Page 69 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
This woman… She’s remarkable. How does she know this is what I need? I look down at her, taking in the wide, dark blue of her eyes and the expression in them, an intensity that takes my breath away. She wants this, I can see it, and perhaps just as badly as I do.
I put my hands over hers and I pull them away, turning them over to plant a kiss in the centre of each palm. Then I meet her gaze. ‘Get down on your knees, my ice queen,’ I murmur. ‘And I’ll show you exactly how to please me.’
The flush in her cheeks rises, a delicious glowing pink, and she does what she’s told, sinking slowly to her knees in front of me. She doesn’t look away, her gaze pinned to mine as if she can’t think of anywhere she’d rather look but at me. I’m hard now, the blood pounding in my ears, watching this goddess kneel before me. She’s mine to do with what I will. But all she wants is to give me pleasure and all I want is to show her the many ways in which she can.
I let go of one of her hands, guiding the other to the clasp of my belt. ‘Undo it,’ I instruct, then let that one go too.
And she does, her fingers fumbling as her hands shake. But it’s not fear that’s making them shake, I can see that clearly. It’s desire. It’s hunger. It’s the volcanic heart of her ready to erupt once again. She gets my belt open at last and she knows what to do now as she tears at the buttons of my fly, pulling it open.
‘Slow,’ I murmur as she reaches for me. ‘Let me savour what you’re doing.’
She touches me through the cotton of my boxers, tracing the shape of my cock with light fingers, making me grit my teeth. Her caress makes me harder, makes me want to grab her hand and wrap her fingers around me, but I don’t. Because Idowant to savour her and her touch. I want to see the expression in her eyes as she touches me, because I know damn well I’ve never seen it in another woman’s eyes before—as if this means something to her, and not just physically, but emotionally too.
It’s strange that I want that since sex has always been a physical outlet for me. I don’t want any emotional entanglements. The one love I have—Olympia—takes everything from me and I don’t have more to give anyone else.
Yet now, what is happening with Katla feels like more than simply physical. It feels intimate and, while that’s not what I want, for some reason, in this moment it’s somehow right.
So I let her touch me, feel the shape of me through the cotton, and when it gets too much, when I want more, I growl, ‘Stop playing, ice queen. Time to open your mouth and take me.’
The look she slants me from underneath her pale lashes sends white-hot heat racing through my bloodstream. It looks to me like a challenge of sorts, as if she’s testing me, and I love that. She wants me to show her how to please me, and somehow she knows that her little acts of defiance are part of that pleasure.
I reach to shove down the cotton of my boxers, but she’s already there, taking me out and touching me as if she can’t get enough. But my patience is thinning and every touch is pushing me further and further to the edge of my control. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want be too rough with her, be too harsh, be anything that might hurt her. She has given me this gift and I want to honour that.
I slide my fingers into the softness of her white-blonde hair, making her braid loosen, and I hold her right where I want her. ‘Now,’ I order roughly, and she stops playing and opens her mouth, as if she can’t wait to taste me.
I can’t wait for her to taste me either. She grips me tightly and licks me, teasing just a little, running her tongue along my shaft and around the head. Pleasure splinters through me, shards of it catching deep in every nerve-ending.
Then she looks up at me as she takes me right in deep, the heat of her mouth closing around my cock, and I’m gripped by the most intense pleasure. I’ve done this many times, with many women, but there is an edge here with Katla, a sweetness that I’ve never experienced before, and it pierces me like an arrow.
She’s on her knees in front of me, watching me the way I watched her in the jet, gauging my reactions, seeing what she’s doing to me—and I let her see it. I let her seeallof it.
‘Yes,’ I murmur as I thrust into her mouth. ‘Just like that, my ice queen. Do you see what you do to me?’ I hold her gaze, watching all that blue turn to fire. ‘Do you see how much pleasure you’re giving me?’
She licks me and uses her teeth, experimenting, and I growl deep in my throat with the pleasure of it. She likes doing this, I can see; it’s giving her pleasure, and seeing hers makes mine rise even higher.
My fingers clench in her hair, gripping her tightly, holding her to take my thrusts. She grips my thighs, using her mouth to extract as much pleasure as she can from me, and I am lost.
I growl more orders at her: ‘Harder, faster… Yes, like that… That’s it… That’s so good, my ice queen… Your mouth is heaven… I love it… Keep going and don’t ever stop…’
But then the orgasm rushes over me, so fast it’s like a tidal wave, and I barely have time to give her a warning before it grips me and pleasure explodes through me, tearing a harsh growl of release from my throat. When I finally come down from the high, she’s still on her knees in front of me, her head resting against my thigh, her arms around my legs, as if she’s trying to hold on to keep herself from falling.
I adjust myself, tucking in my clothing, and as she lifts her chin to look up at me I reach down, pulling her to her feet and lifting her into my arms. She lies there warm and soft, her head against my chest, her eyes dark.
‘Was that okay?’ she asks, as if watching me lose it completely wasn’t enough of a confirmation.
‘No, my ice queen,’ I tell her as I stride out of the door, heading for the stairs that will take us up to my bedroom. ‘That wasn’t okay. That was fucking incredible.’
A ghost of a smile curves her mouth, and for a moment I’m lost in that smile. For a moment there is nothing but the savage satisfaction that I’ve made her smile in just that way.
I smile back. ‘And now it’s time for me to return the favour. Any objections?’
‘No,’ she says, settling against me. ‘None whatsoever.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Katla
I open myeyes and stare at the ceiling, wondering why it doesn’t look like the ceiling of my apartment in LA. It seems higher and the water stain in one corner isn’t there.
