Caress of Flame (11 page)

“Hold your breasts for me,” he said, squeezing one erect nipple gently. “Hold them and play with your nipples,” he urged.

Isis knew how important visual stimulation was for men to become aroused. “I’ll do you one better,” she told him. She pushed him away and rose from the bed. “Watch this,” Isis said with a wicked smile, and she began to dance.

Already naked, there was no need to strip, and dancing completely nude was easier than hiding everything between her legs behind the panties she was required to wear onstage. Amazingly, for the first time ever, she was growing aroused by her own dancing. And the burning heat in Flare’s eyes only spurred her on, melting her insides.

Undulating, she turned and gave him her back. She stood with her feet apart and bent over, grabbing one of her ankles with both of her hands. She heard Flare’s moan as she showed him all of her secrets and smiled to herself. Slowly, sensually, she ran her hands up her leg and resumed dancing.

When she turned to face him again she clearly saw that Flare was close to losing some of that iron control he always had over himself. He looked as if he was about to jump her.

Isis laughed happily and continued to dance. She undulated her hips, running her hands all over her body, pausing to finger her pussy and pinch her nipples to aching hardness. When she did this, Flare’s gaze could have burnt a hole in the wall. And the temperature of the room was rising rapidly. Isis glanced down and saw that he had actually singed fingerprints into the bedclothes as he clutched the edge of the bed, 5holding tight as if to keep from launching himself at her and ravaging her completely.

With a practiced move she released her hair and whipped it about her head as she moved and waited for his reaction.

It was swift and immediate. Before she could blink twice, Flare had her up against the wall. He freed his cock from his pants, lifted her up and thrust into her with one fierce shove of his hips. She was so wet from her own arousal that, though it was a tight fit, he slid in easily enough and they both moaned. He made her put her legs around his waist so that his hands could freely wander over her whole body. His touch was so hot she knew there would be marks on her in the morning where his fingertips lingered.

But she didn’t care. It felt
so
good.

And the heat of his cock inside her stole her breath away. He was burning up!

Sweat had already popped up on her brow and across the bridge of her nose. She panted for air that wasn’t stiflingly hot, but Flare caught her mouth and gave her his sultry breath instead, filling her with the taste and feel of him so not even a tiny bit of her being wasn’t laid claim to in some manner.

The entire length of her body was laid to waste as he touched every inch of her flesh, stroking her from head to toe. Her head kept bumping against the wall every time he thrust into her—entering her with such force that it should have bruised her. Yet it didn’t.

“Oh, Isis, I need you so much,” he gasped, lips pressing to the curve of her neck and shoulder. He suckled her skin between his teeth, leaving behind a red mark that wouldn’t fade for days.

Isis clutched at him, her hands holding on to the bulging muscles of his upper arms.

Her fingernails dug into his skin every time he bounced her back against the wall. His cock drove into her until she was keening high in the back of her throat uncontrollably, her pleasure so extreme it made tears leak out of the corners of her eyes.

Her climax hit her hard and intense. Her body clamped down on his, her pussy milking his cock with her tremors. He stayed with her, keeping Isis at the pinnacle of passion for as long as he could.

The climax was so strong it sapped her of all strength. Her body, abuzz with a heart-wrenching emotion she couldn’t name, shuddered around his. Her head fell weakly against his chest, her breath bellowing out of her lungs.

Flare pulled his body free from hers and carried her to the bed. He reached into a tiny black silk bag secured at his waist and pulled out a condom. Ripping the packet open with his teeth, he hurriedly sheathed his cock in its protective covering with trembling fingers and came down to cover her body with his hot one.

Just knowing that she affected him so much that his control was slipping before the force of their passion made her need for him rise once again. If Flare didn’t hurry, she would be begging him to take her again.

Then he was inside of her once more, stretching and filling her to bursting, and she screamed out her pleasure. Flare’s fingers moved between them and found her clit. He 5pinched it, rubbed it, using her moisture to make his fingertips more slippery against her, bombarding her with endless pleasure, stimulating her so that she flew to the precipice of another climax in a matter of minutes.

