Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
KHARON
I shouldn’t have brought her here, but there was no other choice. I couldn’t think of any other place to wait out the furious storm. Here there are strong walls and a place to make a fire. So here we came.
And now. . .
Now she is bathing me.
I have been bathed once before, when Abaddon’s consort cleansed and cut my hair after two centuries of madness.
But that was nothing like—
I suck in a quick breath as Ksenia drags the cloth down my chest to my lower belly. All my abdominal muscles tense, and I freeze, afraid that any movement or abnormal breathing patterns may scare her away.
Instead, she dips and wrings out the fabric and steps even closer when she returns. Again she drips that damnable sensuous cloth down my chest and to my abdominals, where she scrubs it back and forth, lower and lower.
“Ksenia,” I finally growl, everything within me straining. She is kneeling between my legs now. Does she not notice the large, straining hardness in my pants? Pants that are not nearly as thick and padded as hers are. Is she willfully ignoring it? Or is she simply an innocent?
“Yes?” she asks, and I do not know if I am imagining the strain I hear in her voice.
She does not move as she leans over to dip the cloth again, her body stretching over my thigh.
I shudder at the extended contact. Since entering the church, she’s pulled off her ski mask and the cap covering her explosion of blonde hair.
Her scent and the feel of her so close are maddening, enough to overwhelm me.
I should not have asked her to wash my front. I did not know the madness I’d be enticing. I want to grab her. I want—
I breathe out harder. I don’t even know the things I want. Things always forbidden to me. Things I only began to think about once I heard the noises emanating from Abaddon’s room when he returned with his consort.
Ksenia drags the hot cloth down my sides, scrubbing underneath my lowest pair of arms, one side and the other. Then again, she tortures me by dragging it back and forth low across my belly, right above where my pants close.
“Ksenia!” I hiss her name through my teeth.
“Yes,” she asks again. When I look at her now, her eyes are on my lips.
She bends over my thigh again torturously and goes through the whole process again, all but squirming against me. Surely she feels the hardness.
My thoughts torture me. I cannot stand much longer. I must either fling her away from me or, or—
She brings the cloth back, and carefully, lingering, she washes my face.
“There you are,” she says.
All I can do is groan low. “I want you,” I admit, speaking between my teeth. “Move away if you do not want what I want.”
“What do you want?” she asks, and I groan. Is this innocence speaking?
“I want your hands to touch me. I want your hands below my pants, pulling my length out. I want to take off all of your clothing and spread your legs. I want to thrust my tongue between your legs to finally taste the scent that torments me.”
She drops the cloth with a gasp, and I’m sure I’ve said the wrong thing. I’ve stunned her with my admission. She was only being kind to a beast she pitied, and now I’ve gone and—
Her hand suddenly reaches down between us. She grasps me, and I struggle not to shout. It is such a relief, such a joy.
“Yes,” is all I can pant. “I want this. If you want it, I want this.”
She nods. “I want this.”
I am overwhelmed by the feeling of joy and need that strikes me. A woman wants me. This woman wants me. She is touching me, and by the way her other hand reaches down to join the first, fumbling at the button of my pants, much more is about to come.
I blink, so startled by the turn of events, I can barely comprehend what is happening.
Her hands release the buttons constraining me, one after another, and then she is doing exactly what I described. She pulls my cock out of my pants, her hot little hands on me.
“You’re so big,” she exclaims. But she does not hold me long, instead climbing onto my lap and pressing herself against my length stiff between us, rubbing herself and making little noises.
“Hold me,” she gasps. “You’re so, so big. It feels really good. Hold me tightly.”
I nod, still dazed by what was happening. I pulse against her soft frame, my hardness sandwiched between our bodies as she wraps her legs around my back.
I wrap all of my arms around her and hold her close. She buries her face in my neck, and her lips suck on my skin as she writhes against me, rocking up and back.
Her scent starts to rise in the air, even with all the clothing she’s wearing. It’s intoxicating, and the pressure of her against my cock. . .
She grunts and makes little noises as she squirms, harder and harder, her legs squeezing me.
“Please,” I groan. As good as this feels— “Will you remove some of your coverings? I want to feel your skin.”
She hesitates and then nods. “Yes, I want that.”
Her legs stay locked around my waist as she pulls back slightly and unzips her thick coat. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. I smile, wanting to lick it off her. She has cleansed me, and I want to lick her like felines do. I want to mate with her in every way possible.
The thought is a shock, but yes, it is what I want.
I want her as my consort. A thought too big for the moment. I try to zero back in on everything she reveals as she removes her coat. Then she pulls off her shirt.
She has compact, muscled shoulders. Her curved teats are still covered, and I want to tear the cloth away with my teeth; I’m so eager to get my mouth on her. I reach forward but pull my hands back at the last moment.
“This covering, too?” I ask greedily. I can only see the shape of her, and I want to see the flesh.
My length strains and twitches between us at every bit she reveals. She squeezes her legs as if she feels it, and her eyelids flutter. She nods and finally removes the contraption covering her teats.
“I want to lick you. I need to suckle you. May I?”
She grabs my head and drags me down to her rounded, full breasts.
Finally, my mouth is feasting upon heaven.
My lips close over her luscious skin, and the flesh hardens and pebbles under my probing tongue.
