Andrew's room faced the street. They stepped into a cozy sitting area immediately upon entering the room. The antique armchairs and oval shaped coffee table were situated in front of a smallish fireplace already ablaze with a cheery fire. Further into the room was the bed, made up with sumptuous looking linens and flanked by charmingly mismatched antique nightstands. In front of the large window was a round table, topped with a vase of fresh-cut flowers, which could be used for eating or as a workspace. An armoire faced the bed, behind whose doors Claudia assumed were the obligatory modern conveniences all hotel rooms offered. The floors were of shiny parquet and scattered with well-worn Oriental carpets. Three houseplants, one in a plant-stand, one centered on the dresser and one hanging in a pot in a light-drenched corner added a wonderful homey warmth to the space.
Andrew hung their coats, then excused himself, telling her to make herself comfortable. A shower was his first order of business. He felt stale with recycled airplane air and groggy with jetlag. Hot water and a vigorous scrubbing usually helped to invigorate him when he traveled.
Claudia sat in the little sitting area, staring into the fire as Andrew showered. Her mind raced as she composed her mea culpa. The longer she waited for him, the more anxious she became. Reticent as she'd been before, she wanted to get everything out on the table now so she would know where she stood with him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She answered it and admitted Madame, who bore a large tray covered with a snowy white napkin. She inquired as to the suitability of the room and then set the tray on the table in front the fire. She opened a bottle of red wine to allow it to breathe and then left the room.
Claudia poured a glass of the wine and took a big swallow. It felt unnatural to drink when it was barely past noon, but she did it anyway. She heard the bathroom door open and Andrew emerged with a thick white towel wrapped around his waist. Her eye was caught by a droplet of water that dripped from his hair and onto his neck. Two days ago, she would have felt comfortable -- even entitled -- to lick it away. Now all she could do was watch, mesmerized, as it slid between his pectorals.
"Irish courage, Claudia?" he asked drolly when he saw her sitting with the glass of wine half-tilted to her lips.
Her mouth quirked in a wry smile and she raised her glass in a toast as she answered, "You bet. I need all the courage I can get."
He smiled and shook his head, somewhat sadly Claudia thought, and turned into the bedroom to dress. He joined her in front of fire in a few short minutes, having pulled on a pair of jeans. He looks good enough to eat, Claudia thought, devouring him with her eyes. Shirtless and barefoot, he was delectable. She cleared her throat and gestured him to the chair opposite her. She unveiled the tray of food and poured a glass of wine for him.
"To Paris," she offered a toast.
"To Paris."
Andrew tucked heartily into the lunch that Claudia declined to partake of. There was a fresh baguette, soft cheese and a tureen of homemade tomato soup. For dessert, Madame had baked miniature tartes aux pommes. As he ate, they chatted about anything and everything inconsequential, as if they were strangers just making one another's acquaintance. It felt wrong, but again, neither of them could broach the subject that was foremost in their minds.
Andrew swallowed the last bite of apple tart and leaned back in his chair, replete.
"I love to watch you eat." The words were out of her mouth before she could register that she'd even thought them.
"You do? You never told me that before."
"You're so... passionate about food. You relish every single bite." Slightly uncomfortable talking about something so intimate, yet at the same time wanting to say it, wanting him to know, she rose from her chair and paced slowly to the window overlooking the street. She pulled the curtain aside, gazed out onto the street and said, "You eat the same way you make love -- thoroughly, savoring every mouthful, enjoying all the tastes and textures. It's incredibly sexy," she finished, her voice a husky murmur.
As she finished talking, Andrew's hands closed over her shoulders and squeezed. He had walked up behind her, silent on bare feet. He turned her around to face him and their eyes locked, each of them searching the other's eyes to see what thoughts or feelings might be revealed. In hers, he thought he saw a hint of uncertainty, sadness and... longing? In his she read determination and a flare of desire.
