Dance of the Crystal (21 page)

A fist punched into Soren’s gut. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“And I believe it’s my deal,” she said with a great deal of aplomb, considering.

“You dealt last hand.”

“Sorry, didn’t I tell you? Loser gets to deal the next hand.” Ignoring his raised eyebrow, she removed the bottom three cards from each, taking both his aces and leaving her king. Then dealt him a pair of treys and herself a pair of fours.

“I win,” she said matter-of-factly. “I want you to come here and kiss me. Mouth only, no hands, no other touching. Soft and sweet and melting.”

“The woman knows what she wants.” He stood and bent over her as she lifted her face to him. “My pleasure.”

But he bent down past her face, his mouth landing softly on her right breast.

“No, I meant kiss my mouth!” She lifted her hand to push away his head.

Ignoring her protests, he captured the nipple between his lips, softly running his mouth back and forth over the dusky rose tip that hardened under his gentle onslaught. It was exquisite torture to keep his tongue behind his teeth, but he complied with the letter of her request to be sweet and melting and mouth-only until he felt his cock pressing against his jeans.

“Okay, enough,” she gasped, and he allowed her desultory shove to move him backwards.

“It’s my deal,” he said as he sat back down in his seat.

He dealt himself a pair of queens, but when he counted the hearts in her hand, he held his breath to see how much she knew about poker.

“I believe that’s called a flush.” She smiled sweetly at him. “I would like you to remove your jeans.”

He threw her a look of mock horror. “I can’t do that, I still have my shoes and socks on.”

A shrug. “Whatever you have to do to comply with my request.”

Again he stood then toed off his boots. With great deliberation he unsnapped the waistband. It gave him a tickle of satisfaction to see her tongue creep out and lick her lower lip as she watched him gently work the zipper down past his hard cock and slough off the denim.

Jeez, if she kept looking at the way the ridge of his cock poked at the silk of his boxers, she’d get more than—

“Okay, it’s your deal,” she said, suddenly prim.

Soren tamped down a smile. She was not unaffected for all her posed nonchalance.

His pair of jacks was bested by her three sixes. “See that tray with the bottles?” she said. “Please pour after-dinner drinks for us. I’d like a Kahlua, and I think you should have a cognac, since you mentioned it before.”

Deliberately he brushed his silk-imprisoned cock across her upper arm as he followed her directive. On his way back, he leaned over her naked shoulder, pressing his cock—which by now had found the opening and poked its head out—into her warm skin, and placed her tiny glass in front of her. Then sat down, as nonchalant as she. Sheer pretense, he thought, for them both. He lifted his glass in silent toast then sipped.

She wet her lips against the coffee-flavored liqueur then dealt. This time neither of them had a good hand. Both had king-high. But he had a queen and her next highest card was only a ten.

Giving her a predatory smile, he said, “I request that you come here and sheathe my cock with your sweet pussy.”

Her eyes widened. “I can’t do that, you have to ask for…”

He could see the wheels of her mind saying,
I made him take off his jeans while he still had shoes on,
so he had to take off his shoes. So now I have to take off my tights in order to—

His cock took a leap upward at the thought.

“Soren Thorvald, you’re evil,” she said as she shimmied out of her tights, her naked breasts jiggling provocatively as she moved. She came around to him and made as if to put her leg across his lap.

“Uh-uh, you’re still wearing panties.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said smugly. “I can still follow your directive.” Pulling the crotch of her cotton panties to one side, she positioned herself so those glorious tits of hers brushed against his face then reached down and put her fingers around his cock. He damn near jumped out of his chair.

“Steady,” she murmured. “I’m just trying to make sure I aim right.”

Then she slid slowly down his shaft until he was buried right up to the hilt, and he cursed the fact that he still wore those damn boxers. He wanted to feel her sweet skin on his, pubic hair against pubic hair, her thighs rubbing against his hips instead of having the silk between them.

She rested her entire weight on the point of contact and looked him in the eye. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d placed his hands on her hips.

“Sorry, Soren, but you didn’t say anything about anything except sheathing your cock with…my sweet pussy, I believe were your words.”