She cries out, and her hands clench in my hair, tugging me closer. “Harder,” she says. “Suck harder.”
So I do, which makes her squirm more in my lap until she finally leaps away from me.
I groan, immediately wanting to ask what I’ve done wrong.
Except I see that she’s just wriggling out of her thick snow pants.
My cock pulses at the sight. And then, oh gods, also out of the pants beneath those, exposing acres of beautiful flesh.
Her legs. . . I’ve felt the pressure of them around me, but I want my mouth on every bit of skin she exposes to me.
She keeps on the last scrap of covering that hides her sweet-scented sex but comes back to me and climbs into my lap.
My cock bobs between us like the mast of a ship.
Without the snow pants, I can feel her heat as her legs wrap around me, friction and pressure as she wriggles her hips up and down on my shaft.
Immediately she draws my head back to her teats. “I liked what you were doing,” she says again. “And I want you to take control. It makes it. . . better for me. Tell me when to come. And please, god, don’t be gentle. The firmer the touch, the better.”
My already hard cock leaps in ecstasy at every word out of her mouth. I grab her hips and pull her more firmly onto me, the scented V of her soft thighs pressed securely against the log of my cock.
So little cloth between us. I die at the thought, even though I realize I have never truly lived before this moment.
I lower my head and draw her pebbled teat back into my mouth.
Hands on her hips, I rock her against me.
She cries out, flinging her arms around my head and burying her face against my neck.
And my cock, oh gods, my cock is there between her thighs.
Right up against her sex. I feel half out of my mind with wanting her.
With need. With her scent. With the feel of her plump little ass through the thin fabric of her covering.
I rock her up and down, her hips thrusting wildly against me.
She cries out little needy, pleasured sounds.
I scent the wetness seeping through the thin cloth covering the mysteries of her sex.
I want to rip it away but don’t. I will take every small measure she gives and be so fucking glad for it.
Gladder than I’ve ever been in my whole useless, worthless life.
Again the realization hits. Life has only begun now. Meeting her. I release one breast and move to the other. Such bounty. My hardness strains as pleasure lights up my spine.
“Oh my god, you’re so big,” she cries out again, hands still clenched in my hair. Her cheek is pressed against my head, and she has me in such a tight hold. “I can feel you against my clit when you move like that.”
So she likes it when I move like this. I continue to thrust up and pull back down, and, oh yes, the pleasure. I have never known such pleasure as being sandwiched between her thighs and belly and sex, wrapped around me so tight, her intoxicating scent rising all around us.
She moves against me when I move, and we seem to develop a rhythm.
She starts to cry out, like a scream, except it rocks higher and higher.
As if she is close to some pleasure but hasn’t yet reached it.
Or maybe I get that idea because she starts to cry with this desperate whine.
“Oh god, I’m so close. I’m so close, it’s so close—”
I want to take her to the destination she is close to, but I don’t know how.
She is the first woman I’ve ever touched.
So I squeeze her tighter. And my lowest pair of arms, clenched at her back, dares to dip lower.
I knead the soft, fleshy globes of her ass, notching her sex even tighter against where my cock is pressed against the outside of the cloth separating us—
She said to tell her when. I’m not sure exactly what she meant, but I want to give her what she needs. So I say, “Not yet.”
Her squirming on my lap goes crazy at my command, her noises escalating. Her fingernails claw into my hide, and she bites down on my neck.
My cock strains so hard at her writhing and the squirt of scent that marks the air. Again, I say, “Not yet.”
“Oh, oh—” she moans. “Please. Please, may I come?”
My chest rushes with inflamed heat and feels like it expands three sizes. “That’s right. Beg for what you want. Beg, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”
“Please, Kharon, oh god, please, may I fucking come? I need to come so fucking hard. Please let me come, please, I’m begging you—”
“Bite my neck again if you really mean it,” I growl. “Hard.”
She sinks her teeth in, wailing with need into my neck.
“Now,” I roar before suckling her teat mercilessly.
She screams, teeth still locked hard on my neck and arms clenched in a vise around my head. And she rocks like a wildcat in my lap. My own pleasure, fuck, I’m barely holding it back. I can feel it there, like a tide behind a dam—
“Kharon!” she cries, and then her body starts to shudder and quake as her wetness, along with her scent, releases in a flood.
I’m consumed and can no longer keep control. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be inside her. Even being squeezed against her drenched center has me at the edge, about to go over.
I have only erupted a handful of times throughout my life, and never like this, never so hard or with such intensity. The pleasure feels like a lightning strike at the base of my spine, and then it is pulsing out of my cock, one pulse, another, and then on and on, and on—
She continues to hold and ride me as my own pleasure releases, her high-pitch scream of release like a train whistle.
Finally, she collapses against me, arms loose around my head. I hold her—a little less frantically now—kissing her sweet teats until she squirms, and I let her go.
I’m met with sweet laughter. “Well, now we’ll have to clean you up all over again.”
She points down, and I see that I am now covered in my gush. My cock, gone a little soft after its release, immediately perks back up at the thought. Which, naturally, she sees and laughs at.
“Maybe after dinner,” she says.
But I can only grin because she did not say no to it happening again.
I leap to my feet. “You stay still. I will clean you now.”
And I set about doing just that and preparing a dinner fit for a queen. Well, a queen ready to eat what rations we have in our pack.