Page 9 of Hotter on Ice

“I know.” She could see he needed that reassurance that she would speak up if she wanted to stop, and he relaxed a little under her touch, his smile slowly returning. But stopping wasn’t her worry at all. It was that she really, really liked this—his size, the way he was with her, everything—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know why. But that didn’t have to figure into kissing him.

Henning slipped his hands around her waist and cupped her ass, bringing her up against him, closer, until she brushed against the enormous bulge in his pants. His eyes were heavy with humor and lust. Right now, Henning was worlds away from the hard, impassive bodyguard who had traveled next to her all day. For all his big body and muscles, he was...gentle with her. There was no other word for it.

...you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Alya swallowed. He was talking about the kiss, not making some larger declaration. This was sexy fun, just what she had wanted. And she wasn’t going to taint it with her past hang-ups. So she pushed all of those ideas out of her mind, and focused on the stunning man in front of her. The man whose heavy cock was currently pressing against her.

“So you want this kind of kiss?” he asked, smiling.

She nodded and moved up and down against his erection, using it to stroke her clit. He flexed his hips and ground against her, sending more sparks of pleasure through her. He did it again, rubbing his cock in every sensitive place, making her moan and shudder.

“Yes,” she said, a little breathless. “This is definitely the kind of kiss I want.”

He flexed his hips again, and her eyes rolled back as another wave of pleasure coursed through her.Oh, yes.

Henning looked like he was enjoying this slow, hot grind just as much as she was, but after hearing about his five-year kissing dry spell, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was also distracting her. If it was easier to give her his cock than his mouth.

“Henning?” she whispered.

“Mmm?”

“I want to kiss.”

He stilled under her, his fingers tense. Then he nodded. “I do, too.”

His gaze was dark, unreadable. She lifted her hands to his face, and, gently, she cupped his jaw. He closed his eyes as her fingers met his skin. Slowly she ran her thumb over one of the ropy scars by his mouth. A rumble came from deep inside him.

“How does this feel?”

He paused, his breath uneven. “Intense.”

“Does it hurt?”

Henning gave a raspy laugh. “Hell, no. Very much the opposite.”

“Good.” Alya smiled. “Ready?”

He nodded. Alya leaned forward, resting her hands against his biceps. She waited there, looking for hesitation. There was tension, so much tension, as they waited there on the edge of this precipice. But he gave her a little nod, willing to jump. So she brushed her lips against his, testing. His cock throbbed against her, and the muscles of his arms hardened under her fingers. She tested again. His lips felt...different. A good different. She stayed there, not moving, breathing in his warm scent, getting used to this new tentative exploration. Letting him get used to her. More breaths, each uneven rasp stoking heat inside her. She pressed her mouth more firmly against his, and this time he responded. He parted his lips and tasted her. Every brush of his lips, every swipe of his tongue was achingly slow.

Alya tilted her head, learning how their mouths fit together, learning what made him groan. His hands tightened around her, and she slid her fingers along his jaw, the heaviness of each scar line weighing under her hand.

And then something flipped. It was as if he finally let the pent-up want from those five years loose. His kisses turned greedy, and a growl escaped from his chest as he nipped at her lips and sucked on her tongue. All the softness from before was fading, and God, how she loved this new, hungrier side. She moved, letting the stiff, thick ridge of his cock drag along her core, and he responded, tilting his hips, giving them both that exquisite friction. Sighs. Moans. Wordless pleas from her lips for more. Her body was on fire, the pressure building inside as his cock moved against her clit. She kissed the scarred corner of his mouth, his jaw, finding the rough lines, the smooth lines, the stubble. She wanted all of it.

“Fuck, you turn me on.” His whisper rasped in her ear. “I want to make you feel good. Can you come like this?”

Alya hadn’t thought that far, but now that he mentioned it... “I think so.”

“Good.” His teeth scraped her neck. “Hang on tight.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes. Damn, just the muscles of his shoulders were enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her. Then, he began lifting her up and down in a slow, steady rhythm that was...oh, God, it was exactly what she wanted.

“Like this?” he whispered. “Does this feel good?”

His voice was a rasp in her ear, a low, rough invitation.

“Yes, Henning,” she moaned, her head dropping to his neck as the pleasure built.

The moment his name left her lips, a new rumble came from deep in his chest. Then another. Sounds of raw, insatiable hunger, of contrasts, pleasure and pain, want and fear. And need. So much need. His voice called to something buried inside her, uncovering it. New desires bubbled, still not fully formed. The aching sound grew louder, but it was her own moan that filled the car. She was right there on the edge of coming as he thrusted his hips harder. She searched for his mouth again. The kiss was rough, each aching stroke of his tongue matching the thrust of his cock against her.