She rocked her hips back and forth with precise movements, lifted herself and sank down onto his hard cock a few times, then lifted herself all the way to her feet and strolled back to her chair, readjusting the crotch of those damned panties before she sat. “My deal,” she said, her breath coming just a little too fast.

Soren couldn’t help it. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. It was much too hot in here. In fact, he could feel sweat on his forehead. He pulled up the tail of his blue shirt and wiped his face.

“Whose deal is it?”

He smiled at her question. Having declared it was her deal just a minute ago, she was obviously as addled as he was, and it served her right. It was a damnably devilish game, and she was enjoying every inch…er, every second of it.

The hell with it. He couldn’t remember either, so he simply nudged the pack toward her. “Yours.”

Nipping her lower lip with her teeth, Crystal concentrated on the cards she’d exposed. Her own read four-five-six-seven—rats, she needed one more for a straight. She had nothing. She wanted the opportunity to get those navy blue boxer shorts off so she could see the full glory of his cock, to see how long they could restrain themselves, but he seemed to have better luck. He had a pair of eights.

She raised her lashes halfway, so he wouldn’t see how eager she was to hear his next “request”. “You win again.”

“This time,” he stood as he spoke, “I want to pour my cognac on your slit and lap it up without those panties you’re wearing, so they don’t get wet or in my way. I suggest you lie on your back, knees up, legs spread apart so I can access the spot.” He ripped his shirt off, buttons popping, and pulled it off his shoulders, folding it into a kind of pillow. “And your sweet ass will lie on this so I won’t make a spot on the carpet when I pour.”

He set down the “pillow” on the rug in the living room—he was enough of a gentleman to want her to be more comfortable than lying naked on the kitchen floor—and shucked off his socks. “Well? I’m waiting to collect my winnings.”

Crystal’s throat went dry. He stood like a colossus, one hand around the snifter to warm the cognac, feet spread apart, his magnificent cock thrusting thick and heavy through the opening in his boxers, tantalizing her even more than if he’d been entirely nude. She grabbed for her Kahlua and upended the liquid into her mouth, swirling it around with her tongue to moisten her inner cheeks, her tongue.

Then with thumbs in the elastic, she slid her cotton panties to the floor and stepped out. She took a deep breath, her breasts thrusting out, walked to his folded shirt, and sat down on it gracefully, knees together.

Swallowed hard. Watched his cock twitch and jump as he stood otherwise motionless. Leaned back on her elbows until her back rested on the carpet.

“Keep going,” he growled.

This was the hard part. Even though she knew he’d seen her most intimate areas close up, she was expected to deliberately expose herself to him in a decision of free will rather than in the heat of the moment.

The crystal nestling between her breasts heated, infusing her with warmth. This was Soren. Her Soren.

The One. Allowing her love to shine in her eyes, she slid her feet apart just to the point of discomfort.

Soren sank to his knees between them with a reverent curse. His hand trembled as he lifted the snifter and dribbled a few drops on the slit that she knew was already well moistened. He bent forward and worshipped her with his tongue, lapping, sucking, nibbling on her labia with his teeth.

She lifted her hips to his face, encouraging him. He poured a few more drops, suckled with more force, his tongue delving into her vagina with long, slow thrusts. Exposing the hard bud of her clit with his fingers, he took a sip of the aged brandy and bent down to bathe the sensitive nubbin with the fiery liquid and his hot mouth.

All thoughts of games, of cards, fled. Crystal’s every synapse zeroed in on him, on his talented mouth, his strong hands now lifting her bottom to him, on the exquisite sensations spiraling higher and higher, tighter and tighter inside her, until she grabbed handfuls of his hair and repeated his name over and over until she was breathless and gasping and rocking and, finally, mindless with the spasms washing throughout her limp and boneless body.

She gave a soft protest when he slid his hands away from her hips, but dammit, he had to in order to reach his jeans and the condoms he’d stowed in his pocket. Stripping the damn shorts off, he ripped open the foil and covered himself with no wasted motion, then plunged hard and deep into her sweet pussy, which, thank you God, was still convulsing as it welcomed him into her delectable softness.

