[Invitation to Eden 24.0] How to Tempt a Tycoon

by Daire StDenis

  That was right after I used my mouth on him. I’m tempted to do it again. This time, not to torture him, nor to sabotage his attempt to go slow, but because I love doing it. I love the taste of him. I love the way his cock shudders inside my mouth, and how he feels against my lips, a soft, wet counterpart to my pussy. My mouth, like my body, longs for him to penetrate me.

  But tonight I don’t give in to the urge. I know where it will take us. Well, I know where it will take me. Sucking him is tantamount to jumping an express train to Horny Town. A one-way ticket to an orgasm. So instead I focus on my hands. On the texture of his thighs, the soft skin beneath coarse hair. There’s the even softer skin of his sac, loose and pliable. When I work my fingers between his balls I get to the place he told me about, the root of him, the source of all of his manhood.

  “Press hard,” he says as his head lolls from side to side, his hands joining mine between his legs.

  I do as he asks, massaging deeply with my right hand as I grab his length with my left. Goddamn. There is something incredibly hot and masculine about touching a man this way. I realize the sheer size of him, the length, the power of all the muscles working together to keep his organ erect.

  “Tess?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Baby?”

  I’m so taken with him, so smitten by this incredibly male part of him that I kind of ignore his plea.

  “Hmm?”

  “I need to be inside of you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  He sits up and gently but forcefully pushes me down onto my back. “These are so pretty but they must come off.” He indicates my panties by twisting his fingers beneath the bands at the sides, reminding me of Christophe from the other night.

  I lift my hips to aid in the removal, though brief memories of him twisting silk between his fists makes me gasp, causing my knees to fall wide. The air cools me, which means I’m wet. Christophe covers me with his hand, gently pulsing his fingertips against me, warming me right back up.

  “You’re aroused.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet, you’re very calm tonight.”

  “I know. Weird, huh?”

  He drops down onto one elbow, keeping his other hand between my legs, moving deeper but not too deep, still pulsing.

  “What’s changed?”

  I roll my head back and forth across the pillow. “I don’t know. I feel...relaxed.”

  “Good.”

  He makes slow, circular motions against my labia and I close my eyes, letting him do it, concentrating on relaxing my pelvis and not thrusting against his hand. I enjoy the sensation and I stop worrying about trying to build toward something. It’s so... fucking relaxing. I feel like I could lay here and let him do this to me all night long.

  “You like this.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I do.”

  “I’m going to enter you in a minute.”

  “Okay,” I say, totally at ease, totally at peace. And then... “Wait. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  “Condoms.”

  His hand stills and my eyes open.

  “What?”

  “I want to ask you to consider something.”

  “Consider what?”

  “I have always been fastidious about protection.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  “I believe you have too.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “And you’re healthy.”

  I frown. “Yes.” There he goes again. Something that should be a question is a statement.

  “As am I.”

  “Christophe—”

  “I trust you and I am asking you to trust me.”

  I am about to say something, something about this not being about trust but about rules. However, before I can get the words out, he continues.

  “I am asking if you will permit me to be inside of you with no barrier. I wish to share the most intimate experience possible...with you. You are the only woman I have ever asked this of. You are the only one I have ever wanted to be with so completely.” He pauses before saying, “But I leave the decision in your hands.”

  Holy fuck. What am I supposed to say?

  I think I’m about to answer in the negative when his hand starts to move again. Softly caressing my body from opening to opening, teasing me, not to torment me or to try to sway me—at least I don’t think that’s what he’s doing—but to relax me.

  “Take your time,” he says, moving onto the bed beside me, one hand between my legs while his other hand moves up to my tummy, then to my breasts. His hand and lips make love to my nipples while his other hand continues to make love to my pussy. The fire that was building continues to grow and I long for the thing he’s suggesting. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt a man skin to skin.

  Why not Christophe?

  “Have you ever made love without protection before?”

  “Yes. Once.”

  “With her?” The words are difficult because of what he’s doing to my body.

  “Yes. With her.”

  Wow.

  I close my eyes and the image in my brain is of Christophe thrusting into me without a condom. The imagined sensation of his cock sliding into me, his flesh against mine, is so real I arch and grind into his hand.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “You know what I want.”

  “You need to say it.”

  “I want you inside of me, Christophe. Skin to skin. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”

  He groans. It’s a lustful, sexy sound and it stokes the blaze inside of me to a point where I’m now ready to grab hold of him and force him inside.

  “I’m going to go slow, Tess. You need to let go of that tension or I will drive you crazy.”

  I throw my head back. God, it’s so hard! So many years of conditioning. So many crazy lovemaking sessions where the faster and harder and more painful it was the better it was. This is contrary to everything I believe in. And yet...and yet...

  I’m struck again by the sense of familiarity. As Christophe moves on top of me and presses my thighs open with his knees and I guide him to my steamy entrance, I am overcome by a wicked déjà vu.

  You need to take it slow, Christophe. Millimeter by millimeter. Feel every inch of me as you slide inside. Take your time. Enjoy it. Your penis will thank you.

