Dissa scrunched her nose, her face flushing from more than the hot spa. “I turned on the heater before I went downstairs."
With a rumbling chuckle, he waded across the spa and trapped her against the side, his muscled arms braced at her sides. “That sure of yourself?” He leaned down and nuzzled her neck, planting hot, sucking kisses along the ridge of her shoulder.
Her skin sizzled under his touch, and with languid moves, her arms crept around his neck.
Being surrounded by his hard body scattered her thoughts. She tossed back her head and tried to remember what in thunder was his question. “Not sure at all. This helped yesterday with my soreness after skiing."
He rested his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes. “Uh, Dissa."
The serious tone of his voice worried her. This was supposed to be fun. Or maybe they hadn't discussed that. She scanned the area looking for a diversion. The deck was heaped with piles of fluffy snow. Reaching out, she scooped a handful, bringing it between them and rubbing it over his chest.
"What the—?” He jumped backward, and then a devilish gleam lit his eyes. “Remember, you started this.” He lunged toward the side and turned back toward her, both hands heaping with white powder. In a powerful stride, he was in front of her. He cupped his hands around her breasts and massaged.
The shock took away her breath. She suspected the shiver that ran through her was a result of the heated look in his eyes as he stroked his thumb over the pointy tips.
"Pokker, you're too cold.” He leaned close for a kiss and scooped her into his arms, striding up the steps, across the bedroom and into the bathroom. A few playful strokes of the hotel's fluffy towels on each other's bodies and they were dry. Within minutes, they were cuddled under the blankets, caressing hands stoking new passion.
* * * *
Sunlight filled the room, and Dissa stretched, reaching out for Rolf. His side of the bed was empty. She sat up, shoved back her tousled hair and spied a note on his pillow that read, “Duty calls, R.” On her way to the bathroom, she spotted the haphazard array of condom wrappers dotting the carpet. The memory of the activities involved with those condoms made her pussy clench. She greeted herself in the bathroom mirror with a wide, satisfied smile.
Two hours later, she stood on the resort's deck with a hand shading her eyes and scanned the skiers in the ski area. The morning ski class trailed in from the west, but the person at the end was not Rolf. Disappointment stung but for only a moment. No promises had been made. She'd always hold dear the memories of their fabulous night of sex. A wonderful interlude before the upcoming lonely months.
Thirty miles down the road, she eased her Volvo into a gas station and turned off the engine. Her bankcard in hand, she climbed out and gazed at a sky blue Mercedes at the opposite pump. Someday, she'd have one, but hers would be silver.
A tall man dressed in gray slacks and a black shirt stepped from the store, soda can in one hand. His confident walk caught her attention. Rolf.
Damn, she still wanted the sexy guy. “Hey there.” Since he obviously hadn't planned on seeing her again, this conversation could be awkward.
His steps slowed, and then a wide smile crossed his mouth. “Dissa!"
Lowering her chin, she looked over the top of her sunglasses. “Duty calls? You have ski lessons, below the snow line?"
He unlocked his car and set the can on the hood before unhooking the nozzle and lowering it to the open fuel door. “The lessons? Once or twice a month, I help out my brother Ander on weekends."
Ander? Help out? She sucked in a breath. “The bartender's your brother? You're not a ski bum."
"He is part owner.” Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he glanced sideways and shook his head. “A ski bum? Nei."
So he wasn't a ski bum. She could live with that. “And you don't live in Dagali?"
A grin spread across his lips while he reset the nozzle on the pump hook. “Nei. In Oslo.” He climbed into his Mercedes and started the engine. “Good seeing you this morning. Maybe our paths will cross again."
The sight of his disappearing car affected her more than she could have imagined. With hurried moves, she pumped in enough gas to reach Oslo and pulled onto Route 40. Even by exceeding the speed limit, she couldn't catch up to the sleek blue car. She slumped against the seat, running a distracted hand through her hair.
Well, she'd had a fun weekend. That was all she'd really been expecting. Time to focus on the future.
When she spotted Oslo's Korketrekkeren toboggan run, she knew she was only fifteen minutes from her apartment. At that moment, her cell phone rang. A quick glance at the display didn't help—she didn't recognize the incoming number. She clicked the speaker button on her handset. “Hello?"
To her left, a horn honked, the sound echoing from her phone. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a shiny blue fender, and her hands tightened on the steering wheel. Could it be? Hope spiraled in her chest, and she glanced through the side window.
The window of the Mercedes lowered to reveal a grinning Rolf. “Going downtown?"
[Back to Table of Contents]
Naked Bluff
by
Betty Hanawa
[Back to Table of Contents]
Dedication
For The Muses and Ben, who not only tolerates but enjoys the insanity when The Muses get together.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Monaco
Awareness slid as smoothly as a lover's caress across her skin. Clarisse didn't need to turn around to know Mak moved through the casino. Although formally known as Prince Makis Alexander Gregory Leonard Nicodemus, the youngest of three sons of the reigning ruler of the small island Principality of Renoun, Clarisse referred to him as Mak.
She always enjoyed having him around, especially on nights like tonight when she was winning. Winning made her horny.
