by Susan Stoker
Maya narrowed her eyes. “Wait. So all along you thought I was a fake photographer?”
“No.” He looked at her carefully. “I met you, and I liked you. We got along. More than got along. Even though we like to spar. Yes?”
“But you thought I was just pretending to get in to see you and your brother?” Her voice rose.
“No!” He sounded exasperated. “You were there with the charity; I know you weren’t faking anything. Look, it’s like you joked about the army. Probably if someone asked you what you honestly thought my army did, you would have answered differently. But you made a joke based on a stereotype, a prejudice. I’m sorry to say that I have those too, sometimes. The truth is that there are people who have exaggerated their credentials about photography. So many—they show a camera. Look, I’m an expert! Me, too, expert!” He pretended to snap a picture with a fake camera. “Just to meet us.”
“You stereotyped me.” She scowled at him.
“No.” He crossed his arms too.
“Yes, you did.” She knew she was being annoying, but she couldn’t stop.
“Maya, please.”
“Please, what? Take more phony pictures for my charity?”
“You know what?” he snapped. “You are altogether too stubborn.”
“Oh, is that right?”
“That’s exactly right.”
“A stubborn faker. I bet you’re sorry you brought me here. Hope I wasn’t faking it last night, is that what you’re thinking?”
He grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet, and then into his body. “Oh, you weren’t faking it last night,” he growled, his voice full of anger and passion.
“How do you know?”
“Because I made you scream out my name,” he whispered, his eyes blazing. “Over and over again, and you fell apart in my arms when you came so hard. And you begged me, whimpering, your eyes glazed with passion, your thighs trembling with desire. And you sucked my cock so good, that’s how I know.”
He turned around and barked some orders to the open French doors. A woman responded, then pulled the doors shut.
“I asked for some privacy,” he murmured. “Do you know why?”
She just stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the fierce glare.
“Because, chèrie, I’m going to fuck you right here, right now, and let you scream your passion out over the mountainside,” he said, pointing to the magnificent landscape in front of their eyes. “You’re going to come so hard that the entire valley will know that you’re begging for my cock.”
“Henri—”
“Quiet. For now, that is,” he said, running his hand down her arm. “In a few minutes, you won’t be able to hold back your voice. But for now, I want you to listen.”
“What if I don’t want to listen?”
“Oh, okay. You don’t?” He raised an eyebrow and took a step back, then another. “Let’s see. What if I told you that I want you to take off your dress and throw it over the railing right now? I want you to show me your naked body in the sunlight.”
He lowered his voice. “I want you to raise your arms and let the sun kiss your breasts and your belly, and your thighs.”
He moved his eyes down her body, and it felt like he was caressing her. She sucked in a breath, took a step closer as if transfixed.
He continued, “What if I said that I want you to put your hands on the railing and bend over and spread your legs for me, and let me touch you the way the sunlight does, so completely and so intently that you come apart for me into a thousand fucking pieces of gold?”
She touched her lips. “Henri.” His name came out hoarse, a plea.
He cocked one finger. “Hmmm? Would you like to keep listening?”
She nodded, locked in his gaze.
“I can’t hear you.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I thought I was just supposed to listen.” She crossed her arms, the pressure against her nipples making her aroused.
“Oh, see, now you do want to follow orders.” He smirked. “I knew you would, eventually.”
“Henri!” She stamped her foot. “You’re so—”
But what she was even planning to say flew out of her mind.
Chapter Seven
“Come to me,” he said, smiled that gorgeous smile, dimple popping, eyes flashing, and she was helpless. “You know we both want to.”
“Yes,” she whispered, and stepped into his arms.
His lips on her neck, his mouth on her mouth, his hands on her breasts—everything felt so right. He nudged her thighs apart with one of his and pulled her ass closer, sticking his tongue into her mouth to explore. She breathed in his scent, cologne and man; mixed with the fresh air, it was intoxicating. Somewhere in the distance, a bird song shimmered, the notes falling over each other like a waterfall.
