by Sable Sylvan
“Lauren, I’m sorry,” said Clove as the woman smacked him in the face with the paper. “Ouch, please stop.”
“Sorry? Sorry?” said Lauren in a mocking tone, giving Clove one last smack in the shoulder. “You’re lucky I don’t call up your brother right now…or your grandfather. They’d, what do Texans say…suntan your skin.”
“Tan your hide?” offered Abigail.
“Exactly, that, tan your hide,” said Lauren. “And Abigail, you’re not my charge, but your sister would not be pleased about the goings-on of tonight. No more shenanigans. I know you two are hiding something. It’s obvious. Whatever it is, settle it, tonight.”
“There’s nothing going on,” said Clove.
“Yeah, there’s no secret,” said Abigail.
“You two can lie to yourselves, but you can’t lie to me,” said Lauren. “I wasn’t born yesterday. My family has served the Scovilles for generations, since longboat times, and I know a lie when I see one. Your siblings might be too busy navel gazing to notice it, prancing around talking about hot sauce and barbecues and jul, but I know. A servant always knows.”
“Jul?” whispered Abigail.
“Yule, Yuletide, Christmas,” answered Clove.
“That’s not the point,” said Lauren. “It’s obvious that you two have feelings for each other. Take a bath and sort it out. Warm yourselves up in the sauna and take a shower and work it out.”
“Wait…we have a sauna?” asked Abigail.
“Of course you do, this is a Scoville house,” said Lauren. “Come. We use it to keep warm after we take a dip in the cold rivers of our native land…or after the children play around in the snow. Stops them from getting a death of cold, you know.”
Lauren led the pair to the sauna and group shower area. Abigail’s jaw dropped. She had no clue this was part of the house. Herb had made a genuine Nordic sauna in the back of the house, near the backyard. How could Abby tell it was Nordic? She had never seen anything that luxurious in America before.
“Come on, let’s go in,” said Clove.
“Together?” asked Abigail.
“There’s one sauna, so yes, together,” said Lauren. “I’ve got to be going. Some of us have actual work to do.”
Lauren left the sauna area.
Clove fiddled with a display near the sauna.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” asked Abigail.
“We have the same model sauna at the house in Oslo,” said Clove. “This one just uses English instead of Norwegian, and instead of Celsius, it shows Fahrenheit.”
“So do we go get bathing suits or…?” asked Abigail.
“No, just grab a towel if you want, and we go and sit inside, warm up, and then shower,” said Clove. “Come on.”
Clove took his robe off and hung it up, grabbing two towels from a heated towel cabinet. He was facing away from Abigail as he did this and he entered the sauna.
Abigail went to a more private section of the area to disrobe. Could she at least wear her bra and panties into the sauna? No…the underwire of the bra would burn her, and the panties were made of synthetic material so they’d melt or mess up her chemistry down there. She had to strip.
Abigail took off all her clothes and went to the sauna area again, took two towels, and walked in.
Chapter Eight
The sauna was hot and steamy. Clove was sitting on a towel, the rest of his body uncovered, nude except for a slight sheen of perspiration. His eyes were closed, but he opened them as he heard Abigail approach the sauna. He watched as she opened the door. She was covered by a white towel. She lay the second towel down to sit on, and when she sat, she didn’t release the towel covering her body.
“You’ll get warmer faster if you take that towel off,” said Clove.
“I’m keeping it on,” insisted Abigail.
“Suit yourself,” said Clove, wrapping his extra towel over his shoulders, so it was hanging over his chest.
Abigail was looking at Clove. There was no way she could help but look. A handsome man who looked like he belonged in a documentary about Vikings or a runway in Paris was naked in a sauna with her.
“You like what you see?” asked Clove.
“Yeah, of course I do,” said Abigail. Clove watched as her cheeks turned pink and wondered if it was from embarrassment or the heat of the sauna.
“Well, I like what I see,” said Clove. “Or at least I would, if you dropped the towel.”
“You know it’s different for girls,” said Abigail.