She toyed with her chips, debating how much to raise her bet. When he moved to stand behind her, she caught a whiff of his distinctive musky male aroma of lust on the prowl.
The scent mingled with the perfume from the fresh rosebud he always wore in his suit lapel to remind people of the flowers that were his small country's major export crop and income source. Between it and his subtle cologne, memories spiraled through her, making her shiver with want and dampening her inner thighs.
Last night he'd slipped her evening gown's straps from her shoulders, not with his hands but with the tightly furled rosebud at the end of its stem. He used his teeth to slide down the zipper, then traced across her skin with the soft petals.
With her gown in a puddle at her feet, wearing only her high heels, she stood in front of him while he skimmed the rosebud over her body. He started at her face, drawing the rose across her eyelids. When it whispered over her lips, she opened her eyes to see his golden brown ones staring deeply into hers.
Part of her wished for her own rose to match his movements. She wanted to see a deep red rosebud against his suntanned skin, sliding over his wide cheekbones the same way he caressed hers. She longed to watch the petals glide down his long nose to the full lips she wanted against hers. Instead, she thoroughly enjoyed being the focused recipient of his actions.
His eyes never left hers as he trailed the flower down her throat to her sternum. Starting from her breastbone, he wound the bud around one breast, shrinking the circles until he touched her tight nipple.
Even now, in the casino with people all around, trying to focus on the game under play, her nipples constricted unbearably while she remembered how she wanted his mouth on them.
Last night, though, he had only teased her breasts with the flower. With her nipples aching, he turned her around to languidly slide the rose down her spine to the globes of her ass. Once again, he circled the bud around until she nearly keened with need.
She expected him to slap her ass with the stem, but he moved the rose to her inner thighs and silently indicated she widen her stance. She stepped from the discarded dress
around her feet and removed her shoes. He came around to face her and again held her eyes with his.
She knew her breathing told him her hypersensitive skin didn't need much more stimulation before she came. To her pleasure, his gaze didn't show any smugness or arrogance over her obvious hunger for the orgasmic release she was so close to needing. Instead, his eyes reflected her joy and his happiness in her excitement.
He slipped the rose up and down her thighs. The floral scent mingled with her pheromones, and her juices flooded between her thighs.
Finally—finally—he knelt at her feet and discarded the rose. He held her ass in his big hands and tilted his face to bury it between her thighs. His tongue probed between the wet folds and lapped her clit. Then he teased her with soft, tiny licks while his teeth nibbled her sensitive petals.
Statues of Greek gods boasted heads with the same tight curls as the dark brown ones Clarisse tangled her fingers in while Mak feasted on her. Her legs quivered, but he held her steady. Just the memory made her squeeze her thighs tightly together to keep from having an orgasm at the table.
With him standing behind her while she tossed a card from her hand, she shifted to give him a clear view down the back of her dress. The dip barely covered the cleft of her ass. When she leaned forward to accept the new card, she knew he could see she didn't have on panties.
With the skill of long practice, she hid both the surge of heat at the thought of soon having a hot night with Mak and her satisfaction at getting the card she hoped for. She knew her opponents—successful people, all of them. However, none were professional poker players and all were aware she was. She easily learned their quirks, their foibles, the way they bet, their body language when they held a good hand and the catch of their breaths when they didn't get the card they wanted and planned to bluff.
She calculated the number of chips to bet to let them think she was taking a risk. As she expected, they matched her bet and one player raised.
The rose's scent grew stronger as Mak moved closer. Her emerald cascade earrings brushed the tops of her shoulders, reminding her of the blossom he had gently run across her shoulder and around her neck. She wanted him to remove the flower from his lapel and touch her with it. Unfortunately, they both knew the casino rules to prevent cheating. Persons not participating were not allowed to touch or talk to a player.
Recklessly, she pushed a pile of chips to the center of the table. The time had come for her to weed out the hobbyists. This game needed to end—at least her participation in it. She had better things to do tonight.
To her surprise two players stayed in and raised.
She shivered, feeling the radiant warmth of Mak's body inches from hers. Let the other players think he was distracting her. She knocked a column of chips into the center of the table.
"Ms. Jones raises,” the croupier announced.
The other two players smirked while Clarisse groaned softly. She knew, and Mak knew, her “clumsiness” was intentional. The groan gave her a bit of release from the orgasm nearly ready to rock her. Her nipples ached and cream washed between her clenched thighs with sweet moisture.
The remaining players matched her “mistake” with their chips.
Clarisse's murmured “Check” was followed by theirs.
When the cards showed, the croupier pushed all the chips to Clarisse. In Vegas, the crowd around would whoop and holler. Here, the players and watchers simply nodded their admiration at the skill of her win.
Clarisse quirked a finger at one of the attendants who counted her chips and gave her a chit to sign. The casino's cashier would credit her account. She slid off the tall chair. Mak placed her hand on his crooked elbow. “Ma'am, Sirs, thank you for the game."
She accepted a glass of champagne from an attendant and moved with Mak through the casino. In a private dining room, she drained the flute and handed the delicate crystal to the waiter who refilled it, then filled a flute on the table for Mak. The table was set with a cold supper.
