Chapter 12 #3
Zach quickly called the commander’s house and left a message for Madrene not to come tomorrow to babysit, that he’d made other plans. He figured it would be safer to have Wilson and Danny inside, with the two Vortex guys on the outside, for the time being.
He was down to his briefs, but decided to backtrack to the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and two glasses before heading to the bathroom...and paradise.
Britta was in the same position, lying back, asleep, in the tub which was surprisingly still full of bubbles. There was a frown on her face, though, and occasionally her body jerked as if she was dreaming about something unpleasant.
He opened the wine, poured some into the two glasses, and set them on a low stool near the tub. Then he shucked his briefs, dimmed the lights, and eased himself into the tub, behind Britta. “Move forward, honey,” he said, even as he extended his legs on either side of her hips.
“Nay. Desist, you maggot! Ahhhhh, nay, not Sister Efreda, and Sister Seraphina and...! You beasts! Such rape and carnage!” Water was splashing all over the place, against the wall, on the floor, in both their faces.
Britta had come awake, startled and disoriented in the tight grasp of his arms. She must think she was back in her country and time, not a pleasant place to be, apparently.
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
Once she settled down, he loosened his hold on her, and she turned slightly to peer at him over her shoulder. “What...where?”
“You fell asleep in the tub.”
“Oh.” She still frowned. “I had a horrific dream. But it was not really a dream. More like I was floating between two worlds. Being tugged in different directions. I was back at the nunnery where my father’s hird of soldiers were—”
“Shhh, it’s okay now.” He kissed her lightly on the lips.
Her eyes widened then. “What are you doing in this tub?”
“Joining you?”
“Why?”
He laughed and reached for the two glasses, handing her one. “Drink. It’ll relax you and make the bad dreams go away.”
She took several sips, sighed, then leaned back against his chest, seemingly unaware of his erection prodding at her butt and his one hand pressed against her belly.
He used his big toe to turn the hot water on to a slow trickle. Any excess would go out the top drain, thus preventing an overflow. They were swathed in steam and bubbles and a slow-building sexual lethargy which would soon turn to sexual frenzy. He hoped. He was already halfway there.
When she emptied her wine glass, he poured them both another.
“Methinks this wine is more potent than Sister Margaret’s mead,” she murmured. “It makes me feel strange. As if parts of me are melting away.”
“Your inhibitions?”
She made a small snorting sound. “Pfff! My inhibitions were lost with you on our first meeting.”
“I had you on hello, huh? Too bad I didn’t know that you trying to lop off my head was a form of foreplay.”
She slapped at his hand, the hand that was fondling her nipples.
Setting his wine glass down, he continued to use his left hand to tease her nipples, first one, then the other.
At the same time, he burrowed the fingers of his right hand into her hair on the one side, turning her into his kiss which was wide-mouthed and hungry.
He took her whole mouth in his, over and over, as if he were eating her whole, with his lips.
Then he used his lips to widen hers as far as they would go before tonguing her inside.
..up, down, around the roof and over her inner jaw.
His never-ending wet kiss allowed her no opportunity to reciprocate.
He was bruising, demanding, devouring in his intensity.
When she moaned into his mouth, he slowed down.
When she moved her hips on him, he realized that his erection was no longer prodding her butt. She was sitting on him, perfectly aligning his hard-on with her crack, back to front.
“I have an idea,” he whispered into her ear.
“More ideas? How many more ideas can one man have?” Her voice was thick and sultry, and he didn’t think it was because of the wine.
“Thousands,” he answered.
Raising them both up on their knees, he said, “Hold onto the two faucets with your hands and brace your arms.”
“Whaaat?”
Before she could guess what he was about, he entered her from behind and rose in one smooth sweep till he was standing. The only thing keeping her from falling into the water was her hands on the faucets and his hands on her hips.
She squealed and tried to flail her legs to dislodge him. “Are you barmy? Upside down swiving? Surely sane people do not do this.”
“Oh, yeah, they do. This is one of women’s favorite positions. Besides, you aren’t really upside down. You’re more like on an incline. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Inclined sex.”
“Put. Me. Down.”
“Not. A. Chance.”
“I feel ridiculous.”
“I don’t know. You look pretty good from this angle. And I can’t believe I’m capable of talking above a croak when I’m inside you, practically to your tonsils.”
She said some things to him in Old Norse, probably not flattery.
“Put your knees on my hips, sweetie. That’s the way.” He helped her adjust herself so that her inner knees pressed against his hips and her ankles crossed behind his ass. “Good thing we’ve been working you WEALS on upper arm strength this week. You could probably stay like this for hours.”
“I swear, you will pay for this, you lout.”
“Whatever you say, baby. By the way, do you know what the best thing is about this position? I get to do whatever I want with your body, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”
She was silent for a moment, digesting his words as she realized that she was in fact wide open to whatever he wanted to do. And there were lots of things he wanted to do. Where to start, where to start?
“And your point is?”
“I’m going to make you come, and come, and come.”
She groaned. “What have I done to deserve such punishment?”
“Not punishment. I’m putting my mark on you, baby. No matter what happens with us in the future, it’ll never be as good for you with another man. You’ll always remember this night and know we had something special.”
“And you? Mayhap I will spoil you for other women as well.”
“Sweetheart, that’s already a given.”
Then words became useless, except for one long whimper of ecstasy, on both their parts.
First he brought her to climax just by playing with her dangling breasts.
When her inner folds began to milk his cock, he immediately moved his hand to her clitoris, strumming it to full-blown, swollen attention.
Only then did he begin the long strokes which would bring them both to completion.
But he didn’t want that to happen too soon.
So, he strummed her inner folds till they were swollen and dripping against his fingers.
She began to cry out her orgasm...an orgasm that went on and on and on, stronger and stronger, as his strokes became shorter and harder, and his fingers became ruthlessly demanding.
He had no idea how many times she came before he was unable to hold back any longer. With the cords standing out against his arched neck, his hands on both her hips holding her in place, he bellowed out his coming, nipping at her shoulder like a wild stallion.
Afterward, he picked her up and sat back down in the tub, with her straddling his lap, her face in the crook of his neck, they were both panting, unable to speak.
Half the water from the tub was on the floor, but who the hell cared!
In that afterglow of good sex, he kept caressing her shoulders and back, rocking forward and backward, more in a soothing than sexual manner. He was murmuring. “Ohmigod. Ohmigod.”
When his pulse came down to about a thousand beats per minute, and his brain began to clear, he realized something important.
He’d forgotten to use a condom.