Pen’s eyes close, face tilting toward mine. I let my gaze sweep over her face, her lips, her jaw. Her neck is graceful, and her body perfectly molded to mine. She melts in my hands, clinging onto me as her thumb keeps moving on my jaw, so soft and consistent that she might be putting a spell on me. That movement—back and forth, back and forth—makes my head spin so fast I can’t think about anything other than her, her, her.
“Maybe we can make an exception,” she whispers, eyes still closed.
My heart thumps hard enough for her to feel it. It’s bursting out of my chest. I tighten my grip on her hip, loving the way my fingers press into her flesh. When she rolls her core toward me, the heat between her legs rushes toward me and makes fire dance in my veins. Glancing down, I see her dressing gown slipping open. Her bare leg is against mine, gently grinding against my thigh. I groan. “I want to kiss you, Pen.”
Opening her eyes, she lets a soft smile drift over her lips. “So what are you waiting for?”
Nothing, is what I’m waiting for. Sliding my hand to the nape of her neck, I tilt Penelope’s face toward mine and crush my lips to hers. Somehow, her kiss tastes sweeter than the first time. A moan slips through her lips as she parts her mouth, deepening our kiss. She tastes like candy. Like roses in bloom. Like everything that’s been missing from my life.
The newspapers are wrong about her. Nothing about Penelope is icy or cold. She’s hot fire and sin.
My Queen.
Dropping my lips to her jaw, I leave a trail of kisses down her neck. I brush my lips over the shell of her ear, worshipping every inch of skin my lips come across. Penelope rewards me with whimpers and moans, sinking her fingers into my shoulders and pulling me close. Both shoulders—scarred and unscarred alike. Her hips roll against mine, gown falling open.
I let my hand sweep up the bare skin of her waist, feeling sparks ignite against my palm. Her body—my God, I missed this. One of the shoulders of her dressing gown falls down, and my lips are drawn to her shoulder. Clawing at the silky fabric, I pull it down lower to expose her upper arm, her chest, the top of her breast.
Under the dressing gown, Penelope’s wearing a thin, blue tank top and a tiny pair of matching shorts. I feel like an animal. Hunger for her sweeps through my core, and I see nothing except her soft, pliable body molding against mine, her swollen lips, her eyes full of need.
And I need her too. I need to feel her palms running over my skin—every inch of me. I need to feel the heat between her legs pressed up against my thigh. I need to feel her nails sinking into my shoulders as she pulls me closer. I need her to touch me. Touch the skin I’ve grown to hate and tell me she likes the way it feels. I need her to tell me I’m beautiful and mean it.
When I sweep my hands up her sides, my thumbs tease the undersides of her breasts. She trembles, lips parting. Her eyes meet mine, and I see none of the distant, cold Queen that was there before. She’s all heat and fire, and she’s all mine.
“Tell me what you like, Pen,” I whisper, dropping my lips to her chest. I lay a kiss on the swell of her breast, then on the neckline of her shirt. Dipping down lower, I drag my teeth across her nipple, with only the thin fabric of her top keeping me from tasting her skin.
Penelope bucks against me. She gasps, clutching me tight as her head falls back. I grin, loving the way her face loses all its harshness. I’m seeing the real Penelope—just as she’s seeing the real me.
Dragging my tongue over her breast, I suck her pebbled nipple into my mouth. Pen’s fingers tangle into my hair, pushing me closer and tugging me away all at once. She arches her back, gasping again. I groan. I want her to make that noise again. Heat spears my core as I grind myself against her. I know she can feel me—my hardness. The steel pressing up against her stomach that tells her exactly what she does to me.
Moving to the other breast, I leave a wet patch on her blue top. With hazy eyes, Penelope glances down at me. She leans back against the kitchen counter, spreading her legs wider.
My heart is beating so fast I have to grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. When Penelope sweeps her hands over my shoulders and down my sides, she doesn’t hesitate to run her palm over my scars. She holds me close, exploring every inch of my body with her hands.
