“Mister Kiers!” Vee spluttered, blushing brightly. Her chemise wasn’t all that thick, and his hands were disturbingly warm. Almost hot, in fact. The ticklish thrill of his fingers sliding over her modest curves made her feel like she was going to swoon. Air Couriers did not swoon. She was sure it was in the handbook somewhere.
“Yes, Miss Vielle?” He didn’t stop caressing her, and he didn’t stop smiling, either. He did, however, lift a brow at her. “Doesn’t this feel good?”
“Well . . . I . . . Yes, but . . .” She knew he had a point, and that this was the purpose for which they had come upstairs, but such a bold touch flustered her. Unable to think of anything better to do, Vee lifted her hands to his chest, popped free the last two buttons of his inner shirt, and pressed her palms to his chest. He hadn’t needed to wear an undershirt, so her hands met warm, bare flesh. “Well . . . take that, then! Anything you do to me, I shall do right back to you.”
She barely refrained from adding a childish, “So there!” to the end of that statement. She did raise her chin with a touch of defensiveness, though he didn’t notice. His eyes had closed at the first press of her skin against his flesh, and his head had dropped back. Even as she looked up at him, she felt his chest swell with a slow, deep breath, his expression lost in a level of sensuality he hadn’t displayed before now.
The subtle movement of that breath pressed his firm muscles against her hands. Instinct made her breathe deep, too, until she realized that pressed her breasts into his palms. Unnerving though it was, Vee decided she liked the little thrill that rippled through her body at that thought, so she did it again. Breathed deep, and let her breath escape on a sigh.
That soft, breathy sound undid him. Dipping his head down to hers, Kiers slid one arm behind her back, supporting her as he claimed her mouth in a kiss. His other hand continued to stroke her flesh through her chemise, cupping and kneading with more urgency. Neither of them had eaten a dessert, but she tasted sweet to him all the same. Her soft gasps, her untutored nips, the way she parted her lips, matching him as he deepened their kiss, enflamed his senses. Stronger than a bite of thonite, she went straight to his blood.
Vee did not know how they got onto the bed. One moment she was more or less on her feet, arched over his arm and kissing him back. The next, she was on her back in a mound of softness, struggling for pleasure-laden air as he kissed his way down to the lace-edged neckline of her chemise, tugging at the many tiny buttons sealing the placket.
Belatedly, she realized her fingers were clutching his shirt, trying to pull him closer. That wasn’t the right direction. Even she knew his shirt had to come off if they were to get any further. However, he wasn’t exactly cooperating; she could only push it down to his elbows at most. “Off . . . off!”
The demand cut through his haze of desire like snow down the back of one’s collar. Shuddering with the effort to restrain himself, Kiers shifted back from her. He gave her a confused look. “You don’t want . . . ?”
Vielle tugged on his shirt lapels. “Off!” she ordered, flapping the fabric in her hands. “Shirt off, now!”
“Oh! Yes. Of course. Right away,” he agreed. Squirming off the bed, he stood and stripped off his shirt, grinning. Standing made him aware of his feet, encased in the wool-lined slippers, and her feet in her borrowed woolly boots. Toeing out of the slippers and pulling off his socks, he unfastened his trousers, eager to get the impediments out of his way.
Pushing up on her elbows, Vee admired his chest, until he pulled off her footwear. Realizing his intent, she struggled off the soft-mounded bed and started stripping off layers as well. She got all the way down to her chemise and knee-length knickers before realizing he was now completely naked before her.
She’d seen drawings of naked bodies, the kind covertly passed around the girls’ dormitory, but the real thing was something else. For one, this was in full three-dimensional color, not a sketch in someone’s slightly tattered notebook. For another, she wasn’t just going to look at his manhood and maybe touch herself under the covers afterward; she was actually going to do things with it.
Vee wasn’t quite sure what all could be done with one of them, but the other girls in the dormitory had said that there was kissing and stroking as well as copulating. The possibilities intrigued her.
“See something interesting?” Kiereseth asked as she stared at his erection, her cheeks pink with excitement and an intrigued look gleaming in her blue gray eyes.
Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. “Why, yes. Yes, I do.” Swirling a finger in the direction of his genitals, she asked, “What . . . erm . . . what are the names for all of that?”
The question made him choke on a laugh. “The names for all of it?”
“Yes, the names,” Vee said. “Look, the girls passed around . . . pictures . . . in the Courier dorms, but we never actually knew the right names for things. We just made up stuff. So unless you want me to call it your ‘Winky Willy’, then I’d like to—oh, do stop laughing!”
He couldn’t help it. Great, gut-clenching guffaws escaped him, to the point where he had to sag onto the bed, then flop onto his back, he was so helpless from sheer laughter. In fact, he didn’t stop laughing until he felt her muslin-clad thighs straddle his naked ones and her cool fingers wrap around his hot shaft. That made him choke and gasp, panting for breath against the sharp spike of pleasure from her touch.
Merely wanting to get his attention, Vielle blinked at the sudden cessation of his mirth. The wide-eyed look he gave the peaked ceiling was dazed with wonder, and his tanned cheeks had flushed. The thing—obviously not called a Winky Willy, given his reaction—twitched in her grasp. She blinked, surprised, and squeezed it experimentally.
Kiers groaned. His hands flew down to his groin, wrapping gently around her fingers. Pressing them to his aching flesh, he guided her hand up and down, coaxing her into stroking him. “Y-Yessss,” he stammered. She squeezed a little as she stroked, dragging a groan out of him. “Light and Life! Oh Light, Vee. Oh, yesss . . .”
Amused, Vee realized this was the first time he hadn’t addressed her as Miss Vielle. Definitely not a formal moment, then, she decided, squeezing a third time. Finally, she had found a way to get past all that stuffy courtesy he practiced. And from the way he gasped and shuddered, fingers pressing in around hers, he wanted more of that on his . . . thing. She tried again, squeezing and stroking, feeling rather powerful at being able to reduce such a confident man to such a trembling state.
“So what is it called, then?” She flexed her grip in emphasis.
“Ah . . . manhood,” Kiers managed, thinking his way past the pleasure. “Or shaft, and rod, and . . . oh Light . . . When one is being crude, one calls it a prick,” he added quickly, breathlessly, as she rippled her fingers again. “Oh please don’t stop . . . please don’t . . .”
Vielle didn’t even consider it. She was too fascinated by his various reactions to such a simple-seeming thing as her hand on his . . . well, his rod. The word rod she could understand since it was shaped like one, and manhood was self-evident, but the other one? Stroking his flesh, she eyed it, then him as she worked. “Kiers . . . why is it called a prick?”
He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. She would demand that he think at a time like this. “. . . I don’t know! Probably because when a man th-thrusts into a woman, it’s like . . . like being pricked by a needle.”
Bemused, she shook her head. Her thumb stroked over the tip of his manhood, where a bead of thick, clear fluid had formed. “This doesn’t seem all that sharp to m . . . wait, it’s leaking. Is it supposed to leak?”