Claudia's stomach dipped as his head lowered toward hers. She sucked in a quick breath just before their lips met, not having realized that she hadn't breathed properly since his hands had touched her shoulders. Her lids fluttered shut at the first brush of his lips. It was a feather light stroke; she would barely have felt it if she wasn't so eager to feel him, to drink him in.
Andrew's hands came up to gently cup her face, to steady her, when she swayed a little at the touch of his lips against hers. He raised his head and looked at her, trying to discern whether or not he'd misread the signals he thought he'd received from her. Is this what she wants? doubt flickered in his mind. She must have felt his gaze searching her face and dragged her eyelids open. In them he read the answer to his question.
He lowered his head and captured her lips in a deeper kiss, pushed into her mouth with his tongue. She opened willingly, eagerly, for him and kissed him back hungrily. He gentled the kiss. Slowing the pace, savoring the exploration of her mouth. There is no reason to rush, he thought, she's here now and I'll keep her here.
Claudia wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed her hands into his hair. She pressed her body tight to his, wishing they were already naked and touching from their mouths down to their toes. She ate at his mouth voraciously, tasting apples, wine and him, feeling desperate to have all of him right then, feeling heat and desire sweep over her in a great wave.
Andrew tried to keep control of the situation. His hands, as they charted the course of her body, were gentle. He swept them up and down her back, cupped her ass gently, pressing her ever-so-lightly against the bulge growing behind the zipper of his jeans. Her hands had begun to wander hungrily over his naked torso, brushing over his nipples and down to the waistband of his pants. She unbuttoned the top button, but before she could move to the next one, he captured her hands and brought them back up to encircle his neck. She moaned in protest.
Determined to savor, Andrew gentled their kiss, slowed their pace, made every effort to rein in the intensity. He slid his hands under the hem of her sweater, touched the smooth, hot skin of her back. She shivered and rubbed against him like a cat. It was his turn to suck in his breath at the feel of her, so perfect in his hands, so perfect did they fit together. He maneuvered them toward the bed. When he felt the edge of it at the backs of his knees, he turned, reversing their positions and pushed her across the wide expanse of exquisitely soft bed linen.
He stood between her legs where they dangled off the end of the bed and removed her knee-high black leather boots. He dropped them to the floor and crawled up her body to claim her mouth again. She groaned in protest that he hadn't made any attempt to remove the rest of her clothing even as she welcomed his weight atop her. She spread her legs so that his cock pressed against her clit through their clothes. Her hands fluttered restlessly over his back, down to cup the firm cheeks of his ass, then up to ruffle his hair. She squirmed and whimpered, frustrated, demanding he give her what she wanted -- everything -- all at once.
Andrew broke their kiss.
"Slow down, baby," he said huskily.
"I can't," she whimpered, "God, Andrew, I can't -- I don't want to!"
She took his mouth in a hot, wet kiss, swept him back into the maelstrom of her desperation. He moved to the side a bit and slid a hand down her body to pull her slim red skirt, which had worked its way up her thighs, the rest of the way up. She spread her legs wider in silent entreaty. Touch me. He teased her, gently caressing the insides of her thighs through the opaque black tights she wore. She mewled in protest, pressing her hips upward. More. He continued to tease, kissin
g her more lightly than she would have liked, not touching her where she would have liked.
Finally -- finally -- he traced the seam of the crotch of her tights from bottom to top with his index finger, ending with a light flick of her clit. Her body jerked and she moaned into his mouth. He repeated the caress once more, then again. The fourth time, he surprised her by tearing through the gauzy fabric, which gave way under his hands as though that was what it had been made to do.
He touched her pussy, found it dripping wet with arousal. Teasingly, he slid his finger back and forth through the copious moisture, up and down along her slit, wanting to prolong the pleasure of anticipation. He wanted to drive her mad, bring her to the brink of begging and beyond.
Claudia couldn't think for the sensations that rioted through her body, the rampant need that coursed through her veins. She, who was normally prim and proper, staid and deliberate in her actions, was unable to slow down, was unable to control her body's response to Andrew. He had once told her that she should let pleasure unfold slowly, keep her senses awake to the delights that occurred along the way instead of rushing through to the climax. She tried to, knew he was right, but she wasn't always successful. Sex with him made her lose touch with the cerebral part of her brain. With him, her body wrested control from her and she was always quick to arousal and, if he didn't hold her back, even quicker to orgasm. He had loosed the wanton side of her and it refused to be caged again.
