FrenchQuarter.htm

by Lacey Alexander

  To her surprise, he tilted his head, letting his heated expression be replaced with one of amusement. “Now, now, chere—what happened to stretchin’ things out?”

  “That’s when we were seeing each other every night. It’s been too long, Jack.”

  “I agree. I’ve been sufferin’ through life with a perpetual hard-on lately. But I can only guess you rubbed off on me somewhere along the way, ‘cause as much as I want to nail you to the bed with my cock right now, I also want to take it slow, make it steamy, make it…special.”

  Liz let out a breath and felt guilty for the times she’d tortured him with hours of foreplay. Now she found herself wondering how he’d stood it. “It will be special. Whether it’s fast or slow, hard or soft, it’ll be special. I don’t want to wait.”

  A slow, confident smile unfurled on his stubbled face. “Well, Mistress Liz, I’m sorry, but I’m the one takin’ control tonight, so you’ll just have to play it my way.”

  Chapter 13

  The words made her cunt swell even more. She was so wet for him, needed his big, hot shaft inside her so bad. How was she going to survive it?

  “Go in the bedroom and lie down,” he instructed.

  She thought of protesting, but decided it was futile. Just like her when she got her mind set on controlling their sex, she knew Jack wouldn’t give in until he was good and ready.

  Once she’d reclined, she realized he hadn’t followed her. “Jack? Are you coming?”

  She heard him chuckle. “My impatient petite fille,” he murmured from the other room. She thought it a vast understatement.

  When he still hadn’t appeared a few seconds later, she couldn’t help touching herself. With one hand she began caressing her breast through her bra, with the other she delivered light strokes to her clit through the lace, thinking—please, Jack, please.

  Finally, he appeared in the doorway, but to her utter surprise, he’d been…transformed. He stood naked, his big, lovely cock at full attention, stretched up past his navel, his broad chest draped with purple and gold Mardi Gras beads, his handsome face covered with a shiny Mardi Gras mask so that only his eyes, mouth, and dark-stubbled chin were visible. He looked as mysterious and dangerous as she’d ever thought him and her pussy seemed to clench, her nipples tightening as she studied him, this Bacchanalian man who looked ready to perform primitive sexual rituals on her.

  Only as he approached did she realize he held more Mardi Gras paraphernalia in his hands. Leaning over the bed, he tenderly lifted her head and draped strands of the colored beads around her neck, across her chest. Around her shoulders he arranged a long purple feather boa. Finally, he placed a mask of purple glitter and sequins over her eyes. Suddenly, she felt as enigmatic as she thought him just now; something about hiding themselves behind the masks was almost as erotic as if they were two strangers at Mardi Gras who’d rendezvoused in this apartment for a primal sexual encounter.

  “Get up,” he said softly.

  The beads jangled together as she rose to her feet, gathering the boa around her. Following his lead, she took a few steps until, together, they stood before the long mirror on his closet door. “Look at you,” he breathed, his voice a barely audible wisp, coming even lower than that distant saxophone still playing somewhere beyond the windows and doors of Jack’s apartment. “The perfect Mardi Gras queen, looking for her king at a Bacchanal. Looking for the man worthy of fucking her.”

  “You look very worthy,” she whispered, letting her gaze drop to his dick in the mirror.

  A small grin formed below his mask. “Do you remember, chere, when you told me your fantasy about havin’ sex on a float in a Mardi Gras parade?”

  Up to now, it hadn’t crossed her mind, but the question made her smile.

  “Well, darlin’, it’s a long time ‘til Mardi Gras rolls back around. But come next February, maybe I can arrange such an erotic little treat for you. And until then, we can just consider this practice.”

  With that, he stepped behind her and reached around to cup her breasts. As they both watched themselves in the mirror, he gently massaged them, causing the beads to click softly together, making her breath come heavy from the long-awaited pleasure. Dipping his thumbs into the lace, he first raked them over ultra-hard nipples, forcing a whimper from her, and then he pulled the lace edges down just far enough that her stiffened buds jutted out. “Such pretty breasts,” he whispered in her ear, twirling the sensitive pink tips between his thumbs and forefingers.