No hesitation. No recoiling. No disgust hidden behind a thin veil of pity.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” Penelope gasps when I cup her breast and suck its peak between my teeth. Her fingers tug at my hair. “Whatever happens tonight, it doesn’t mean anything, Asher. We go back to professionalism afterward.”
“Okay,” I answer, moving to kiss her clavicle, her neck, her ear. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“I’ll be the Queen again in the morning.”
“What does that make you right now?”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, staring up at me through thick lashes. “Yours.”
13
Penelope
Half of Asher’s face is cast in shadows with moonlight cutting the harsh angles on his face. Sharp cheekbones frame his features as his eyelids hang low and dark. His hair curls at the temples, inky black against his skin. I let my fingers drift over his lips, swollen from our kiss.
Every stitch of fabric on my body feels too sensitive. His hands are broad and strong and warm, and they send thrills of pleasure rushing wherever they touch—but it’s his eyes that do the most to me. Dark, brooding, and dangerous, he looks at me like no man has looked at me before.
I’m not a conquest or a queen. To Asher, I’m just a woman and oh, it’s intoxicating to feel that way. To strip off all the expectations of my station and just let myself…be.
I want to ask him if he meant it when he said he came back to Nord because he was drawn to me, or if the reason he bought this house was because he intends to stay. I want to ask him if he sees me as anything more than a means to an end, a way to make himself richer.
I want to ask him if he feels what I feel when we’re together.
But…I’m scared of asking those questions because I don’t want to hear the wrong answer. And what is the wrong answer? If he says yes, he feels this connection between us—it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be together. I can’t shirk my duty to be with him. I can’t be anything other than the Queen, always the Queen.
And if he says no, he doesn’t feel what I feel…well, I don’t think I could handle that. I may be cold and shuttered and cut off from most people, but underneath it all, I’m too fragile. Too weak to hear those words aloud.
There’s no good answer, so I don’t ask the question. Tonight, we give in to temptation. We let our fingers roam and our lips taste, and we let ourselves need. Nearly alone in this big house with him, I feel like a new woman. Heat winds its way through my core and all I want to do is squeeze my thighs together against the emptiness between them.
Instead, I walk my fingers up Asher’s chest, exploring every bit of exposed skin. I let my eyes wander over his body, taking it all in. I want to remember this.
Tonight, I’m not the Queen. He’s not a mining executive. We’re two old friends, drawn to each other in our loneliness. We’re scratching an itch, that’s all.
“You’re not going to slap me tonight, are you?” His eyebrow arches.
I purse my lips. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“That’s disappointing.” He pouts, his bottom lip looking too good not to kiss.
I roll my eyes. “There’s something wrong with you.”
Asher pushes his leg between mine and I stifle a whimper. His hands slide over my breasts, tweaking my nipples and sending another jet of heat straight between my legs. How would it feel to have his lips on my breasts without any fabric between them? Suddenly, I need to know. I need to feel his lips on me everywhere.
Closing my eyes, I arch my back and shamelessly roll my core toward him. The loose, gray pants that cover his strong thighs is soft between my legs, but I wish he were wearing nothing at all. I let my finge
rs drift down past the waistband, stopping just above his ass.
“You can touch me.” He grins. “I know you want to.”
“You’re too arrogant for your own good, Asher.” I try to purse my lips, but I can’t quite hide my desire. My hands slip lower, feeling the curve of his powerful muscles. He thrusts against me, gently, and I feel his ass clench and move beneath my palms. At my front, against my stomach, I feel the thing I’ve been missing for weeks. The hardness that will quench this relentless ache inside me.
Sucking in a breath, I meet his eyes. Asher’s gaze lowers to my lips, and he shakes his head. “Do you know how I know you’ve been through hell and lived to tell the day?” His hand slides up underneath my shirt, and the heat of his palm against my stomach makes my head spin.
“How?” My eyes are closed, and I tilt my head back, enjoying the movement of his palm. His fingers sweep just below my navel in intoxicating circles.
“You didn’t flinch when you saw my body.”