“I…”
“Shh. I’ll let you know when to talk,” he commanded, and instead of irritating her, it only aroused her further.
“The dress. Take it off and throw it.” He let her go and held her shoulders for a second. “I want you naked. For me only. Right now.”
She looked around, but they were entirely alone, it was them and the scenery and the air. Suddenly bold, she slid the dress down her body, and in a fit of abandon, sashayed to the stone column railing. Resting one hand on the flat ledge surface, she held the dress out, then let it go. A sudden breeze tumbled it into a new shape as it floated to the earth.
“Very nice.” Henri stepped up behind her and unsnapped her bra, tossing it aside. “Slide your panties down to your thighs. Leave them there for now.”
With trembling fingers, she obeyed.
“Now spread your legs as wide as you can and lean your breasts down onto the stone.”
She did that, too, sucking in a breath as her nipples contacted the cool surface.
“Beautiful. Now, please stay like that until I ask you to move.”
He pressed into her body, and she could feel his hard cock against her thighs, her ass, but then he stepped away. “I need to make a few phone calls. I want to enjoy the scenery while I do.”
“Henri?” Frustrated and pissed, she turned to glare at him.
He slapped her ass, not too hard, but with a firm touch, letting his finger caress after they landed. “It will take five minutes. You spend that time thinking about what I will do…” he let his fingers drift around the front of her belly to her mound, agonizingly close to her clit,” when I come back. I better find you nice and wet, or I’ll spank you first.” He gave her a nip on the neck, and she yelped with surprise, then moaned with passion.
She couldn’t believe that she was standing here, following his orders. Except that she loved every second of it—the illicit nature of being naked while he was fully dressed, standing on provocative display while he casually went about his business. It felt dirty and amazing and perfect for the moment. She liked being submissive like this, knowing she could turn it around at any minute, also knowing that when they fucked, it was going to be incredible.
She’d never been a living piece of artwork before. She liked it.
He sat at the table; she heard the chair pull out, then his voice in German on the phone. When she peeked over her shoulder, he was staring straight at her, even as he conversed.
Fuck, that was hot.
She turned back to the view, feeling moisture grow between her open thighs. The scent of the meadow, heady and perfumed, drifted over on the breeze, and her nipples were hard on the stone under her chest. She moaned softly and shifted from leg to leg, dying for his touch. She rubbed her breasts gently back and forth, enjoying the sensation on her skin.
Henri’s voice rose slightly, as if in reaction, and she did it again. Then, feeling inspired, she reached down and slid the panties lower, just an inch or two, widened her stance, and walked backward so her ass stuck out more prominently. “Oh!” she moaned, loud enough for him to hear.
She wiggled her hips. He could see everything, spread as she was, her pu
ssy, her wetness. She hoped he was dying on the phone. She stretched her arm back and ran her hand over her ass, turned to look, then ran her fingers down her chest to her pussy.
“Henri,” she called, lifting her hand up to her mouth. “Taste?” She stuck her finger into her mouth and sucked hard, letting the finger go with an audible pop. Then she turned back to the rail, in her original posture, the one he’d demanded.
His voice grew harder on the phone, he ended in a flurry of sentences, then there was silence.
She shivered with anticipation as his footfall approached, then she felt his warmth behind her and gasped at his touch.
He pulled her close to his chest, her back along his body, and cupped one breast in each hand. His breath tickled her cheek when he leaned down. “Impatient for me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Tired of waiting? But you look so good naked. If you were mine, I’d make you walk around nude every day like this and get into poses for me to enjoy. And I’d fuck you when you obeyed me.”
“God,” she moaned, the idea incredibly erotic.
“And I’d punish you when you disobeyed,” he added, making her moan again.
“But I was so good!” she protested.
“Oh, but you teased me,” he corrected. “You didn’t stay in the position I told you. There has to be some kind of repercussion for that, you know.”
