by Roxy Harte
“I’m all for an audience sometimes,” he admits, “but not tonight. Tonight I want to get to know you. I want to learn what pleasures your body.”
His words make me tingle, my need mounting. I was ready to rip off his clothes, not caring if it pleased my whole body, just one small part. By the time we reach our room though, the moment has passed, and I am nervous and on edge. I know the exact moment he is going to kiss me and I swallow hard, wetting my lips in anticipation.
“I want to make love to you, Belle.”
I open my mouth to agree and he commands the moment, kissing me with a fierceness I hadn’t expected. Fierce yet gentle, his passion stealing my breath, the softness of his lips and tongue making it impossible to think. I remember Frankie saying to me that he fucks as well as he kisses. I think if that is really true I may not survive the night.
He wraps his hand into my hair, pulling me closer, forcing me to stay with the kiss, as though I might want to pull away. It is a dominating move and I wonder if that is the way it is to be then, me topped by two men. I close my mind against the earlier fantasy of me topping him, but then I wonder why. Why shouldn’t I have the opportunity to top him?
I wrap my hand into his hair, my fingers mean as I jerk his head back, gaining his gaze. I lift my lips close, closer, but not touching his, and when he tries to move closer, tries to touch our lips, I hold him back, feeling the build of sexual tension between us as we both fight to control. We both plan to top.
Quite suddenly, he releases me. “Bonne nuit.”
I frown as he walks away and watch as he enters the suite next door. “Did I just miss something?”
First and foremost, I’m American. Maybe that explains why I don’t do nuances well. I follow him and pound on the door. As the door opens, it vaguely registers that he looks relieved. I demand, “What just happened?”
His mouth opens and shuts but he doesn’t explain anything. I step closer, pushing my hand against his chest. His heart is racing beneath my palm.
“Don’t you want me, Pierre-Louis?”
“Yes,” he whispers back and I feel the dynamic beginning to shift. He is suddenly shy, almost bashful.
I push the door shut with a backward kick of my heel and lean in to kiss him. With my lips against his mouth, I demand, “How badly?”
“Desperately.”
I arch my brow at him. “Really?”
“I am not permitted to coerce my way into your bed.”
“Coerce?”
“Or seduce.”
My brow furrows. “I must make the initial move?”
“Oui.”
“Didn’t I already do that in the maze?”
“Who led whom?” he asks, looking forlorn. “I pulled you into my arms. You did not initiate our first kiss.”
“And you will be punished for this breach on our return?”
He nods and I jerk his head back, commanding, “Kneel.”
He does, surprisingly, and I have a moment’s panic. I let go of his hair. Oh shit, now what?
“You’re trembling” he says.
Great. He noticed. “I want you to make no mistake when you report back to Frankie. I am starting this.” I admit, “I’ve never topped before. I just know that tonight, for this to work, I need to be in control.”
“And you are afraid you will not be able to finish what you start?”
“Yes,” I squeak.
He bows his head. “I am at your service, Mistress. You need only tell me what you require me to do.”
I nod, need sizzling through me. I cannot remember ever being this horny. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“May I assist you with your dress?” he asks.
I lick my lips and nod, turning my back to him to give him access to the zipper. Behind me, I know the moment he stands and steps forward. It seems as if some electrical field sizzles between us, letting me feel his every move even though I cannot see him. I feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric as he unzips me, the cooler room air teasing my bare skin as it is exposed inch by inch. I shiver as the fabric falls open and starts to slide off my body. He controls the chiffon’s fall, helping me to step from the fabric.
I am wearing only thigh highs and my stilettos when I turn to face him. “I did not give you permission to rise.” Oh shit. Where did that come from? I don’t know that I like the tone of my voice. It seems alien and peculiar.
He drops to his knees without hesitation. “My apologies, Mistress.”
He is still wearing his suit and tie, and I appreciate the view of him all buttoned up and dashing. I do not expect him to return an appreciative gaze. I grab his hair at the crown and pull his face into the juncture of my thighs. “Do you want this?”
