Page 72 of Fighting for Her Heart

What is he planning?

Something soft touches my ankle. After tickling me there, the object trails slowly up one leg, and then across my pelvic bone and finally down the other leg. He repeats this pattern several times, varying the speed and the attention on various parts of my legs and pelvis.

“What is that?” My voice is breathy, strained.

“What does itfeellike?” he asks softly.

I shake my head. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”

He chuckles, and then circles my belly with the soft object that tickles and arouses me at the same time. Concentrating, as much as is possible given the stimulation, I can sense the object’s individual fibers, silky and soft.

“Feathers?”

“Correct.” He rewards me with a soft kiss on my lips that ends too quickly.

I’m about to object, but the feathers slide between my legs, teasing the soft skin at the junction between my sex and my thighs, making contact everywhere except where I’m most desperate to be touched. My hips swivel, trying to shift the feathers to go where I want them, but Zuben is too clever for that game and moves his attention to my belly, then to my breasts, then my throat.

I can’t remember when I’ve been so turned on, or so frustrated.

Zuben vanishes for a second. The door to the room opens and then closes, and I feel his breath close to my ear.

“What is this?” he asks. Something cold and wet touches my lips.

My tongue darts out to test it. “Ice.”

“That’s right, cherished one.”

My chest swells as his new pet name for me fills my heart, and then he trails the ice down my throat and around my nipples, now tightening to the point of pain.

Rivulets of water paint lines over my ribs and he licks them off as the ice continues to explore.

“Where would you like to feel this ice touching you?” he asks softly, and then presses it against my upper thigh.

The shape of the ice is vaguely phallic, I notice as he presses its length against my thigh. He went to a lot of trouble to prepare for this encounter.

“Everywhere,” I answer him, my voice tightening as he moves the ice to my opposite thigh.

“It will melt soon,” he says. “So I must carefully choose what to do with it.” He teases my lower belly and water drips down toward my sex.

“Ah!” Is he going to touch my clit with that ice? I don’t know whether to ask for that or dread it.

“Would you like to feel it inside you?” he asks.

“I’d likesomethinginside me.”

He chuckles again. “I will take your answer as a yes.”

His mouth hovers over the junction between my throat and shoulder as he trails the ice along the seam of my folds.

I cry out at the cold temperature on my hotness, and his tongue licks along the edge of my throat, letting me sense damp heat in one place and freezing wetness in another.

Goosebumps rise on my skin as he parts my folds, sliding the icy phallus between them, much thicker than I first thought. My hips buck and swivel at the shocking change in temperature on my heated skin, and he adjusts the position of the ice, its tip sliding, searching for my entrance.

He pushes it inside me.

I cry out again, my body hungry for the intrusion, but yearning for something else, something much warmer but just as hard. Leaving the ice lodged inside, Zuben drops down, and his fingers part the folds hiding my clit.

His hot tongue flicks over my sensitive nub, and he slides the ice inside me. The friction is beyond welcome, but the cold is starting to turn me numb.