  Where did that come from?

  “What’s wrong?” Christophe asks, holding his cock flush against my opening, exhibiting some kind of superhuman self-control.

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ll stop if you’re not ready.”

  “Who says I’m not ready?”

  “You’re frowning.”

  I shake my head and adjust my hips, making the angle easier for him to slide inside. “Nothing’s wrong. For a second I felt like I’ve been here before. Like this. ”

  He adjusts his hips too. “Maybe you have,” he whispers and suddenly he is inside of me—just the tip—but there he is. I am so aware of him, his warmth, the way he stretches me—fuck me—it’s sublime.

  His smile is slow and leisurely like his cock, thrusting a teensy bit deeper, making me inhale sharply. God, it’s good.

  Normally I’d be bearing down on him. Normally, I’d be grabbing his hips and urging him inside, further, faster, harder, harder. Now, now, now!

  “Tell me how it feels.”

  “It’s nice. I feel the stretch along each of my muscles. I feel—wow—all of you.”

  “Mmm.” He sighs into my hair as he lowers himself on top of me, his breath slow and easy, in time with mine.

  “How does it feel for you?” I ask softly.

  “Exquisite. You’re incredibly warm and wet. You are sucking me in. I’m barely doing anything.”

  “Really?”

  “Mmm.”

  “You don’t feel like going faster?”

  He smiles and kisses me softly, then whispers against my lips. “I used
to. I’d feel this urge building in me. It was an urge to fuck. There’s no other way to describe it.”

  “Yes.” Oh, how I understand that urge. I’m feeling it right this second. “How did you control it?”

  “I didn’t. I learned to relax into it. I learned that when I stopped trying to fuck and started trying to feel, the sensation was extraordinary. Better.”

  “I’m having a hard time believing you.”

  “And yet, here you are. Doing it.”

  “Am I?”

  He kisses me again. His lips so soft and tender. His mouth juicy and relaxed. I respond equally and our lips perform a luscious dance together. It takes me a while to realize we do not have our tongues stuck down each other’s throats because it’s not necessary.

  “That’s nice,” I say.

  “It is.” He kisses me again before moving up onto his knees, pulling my hips and angling my pelvis off the bed.

  I brace myself with my feet and as he moves in and out of me, I meet him thrust for thrust. He pushes my hips into the mattress, holding me there. “You need to stay still.”

  “But—”

  “Concentrate on relaxing your vagina. Stop worrying about making it pleasurable for me, think about the pleasure taking place inside of you.”

  “Doesn’t it feel good when I do that, though?”

  “It feels incredible, but it amps me up, makes me want to finish. Fast.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You have no idea how hard it is for a man to be inside of you. You make men want to lose control when you move the way you do.”

  “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

  “Neither. But it’s what you did to me last night. You made me ejaculate.”

  “I did.”

  “You did.”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “I haven’t done it in a long time.”

  “Why?”

  “Ejaculation and orgasm are two different things, possible to achieve separately, which is what I strive for. When I retain my essence, I am energized. Revitalized. When a sexy, manipulative, siren like yourself forces me to come, I feel depleted.”

  As he relates the memory of last night, it seems to make him move with more vigor. I respond accordingly but not for long. Christophe holds my hips firmly. “Not tonight, Tessa. We’re doing things differently. But you need to be willing. Are you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Show me. I want to learn.”

  Chapter Twenty-One - Christophe

  He rolls me onto my side, scissoring our legs together. The new angle sends ripples of pleasure through my pelvis and shock waves up into my jaw. “Wow.” I say.

  “Feel good?”

  “So good.”

  “The beauty is, Tess, the less you do, the more you feel.”

  “That’s so weird.”

  “But true.” We stay there for a few minutes, Christophe moving in and out of me slowly, sometimes stopping and breathing while he’s buried deep inside. At those moments the desire to move is overwhelming and just when I’m about to pulse my pelvis against him or contract my vaginal wall to squeeze him, I hear a voice.

  Relax into it. Feel your sex. Feel every movement. Stop thinking about what he needs and think about how you feel, what you need.

  “That’s it, God. That’s it. You are so hot inside. So wet.” He pulls me up onto all fours and plunges deep, holding my hips still while he does gentle thrusts. Deeper, deeper, deeper.

  His words excite me as does the position, one of my favorites, and I can’t stop myself this time from backing up against him and gyrating my hips in circles.

  “Fuck that’s good, Tess, but you need to slow down.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “You can. Channel that energy up inside of you.” He bends over me, his front against my back, one arm supporting him while his other hand comes around to my breast, softly kneading.

  It feels fucking amazing. The full body contact, the prolonged penetration, the slow burn I had going on inside is suddenly on the verge of becoming out of control.

  “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what you need next. Think about what is happening now. Feel me inside of you. Feel your breasts, your nipples, be them.”

  Be your penis, the voice says in my head. It’s her voice, I’m sure of it. It’s like the ghost of the woman who taught him, last time he visited Eden, remained behind on the island and is here with us now, coaching me.