"Andrew, please..." She struggled onto her side to face him, then pushed him onto his back. She blazed a trail of kisses down his neck to his chest, where she sucked and licked his nipples in turn, grazing them lightly with her teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation and clenched his hands in her hair, causing the clasp of the clip that had held it in a tail at the base of her neck to spring open. Her hair spilled in a fragrant cloud over his chest and he moaned.
She worked her way down his body, kissing and nipping, allowing the ends of her hair to feather over his skin, to tantalize. She unbuttoned his jeans, fumbling in her haste. Her mouth watered at the sight of his gloriously hard cock. She licked her lips and darted a glance up at him. His eyes had gone nearly navy blue with passion and his breathing was none too regular.
She focused her attention on the prize she had liberated from its denim enclosure. His cock lay in a long, hard curve along his belly. She shoved his jeans further down and dipped her head for a taste of him, trailed her hot, wet tongue along the length of the underside of his cock. It jerked toward her and she smiled, satisfied, knowing he wanted just as badly as she did. Taking him in her hand, she closed her mouth over the swollen head, ran her tongue sinuously around the ridge separating glans from shaft.
Andrew's hands fisted in her hair again and she gave a hum of pleasure that vibrated through his cock on down to the seat of his soul. He was panting, breath sawing in and out of his lungs rapidly. She did it again, he thought incredulously, I can't hold back when she's like this.
He pulled her mouth off of his cock by gently tugging on her hair. He jackknifed to a sitting position and when he saw her questioning glance said,
"I give up -- you win. You're making me crazy. We'll do this your way."
He kicked his jeans the rest of the way off, then knelt in front of her. He reached for her, yanked her form-fitting black turtleneck over her head and threw it to the floor. Her red bra hit the floor next. He palmed her breasts, leaned over sucked an engorged nipple into his mouth working his tongue over it at the same time.
She toppled back on the bed, dragging him with her. She reached between their bodies to stroke his cock as he suckled her other nipple. She arched under him,
"Now, Andrew, do me now!" she demanded.
He knelt upright again, spread her legs, then thought better of it. He tilted her hips to the side so her hips and legs were facing the wall, her torso still facing upward. He lifted her top leg and draped it over his arm, straddled the lower one. He rubbed the head of his cock once through her wetness, stroked her clit with it. Claudia gripped his hips, pulling him closer, grinding down on him firmly, insistently.
"Fuck me! Do it now, Andrew, please," she whispered urgently.
He fitted the head of his cock to her entrance. She tensed in anticipation, held her breath. He sank into her and she exhaled a keening sigh of relief that turned into a moan of desperation when he reversed directions after pushing in only about an inch. He repeated his slow penetration of her. In an inch, then almost all the way out. In two inches, then back again. Claudia gripped his hips tightly; trying to force him all the way inside her, but he controlled the depth of his thrusts by holding her top hip where it met the thigh.
Sprawled wantonly underneath him, her nipples hard points, her skirt rucked up around her waist, long legs still encased in the black tights, the hole he had ripped in them obscenely framing her pussy which was swollen, wet with arousal -- she was eroticism personified. He took in the image of her and felt his balls tighten, felt the rush of orgasm rising in him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes against the sinfully arousing picture she made, stilled inside her, fighting against the explosion of pleasure that almost took him before he was ready.
Claudia thought she would die. Andrew was teasing her mercilessly, knew what she needed, but refused to give it to her. Her eyes were closed against the onslaught of pleasure, her senses solely focused on the feelings Andrew aroused in her. She savored the brush of air over her hardened, sensitive nipples. She was painfully aware of being only partially clothed, felt more exposed because of it. She hungered for him, wanted him to fuck her, to fill up the empty, grasping place inside her. The feel of him, the blunt, bulbous head of his cock partially penetrating her was exquisite. She loved the feeling of the first thrust of him inside her when they made love and this way, she got to experience that feeling over and over again.