“Is it?” asked Clove. “I guess we do things different in Europe.”
“You don’t have to cover up,” said Abigail.
“Nor do you,” said Clove. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“Fine,” said Abigail. “If we’re going to shower together after this, I guess there is no harm in it.” Abigail let go of the towel.
What Clove saw was what he remembered, a woman with luscious curves, soft skin, and a healthy flush. Abigail looked ravishing as usual, so of course Clove, a man of his word, dropped his towel, too.
Abigail watched as Clove took off the towel. Clove’s chest was finally revealed to her.
On his chest was a strange mark. It looked like a fish hook to her.
“Is that…” started Abigail. “Sorry. Never mind.”
“Yes, that is my mate mark,” said Clove, gesturing to the form on his chest. “And no, I have no clue what it is either. For me, it’s just the mark of my beast.”
“Can I touch it?” asked Abigail.
“Of course,” said Clove. “Here.” He patted the seat next to him. Of course, the cocky bastard wasn’t about to get up.
Abigail got up, and Clove put another scoop full of water on the hot rocks in the center of the sauna, filling the room with more steam.
Clove turned, leaning on one of the higher steps. His chest was facing Abigail. Abigail reached out to touch Clove’s pecs. She’d felt his body before, but never his mate mark.
The mate mark was strange. It was on his right pec. It was curved in odd flourishes that looked familiar, like a fish hook with the semicircle bulging toward the outside of Clove’s right pec, the inner part empty. Abigail ran her fingers over the lines, which were only slightly darker than Clove’s natural skin tone. She placed her hand flat against the mark. It looked to be the same color as her hand.
“Huh, weird,” said Abby. “Your mark. The skin on the mark is the same color as the skin on my hand.”
“Really?” asked Clove, looking down and placing his hand next to Abby’s. It was true. His skin was lighter than Abby’s, the hand and most of the chest the same color, while Abby’s skin was slightly more olive-toned and was the same shade as his mate mark.
“Yeah,” said Abby, and then it hit her. She knew where she’d seen this symbol before and she couldn’t help but laugh. It was so frikkin’ obvious.
“What’s so funny?” asked Clove.
“I know what this is,” said Abby. “Look.”
Abby curved her right hand. She placed it over Clove’s chest. Her thumb met with the bottom part of the mate mark. The tips of her fingers met with the end of the top of his mark.
“Don’t you see?” said Abby. “It’s a heart. It’s a frikkin’ heart.” Abby put her other hand up and placed it over the mark. Her fingers, thumb, and the main part of her hand covered the mark perfectly.
“It’s a perfect fit,” said Clove, looking down at Abby’s hands. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s your hand on my chest…and now, your hands on my chest.”
“You better believe it,” said Abby. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” said Clove. “I can’t wait another moment. We need to go upstairs, come on.”
Abby and Clove left the sauna and put on two of the clean robes hanging in the robe closet. As soon as Abby was in a robe, Clove picked her up and held her in his arms.
“What’s that for?” aske
d Abby.
“I need to wait until we get to my room to do what I want to do with you,” said Clove. “But I’ll be damned if I have to wait any longer to hold you…or to kiss you.”
Clove pulled Abby’s face toward his, and their lips met and parted nearly instantaneously. Clove and Abby needed each other. They had more than just a desire. They had a need, a hunger for each other’s bodies that could only be sated through unadulterated lust. The only thing Abby wanted on her lips more than more delicious barbecue was Clove’s skin. The only thing Clove desired more than yet another exotic spice was the feeling of Abby’s petals on his tongue once again, just as he had felt them on that one magical night.
* * *
Clove looked up at Abby’s sex. It was hidden by a thin layer of panties that had a growing wet spot. He knew what that meant. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and they were both about to get ready to do the dirty.
Clove reached up to rip Abby’s panties off her body, but just as the fabric tore, he couldn’t help but gasp. His polar roared. Was this really happening? Was his cock really throbbing inside of Abby Quincy’s mouth? This was what he had dreamed about and fantasized about since he’d gotten to get a better look at her at the county fair.
