“Yessss . . .” Hissing the word, he caught her hand, pulling it gently from his flesh. “Enough, woman,” Kiers growled, tugging her down beside him. “Or I’ll spill all over your fingers before you even have a clue what you’re doing to me. That liquid is a warning sign I’m getting close to the crux of my pleasure, and you’re not ready for that.”
Vee eyed him. “Why should we stop? Why can’t I see this crux of yours? I’ve never seen one in person before, just heard rumors about them, so I’d think I’m ready to know by now.”
He shook his head slightly in disbelief. “You’re going to be the death of me . . .” Releasing her hands, he cupped her hip, then stroked his palm over her belly, thinking. Finally, he nodded, making up his mind. “Right. Tomorrow, a nice hot bath for each of us, and tomorrow evening, full-on intercourse. But for tonight, we’ll use just our hands, and maybe our lips. I don’t even know if you’ve had a crux of your own yet . . . so we’ll just start with the basics and work our way up from there, yes?”
That made sense, so she nodded. “Right. And since you’re close to your, erm, crux . . .” Vee frowned. “I thought that was called a climax, or an orgrism? Is that the same thing as a crux?”
Kiers choked, coughed, and tried not to grin. From the chiding look she gave him, he hadn’t succeeded in covering up his mirth. “Orgasm, not orgrism. They’re all the same thing. You can also call it the peak of pleasure. There are plenty of ways to discuss it, just as there are plenty of ways to go about it, because people have been doing it since time began. Even the ancients had a term for it.”
“Oh? What did they call it?” she asked, curious.
“The little death,” he told her, smirking.
She blinked, thinking back to just a few days ago. “Ohhh . . . So when that one archaic treatise was talking about a machine of the ancients that could inspire a little death in women, it wasn’t talking about actual death.”
“No, but rather of giving a climax to a woman, yes,” he agreed, grinning.
Embarrassment warred with amusement. The giggles won. Covering her mouth, Vee chortled. “No wonder you kept blushing every time I wondered aloud why anyone would want to build a machine that could kill a woman and bring her back to life again and again!”
He leaned forward, removed her fingers from her mouth, and kissed her. He couldn’t help it; she was just too appealing in her mirth. The eager way she returned his kiss made his body ache for more. Their limbs entwined, soft-worn cotton sliding against skin, until both were clutching and breathing heavily between each nip and lick.
Dragging his mind back up from the ache in his loins, Kiers broke their kisses. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, stroking back the fine wisps of her ash blond hair, then asked, “Choose. Which do you want to experiment with first? Your crux, or mine?”
CHAPTER THREE
Vee bit her lip. All this kissing and touching and twining had awakened a hunger within her. As much as she wanted to know what sating it would feel like, she was still very curious about his reactions. “Yours,” she finally said, sliding her hand from the small of his back. She gently worked it between their bellies, seeking his hardened rod. “I want to see yours.”
Light and Life, she’ll be the death of me . . . the little death, he thought, amused. Still, a gentleman didn’t argue with a lady’s requests when it came to pleasure, and he wasn’t inclined to start. Scooting fully onto the bed, Kiers lay back somewhere near the middle with his head and shoulders on the pile of pillows, and nodded at his torso. “Begin by caressing me, then. All over. Have fun looking for my erogenous spots.”
“Oh, is it supposed to be a treasure hunt, then?” Pushing up onto her elbow, Vielle eyed his muscular body.
“Absolutely,” he agreed, tucking his hands behind his head. “Search away.”
Mischief prompted her to do it. Without any warning other than a flash of a grin, she tickled his armpits. He yelped and jumped, elbows clamping down against his sides. Delighted in his reaction, Vee giggled and trailed her fingers down over his stomach. His muscles tightened under her touch, but he didn’t squirm again until her fingernails ever so lightly scraped the crease between his hip and his thigh.
Not only did he squirm and bat at her hands, his shaft bobbed and twitched, turning a deeper shade of pink at the tip. As curious as she was about it, Vee merely noted the reaction and moved on down his legs. His inner thighs provoked a choked laugh out of the man, and the backs of his knees made him twitch his legs up and out of her grasp. But it was his feet that drew the most interesting responses.
Instead of laughing when she stroked them lightly with her fingertips, he moaned. She did it again, glancing up the length of his frame. His shaft twitched and bobbed as he moaned again, looking thicker and taller where it jutted up from his hips. And when she did it a third time, tickling both feet simultaneously, he groaned loudly, head and shoulders pressing back into the feather-stuffed pillows.
A bead of moisture welled up at the tip of his manhood, clinging to the little slit that had produced it. Experimentally, she stroked both feet again. Kiereseth grabbed a pillow and smacked it over his face, muffling what sounded like a tortured string of curses, but he didn’t ask her to stop. Nor did she. Swirling, tickling, even letting her nails lightly scrape, all of it seemed to bring him great pleasure. That bead became a trickle, a pulsing trail of liquid, visible pleasure.
Scooting up on the bed, Vee tried to reach for his shaft and his feet at the same time. The position wasn’t going to be easy. Debating a moment, she pushed on his right thigh, bending his knee outward and pulling his ankle up high, then did the same with his left leg, making him look sort of like a belly-up frog. That allowed her to kneel at his side and grasp his shaft, stroking it with one hand and the soles and toes of his feet with the other.
Face buried in the pillow, Kiers complied with the bending of his limbs. Even when it made him tense and groan and feel like he should scream if she didn’t stop, it was that arousing, he complied. At least, until he couldn’t get enough air. Shoving the pillow aside, he panted heavily, struggling to get enough wind to speak.
“You . . . stop the feet,” he gasped, and gestured vaguely with one hand. “That only arouses . . . to madness. Stroke me to . . . to completion . . . please.”
He did look a bit tortured. Taking pity on him, Vee switched her attention fully to his shaft and the sac at the base. Courier self-defense classes had taught her that the spheres inside were vulnerable to being handled roughly or given harsh blows, but that was information meant for an attacker, not a lover. Instead, she touched them lightly. That made him groan and clutch at the patchwork quilt.
His hips moved, pushing his flesh up against her exploring fingers. That smeared the liquid against them. Vee wasn’t an engineer, but she had heard explanations about pistons and cogs and gears from acquaintances who were, and how all those moving parts needed lubrication. The slick feel of it was her clue to its purpose. Swirling her fingers and palm through the sticky liquid, she coated his manhood and continued to stroke.
The pillow flopped back over his face, muffling several more ungentlemanly curses. Where she got that brilliant idea, the ex-prince didn’t know, but Kiers did know if she stopped, he’d shoot himself. Somehow. Surely there was a rifle or a pistol in a hunter’s cabin? Oh Light and Life spare me, she’s doing it again . . .