  “Suck them,” she said.

  To her shock, he responded with a laugh, then whispered, “Only when I’m good and ready, darlin’.”

  The man was maddening.

  His hands left her breasts then, slowly making their way down over the curve of her waist, the thin strap of blue lace at her hip, her thighs. She knew the tender touches were purposeful teases, and she endured them not only because he was giving her no choice, but also because she was starting to accept that she would do what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, on this particular night.

  He turned her from the mirror to face him then, and slowly backed her into a wall. He pinned her wrists at either side of her head, his grip like a vise as he delivered a long, slow kiss, his tongue licking at hers. His hold never loosened as he rained kisses down over her shoulder, chest, the ridge of her breasts—finally his mouth closed over one straining nipple and she cried out. He sucked hard, just like she wanted, and she felt the sensation shoot straight from her breast to her cunt. Finally, he released her wrists, dropped to his knees, and lowered an exasperatingly chaste little kiss to the front of her panties, just above her needy clit.

  “Your bra,” he said, still kneeling before her. “Take it off, slowly.”

  Biting her lip, Liz reached behind her to undo the hook, loosening the tight lace. Then she reached up, hooking her thumbs beneath the straps, and leisurely extracted it from her Mardi Gras accessories, leaving her breasts draped only in the colorful beads.

  Now, she thought, tossing the bra away, now he would lick her pussy, kiss her breasts—something!

  And then—damn him—he backed away to look up at her.

  “More, baby, please,” she begged. Maybe that was what he wanted, for her to beg. She’d beg and plead all night if it would get her what she needed.

  He smiled. “Sorry, chere, but don’t waste your breath. I’m callin’ the shots here.”

  Infuriating man! She pulled in her breath, leaned back her head in frustration.

  And then he was suddenly on his feet again and reaching for her breasts—but no, no, damn it, not her breasts at all; he was only reaching for the beads she wore. Yet then—sweet bliss—he rolled the strings of beads outward over the curves of her breasts until they met both turgid nipples, stopping them in place. But only for a brief moment—he kept dragging the beads until they flicked hard past the pink peaks impeding them, creating a tense echo of pleasure throughout her body. She bit her lip and moaned.

  She sensed his grin of arousal as he next dragged the beads back from the outer curves of her breasts until once again the stiff buds halted them. Delicious pressure weighed on her nipple as Jack slowly continued pulling the strings inward, finally snapping the beads across the little rock-hard crests and sending another tremor of heat through her. “Unh,” she breathed.

  He continued playing with the beads, pulling them this way and that over her ever-sensitive breasts, doing it faster, raking the hard beads back and forth over her nipples until she thought she’d die from the rough little jolts of pleasure. And then his tongue entered the fray—he dropped to lick at her taut nipples, making her pussy surge with wetness below, making her grunt and moan and grip his head in her hands, making her wild and wanton for more. More, more. She wanted to beg him, but resisted, because he was so single-minded tonight, so driven to do it his way, and she suspected begging would only make him stretch it out further, so she only whimpered and groaned and let him know how hot he was getting her.

&
nbsp; Finally, he let go of the beads, released her nipples from his sweet wet mouth, and the absence of all touching made her realize exactly how roughly her cunt throbbed. She didn’t think it had ever felt this hot and swollen.

  And maybe he read her mind, because that’s when he took the lush feather boa from her shoulders and slipped it between her legs. He held it taut against her pussy, one hand behind her, the other in front so that it was like riding a feathery rope. He never said a word, just looked into her eyes. She knew she was meant to move against it, relieve a little of her ache that way, and she couldn’t have resisted rubbing herself on it if she’d tried. At that moment, having anything offer a little sweet pressure against her mound would have made her respond, but she couldn’t deny the thick feather boa was particularly soft and sensuous, especially where the feathers brushed against her ass in back, where her panties were just a tiny strip of fabric.

  As always, she relished his intent gaze on her as she rode the boa for him, and grew even hotter inside when she glanced up at her lover and remembered their masks. The sight made her imagine for a short moment that they were perched high on a Mardi Gras float, spectators all around them. He’d called her the perfect Mardi Gras queen, and she felt just as sexy and sensual and daring as such a French Quarter would demand.

