Dance of the Crystal (28 page)

After their first dance as husband and wife, other guests joined them. To Crystal’s happy surprise, Soren took her arm and led her to a corner of the portable dance floor, where he pressed her tight to the bulge growing in his trousers and shuffled his feet more or less in time to the slow beat of “The Twelfth of Never”.

“How long do we have to stay?” he whispered in her ear as the music shifted to a bouncy tune. “I won’t be able to walk in a minute.”

“Until they cut the cake,” she replied solemnly. “Don’t forget, you’re the best man.”

A twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.” She returned his smile, knowing the lust in her eyes matched what she saw in his.

Finally, finally, the bride and groom ran the gantlet to the waiting limo amid the flinging of rice and rose petals.

“Follow my lead,” Crystal murmured into Soren’s ear as they and three-dozen other well-wishers on the wraparound porch waved goodbye to the departing newlyweds.

She backed up, still waving, then slipped into the house and darted through the foyer to a closed door over whose knob hung a discreet sign which read, “No entry.” Like a naughty child she opened the door, snuck inside a darkened hallway, pulled Soren behind her, and shut the world out.

“This leads to the backstairs,” she whispered. “C’mon. Hurry. Before somebody gets nosy and starts exploring the house now that the main attraction’s over.”

Crystal raced up the steps, Soren close on her heels, and led him to her childhood bedroom. As soon as he entered, she closed and locked the door behind him, breathless and giggling. “I haven’t run up those steps in years! Do you know how many there are?”

“Only one,” he responded quietly, trapping her between his body and the door.

“Oh.” Suddenly Crystal felt a different kind of breathlessness as he brought her hands to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers.

“Soren.” His name was a sigh. He hovered over her, his mouth inches from hers.

“Kiss me, Soren. I promise, nobody will see your boner but me.”

A half-smile on his face, he took a step back, placed his hands on her waist to restrain her. “What makes you think I have a boner?”

“Darn it, you’d better!” She tried to pull him closer, but he held her at arm’s length. “Don’t tease me. I don’t just want you. I
need
you.” She blinked hard, trying to hold back the sudden pinch of tears. “I need you to make me forget all the horrible memories. To make me totally yours.”

Soren’s smile disappeared. Killing was too easy, too quick for that bastard after what he’d done to Crystal. But he couldn’t dwell on vengeance, on how he wished he had kicked the shit out of him with his steel-toed boots when the bastard was down and bleeding. He had to clear his own mind in order to help ease the trauma of Crystal’s ordeal.

Restraining the urge to toss her onto the bed and fuck her blind, he lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers, a soft sweep of his lips across hers, the merest brush of his tongue into her moist, welcoming depths. He dropped angel-soft kisses on her eyelids, her cheeks, earlobes, covering every inch of her face with his mouth.

“More,” she murmured, applying a surprising amount of pressure to bring her body into more intimate contact with his.

Soren easily resisted. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Just stand still. How does this toga thing come undone?”

With a hitch in her voice, she said, “Side zipper. Then the shoulder just slides off.”

Soren made a big production of smoothing his hands up and down her sides, brushing the edges of her breasts with his thumbs, searching for the opening. “Ah, there it is.” He bent forward, his warm breath sliding across her left breast, and pulled down the zipper.

She shivered, but stayed immobile.

The peach-colored fluff slithered down her lush body. Soren felt poleaxed. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you,” he murmured in a hoarse voice. He skimmed his fingers along the lacy edges of her strapless bra, feeling the plump softness of her flesh, then followed the same path with his tongue. Holy hell, if she could feel his boner now, he’d probably scare her away. He ached with needing her, from his painfully tight balls all the way up to his eyeteeth, but he had to do this for her. To wash away the pain, the horror.

He knelt before her, kissing and licking his way down her ribcage, her waist. Dipped his tongue into her navel. Nibbled a path down to her bikini panties, all the while stroking his fingers along her skin, around her hips, circling behind to her butt cheeks, the backs of her thighs—she reacted particularly well to that—then down her calves to the tips of her flimsy, strappy heels.