“What do you suggest?” She pushed her ass back into his cock, and he grabbed her hips to help. “I’ll do anything to make up for my transgressions. Please punish me, Henri.”
He grabbed a flat cushion from one of the chairs and snapped. “On your knees.”
She narrowed her eyes at the snap, but she also loved it, and she wanted to do what he was asking. She got down onto the cushion carefully. “And now?”
“What do you think?” He came closer.
“I think, maybe…” she unsnapped the jeans and started to tug them down his lean hips, “that you want me to suck you.”
He assisted with the clothing, and his cock, hard and thick, stood at attention. “That is exactly right. For your punishment, you’re going to suck me as deep as I want, for as long as I want. Open.” He tapped her cheek, not a slap, but a sign of possession, and she growled at him before obeying.
He laughed. “God, you’re so fucking hot. Suck.” He thrust his cock into her mouth and took her hair in both hands, not hard, but firmly. “Hands behind your back.”
She dropped one hand to her pussy, wanting to rub herself, but he noticed. “Not yet, chèrie. You need to wait for your pleasure. It’s part of your punishment.” But his voice, sexy and sonorous, erotic and masculine, rolled over her and made her shiver with arousal.
She put her arms behind her back as requested, and leaned into his body, feeling the warmth from his legs and groin, nearly as hot as the sun on her naked back. He was so hard! He held her head, moving her back and forth, using her like a toy, and the feeling of being taken this way made her so wet that she could barely withstand the urge to touch herself and explode.
“I want to go deeper now,” he murmured. “Are you ready?”
When she looked up at him and nodded, he smiled. “Keep looking at me while I fuck your mouth.”
He thrust hard and she almost gagged, he held her head firmly until she relaxed her throat around his cock, her eyes watering. The expression on his face was absolutely fierce, full of primal ownership. When he pulled back, she gasped out a breath.
“Again. Eyes on me.” He waited a second, then pushed deep, deeper than the last time, holding her head to his hips, and she felt him twitch inside her throat, and hummed around his cock, a note of pleasure and arousal and frustration. “Good girl. Again.”
He thrust and released, thrust and released, each time going as deep into her throat as possible. Making eye contact with him while he did it was embarrassing, humbling, and powerful, all at once. She was on her knees at his command, sucking him, letting him control her mouth and her breath; yet she was the one making his thighs clench, making his entire body quiver; she was the one bringing that feeling of near-ecstasy to his face.
Her whole world was her mouth and his cock and his eyes. Her tears blurred his face, but she could see his expression. Her thighs were coated with her own desire, her fingers sweaty, laced behind her, and soon she was nearly delirious, in a trance from the repletion and his eyes, feeling nearly hypnotized.
Finally, he pulled away. “Up, now.” His voice was harsh, but his hands gentle as he tugged her to her feet and rubbed her arms. “Maybe I’ll take a turn on my knees, hmm?”
He picked her up and placed her in a chair. “Put one leg on each arm, hands behind your head. Don’t move, yes?”
But he grabbed a cloth napkin and dabbed her eyes. “Don’t cry, chèrie.”
“It’s not sad tears, it’s just—”
“Shh, I know, I’m teasing. I’ll have you crying with pleasure, anyway.” He stroked her breasts, then pulled up his jeans and fastened them. He got down in front of her. “Don’t close your thighs.”
And then his mouth was on her clit, sucking, his fingers in her pussy.
“Come for me,” his voice demanded, harsh and sexy. “Maintenant. Jouis pour moi maintenant.”
She screamed without meaning to as an orgasm cracked like sudden lightning and shuddered through her core. She convulsed and pushed into his tongue as the feeling kept coming, over and over; as soon as a burst died down, another one started. It was a long minute before she flopped back, entirely wrung out, thighs shaking.
“Henri,” she mewled. “God.”