Andrew surged into her all the way, taking her in one smooth thrust. She cried out, arched and twisted beneath him as her body reacted to the sudden fullness. He held still inside her, took the time to enjoy the wet heat, the grasping flutter of her pussy as she experienced the first orgasm of their encounter. He would give her more soul-shattering, earth-shaking orgasms before he finished with her.
He began a series of long, slow tantalizing thrusts into her, bottoming out with each one. She grunted each time he seated himself firmly within her, each time she felt his cock at the mouth of her womb. He reached impossible depths with each stroke and the pleasure he gave her was sharp, bordering on pain. She wanted more.
Andrew pulled out of her, straightened the leg that had been draped over his arm and pushed her hips flat. Her eyes flew open in protest, locked on his in silent plea. He spread her legs apart, gazed down on the enticing, inviting sight of her pussy, dripping wet, the lips engorged and kissable, suckable. He scooted back, draped the one leg over his shoulder and bent over her. Covered her with his mouth, luxuriated in the taste and texture of her.
"Oh, God, Andrew yesssss," she moaned. His mouth was so hot against her sensitive flesh. He circled her clit with his tongue, teasing her again with light strokes. Her clit throbbed; her pussy became wetter. He stroked his tongue down her slit, penetrating her with just the tip. She pressed her hips up, gripped his head, pleading for more. He held her hips down, determined that she should have only what he wanted her to have, when he wanted her to have it.
With great restraint, Andrew moved his mouth slowly and thoroughly over her, using lips, teeth and tongue to explore the folds of her pussy. With deliberation, he sucked and licked, tortured her by grazing her clit with his teeth. The scent of her filled his senses, familiar, intoxicating. She belonged to him. His cock was hard as a pike, clear fluid leaking from the tip; it pulsed, ached to return to its rightful home. But first...
He focused his assault on her clitoris. Sucked it between his lips, played his tongue over it. Engorged and sensitive as it was, it took only a few strokes of his tongue to send her flying apart. Claudia bucked
beneath his mouth as her climax rocked through her, intense spasms making her cry out and moan in ecstasy.
He kept his mouth on her, gentling, soothing her as the spasms slowed. She quieted and he stretched up along her body. She lay limp beneath him, eyes closed, her face relaxed, chest heaving from exertion. He kissed her, his mouth wet, flavored with the taste of her. He used his tongue explicitly, thrusting artfully, demanding a response.
She gave him what he asked for, devouring him with the same voracious appetite with which he devoured her. She reached between them and found his cock, rigid and wanting. She felt the slickness of pre-come on the head, smeared it around using the soft heel of her hand. He moaned into her mouth as she guided him to her opening. She opened her eyes, looked up at him, his face tight with the strain of holding back.
"Andrew," she breathed, her lips a hairsbreadth from his, "Now. I need you to fuck me. I want it. Hard."
He pushed in, parting the swollen tissues of her pussy, making room for the thick, hard length of him. He lifted himself onto his knees, spread her legs wide, draping one over each of his arms. He pounded into her, going deep - so deep - with every thrust. Claudia braced her hands on the headboard, held herself still so she could receive every hard, pulsating inch of his cock inside her fully.
Andrew felt her pussy tighten on him, knew he was lost. But he wanted her with him. He changed the rhythm of their fucking, adding a little twist of his hips at the end of each thrust, rubbing against her clit.
"Oh, God, yes, yes, yes..." Claudia panted.
"I can't hold back," Andrew gritted out, "you're so tight... So hot."
He drove into her, harder, faster, their bodies making crude wet, slapping sounds upon impact. His pubic bone against her clit sent waves of agonizing delight into her body. She was melting. She brought her hands down from above her head, cupped her breasts, pulled on her nipples. Her clit throbbed in time with the stimulation.Almost there.
The Seduction Of Claudia Page 24