Moon Lust (2 page)

His cock was hard. It had been hard since the moment he first got close to her, close enough to smell the sweet floral perfume of her soap. Close enough to smell her femininity, her very femaleness. It was a heady scent, designed to drive him mad, and it succeeded very well.

He moved from the bed to a chair nearer to the fireplace across the room. Never taking his eyes from her, he sat. Unbuttoning his pants, he palmed his cock and began to stroke it. He wanted the hand pumping him to be hers, wanted it so badly that it was a physical ache, but resigned himself to wait for now.

Leaning back further in the chair, he squeezed the shaft of his erection. Massaging his balls with one hand, while stroking his penis with the other, Ivan felt his breathing quicken. Fully erect, his thick cock sported a large purple head, which soon wept a droplet of pre-cum under his hand. He swirled the liquid around, using it as lubrication while he masturbated.

In his mind he imagined Brianna moving over him, her short dark hair a halo around her head. Imagined her moaning and sheathing him in her wet pussy, over and over as she rode him. He growled softly and increased the tempo of his strokes. Soon his hips were jerking in rhythm with his hand, and his balls were tight with their load of sperm.

He heard a soft sigh from the bed as Brianna stirred in her sleep. That small sound from her lips was all it took. With a long, indrawn hiss to prevent his roar of release, he poured himself into his hand. It was several moments before he’d calmed again.

He vowed that the next time he spent himself, it would be deep within Brianna.

Chapter Two

New Moon

“So I’m stuck here until when exactly?”

“Until the snow has cleared along the trails. A few weeks at most. Are you bored with me already, Bri?”

“You know I’m not,” she laughed and punched at his muscular shoulder.
Is
he losing weight?
she wondered.
He’d seemed so much larger those first few days after her illness. Losing weight or not he was certainly striking with his shaggy black hair and vibrant green eyes. She’d never seen a more handsome man. “But you might be getting tired of having me around all the time. You can’t be used to having someone underfoot out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“I could never grow tired of your company, no matter how underfoot you are.”
H
is words were teasing and light, but his eyes were dark with deeper passions. Predatory eyes feasted on her, swallowing her whole.

In the week since her recovery Brianna had stayed with Ivan, waiting for the early and unexpected snowstorm to spend itself. There were no phones or electricity here, and though Ivan had said he lived only a few hectares from a nearby village, they were essentially cut off from the outside world. At least until the snow melted away from the trails a bit.

They’d enjoyed an easy and fast friendship, and neither of them ever mentioned the stolen kisses and caresses between them that first night. Sometimes Brianna wondered if it had all been some passionate dream and could almost let herself believe it. Until moments like this, when Ivan’s emerald eyes would heat and almost glow with suppressed hunger. Then she would remember every kiss, every touch and shudder with renewed desire.

She very much liked this man before her. He could be kind and gentle, as well as funny and thoughtful. Ivan was a mystery to her in many ways, but even after so short a time with him she felt as if she’d known him her whole life. He made her laugh, made her think, and never asked for anything in return but her friendship.

Ivan had saved her life, and she was very glad that he had. Otherwise she
might
never have met him.

But sometimes…

He made her uneasy. Like the way he could sit still for hours on end, barely blinking. He’d watched her that way, those last days when she’d been bedridden. Excusing his watchful stare by reminding herself that he was a true wilderness man—cut off from civilized society and unused to other people—she’d tried to get used to it.

The way he moved sometimes unsettled her more than when he was still. His muscles were so fluid that he moved with an almost inhuman grace at times. And he was fast.
S
ometimes she couldn’t even see his movements. At such times, she would again remind herself of his rugged lifestyle, one that surely made him stronger and faster through strenuous labor. These reminders helped her ignore any disquiet she felt when he seemed a little…odd.

At the moment he was staring at her so intently that she almost forgot what they were talking about. Suddenly she wanted to know more about him than their friendly chitchat had revealed.

She cleared her throat. “Do you have any family nearby?”

“Yes. I have much family in the nearby village,” he said, his eyes never faltering from her face. “What about you? Where is your family?”

“Oh, I don’t have any. Uncle Alexi was the last of my relatives.”

“Ah, yes, the one you told me about.” His accent was thick and played over her like a physical caress. “
T
he uncle who says to you, ‘go—see the motherland, then fall down on your head and cause poor Ivan to have a heart attack when he finds you all bruised in a ravine’—that Uncle Alexi?”

Brianna laughed, “Yes,
that
Uncle Alexi. I was going to come later in the year when it was warmer, but I made a promise to come and I wanted to do it as soon as I could.”

His eyes seemed to gentle a bit. “You wanted to get away. From his death and from your loneliness—yes?”

She looked away. “Yes. How could you tell?” She glanced back, unaccountably curious as to his response.

Ivan shrugged, firm muscles playing under his shirt. “I can see it in your eyes, this loneliness. You loved your Uncle Alexi, and now that he is gone you have no family left. You are alone now.”