He pushes his face deeper and I jerk his head back. “Yes, Mistress,” he answers.
I push my pelvis toward him, teasing while I still hold his hair in a tight grip. He nudges forward, his nose pushing between my thighs. His cheeks are rough where his five-o’clock shadow scrapes against my sensitive inner thighs.
“Permission to lick your clit, Mistress?”
God, yes. The flesh in question jumps at the suggestion, fully agreeable. I don’t answer immediately, even though I think we’re well past the point of stopping what we started. My mind travels to Frankie, and I feel I am betraying him. It seems to me he would not want Pierre-Louis topping me. It would stand to reason he also would not want me to top Pierre-Louis. “Don’t call me Mistress, okay?”
“As you wish.”
I separate my legs just enough to give him access. His tongue flicks out like a snake’s and taps my clitoris. I flinch and his hands go around the backs of my thighs.
His voice is gentling and confident when he says, “Easy, Belle.”
Belle. Beautiful.
I like that he is not calling me Cassiopeia, though Charlotte or Charley would have been fine. I smile softly, thinking Belle is better than Mistress.
I tremble beneath the touch of his hands. His tongue flicks out again. Tapping. Tapping. I close my eyes when he licks, pleasure stabbing through me, making me gasp. My knees threaten to buckle. His grip on my thighs is tight as he pulls me against his mouth, his licks taking on a rhythm. Pleasure weaves around my clit, making it pulse. I find my need heightening, spiraling as I climb a familiar peak. “Oh God.” I spasm against his lips and tongue. He keeps stroking, keeps pushing my need higher, until I am jerking with each electricity-filled touch. “Ah. Ah. Ahh.” I gasp and buck against him, finally screaming, “Stop. Stopstopstop. I can’t take any more.”
He pulls his face away and I shake where I stand. He keeps his hands on the backs of my thighs and I am certain it is only his support that keeps me from falling. I think he waits for me to command him to do something…
“May I stand?” he asks.
“Please,” I say, thankful he thought of it.
I put my hands on his suit jacket-covered chest and ask, “Help me to the bed?”
“My pleasure, Belle.”
He surprises me by lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. He lowers me gently and gives me a questioning look. I think I should have undressed him while we were standing. I could have slid his suit coat off his shoulders, untied his tie. I could have unbuttoned his shirt and unhooked his belt. “Take off your clothes. I want to see you naked. Slowly.”
Watching him is better than helping him, I decide as he slides out of the jacket and folds it before laying it on a chair. He slides off his tie and tosses it to me. I think we both have the same idea—it might come in handy. He unbuttons his shirt, slowly and deliberately exposing each inch of muscled chest. I inhale a shuddered breath. He is more exquisite each time I look at him.
He steps out of his shoes and lowers his slacks. He saves his thong for last. Am I surprised he is wearing a thong? No. With a body like his, he should never wear more than a thong. He steps closer and I hold out a hand to lead him to the bed, seeing his erection is strained. He is so ha
rd, I wonder if it hurts. He takes my hands and a single step forward, commanding, “Roll over.”
I frown. “Don’t try to top me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Belle, only offering a suggestion.” He lifts a challenging eyebrow. “Ask me to fuck you from behind…like an animal. Demand I fuck you as you’ve never been fucked before, Belle.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I forget to breathe but I manage to roll over on to my stomach and push myself up on to my knees. “Fuck me, Pierre-Louis.”
He grabs my hips and pulls me to the edge of the bed so that my legs drop over the side, then steps between my legs. I hear foil tearing and turn my head to watch him roll the condom down his length. He pushes his weight against me, bending over me, but he doesn’t thrust inside, not yet. I feel his hand move between my legs, his fingers rubbing my slick slit. He draws my moisture in and around before sliding his finger inside me. I push back against him, “Now, please, Pierre-Louis.”