Abby took Clove’s cock into her mouth. The cock was throbbing and ready to enter her, and it didn’t care what hole it entered, as long as it was one of her holes. Abby held Clove’s shaft in one hand while pushing his silk boxers (because of course Clove wore red silk boxers) further down. She had never done anything like this before. She had no idea what had come over her, but she didn’t feel guilty. For some reason, this felt right, even more right than it had ever felt with Jason, even after she’d waited the requisite three months to bang her scumbag ex (and waited far too many months to dump him). When she felt what Clove was doing to her down there, she knew that Clove had far, far more to offer her in a single hour than Jason did in all the years they’d dated.
Clove was swirling his tongue around her clit and pressing his fingers into her, not hard and fast, but gently, as if he was massaging her from the inside. As Clove found her special spot, Abby gasped, her mouth leaving his bobbing shaft as she let out a soft whimper of pleasure. How the heck did a man who was fifty percent polar and one hundred percent cocky bastard know how to make a woman feel this way? Well…two could play at that game.
Abby put her mouth back on Clove’s cock and pressed it as far into her mouth as she could take it. It was difficult given their height difference and the fact that every time she pulled forward to put her mouth over his cock, he pulled her back so that her hips were riding his face. While she’d had oral from Jason a few times, it had never been like this. Jason had made her feel self-conscious, returning her worshipping of his cock with a few licks before he stopped and said his jaw was sore before turning on his TV. When he had gone down on her, it had been nothing to write home about. He’d stuck out his tongue, closed his eyes, and knowing Jason, probably did it badly on purpose so that Abby wouldn’t ask for it again.
Clove was different, much different. He wanted this pussy badly, and once he’d gotten to it, he hadn’t just reached up to slip in a finger and finger bang her like someone who had only learned about the female anatomy from VHS pornos. No, he had lusted for her. He had ripped off her frikkin’ panties! Nobody had ever done that to her before, and before she had even had his pants unbuttoned and unzipped, he’d been at her honeypot. What Abby didn’t realize was that there wasn’t a warm-blooded werebear on this earth that could resist the call of a warm and wanting honeypot, and polars were no different, especially not the Scoville Polar Clan. Clove may have been Norwegian, but in the bedroom, he was anything but frigid. It was no wonder why women fantasized about Viking lovers…
Abby felt herself getting closer and closer, and from the looks of Clove, he was close to the point of no return as well. Just as Abby was about to finish him in her mouth, Clove pulled her back onto his face and pressed his tongue up and against the inside of her walls, his chin rubbing against her clit as if he was a bee trying to take in all her nectar. Abby reached for Clove’s cock and jerked it as he came in hot spurts of white cum all over his designer pants. Even after he came, Clove didn’t take his mouth off of Abby’s sweet inner petals. He ate at her harder, faster, and finally, in one quick rush, Abby had her climax and was moaning his name softly.
* * *
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Abby asked.
“We’ve got to get upstairs, now,” said Clove. “I can’t hold back any longer, Abby.”
“Then don’t,” said Abby, and that was all Clove needed to hear before he took the next step in the great journey that would become their fairy tale.
Chapter Nine
Clove wasted no time in taking Abby to his room and putting her on his bed.
“Your sheets,” said Abby. “They’re…kinda busted.”
“Let’s just say they got attacked by a bear,” said Clove. “Okay…more like they got attacked by me trying to contain my bear.”
“Silk sheets are no cage for a bear,” said Abby.
“You’re telling me,” said Clove. “Too bad I don’t have a real cage here.”
“Oh, so you can do me in it?” asked Abby. “Have me tied up, ready to be used?”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about that,” said Clove. “But, it seems we both have a taste for the…unusual.”
“Call it whatever you want, it’s hot, admit it,” challenged Abby. “You love the little barbs we throw at each other.”
“Not as much as I loved being cuffed to you,” said Clove. “I can admit that.”