I open my eyes, frowning. “I’m not sure you’ve looked in the mirror lately, Asher, but your body isn’t exactly hard to look at.”
His eyes soften, his hand sweeping higher. When his thumb brushes over my pebbled nipple, I let out a shiver. Yes, that feels incredible without any fabric between us. Fire burns a wide path straight between my legs.
“Not many people would agree with that statement, Pen.” His voice is dark. Rough.
I meet Asher’s eye, searching his face. “Why? Because of this?” My hand slides over the ridges and soft bumps of his scar. I shake my head, sighing. “Every part of you is beautiful.” Flicking my eyes up to his, I grin. “I hope I don’t regret saying that. You’re arrogant enough as it is.”
A corner of his lips tugs. “It’s an act.”
“Are you telling me your attitude is a defense mechanism?” I give him a teasing smile, but Asher doesn’t return it.
Instead, he dips his head and angles his mouth against mine, gently brushing his lips over my own. It’s barely a touch. Not quite a kiss. Embers burn through my veins as my whole body reacts to his touch, arching toward him, as if on a primal level, I know I need more.
“No one’s seen me shirtless in years,” he whispers. Before I can answer, Asher crushes his lips to mine. His kiss is ravenous. Hungry. Almost desperate. He lets his hands slide down, one wrapping around behind my ass and the other slipping down the front of my shorts.
We’re in a kitchen, with security staff all around outside the house and my private secretary upstairs. Anyone could see us. It’s highly inappropriate and completely out of character for me…but I can’t stop. It feels like I need this. I need Asher’s touch, his kiss, his cock. I need to feel his skin against mine and let him show me what I’ve been missing.
And, in a way, I think he needs me too. We’re two lonely souls, scarred and broken, and we’ve found each other in the long, endless night. What’s one more moment of bliss? Why wouldn’t we give in, just this once?
Asher’s hand slides over my mound to the wetness between my thighs. He groans when he feels my arousal, kissing me hard. “You’re wet for me, Pen.”
I moan, angling my hips toward him. If only he knew how aroused I’ve been all day, or how many times I’ve touched myself to the thought of him. His fingers brush against my sensitive bud, sending a violent shiver through my body. Asher grins against my lips, a low chuckle escaping his throat. The sound winds the tension inside me tighter, as if every sound he makes, every touch, every kiss—it all just serves to make me want him more.
When he slides his hand through my slit and teases the edge of my opening, I let out another whimper. There are no words. My brain isn’t functioning. Heat curls in the pit of my stomach, causing every muscle to bunch and tighten. The wet fabric on my breasts clings to me, rubbing in the most deliciously sensitive way.
But it’s Asher’s body against mine that sends my body spiraling. His broad shoulders caging me against the kitchen counter. His strong leg nestled between mine. His long, hard cock pressed up against my hip.
When he slides a finger inside me, I gasp. His thumb finds my bud and the pressure inside me builds. He kisses my earlobe, my neck, the corner of my lip. He grunts when he feels me buck, and my hands fly to his shoulders, his body. I claw at him, pulling him closer.
He slides another finger inside me, stretching me as I gasp. My hips grind against him, and I don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed that I’m losing control. I rub myself against his hand as he urges me on with low moans and soft grunts.
Asher’s teeth scrape across my throat, and a shiver of pleasure tumbles through my veins. I clench around his fingers and before I know what’s happening, Asher’s on his knees in front of me and tearing my shorts off my legs. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and covers my wet slit with his mouth.
Stifling a scream, I bite my lip. His tongue laps me up from back to front, sucking and kissing and devouring me. My hands are tangled in his hair, black strands curled around every finger. My leg is hooked on his shoulder. I grind myself against him and—I come apart. Sucking in a breath, my whole body tenses. In this moment, with ecstasy coursing through my veins, I don’t have time to think about what this means or why he’s here. I can’t think about who I am. What I’m supposed to be doing.
I’m just a woman coming apart, loving the way Asher moans as he tastes my orgasm. He’s enjoying this too.
When my body relaxes, Asher stands. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as his eyes hang low. “Penelope,” he rasps, staring at my lips, my shoulder, my breasts.