“Beautiful,” he whispered, then picked her up and sat down on the couch, holding her on his lap. “Beautiful.”
She took a deep shuddering breath and relaxed onto his strong chest. “If that’s punishment, I need to be bad more often.”
“What an excellent idea,” he replied, shifting. He was hard under her thighs.
“Maybe you should teach me another lesson,” she suggested, reaching down to stroke him.
“Perhaps I should,” he agreed. “Are you ready, my student?” He pinched one nipple, and a matching need sparked in her pussy.
“Oh,” she cried out. Then, “Yes, please, Professor. Absolutely.”
“Good.” He moved her to the side, and stood, ripping off his shirt, pulling off his jeans. “Then please, back to the rail, as you were before.”
She sashayed over, new arousal thrumming. “Like this?” She got into the dirty provocative pose he liked, holding onto the rail with her fingers, her thighs spread as wide as she could.
“Exactly. Very nice.”
He came up behind her and cracked her on the ass, a sharp gunshot of a sound that echoed out across the valley.
She jumped. “What was that for?’ But the breathy tone in her voice told them both that she liked it.
He laughed. “Because you like it. Ask me to do it again before I fuck you.”
“I don’t need to be spanked!” But she pushed her ass out toward him and wiggled it enticingly. “I’m not a child.”
“That you are not,” he agreed, tracing the curve of her buttock and drawing his finger to her pussy. “You’re all grown up.” He cracked a nice hard spank onto her other cheek and she moaned.
“I like how it makes your skin so pink,” he murmured. “It goes well with your red hair.” He reached around to play with her nipples. “These are so pretty and pink, too. I could play with them all day. Maybe I will play with them all day. What if I had you walk around naked today, while I do work? And when I snapped my fingers,” he paused to snap beside her ear, “you’d come right up to me and bend down so I could play with your tits for a while when I’m on my phone call, or computer.”
“I’m not a pet!” She wanted to glare at him, but the fantasy was so hot that she couldn’t resist pushing into his hands.
“Tu sera mon chouchou et obéis à mes ordres,” he murmured. “And you’d love it, because when I touched you, I
’d make you aroused and excited. You see, like this.” He rolled her nipples between his thumb and index finger, tweaking and flicking, twisting gently and grazing lightly with his fingernails, until she writhed beneath him, wanting more.
He laughed. “You get mad when I say pet, and surely you’d be angry at the collar. But when I touched you like this, you’d never be able to resist me. Because you know at the end of the day, if you’re a good girl for me, I’ll reward you with a phenomenal fuck.”
“I’ll never be a pet,” she snapped, then moaned in passion. “You don’t own me.” But she closed her eyes, drifting on the wave he controlled, entirely his at that moment.
“Ah, but if I own you, then you own me too,” he suggested, biting her neck. “It only works both ways. Both or none, yes? And you’d have me on my knees often enough, I’m sure.”
The idea of him on his knees as before, talented mouth between her thighs, and her on the cushion, wrapped together in her mind with his hands on her breasts. Images of him on a luxurious couch, dressed in fancy slacks and a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up—snapping at her while on the phone—and her coming up, naked except for heels, to let him touch, maybe slap her ass, then point her to a corner or rail… it was too much. The need to come was killing her.
“Henri, please, I need you,” she begged.
Without words, he touched her thighs and she spread them. He pushed at her entrance, and as easily as if they’d been together for years, their bodies adjusted without words, finding the right height and angle, the right pressure. He braced one arm against the rail and clutched her hips with his other broad hand. “Push back into me while I fuck you,” he ordered, but she already was, meeting each thrust with a backwards push of her own.
“Feel so good,” she muttered, and then didn’t bother speaking again, just let their bodies come together in a union so perfect that when her orgasm came, she did scream his name out across the valley, again and again, tossing the word into the clouds over to the meadow, as if it belonged there with all of nature’s glorious bounty. He came at the same moment, and he shouted her name, and their two voices were a duet of pleasure.