and she’s such a beautiful sight, lying in my lap, her white-blonde hair coming out of its braid, the colour stark against the deep pink flush on her face. Her mouth is open and she looks at me…
MyGodthe way she looks at me…
‘More?’ I ask as I slide my hand higher, feeling her heat.
‘Yes,’ she whispers hoarsely. ‘Yes, more.’
So I slip my hand between her thighs, stroking over the damp cotton of her knickers. She gasps again as I trace the shape of her through the fabric, teasing her, drawing out her pleasure so she knows exactly how good her body can make her feel.
This is going to take longer that ten damn minutes.
‘Ulysses…’ she whispers, her eyes wide and dark. There’s uncertainty there and a kind of shock and wonder. Has she ever felt this before? Has she ever even had an orgasm before?
Good God, she’s basically an innocent, and here I am demanding things from her, threatening her now, with my hands on her… I thought I knew what she was, but I really had no idea.
You have made a mistake.
Maybe so. But I can’t stop now, not while she’s here in my lap, having chosen to be there and giving herself to me. I’m committed to this. Stopping will only hurt her and I don’t want to do that.
I ease my fingers beneath the edge of her knickers and slide them through her soft curls. She’s hot, so hot, and so very wet and all for me. The satisfaction I already feel deepens and abruptly becomes a savage possessiveness. I want to throw her down on the floor and take her fast and hard, and stopping myself from doing so is so difficult. But I promised that I’d show her just how passionate she truly is. She entrusted herself to me, and I can’t break that trust by taking something for myself. I won’t.
She lifts her hips against my hand as I stroke her clit, making her tremble and gasp. ‘Ulysses…’ she murmurs again, her voice full of discovery. ‘Oh God…’
I’m so hard, I hurt, but I don’t do anything more than stroke her before gently, slowly, sliding one finger inside her. She’s so slick and she moans aloud, her eyelashes fluttering closed. I have never seen anything more beautiful than my ice queen melting—melting all over me, because of me.
I kiss her again, sliding another finger inside her, building a rhythm that has her moving restlessly against my hand and kissing me back, frantic and hungry. Part of me wants to take my time, edge her a little, make her even more desperate than she already is, but I don’t want to push her.
‘Ulysses…’ she whispers again, her lips brushing against mine, and I feel her grip my wrist. But she doesn’t stop me; she tries to direct me to where she wants my touch most. I smile against her mouth, because I knew this would happen. She’s passionate and, now she understands that about herself, she’s demanding about what she wants.
I love it. I want to give her everything.
‘Shall I make you come, ice queen?’ I murmur, teasing her a little. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘Yes,’ she says hoarsely. ‘Please, oh, please.’
‘You’re not really an ice queen, though, are you?’ I tilt my hand slightly so my thumb brushes over that tight bundle of nerves between her thighs, even as my fingers give her the friction she needs. ‘You’re a volcano, my Katla. And now you’re going to explode just for me.’
I give her that last bit of friction, pressing my thumb down hard on her clit, and she arches in my lap, her back bowing, her thighs crushing my hand between them as the orgasm hits her. She cries out, her eyes wide, full of ecstasy and wonder as she gazes up at me.
I’ve watched many women in their moment of climax and they were all lovely. But Katla is transcendent in this moment. Caught in the grip of an intense pleasure she’s probably never felt before, she is utterly glorious.
I’m not a reformed man. I’m a possessive Neanderthal and I allow myself to revel in the knowledge that I’m the one who gave her this moment. I’m the one showing her what true physical pleasure feels like, and it pleases me on a level I can’t remember feeling before.
I’m painfully hard, but all I do is remove my hand, smooth down her skirt, and hold her as she relaxes completely in my lap, her eyes closed. She’s as sated as a cat who didn’t just get the cream but the whole damn dairy. I watch her, unable to tear my gaze from her face. Wisps of hair cling to her flushed forehead like little white-blonde flames. One is caught across her cheek, so I gently push it back behind her ear.
Her eyes open then, blue bordering on black. She looks at me, and I let her. I want her to see what she did to me. I want her to see my satisfaction and the pleasure that I got from her. I want her to know that she wasn’t the only one who found this a revelation.
After a long moment, I’m the one who breaks that silence. ‘You see, Katla?’ I murmur. ‘I don’t think you like sex at all. I think you fucking love it.’
CHAPTER TEN
Katla
I lie inUlysses’s lap, my whole body lax apart from the shivers that move up and down my nerve-endings like tiny electric shocks. I have to admit to myself that, if that’s just a taste of what physical pleasure is like with him, then he’s right: I do love it. Because that was the single most astonishing experience I’ve ever had.
