I let him see a mental picture of what exactly I wanted to do to him. He froze for a moment, then in a move that was literally too fast for me to see, he stripped off all his clothing, the dull thud of his shoes hitting the stone floor of the lounge the last thing I heard before he was back in my arms, his body, wet and warm and hard as the lava rocks around us, holding my entire attention.
Where were we? he said, then smiled into my mind. Here, I think . . .
I squealed as his fingers resumed their previous activity. “Two can play at that, mister.”
I had a handful of mud ready, and slid it down his chest and stomach, gently biting his shoulder as I let my hands go even lower, down to his erection. “Now, see? I knew this would benefit you. Sparky is all happy.”
“Sparky?” he asked, nipping my earlobe. “I can live with a pet name for me, but I draw the line at naming body parts.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, taking him in both hands, gently exploring the territory. “So you wouldn’t approve of my calling your penis ‘Raging Stallion’?”
His eyes crossed for a moment as I discovered a particularly sensitive spot. “Raging Stallion works for me,” he said with a gasp.
“I thought so. Now, why don’t you go sit over there on that bottom step, and I think we’ll be far enough out of the water so I won’t drown while I perform a therapeutic genital massage.”
The fire in his eyes kicked up a couple of notches. “Did you read about that in the brochure, too?”
“No, that’s something I thought of on my own. You look like you need a little personal attention. Sit.”
An oddly obstinate look crossed his face. “I prefer to stand. It is you who will receive the personal attention.”
His hands slid up my hips to my breasts. I stopped them before they could go any farther. “I want to give you pleasure, Kristoff.”
“As I do you.” His eyes lightened a smidgen, which I was beginning to realize meant he was annoyed.
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
“I can’t believe we’re having an argument over who gets to do what first,” I said.
“Neither can I.”
A few more seconds of staring passed, while we both waited for the other person to give in.
“One of us is going to have to let the other one have her way,” I pointed out.
“Yes, you will.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You get your way an awful lot. I think you’ve used up all of your bossy points. Therefore, you will sit and I will give you a blow job so incredible, you won’t be able to think straight.”
He stood up a bit straighter. All of him. “I am a Dark One,” he declared, projecting into my mind mental images so carnal, I’m surprised the water around us didn’t start to boil. “You are my Beloved. You will bend over that rock and let me make love to you in such a manner that will not only keep you from thinking straight. You will also walk funny for a week.”
My jaw dropped at his pseudothreat. “Oh! That is so . . . so . . .”
“Truthful?” he asked smoothly.
“Underhanded! Sending me smutty images like that. Well. Two can play at that game.” I crossed my arms and thought of the most erotic acts I could perform upon his body.
His Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I did not include massage oils in my mental imaging! Or ice cubes. If anyone is being underhanded, it’s you.”
I smiled. “You want underhanded? Try this.” I dwelled in loving detail on a plan to use not only slick, warmed lotion on him, but on my breasts as well, rubbing myself along his body until he exploded with pleasure.
“Exploded?” he said, his eyes as black as midnight.
“You heard me, buster.”
He trembled with strain for a moment, just a moment, and then he had himself in control again. “This is a waste of time. Submit to me so that I may make you walk funny, and then you can explode me.”
“Boo!” I said, slapping my hands down on the water. “I want to do this for you!”
“No more so than I want to provide pleasure for you,” he said, still obstinate.
“Argh!” I yelled, thinking furiously, but the images he kept sending me about just what he wanted to do were weakening my resolve. “Oh, this is stupid,” I said, wading over to him, wiggling against his body so that my breasts rubbed against his wet, slick chest.
“Exceedingly so,” he answered, his head dipping to my neck. He breathed on the spot that never failed to send all my nerves into tingly overtime.
“We’ll both do it, all right?”
“That would seem fair. I get to go first, though.”
“You, sir, are a bully, and nothing but a bully,” I said, poking my finger into his chest. I stopped, eyed the chest, then spread my fingers along the wet skin, stroking the lovely muscled curves. He sucked in a lungful of breath. “What the hell. You go first; then it’ll be my turn.”
“Agreed.” He spun me around so that my back was to him, pushing me slightly forward so I had to catch myself on the rough lava rocks that lined our little lagoon. If you have the strength after I’m through with you, came an echoed thought.
“I heard that!” I said, but before I could protest any dirty tricks, all sane thought left my head as his teeth pierced the flesh of my shoulder at the same time he thrust hard into my body.
The warm water swirling around us, the sensation of bone-deep satisfaction that filled Kristoff and spilled out into me as he drank, the ever-increasing tension that wound inside me combining with his, pushing us both higher, joining with a million other sensations, threatened to overload my senses as I clutched the sharp lava rocks. But it was the more profound merging, the blending of souls as he both took life from me and returned it, that sent my spirit soaring. All the dark places inside him, all the inky despair, and pain, and shadows of loneliness that still remained were obliterated at that moment. I fed him not just my blood, but my very sense of being, filling him with light and hope and happiness. And as his tongue swirled a path of flame over my shoulder, as his body tensed in mine, I gave him the last thing I had.
“I love you,” I cried as he spun me around, his mouth muffling the words. I wrapped my legs around him when he hoisted me up, clutching his shoulders as his hips flexed with short, forceful thrusts, the muscles in his neck and shoulders as tight as steel. He growled deep in his chest, a primitive, earthy noise that pushed me over the edge. My muscles rippled around him as he gave in to his own climax, an echoed sense of wonderment filling my mind as he stood, legs braced apart, the water lapping at his hips, both our bodies trembling with delightful little aftershocks.
I gave his lower lip one last fond little nibble, then released it and looked down at him, my mind still swimming with our combined emotions.
He was flushed, his eyes glittering with heat hotter than any fire, and on the edges of his adorable lips was the beginning of a smile. No, not a smile, a smirk. Wholly male, utterly arrogant, and completely knowing.
“All right,” I admitted as I let my legs drop, aware that he could feel how the muscles in them trembled. “You win. I’m going to walk funny. But I’d like to point out that you did a fair bit of exploding, too.”
“Agreed. Where did you learn to do that?”
“Do what?” I asked, wondering if he thought Americans went to school to learn lovemaking techniques.
“When you gripped me like a vise.”
I took one step, stumbled, and glared when he snickered. The only thing that saved him from another faceful of mud was the fact that he scooped me up and carried me to the lounge.
“That, Boo, is the result of years of Kegeling. My mother told me to start young so that when I was an old lady I wouldn’t have to wear bladder pants like my granny.”
“That may be the result of years of intimate exercise, but you haven’t been quite so vigorous in the past.”
I grinned over the towel I was using to dry myself off. “Just so I know-are we thumbs-up or thumbs-down on the Kegel vigor?”
“Thumbs-up. Definitely thumbs-up,” he said, looking down at himself ruefully. Even quiescent, he was still impressive. “Although if you keep it up, you won’t be the only one walking funny.”
An unexpected sense of peace and happiness filled our remaining hours at the spa.
“How did your parents meet?” I asked after I had recovered enough wits to kick-start my brain into