Brianna’s eyes fell, and she looked at the hands clenched in her lap. “Yes,” she quietly agreed.

“And so you come here to forget your worries for a time. It is a good thing,” he said softly, his dark accent a murmur.

She smiled. “And I got to meet a new friend—that’s a good thing too,” she added.

He stilled. His emerald eyes bore into hers. “Yes. That’s a very good thing.”

* * * * *

Later, they gathered firewood for the long evening ahead. Brianna’s heavy coat—borrowed from Ivan’s closet—covered her from head to foot, but the wind was still cold and biting. When she’d fallen down the ravine, her backpack had contained two changes of clothing, though none of the articles were warm enough for this snowy weather. She was glad he was such a large man, and that his coat kept most of the wind at bay.

“Where do you get your kindling? Isn’t this forest protected because of its age?”

Ivan growled, “Not this part of the forest. The government has no desire to save all of the Old Forest. They only conserve the areas that are home to endangered species.”

“But most of these trees are hundreds, even thousands of years old. You and those villagers don’t cut them down for firewood do you?” Her voice was appalled. She and her uncle had spent their whole lives trying to prevent such things with their conservation efforts.

“No! I use the younger trees, the saplings and diseased wood. I am not a butcher to take the lives of the great trees.” He sliced his hand through the air, a wholly passionate and Russian expression
.
“Such a thing would be a crime in every way. These trees cannot be replaced, not for lifetimes, and the creatures that live here deserve the shelter of the living forest.”

There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” She smiled and threw a snowball at his head.

Ivan sputtered as the snowball made contact. With a growl he tossed down the armload of kindling he’d gathered and reached to make a snowball of his own. Brianna laughed and turned to run, slipping on the loose snow.

After only two steps Ivan tackled her. She felt like she’d been hit by a freight train as she stumbled to the ground.

Sputtering around a mouthful of snow she looked up into his deep, forest eyes. “Why did you do that? I thought we were having a snowball fight, not playing football!”

He cocked his head to the side, an endearing trait she’d noticed he affected when he was playful or curious. “
B
ut you ran.”

“Of course I ran, you big jerk—I’m not going to just stand still and wait for your snowball to hit me!”

“I thought you ran because you wanted me to chase you. Do you not like to play chase?”

“Well, I—I don’t think I’ve every really thought about it.” What an odd question. She was suddenly very aware of his weight pressing down on her in the snow. His warm breath played over her face, and she found herself surprised by the long length of his black eyelashes.

“Well I do…so long as I catch my prey.” With those words still sounding on the air between them, he swooped down and kissed her.

It was the first intimate touch between them since the night she’d awaken
ed
from her fever. Remembering and dreaming of those first kisses had consumed her every waking thought and the reality was even better. He tasted like wild forest air and dark desire.

The kiss grew heated and impassioned. Their breaths shuddered into each other’s mouths as their tongues dueled in a dance as old as time. Ivan’s hair tickled her face, its softness like that of an exotic fur.

The snow and cold were forgotten as Brianna’s arms came around him to hold him closer. Ivan’s hips ground against hers. He growled into her mouth—an animalistic sound of need.

Pulling away from her, he looked deep into her eyes—that sudden stillness he possessed coming over him. Several heartbeats passed as they panted into each other’s face, breath steaming the air between them.

“I want you.” His voice was a guttural growl.

“I—I want you too,” she admitted.

“Then I will take you.” His eyes glowed with the words, and he flew to his feet with her already secured in his arms.

He was very, very strong. She wasn’t a featherweight, but he bore her as though she were. It made her heart race with excitement. Swift and sure he carried her through the door of his log home, slamming the door shut with his foot, never pausing until they reached his bedroom. With gentle care he set her upon her feet before the bed.

“We should get these wet clothes off,” he whispered, fighting to control his urge to roar his triumph into the night. She would soon be his. Only his.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, she rushed to remove her coat, gloves and boots. Her hands shook with her eagerness, and she felt as giddy as a virgin. She heard a rending sound and looked up to see Ivan tearing at his clothes with the same eager abandon.

Her fingers moved to unbutton her flannel shirt, but his hands were suddenly there to stop her. Her eyes rose to meet his, which were glowing so bright it was almost alarming.

“Let me do that,” he said.

“Yes,” she breathed.

With aching slowness he undressed her. With hands so tender and gentle that she barely felt their touch, he reverently caressed each new patch of skin as it was unveiled. It was like being seduced by butterflies—his soft and coaxing caresses playing over her skin like silken wings. She could see the hungry desire in his eyes and knew he was exerting great control over his passions to remain gentle with her.

As he uncovered her breasts he went down on his knees before her and slowly, oh so slowly, moved his mouth to press a kiss against her nipple. He gathered her to him and buried his face between the pillows of her breasts and inhaled deeply. His instincts were at war within him, and his control slipped a notch as he fell upon her with renewed fervor.