“Come on,” said Abby, taking Clove by the hand and through the study to her bedroom. The doors were luckily unlocked. She went through her closet and found what she was looking for and passed it to Clove.
“Handcuffs? A spreader bar? A rather phallic looking baton?” asked Clove. “And…a blindfold?”
“Halloween costume, long story, but the short story is I got to touch a lot of butts that night,” said Abby. “So, was all that talk about cages and the ‘unusual’ all talk, or are you about to show me what you want to do with me?”
“Hold these,” ordered Clove. Abby held the items that Clove passed back to her and then, of course, Clove picked her back up, carried her to his bed, and put her back down.
“You want kink? I’ll show you kink,” said Clove. “Robe off. Arms. Out. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” purred Abby, slinking out of her robe.
Clove wanted Abby so badly, but a challenge was a challenge. He put the black furry handcuffs onto Abby’s wrists. Then he grabbed a piece of the silk sheets up and off the floor. He used the long piece of silk to bind Abby’s forearms together, from the elbow down to the wrist.
“Up, now,” ordered Clove.
He led Abby over to a blank wall and positioned her. Her wrists were up against the wall, her forearms flat against the surface of the wall.
“You know what I’m gonna say,” said Clove, taking the spreader bar and tapping it gently on each of the inner sides of her calves. “Spread’m.”
“Yes, sir,” said Abby. She moved her legs and stuck her butt out. Clove wanted just to take her then and there, but she had challenged him, and he was about to show her that they could have more fun with handcuffs than they had had the night of the BBQ. Clove put the spreader bar onto each of her legs. The bar was metal and had two red fur-lined black leather cuffs attached to each end, so it was very easy to use.
Finally, Clove took the blindfold and put it over Abby’s eyes.
“Can you see anything?” asked Clove.
“No,” admitted Abby.
“Good,” said Clove. He took the baton from the bed. It looked so ridiculous. It was hard for him not to laugh.
Clove walked up behind Abby and breathed down on the back of her neck. He watched as the hairs on the back of her neck came to attention, and he scented her arousal growing. Clove walked awa
y, steadily and slowly, and started to thump the baton in his hand. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Thump. The baton hit his hand, his hand next to Abby’s ear. He was careful not to hit her face, but the sound made Abby jump.
“Miss, I’m sure you know why I pulled you over tonight,” whispered Clove, pressing up against Abby. He ran the baton over Abby’s torso’s curves and watched as she shivered.
“No, sir, what did I do?” asked Abby.
“Do you have a license for those curves?” asked Clove. “If not…I’m going to have to make sure somebody who can handle them will handle them.” Clove ran the baton along the back of Abby’s legs, moving down as the baton reached her knees and blowing his hot breath against her honeypot. He could scent her arousal strongly and wanted to be inside of her so badly, but he resisted entering her just yet.
Instead, he ran the baton along the inside of Abby’s legs as he stood up and as he stood, he ran the baton further into her lap, toward the wall, and then up. He used the head of the baton against the top of her slit, making her take a sharp breath in, before he ran it backward, teasing it at her entrance before pulling it away. He saw her hips move as if she wanted him to enter her with that baton, but of course, that wasn’t what he’d enter her with. He had something much bigger and much better in store.
“It looks like you’re hiding something,” said Clove. “I’m going to have to frisk you.” Clove used his hand on one side of her torso and used his baton on the other. He was careful not to touch her nipples or her sex. He touched everywhere but the places that would bring her closer to the edge than necessary. He was still just teasing her.
Abby had never experienced anything like this in her life. She hadn’t ever gotten to have BDSM sex with anyone before. Jason had laughed in her face when she suggested trying something tame like a blindfold, but Clove had taken to it like a fish to water…or a polar to a honeypot. He was fulfilling fantasies of hers that there was no way he could’ve known existed. He had no idea of knowing that everything he did, every teasing touch and every swirl of his fingertips against her skin, was driving her wild…or did he?