  Finally, Jack withdrew the boa from between her thighs and led her to the bed. Mmm, he would finally fuck her here, she knew it—and she could barely stand the wait. “Lie down,” he commanded.

  She followed the order willingly, watching him, waiting for what would come next. Kneeling between her legs, her Bacchanalian god of all that was carnal slid his massive cock lengthwise against her pussy through the lace, playing her like a violin. So good to finally get that sweet hot tool against her cunt—she reached down, planning to pull the lace to one side, but he stopped her, grabbing her hands, again pinning them to her sides while he sawed his cock against her aching slit.

  More, baby, please, she silently begged, but instead she got it someplace she hadn’t expected at that very moment—he shifted on the bed to straddle her face, his cock looking even more majestic than usual towering over her like a column of steel. Mmm, she wanted it in her mouth, as deep as she could take it, so she reached up, wrapped her hand around the thick shaft, and drew it down to her lips. Yet instead of sucking him just yet, at the last second she decided to tease him a little—two could play at that game.

  Smiling up at him, she raked a tiny lick across the tip. He shuddered visibly, closed his eyes. She licked again, this time dragging her tongue in a circle around the head, French-kissing his cock.

  Above her, he moaned and she continued the teasing treatment, thoroughly enjoying each little lick and lave. Her pussy still yearned to have his hot shaft inside her, but the mouthplay was wildly fulfilling, too. As her licks grew broader, longer, she needed to feel his length, so she began licking upward from the base of his cock, long, languid strokes that had him groaning with each movement, until finally she had to swallow him—she closed her lips around him and drew him as deep toward her throat as she could. Mmm, yes, having her mouth filled with him was the next best thing to having her cunt filled with him. She sucked up and down, breathed hot air over and around him, listened to him moan and murmur, “That’s right, baby. So fuckin’ good when you suck me.”

  Finally, he groaned and drew his dick from her mouth, breathing, “No more, chere. I don’t wanna come yet.”

  She didn’t want that, either. If she was tortured, so should he be.

  “What now?” she asked, unable to go even a second without wanting him to touch her or kiss her, desperately needing their bodies to connect in some way.

  His grin was as wicked and sensual as ever. “Now you get a surprise.”

  Despite herself, she returned the smile. “Another vibrator?”

  He shrugged behind his mask. “Mais, yes and no. But I promise that my adventurous Mardi Gras queen will like how it makes her feel.”

  Curiosity bit at her, making her anxious to see what he had in store for her.

  Kneeling beside her in bed, he reached to remove her panties, and she lifted her ass, letting him. “Spread for me,” he said. “I’ve missed seein’ this sweet little pussy.”

  Pleased, she did as he asked and basked in the sexy joy of having him just look at her. She knew she was wet and wide open by now, knew his eyes were feasting on her tender pink flesh.

  “So fuckin’ pretty, chere,” he said, eyes intent on her cunt.

  Maybe he would fuck her now. Please, baby, give me that beautiful cock where I need it.

  “Roll over.”

  She did.

  And then she felt the most peculiar sensation—something smooth and cool and wet sliding down the crack of her ass. “What…?”

  “Shh.”

  She quieted, intrigued and aroused enough not to argue.

  The cool pressure continued until it reached her anus and there it played around the sensitive opening, making her sigh with a pleasure that radiated through her body. She’d assumed he would keep going then, with whatever this new tool was, that he would glide it down to her waiting pussy, but to her surprise, the unknown object continued to gently poke and prod and rub the little fissure.

  Without planning it, she found herself lifting her ass off the bed toward the mystery tool, wanting this sweet, slow teasing to persist. Only she wasn’t really thinking about what might lay ahead, was only drinking in the pleasure of the moment, so it surprised her when she realized this new object was beginning to ease inside the tight, tiny opening. “Oh God,” she moaned.

  “Feel good?”

  She couldn’t deny it. “Mmm, yes. Strange…but good.” Like that day in the shower when he’d put his thumb inside her there, but different, because this was harder, more probing, than his thumb.

  “Strange how?”