Then he stepped back and simply admired. She was everything a man could want. And she was his.

Only his. He vowed to protect her with his life. For the rest of his life.

Crystal’s eyes had drifted shut during Soren’s sensual assault. He had turned her into a blazing-hot, quivering mass of want. When she felt the loss of his hands, of his mouth on her skin, she blinked her eyes open. And saw him remove his tux jacket then yank off his bow tie and undo the first two studs.

She licked her lips. He was gorgeous, with his burning blue eyes and mussed blond hair and square jaw, a Norse god come to life. And he was hers. Only hers.

She wanted to jump him, to feel the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the floor, the wall—anything, as long as it was his body. But she stayed immobile, trembling with need, her pussy weeping into her bikini panties, her breasts heavy and swollen, aching for his mouth.

And then she couldn’t stand still anymore. She took three quick, wobbly steps to reach him and ripped his shirt open, scattering the studs and hearing them ping against the sunflower-papered walls. She scrabbled for the hooks holding his blue cummerbund closed and tossed that aside.

Matching her eagerness, Soren toed off his patent leather shoes, unbuttoned the pants and shucked them down his legs.

Crystal let out a little cry of delight at the sight of his tented boxer shorts. She launched herself at him. He fell backwards onto the bed—feet still trapped in the puddle of his trousers—and his arms came possessively around her.

Oh God, at last. She fell onto his bare chest and began kissing him anywhere she could reach, nipping his skin with her teeth, rubbing her cheek along the rough mat of his chest hair, grinding her pussy into his hip where she happened to land. They were half on, half off the mattress, they were half dressed and tangled, but it didn’t matter. They were touching, skin to skin. He fumbled for the back clasp of her bra, and she levered up enough for him to yank the garment out from between them.

Then he pulled her up so her breast was in his mouth and he was sucking it, pulling on it, teeth clamping around her nipple and making her squirm and moan and demand more. His big hands cupped her butt cheeks and repositioned her so her pussy landed square on his cock, which felt heavenly, huge and pulsating. Vaguely she thought it wouldn’t do, to have two layers of underwear between them, and he must have read her mind because he pushed her to one side and yanked down his boxers just enough to let that big, luscious cock with its purple head and thick veins spring free and point to the ceiling. She scrambled to straddle his hips, pulled the crotch of her panties to one side and, guiding him with one hand around his thick shaft, impaled herself on him in one swift movement.

Need, need, need, was all she could think. She rocked her hips, rode him greedily until they were both giving and taking, thrusting and clenching, gasping and clinging, and—condoms be damned—she wanted him to come inside her, with nothing between them, but she got there first and exploded all around him, tightening and squeezing him, milking his cock with her spasms that went on and on until she collapsed onto his chest and tried to remember how to breathe.

Then realized he was hard and motionless inside her.

Raising herself onto her elbows, she looked into his eyes, which were squeezed shut. “Soren, you didn’t—”

“Christ, woman,” he said around clenched teeth, “do you have any idea how hard it was for me to keep from shooting into you? I counted backward from nine hundred ninety nine.”

“But I wanted…”

He kissed away the rest of her words. “I know. But
I
wanted the first one to be about you, not about me.” He rolled her off him and onto her side on the mattress then stood up. “Besides, I don’t like to come wearing my socks.”

A laugh erupted from deep inside Crystal. Here she was, lounging like an odalisque wearing bikini panties, diamond ear studs and stilettos, while Soren stood with his back to her, the elastic of his boxers halfway down his tight butt, jiggling one foot then the other to release the trousers of his tux from its tangle around his feet. He ripped off his boxers and black socks then turned to stand magnificently nude before her, his cock rampant and glistening from her juices.

“Come here,” she murmured, her gaze turning hungry as she watched his cock swell even further.

“Just try and keep me away.” He knelt on the mattress, dipping it to one side, then nudged her legs apart to settle between her thighs. “I’m planning to brand every inch of you with my hands and my mouth.”

Tucking his big hands under her ass cheeks, he growled, “Wrap your legs around my neck.”