  “She told you the same thing,” I ask breathlessly. “Didn’t she?”

  His movement goes from slow and easy to a bit faster. “What do you mean?”

  “The woman who taught you, she said, be your penis.”

  He grasps my hips hard and holds me tight, thrusting into the most intimate part of me and staying there. “How did you know?”

  “I heard her in my head. Just now.”

  He starts moving again. “Yes,” he says eventually. “She did say that.”

  “And is that what you’re doing now?”

  He gently pushes me down onto my stomach and lies on top of me, not smothering me but just covering me like the most erotic blanket in the world. “Yes. Until you started asking me all of these questions.”

  “Sorry.”

  He nips at the back of my neck. “Stop thinking, Tessa.” He moves so that my legs are together and he is squeezed tight between them. “Just feel. Okay?”

  I take a deep breath and concentrate on what he’s doing, my legs pressed together, just lying there while he moves. Soon, I stop thinking about him and start feeling the sensation of him inside of me. Of his body on top of mine. I start to move, not to please him but to please myself. I roll out from under him and slide on top of him, riding his cock up and down, not frenetically, like I usually do, but like everything is slow motion—up, down, up, down—I feel buoyant, a well-greased carousel horse on a pole. I control the penetration, I feel him from tip to root filling me, going deeper than I can usually take men, like my vagina has expanded. Christophe lies beneath me, his hands moving softly along my thighs. Not grabbing, not pinching, but stroking and caressing, teasing each nerve ending into awareness, creating a delicious, tingling awakening that encompasses my whole body.

  From there I pull him up so that he’s sitting and I wrap my legs around his back. Seated in his lap, I feel his hands beneath my ass and he lifts me up and then lets gravity take control so that I slide to his base, him impossibly deep in me.

  “Ah!” It’s like his body has come alive inside of mine. Not only is he incredibly deep, it feels as though his cock is snaking up higher, going places I’ve never known a man to go before. He reaches for me and fits his hand around my neck. We gaze into each other’s eyes.

  And I’m there. There is nothing else going on except the fact that I am sitting in Christophe’s lap, his cock embedded profoundly in my body and our gazes searching out one another’s souls. There is no crazy thrusting. No spanking. No pinching, no slapping. He doesn’t tie me up, yet I am tied to him. He doesn’t move and yet I can feel him more acutely than any man before. I am not panting and yet I am so aware of my breath moving in and out of my lungs in a caress, just as I am aware of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

  We stay like that for I don’t know how long, and then we move. Our bodies take over, performing an ancient dance that we were born knowing how to do. Fluid, lithe, gentle, loving, we move together in this rich, succulent sway of bodies until I cease being. I am no longer Tessa Savage making love to Christophe Chevalier. I am pure energy. I feel it rising from his potent male virility and traveling up from my womb and abdomen into my chest, out through my heart and back to Christophe’s. This cycle continues to build and build, energy shared in a divine circuit, deleting physicality and replacing our bodies with effervescent vapors of vibrating energy. Unlike the increased friction and tension that I normally feel prior to orgasm, this is an incredibly relaxing and yet euphoric state. There is no past, there is no future.
There is only now and I am one with Christophe, moving together, breathing together, feeling together.

  And out of nowhere I am transported across time and space until I find myself in this world of multicolored bliss. It doesn’t grow and explode. It expands, engulfs; it’s not a place or a height that I touch for a nano-second, feeling its loss an instant after experiencing its wonder. It’s a place where I live where I grow larger than myself. I remain within it. And it is peace and it is beauty and it is feeling whole for perhaps the first time in my fucking life and I don’t ever want to leave and in fact, I have no urge to leave.

  It is not fleeting, I am not tired, spent, or satiated. I am open to more sensations than I could have ever imagined and I feel energized. Like a superhuman. I am a god in my own flesh. It’s my home. For the first fucking time I’ve found it. Not a pseudo home. Not a temporary home. It is the place where I belong. It is me and it is where I want to stay. But I’m not here alone. I’m with Christophe. We’re together. We feel this miracle simultaneously and I know we do because as I look into his eyes I see every feeling, every emotion that I’m feeling reflected back to me. That reflection does not double the pleasure, it expands the pleasure exponentially, like we’re nuclear fission.

  Though I know I can’t linger indefinitely, that fact does not leave me panicked. I know I will return for I have been here before.

  Often.

  This place has a name and I feel it in every cell and fiber of my being.

  It is pure. Bright. Weightless.

  Perfect.

  It is love.

  ***

  Hours have passed since I came to the bedroom looking for a sweater. The candles have burned down but I don’t care. I’m lying in Christophe’s arms feeling more content than I may have ever felt before in my life. However, there is one thing that is bothering me. One thing I must ask.

  “Christophe?”

  “Yes?”

  “The woman you met here last time, who was she?”

  He takes a long time to answer. The longer he takes, the more worried I become that my dubious, impossible suspicion might actually be correct.

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”