Take it slow, make it last, he told himself, but she had already wrapped her legs around his waist, her eyes open and devouring him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, encouraging him to go faster, harder, deeper, and he did. Oh God, he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get enough of this woman who’d gotten under his skin and had come to mean so much to him.

“Stop!” He couldn’t believe he said that. But… “This way. I’ve got to get in deeper.”

He pulled out, flipped her unceremoniously onto her belly, then raised her hips and plunged into her again from behind. “Yes! Dear God, yes!” He felt himself getting even harder, if that was possible, felt his cock reach deep inside, touching her very soul as he hammered into her, his balls tight against his cock, and slapping into the straining curve of her ass cheeks with every stroke. Her juices flowed with every outstroke, coating him and running down her legs, her pungent fragrance imprinting itself into his DNA.

Seeing his engorged cock slide in and out of her pussy drove him into even more of a frenzy. His! She was his, he was her first and, he swore, the only man she would ever fuck. He could hear her throaty moans, encouraging him, asking, begging him for more. And more he’d give her, until he’d given her everything he had.

He reached around her hip and found her clit, that hard, responsive bud that had blossomed under his mouth, and pinched it, squeezed it until she cried for more, harder, and he wished he had four hands, two cocks, to give her everything she wanted all at the same time, her mouth, her nipples, her cunt, clit, asshole, every orifice filled with him, only him, until—

“Aaaaghhh!” He grabbed her hips in one final death grip and shot his cum in spurt after ragged spurt into her, convulsively pumping, bruising her with the force of his orgasm, until he half collapsed onto her back, his arms coming around her belly in a loose embrace, only vaguely aware that her own tension had subsided. Wryly he realized that his own climax had been so intense, he hadn’t known, hadn’t felt hers.

Still imbedded, half-hard, in her, he contrived to get both of them onto the floor on their sides, his arm under her neck for a pillow of sorts, his body making a protective arc around her. His free hand lazily followed the contour of her waist, hip, thigh, and back up again, feeling the sheen of sweat under his fingertips. He couldn’t stop touching her.

After what seemed like a long time, she leaned back into him. “Did you get the license plate of that steamroller?”

He barked out a laugh at the unexpected humor. “You bet. It was S-O-R-E-N-1.”

She turned her head to capture his gaze. “Yes. You are. Number one.”

“You’d better make that ‘One And Only’,” he growled.

“Mmm. Sounds good to me.” She made a move to turn around to him.

“Wait. Hold on. Let me get this first.” Belatedly he realized he’d shot so much cum that millions of sperm were probably holed up in the condom and he’d better be damned careful with this one-of-a-kind woman.

He eased everything out. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

* * * * *

“Trey! I thought you were out of town.” Rowena tucked the receiver of her portable phone between her ear and shoulder as she relaxed back onto a poolside lounge chair and watched the last feeble shades of mauve and midnight fade to the darkness of night.

“Came back early.”

“Everything go all right?”

“I think I made a favorable impression. If all goes well, he’ll be a lucrative client.”

“Congratulations.”

“So, that puts me in a mood to celebrate. Want to shoot up to the cabin tomorrow morning? We could spend a week there, looking for wildflowers in the woods.”

Rowena chuckled. For months Courtland A. Quillan the Third had been making oblique references to getting her into his bed, and she’d played along. The man was almost twenty year her junior, but age had never stopped her from enjoying a man’s body before. She just wondered if his son Augie’s remark about going after her fortune held any validity.

Still, there was no harm in sampling. Her fortune, her will, her trust fund for Crystal, were protected with all kinds of checks and balances. If he was inaugurating a campaign to separate her from her money, she might as well enjoy the perks. He was easy to look at, kept in shape, and knew his wines and his cuisine.

And hell, he
was
a member of the Platinum Club. It could be a fun week.

“Will there still be snow in the Poconos?” It was the end of April, but in higher elevations, who knew?

“Maybe on the ski slopes, but the cabin has a southern exposure. You won’t need thermal underwear, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Rowena hesitated. She wanted to be close by if Crystal suddenly got cold feet, even though she and Soren seemed to be making progress. But maybe they didn’t need any further impetus to come to the conclusion that they were meant for each other.