He fingers me, alternating thrusts, soft slides with harder thrusts. I push back against his hand, anxious for more. He draws my wetness over my clit and swirls its head, making me cry out. He pulls the fluid back along my slit, all the way to my anus and I shy away from his touch. He gentles me, “Sh-sh-sh, relax. I won’t take you here,” making certain I understand exactly what we’re talking about by sweeping his fingers in a teasing arc around the rim, “until you command it. But let me play a little. When you come I want it to be like fireworks going off in your body. An explosion of pleasure, oui?”
“I want you inside of me,” I say.
“A bit longer, ma belle. Let me play a bit longer.”
I feel his erection slide between my ass cheeks, rubbing, not penetrating, as his fingers go back to rubbing my clit. Oh God.
I let him have his way, playing, teasing with his fingers every slick needy place between clit and asshole, making me want and need enough to beg. “Please, please, please.”
“You want me inside of you then?”
“Yes. Fuck me.”
I feel his penis push against the opening of my vagina and I thrust back, forcing him in. He pushes deeper and then even deeper, until I am full. He withdraws a little, then thrusts in again.
“Not gently, Pierre-Louis. Fuck me like you mean it.”
Grabbing my hips, he pulls me back on his length as he thrusts forward. It hurts, it feels amazing, and I think I babble a little incoherently under my breath. He thrusts again, pushing as hard as he can against the solid wall inside, making me scream and moan.
“Faster. Harder.”
He honors my request, thrusting harder, deeper, faster…the whole time rolling my clit between his finger and thumb, leaving me gasping, panting. I spasm against his hand, coming, but he doesn’t stop thrusting.
He works me into a second frenzy, but my body won’t climb high enough to spiral back down. I need more.
“Ask for it, ma belle.”
We both know what he is asking.
I shake my head, not from fear or some feeling of taboo, but because no one has ever gone back door on me except for Master. I don’t know how he would feel, I don’t know how I feel…
He pulls his penis out of my vagina and I moan at the loss of fullness inside my body. He rubs its slick head against my anus. My body responds, pushing back, wanting, needing, but he doesn’t penetrate. He leans his weight over me, his chest hot, damp and heavy against my back. He whispers against my cheek, “We won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
My mouth responds to my need, begging. “Please, Pierre-Louis, I need to come again.”
“Oui, I want you to.” He rubs my clit harder but we both know I need to be filled, I need the sensation that comes with being filled in my ass.
“Doitdoitdoit,” I beg.
“It?” he teases.
“Fuck me in the ass, Pierre-Louis, and do it like you mean it, damn you.”
He chuckles and teases my rim with his fingertips, drawing moisture from my sopping pussy as he does so. Aching with desire, I push back against his fingers. Slowly he answers my need, pushing into me with first his finger, then two fingers, loosening me, making me see stars, making my body quake. He finally pushes in the head, waiting for my body to adjust. “Give me your hands, Belle.”
I bring my hands down to my sides.
“Hold open your ass cheeks.”
I do as he asks, feeling naughty, dirty, slutty…and incredibly turned-on, all at the same time. His request twists something in my head, making everything rev up a notch.
He pushes his length in deeper, still rolling my clit between his fingers.
“Feel me entering you with your fingertips, ma belle, know I am feeding your dark hole my cock.”
I feel, I hold myself open, but I also feel his length sliding through my fingers. He thrusts. In. Out. In. Out. The sensation is mind-stretching, my entire body responding to each stroke. I start to come, but I want him there as well. I beg, “Come in me, Pierre-Louis. Come for me now.”
He pushes in hard, forcing a small scream from my throat. My orgasm washes over me and through me, a tidal wave of sensation. My clit spasms, my vagina clenches and my ass contracts. It is as if three distinct orgasms are crashing over my body simultaneously. I hear him over me, his ravaged breathing, his pants. He moans against me, going still. I buck against him as fast and hard as my hips will bounce, until I am coming again. “Ohhhhhhmmmmyyyyyggggooodddd.”
I think we are through and I collapse under his weight, crawling up and into the bed only after he stands and moves away. When he rolls me over and pushes the hair out of my face, I see he has pulled off his condom but is unrolling a fresh one. Really?