Flare caught both her ankles and put them around his neck, tilting her hips up so that he penetrated her even more deeply. His hips pistoned over and over between her legs and she arched closer to receive his forceful thrusts, riding him with sensual undulations of her hips. His rhythm increased and the bed groaned its protest. Neither cared, they clutched at each other, their hands roving all over their naked skin, lingering in all the right places, still pounding away at each other.

Groaning, Flare found her clit once more. “Come for me again, baby,” he commanded, pushing her to the edge with little effort. “Come on,” he groaned, long and loud.

Isis clutched him tight and screamed as she came, the sensations of pure pleasure bombarding her so that she was mindless to anything else. She barely heard Flare’s own shout of release, but there was no mistaking the hot feel of his cum spurting inside of her, into the tip of the condom.

Boneless and sapped of all strength, Isis collapsed into the bed. Flare followed her, turning so that his body did not crush her, but the bed instead. The poor, abused thing gave one final groan and the bed frame broke, dropping them straight onto the hard floor with a thud.

“I am so not paying for that,” she said breathlessly then laughed. “We’ve, like, totally demolished this place already, you know that.”

“And we have the whole night to finish off the job.” He grinned at her, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “By Grimm, but you are so pretty, Isis.”

His words brought out a blush in her cheeks—something she didn’t even think she was capable of—even though she had no idea who or what Grimm was. “I think you’re beautiful,” she told him softly, shyly, turning on her side to better see him as he reclined beside her.

Flare frowned and his eyes seemed to glow from within. “Get up, Isis,” he told her.

“What’s happening?”

“Just get up. Take my hand.” He took hers in his before she could comply.

“Wait a minute,” she cried and pulled away from him so abruptly that he had no choice but to let her go or risk injuring her. Running to where she had flung her jeans, Isis delved into its pockets and found the envelope containing her sister’s letter. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said hurriedly, rushing back to him, unconcerned with her nudity.

“Hold on to me,” he said, clutching her tight to his smoldering body.

The whole world melted away and she closed her eyes tightly shut as they Traveled out of the way of danger.

* * * * *

5Moments later her vision cleared and she saw that they were standing in Flare’s enormous sitting room. Isis was shivering in reaction to the strange sensation of Traveling. Flare, thinking she was cold, pulled her close and raised his body temperature enough to banish any chill. “It’s all right now. We are safe here,” he said in an effort to further soothe her.

“I want some clothes,” she said at once.

Flare let her go slowly, as if he didn’t want to. He went into his bedroom and opened a great armoire that looked as if it had been made completely of soapstone. Isis stood framed in the door as he rummaged through some clothing within, and came back to her with another dated-looking, royal purple baby doll dress for her to wear, plus some black clothing for himself.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you—why do you have women’s clothing in your room?” She looked at him in a playfully suspicious manner.

Flare, realizing that she was going to be all right, sighed his relief and grinned as he dressed. “I had some of the females here donate their clothes for just such an occasion. I knew eventually you’d come here, so I got a few things to fit you. Just in case.”

Isis snorted. “You planned to get me naked all along, didn’t you?”

Flare laughed and the sound of it made her heart race. “I had hoped.”

“Why you sneaky devil.” She snorted again and put on the dress. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any underwear in there?”

Flare’s eyes widened. “I forgot,” he said, surprised. He went back into the room and this time Isis followed him. He rummaged through the armoire again, taking much longer this time, before he came up with a handful of red satin. “We have seamstresses who do nothing but design lingerie for our mated women. Here, these should fit.” He handed the scraps of cloth to her.

There was a very cute red bra made of what
looked
like satin, but the cloth felt far too soft. The crimson panties were the same, cut high on the leg with a darker red triangle over her pussy. This feature, Isis knew instinctively, was to draw the eye straight to her sex. “Naughty,” she said with a chuckle as she put the lingerie on beneath her dress.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” he asked her.

“I
am
thirsty,” she admitted.