She did. He dipped his head and began to lap at the swollen pink folds of her pussy, setting a slow, thorough pace, tasting, teasing, skirting the hard bud that most needed his attention. When he thrust his tongue into her pussy, she moaned.

He stopped, raised his head to look down the expanse of her skin to capture her brown-eyed gaze with his intense blue one. “Did I hurt you? Should I stop?”

“No, darn you, don’t you dare!”

With a chuckle, he returned his attention to her weeping slit. “You’re so wet, it’s dribbling down your thighs. I think you’re crying because I missed a spot.” And he touched his tongue to the hard nub of her clit.

Her hips jerked up off the mattress and she cried out his name. “Yes, right there, please, please,” she sobbed, grabbing handfuls of his hair to press his mouth closer to the spot that drove her wild.

Then there was no more talk. Soren nibbled and sucked, rubbed her clit alternately with his tongue and thumb while stroking two fingers in and out of her pussy. Crystal slid her legs off his shoulders and jabbed her heels into the mattress, gaining leverage to buck her hips against his mouth. With an incoherent cry she climaxed again, straining against him for more, more, more, and he obliged her by sucking and licking until the unintelligible sounds of her orgasm softened into the mewling of a contented kitten and she felt herself relaxing, boneless, onto the mattress.

From some deep, faraway place of contentment, she felt herself being gently rolled to her left side. She murmured sounds of pleasure and repletion, wondering if she’d ever have the energy to repay him in kind.

Apparently he wasn’t done yet. Crystal smiled dreamily. His fingers were drawing swirls across her back, her shoulders. His mouth traced every vertebra as he made his way down her spine, all the way to her tailbone and the start of her crack. Some tiny, uninvolved sliver of her mind briefly wondered how this huge Viking of a man could make himself small enough to fit on a corner her small bed as he worked his way down her body. Then she gave a mental “who cares” shrug and concentrated on the delicious feelings he was evoking in her.

She felt her right leg being positioned so her bent knee was raised halfway to her chest, exposing her slit and her anal opening to his view. His fingers traced along the crease on either side of her anus, sending shivers up and down her spine. He dipped a finger into her pussy with its residue of juices then moved the moistened finger back up to her anus, teasing it, pressing against the entrance.

Every inch, Soren had said. She’d told him of Healy’s vicious assault with the loofah sponges into her every orifice, and it was obvious to her that Soren meant just that—every inch. Smiling, Crystal arched her back, tacitly giving him permission to explore. She consciously relaxed her sphincter muscle, welcoming his searching finger as he tentatively pushed inside.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only when you stop,” she murmured.

Emboldened, Soren thrust harder, each time penetrating a little deeper. Crystal pressed her sweet ass into his hand, encouraging him. Soon his index finger was seated to the hilt. He slid two fingers of his other hand into her wet pussy and with both hands delved rhythmically into her tight channels.

“You need more,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers. “
I
need more.” He was hard as a Samurai sword and his balls ached like they were clamped in a vise.

He grabbed Crystal by the hips, raised her to her hands and knees then nudged her thighs apart and placed himself between them. With as much restraint as he could muster, he slipped his throbbing cock into her wet pussy. And groaned. It felt like he’d come home.

Bending over her torso, he reached around to cup her breasts, hanging full and loose and lush. He rolled her rock-hard nipples between his fingers and thumbs, causing her to wiggle and mewl. Her reaction was enough to start him humping. He withdrew almost all the way out of her pussy then thrust, hard, feeling her breasts jiggle in his hands.

Soren set up a steady rhythm, stroking her pussy, feeling Crystal’s inner muscles clenching him. He slid one hand down to her clit and rubbed it. He brought his other hand to her sweet asshole and thrust in and out of it with the same cadence as his cock was fucking her pussy.

“Yes,” she murmured. “More!”

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I want you.
All
of you!”

“You have me, sweetheart. I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”

But not in here, he thought, realizing he’d never put on a condom. He’d love to shoot deep into her, to make her pregnant with his child, but that was something they hadn’t discussed—yet. Maybe tomorrow, after he’d satisfied himself and her from this overwhelming need to be with her, in her, around her.