“You wish to still fuck, oui?”
I nod, wide-eyed as he crawls between my legs, dons a fresh condom and guides his erection into me. I am left speechless and wondering why I hadn’t considered a younger man all those nights I was lying alone knowing John was with one of his students…
* * * * *
I awake to sunlight streaming in through an open window and the sound of a shower running. I sit up, thinking I will join Pierre-Louis in the shower but my body protests, every single muscle screaming. I push the covers off my legs and it is with some effort I throw them over the sides of the bed. This is ridiculous. We didn’t bicycle that far. I’m not this out of shape, am I? I hear the water shut off and panic. I cannot let him see me struggling to get out of bed. I hurry to push off the mattress and stand, fighting back a shriek as my calf muscles take my weight. Oh God.
I hurry across the room, saying “ouch” with each step.
Pierre-Louis comes out of the bathroom scrubbing his hair with a towel. He is nude and perfect and so fucking young. I feel like a train ran over me in the night.
He sees I am awake and, smiling widely, comes to my side to pull me into his arms. “Belle, you slept well?”
“Yes.”
He kisses me softly and I startle when I hear a soft rap at the door. “Room service,” he explains. “You were sleeping so sweetly, I wanted to surprise you.”
I smile. “I’m surprised. Mind if I shower first?”
“Of course. Go, go.”
While he is dealing with room service, I hurry out of sight, my legs and ass muscles screaming with each step. I hope a shower helps because I see no way of sitting on that damn narrow seat a second day in a row. I hear him talking as I turn on the shower and step inside. The warm water is a balm and I close my eyes, only opening them when I feel his hands massaging shampoo through my tresses.
He steps inside the stall with me and rubs my scalp. It feels wonderful. “I told the tour leader we would not be cycling today. I hope you are not too disappointed.”
He rinses my hair and I open my eyes. “Did I oversleep?”
“We overslept. I thought the alarm was set…but no.”
If I could manage it, I would jump up and down. As it is I contain my excitement. “I loved yesterday, but I’m sure we can f
ind something to do to entertain ourselves today, right?”
He smiles. “If I can lie in bed naked with you today, it will be a day well spent.”
I tilt my head to kiss him, agreeing, “Very, very, well spent,” as he kisses me with deliberate slowness.
I am not surprised when he pushes me up against the cool tile wall, or when he pushes his fingers through my slick folds, or even when he lifts me. I am surprised when my body doesn’t rebel and my muscles don’t scream in pain as he impales me. Holding me against the wall, he lifts my ankles up to his shoulders so that I am bent in half. He pounds into me, I pound into the tile. My clit is crushed between our bodies on each thrust and released on each withdrawal. I am panting and screaming, my fingernails run down his back, tearing a groan from his throat. He pounds harder and I bite down on his shoulder, liking the roughness, needing him to be rougher. He bites too, holding my shoulder in a firm grip between his teeth as he pounds me senseless. My vagina contracts around him and he shudders, growling like a wild beast.
Spent, we cling to each other, warm water sluicing over us.
I wipe his shoulder, realizing I drew blood. I don’t know whether to apologize or say nothing. He asks, “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough?”
He lowers me to the ground and I can barely stand. “Not too rough. Besides, I should be asking you that. You’re the one bleeding.”
He laughs at me, asking, “You have met François’ cane, oui?”
Chapter Ten
We don’t leave our room but I do call Frankie. In a pinch and out of condoms, I try to think of a polite way to ask him if they are fluid bonded. This isn’t a conversation I am ready for once I have him on the phone.
“You sound stressed, what is wrong?”
Pierre-Louis kisses a path from my breasts to my clit, flicking out his tongue to make me jump. I almost shriek into the phone, “Nothing.”
“Yes, there is something. You have only been away thirty-six hours. Tell me you do not hate each other.”
“We don’t hate each other.”
Pierre-Louis slides his tongue through my folds, making my breath catch and I gasp softly. Using my knee, I try to nudge him away so I can actually have this conversation.