  “That hole has never been opened before. Not like this. Oh!” she cried out when the object sank suddenly deeper into this unexplored part of her body.

  “Still good?”

  She tried to analyze the feeling. So different than having something in her pussy, yet…oddly satisfying. A whole new sensation, just when she’d thought there was nothing more completely new to experience. “Um, yes.”

  “Good,” he said, and then—mmm—he began to gently slide the object in and out, in and out, and the hot sensations in her ass echoed through her cunt, making her clit ache for stimulation. “Merde, I wish you could see this, chere. Wish you could see your tight jolie little ass right now.”

  She pulled in her breath at his words, the excitement in his voice.

  “Tell me how it feels,” he said.

  She bit her lip, thinking. “Different than anything I’ve ever known. Even more sensitive than my pussy, but in an entirely different way. And, oh, my poor clit. This is making it so hot, so needy.”

  She’d been sure he’d enjoy hearing how tortured she was, but to her surprise, he gently rolled her over, careful not to let his special tool leave her snug asshole, then he spread her legs and, still fucking her ass with the toy, began to lick her swollen cunt.

  “Oh God, yes,” she moaned as his sweet tongue worked over her. The pressure in her ass magnified the effects of his licking. He started low in her pussy, but quickly moved up to her aching clit, delivering hard tongue strokes in the same rhythm he fucked her ass. Liz had never felt anything so blindingly pleasurable. She forgot where she was, who she was—she seemed to sink into the bed, through the floor, and into some dark, sweet blanket of black velvet sky, into a place where the only things that existed were her body and the man who set her wild soul free.

  “God, yes, baby, lick me,” she moaned. “Make me come.” She was so ready, her body so primed—every inch of flesh on her bones needed that hot, furious release that she knew was only heartbeats away. “Yes, baby, lick my clit. Lick it. Lick it. Lick it.” She said it in time with his sweet tonguing, and thought her pussy and ass would burst apart with al
l the pleasure rushing through them. She whimpered as the orgasm got nearer, nearer, just within reach, and then—oh God, she came so hard it almost hurt. Each hot, staggering burst of heat and pleasure wracked her body with spasms that left her weak. “Oh…” she murmured as the rough orgasm slowly began to fade, leaving her limp and feeling unbelievably well-fucked, considering that his cock hadn’t even been involved.

  She opened her eyes to find him kneeling between her legs, gazing down at her from behind that sexy mask that turned him into her secret Mardi Gras king. “How was that?” he asked, but his tone said he already knew it had been overpowering.

  She could barely speak, still weak. “A-amazing. What was that?” she countered.

  He held the toy up for her to see—a small, thin, gold vibrator, slick and smooth. “It’s made just for your tight little ass.”

  “It felt…wet.”

  “I oiled it up, wanted to make sure it didn’t hurt.”

  “I…didn’t feel any vibrations.”

  He grinned. “We’ll work up to that. This first time, I figured just fucking you there with it was enough.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right. “It was more than enough.” Almost more stimulation than her body could handle. And yet, at the same time, she still wanted…”Will you fuck me now? Please.” She didn’t smile, hoping her expression told him how much she needed his cock inside her.

  His eyes went dark behind the mask, and his voice came low. “Yeah, chere, I’ll fuck you. I’ll fuck you so good, so long, so hot, better than ever before.”

  Reaching down, he parted her legs and again studied her bare pussy. Then he parted the pink lips and bent down to blow on it. A little shiver snaked through her and then his cock was there, pushing inside her, filling her like nothing else could. It was like reclaiming a lost treasure and she wrapped her legs around his back to pull him in deep.

  The following hour was filled with tumultuous fucking, just as he’d promised. He fucked her on the bed; he fucked her standing up, bracing her hands on his dresser; he fucked her face-to-face on the kitchen table; he fucked her on the couch, where she could ride him to orgasm. He pressed her up against a balcony window so that if anyone happened to glance up at the second floor, they’d see a naked woman bedecked in mask and beads being fucked from behind. Liz pressed her palms flat against the glass, her breasts, too—as his strong, powerful cock drove into her again and again with hard, hot strokes that made her cry out with pleasure.