Cool air brushes against my most sensitive parts, but it does nothing to dim the fire burning inside me. I reach for his sweatpants, sliding my hand inside. A growl rumbles at the back of his throat when I feel his length. As I wrap my fingers around him, he stares at me and shakes his head.
“You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Penelope.” His lips tease mine as I grip him. His cock is like velvet-covered steel, and the feel of him in my hand makes me ache with painful emptiness. Fascinated, I watch as he hooks his thumbs into his waistband and lets his pants drop to the ground right next to my shorts.
My breath catches. He’s…beautiful. Gloriously male. Power incarnate. I stare at him, taking it all in, as my heart thumps and my body temperature cranks up a few more degrees.
“I want to see your face when you come this time,” he says, his eyes promising sinful ecstasy. When he slides his hands over my hips, I lift my arms and let him take my top and robe off. Before they even hit the ground, his lips are on my breasts. I gasp, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him close. He slides his hands to my lower back and tugs me closer so I can feel him pressed up against my stomach.
Hard as a rock. For me.
Hot lava pours into my veins as he sweeps his tongue over my breast, tugging it gently with his teeth. I let out a sigh, knowing I need more. I need him. My arousal is making my head spin, and if I don’t feel him inside me, I think the ache in my body might kill me.
Lifting myself onto the edge of the stone countertop, I wrap my legs around his waist.
His eyes cut to mine, then drift down my naked body and come to rest between my legs. His lids hang low and the look of pure pleasure on his face makes fire lash through my body. With one hand gripping my waist, Asher grabs his shaft with the other and angles it against me.
We don’t speak. There’s nothing to say. We both want this—desperately. We both want to feel like we’ve found someone who understands.
And just for tonight, we’re not alone. I can pretend I’m just Penelope, and he’s just Asher. I can close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his skin beneath my palms, without worrying about what it means to feel him close.
Asher pushes into me, and the pressure is almost too much. I’m not used to feeling something so long and thick between my legs. I whimper, and he pauses.
“Are you okay?” His hand moves gently over my waist.
I nod. “Yeah.”
Gently, he thrusts another inch. And another. My body slowly stretches to accommodate him, and I flick my eyes up to his. He’s staring down to where we’re joined. His cheeks are red, lips still glistening with my arousal. He looks totally, completely enraptured, and I let myself relax.
He groans, pushing deep inside me with one long movement. I shift the angle of my hips and wrap my legs around him, taking him deeper. He falls forward, catching himself on the counter with hands on either side of me. I let my fingers slide over his temple, curling into the strands of hair that fall over his forehead.
When we had sex the first time, it was hot and dirty and rough. I loved every second of it. It made me feel alive.
But this…this is different. Asher drags himself out of me and pushes in deep and slow. It’s torturous, as if he’s dragging the pleasure out of me and teasing me for endless seconds before pushing back in. He knows how badly I want his cock filling me up. He knows how desperate I am to feel him bury himself inside me—but he pauses, slows, and stretches every second of pleasure out longer than I can bear. His mouth hovers over mine. I can feel every sigh. Every grunt. Every moan. I rock my hips against him as we move slowly, my hands exploring his beautifully scarred body.
This isn’t a hot fuck in a dingy old break room. This is intimate. It…it feels almost…real.
Asher’s hands wrap around my waist and he holds me close, spearing me over and over in steady, slow movements. We fall into a rhythm that has me quickly spiraling out of control. Still, Asher refuses to speed up. Even when I buck my hips against him and try to take charge of the pace, he stills until I sigh, whimpering. His slow thrusts continue, urging me higher and higher as I struggle to maintain control over my own rioting body.
Every time he pushes inside me, heat pulses through my veins. The build is sweet, slow torture. A bundle of heat tightens deep inside me, coaxed to life by his thrusts. He moves as if we have all the time in the world. As if there’s no risk of someone walking into the kitchen. As if there’s nothing between us that says this is a bad idea.
Ice Queen: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance Page 11