Flare approached the fireplace that was placed along one wall of his sitting room.

He knelt down and lit a fire by laying his hand on the wooden logs that were already stacked there. The logs flared brightly hot in less than a few seconds and a roaring fire sprang into light.

With a self-satisfied nod, Flare rose to his feet once more. He opened a jewel-encrusted box on the mantle and took out a handful of what looked to Isis like colorful sand.

6“This,” Flare turned to show her, “is fl’shan powder. We use it for many things. I mostly use it for this.” He threw it into the fire and the flame flared dangerously high for a second before settling down again. “I need two cups of tea,” he said, aiming his words at the fireplace.

He turned and noticed her frown of confusion. “We can talk through the fire with the powder. I just asked one of the kitchen workers to bring our drinks.”

“Kitchen workers? You don’t have to make your own food?”

“No. I am a warrior. My needs are seen to with little effort. I’ve been thankful for that my whole life—especially after battles. When I’m wounded or tired I just call for what I need and it is almost instantly brought to me.”

“So the kitchen workers are like your servants?”

“No,” he said in a shocked tone. “They’re volunteers. Mostly unmated women who have no one to cook for. No one here is a servant,” he said with great pride. “We men grow to be warriors. Some of us eventually go into the politics of keeping our way of life running smoothly, but we all have some kind of battle experience. The women grow to be equally as strong, but they are gentle by nature and more nurturing. They all have jobs to do, but they only take on the tasks they wish. Things that they enjoy.”

“You have politics here?”

“We have a Council of Elders. Older warriors who have earned the rank through hard work and self-sacrifice.”

“How old do you have to be to be an Elder?” she asked curiously.

“Usually at least three hundred years old.”

Isis felt her eyes bulge. “Three hundred? Jesus fucking Christ! How long do you people live?”

“We live as long as we are meant to.”

“How old are you?” She frowned suspiciously.

“I am two hundred and seven years old,” he said.

Isis gasped. “No fucking way. You look like you’re in your early thirties.”

“Shikars do not age like humans. We do not grow to old age as your kind does. We stop aging at about thirty, sometimes forty.”

“Oh my God.”

“Does my age make you feel any differently about me?”

Isis saw the worry in his eyes that she would say yes. She thought about it and found that, no, it didn’t matter to her. But it was definitely weird. “No. But I must seem like a real adolescent to you.”

“Not in any way,” he assured her.

There came the sound of a bell ringing. Isis glanced at the entrance and saw a small brass bell above the door, connected to a string that led out of the door to the other side.

6Isis supposed such a thing was quite useful. It would be hard for someone to hear a knock on a solid stone door, no matter how keen their hearing might be.

A tall, lithe woman with ankle-length blonde hair came into the room with a tray.

She was the first Shikar besides Flare that Isis had ever seen. The woman was delicately beautiful, not at all brutish like her male counterpart. Yet she carried the heavy silver tray with an easy strength. Her skin was like cream, smooth and unblemished in any way, perfect. And her eyes were the same color as Flare’s.

The woman gave Isis a curious glance but said nothing. She went into the sitting room with her tray and set it down on the stone coffee table.

“Hello, Sence,” Flare said by way of welcome.

Sence smiled at him with a fondness that had Isis clenching her fists in jealousy. “I brought you some bread and cheese in case you were hungry,” Sence said.

“Thank you,” Flare said gently.

The woman gave Isis one last glance before she left the way she had come. Isis relaxed, her jealousy waning, cooling her rising ire. She shook the remnants away with a physical toss of her head.

Flare took a cup of steaming warm tea and offered her the other. “It’s sweetened,”

he warned her.

She liked her tea sweet anyway. Isis took a sip of the brown liquid and raised her eyebrows at Flare. “This is delicious. This makes normal tea taste positively bitter.”

“The leaves are grown in specially designed gardens. Our livestock is in a large grazing area, though our animals have evolved separately from their brethren on the surface world. They may seem odd to you, were you to see them. But I am assured that their meat tastes pretty much the same from either place.”