Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

made, too.
    He was hot against her palms, silky skin over steely flesh. What to do now? She squeezed gently. His hips bucked, thrusting his erection through her grip. His hand covered hers for a brief instant before his fingers clenched on her hip, as if to stop himself from guiding her, to hold himself still. His breathing was quick and rough.
    She licked the base of his throat, felt him shudder. “How do I do this, David?”
    “Any way you like.” He gave a short laugh. “It won’t take long.”
    Then she’d like to please him as much as possible in that short time. “How would you do this?”
    “Up and down.”
    Oh. Like a piston. And now it was easy, so easy to imagine his thick shaft working into her as his finger had. Breathless, she pumped her fists. He made a strangled noise, hips jerking, fingers clenching.
    The rivets inside her were tightening again. “Are you watching?”
    “Yes.”
    So he could see the sway of her breasts, the spread of her thighs over his. He could see her slick flesh, so close to her hands, stroking his length as he would stroke into her body. But not as wet as he would be inside her.
    Her mouth could make him wetter—she’d heard the women of Hannasvik talk about how best to lick. The same would likely work for men, too, though everyone in the New World was too proper to talk about using a mouth in that way, except as an insult. What would he think of it?
    She would find out. Slowly, Annika scooted back until she knelt between his legs, kissing the hard muscles of his chest through his shirt as she descended.
    “Annika.” His body stiffened, his voice hoarse. “Annika, no, you don’t have to—”
    She did. She wanted to know his reaction, his response—and she prayed he wouldn’t think less of her for it. Gripping his shaft, she opened her mouth, licked the thick head. A shout, quickly muffled by the clench of his teeth. His erection pulsed beneath her fingers. Oh, his response was even more than she’d hoped. She licked the broad tip again, slower this time, absorbing the salty taste, the unexpected smoothness of his taut skin. His hands came onto her shoulders before falling away. Her flattened tongue swept over him again, and his tortured moan was the most wonderful sound she’dever heard. She licked, licked, then remembered to pump her hands. A memory of the exquisite sensation of his mouth on her breast led her to suck on the head.
    With a hoarse cry, his body bowed, pushing him deeper past her lips. Reflexively, she jerked her head up. Before she could lower her mouth again, he caught her face in his hands.
    “That’s enough, now. That’s enough.” Panting, he covered her hands with his, squeezing. A vicious shudder wracked his frame, and he called out her name. His shaft throbbed against her palms. Wetness slid over her fingers.
    His seed. When she loved him, this would be inside her, too.
    The thought of it warmed her. He’d make a good father. And she wanted this with him every night, every day.
    While he regained his breath, she crawled up over him again, straddling his thighs, kissing his lips. For the first time, she understood perfectly why some women remained with the men they’d chosen to lie with. It simply hurt too much to go separate ways.
    But neither of them had much of a choice.

Chapter Nine
    Annika had been right about the dogs. By mid-morning , David had seen almost two dozen slinking around the troll—thin, mangy curs that snapped and snarled when another dog came close. Not a pack, he thought. Just drawn by anything that moved, that might smell like food.
    Fortunately, they also scared easily. An icicle hurled their way sent them scattering, tails between their legs. Not for long, though, and even a man with a steel arm and legs felt bludging vulnerable when he had to expose softer bits and relieve himself.
    He finished just as a few of the curs stole into throwing distance again. A tossed handful of powdered snow held them off until he reached the chest hatch. His eyepiece immediately fogged in the warmth of the troll’s hearth chamber. Annika still lay sleeping on the pallet they’d made on the floor, clad only in her underclothes, her head pillowed in her arms. Her thin gray chemise rode up around her waist, exposing the dip of her spine. Pink bows marched down the side her cream linen drawers; a lace ruffle emphasized the swell of her bottom.
    And this was vulnerability. David’s lungs seemed to squeeze in around his heart