"Thank you,” Mak told the waiting staff. “We will serve ourselves.” British boarding schools and a Master's from Harvard School of Business didn't rid his English of the musical Greek intonations of his first language.
As soon as the last of the waiters closed the door behind her, Mak smiled. “Do you want to strip?"
"Oh, God, I can't wait that long.” She kicked off her shoes, then placed a hand on the back of a chair, the other on the seat, and bent over.
Mak slid her dress up her legs until it bunched over her ass. His zipper rasped.
Between her win and the memories of their last tryst, she was so wet he easily and immediately impaled her. Once again she appreciated a man she trusted. With him, she didn't have to think about sexually transmitted diseases. With her, he not only didn't have that concern, but he also didn't have to worry about a lover with an unwanted pregnancy. Secure in the relationship they'd built over the years, they were able to forego condoms and enjoy the sensations nature intended.
She bucked against him. “Please, Mak, I want you so badly. Take me hard. Please.” She ended with a grateful groan when he pounded into her, cupping her upper thighs and ass tightly.
"You feel so damn good in me.” She arched her back, pressing herself tight against his body. Biting her lip to keep from screaming from the hot pleasure cascading through her, she keened as spasms caught fire and her body began to shake.
The additional pressure of his swelling cock deep inside her let her know he was coming with her.
He muffled a groan against her back while her own throat rasped raw with the effort to keep her release from echoing through the room.
"I'm so glad you're here tonight.” Clarisse reached behind her and patted Mak's face resting against her shoulder. “I didn't want to have to use one of my battery toys."
Mak nipped the top of her shoulder. “Your toys are fun for us, but why settle as long as I am available?"
"Ah, but how much longer will you be available?” Clarisse flexed her inner muscles, knowing how much he enjoyed it and loving the feel of his dick inside her. “Your family's search for a suitable wife for the youngest son of the Prince of Renoun is the talk of all the gossips. We've had a great time as fuck buddies, but it won't last once you have a fiancée."
Mak pulled himself from her body and stood her upright. Her dress promptly fell back into place.
"My family's wishes are not mine.” He ran his hands up her arms and turned her to face him. “I enjoy our relationship.” Deftly, he undid the small catches clasping the thin silk straps at her shoulders. He pushed the bodice to her waist and filled his hands with her breasts.
"So ... do ... I...” Clarisse panted as he thumbed her taut nipples. She pulled his head to her throbbing tits. “Please."
Mak dipped his mouth to lap one nipple as he shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket. The scarlet rose in his lapel fell to the floor. He tossed the jacket aside then undid his tie and shirt fasteners while he continued to suckle at her breasts. He let go of her only long enough to finish pulling off his pants and boxers and socks—his shoes were somewhere near hers.
Clarisse took advantage of the moment to shimmy out of her gown. Mak reached for her, but she side-stepped him and pushed aside dishes of food.
"Going to lie down?” he asked with the deep smile she enjoyed.
"Nope. You are.” She gave him a gentle shove, and he obediently lay across the table.
She climbed up beside him and, with one finger, swirled creamy chocolate icing from the cake on the dessert plate around his flat nipples. She broke the cake in half and dragged the raspberry filling over his chest. It filled the crevices of his washboard abs quite nicely. She looked at her hand, sticky with chocolate and raspberry, then slathered it on his burgeoning shaft.
"Tsk, tsk. I'll have to clean off your cock, otherwise your cum is going to dilute the chocolate.” She leaned over him, licking around the head of his shaft then sucking the droplet of pre-cum. Surveying him, she laughed. �
�I've always thought dessert needed to be eaten first."
Slowly she began to eat and nibble, savoring the chocolate, the raspberry, and the unique flavor of Mak's skin. By the time she'd cleaned his upper body and was down to his shaft again, her own juices were running between her thighs, already slick from their first joining.
With Mak's hands encouraging her, she shifted over him until her mons was just above his face. As she ate the chocolate from his dick, she felt something cold dribbling over her ass and down her hot thighs. She looked backward to discover Mak tipping a champagne flute over her butt.
While he lapped champagne and her cream from her thighs, heading slowly toward her aching pussy, she concentrated on eating all the chocolate from his shaft. He lifted his ass, and she took him deep into her mouth, sucking the tender flesh.
His groan vibrated against her sensitive clit, and she pushed herself tighter against his face. She felt a shudder sweep through him as he thrust deeper. She suckled him tightly and began to lose control of her own body.
She moaned around his shaft and sucked harder. His growl of satisfaction sent vibrations into her. She came apart just as his cum shot into her mouth, the salty semen even more of an aphrodisiac than the chocolate and raspberries. When their shudders ceased, they stayed sprawled across the table. The warmth of his body soaked into Clarisse's lax muscles.
"Let's go to my hotel and take a shower,” Clarisse said, feeling as content as a cat sleeping in the sunlight. If she were settled in one place, she might get a pet. But then again, being with Mak beat having a pet all to hell. Once again she was reminded of losing him to some wide-eyed debutante but, unable to bear the pain, quickly banished the thought. Like Scarlett O'Hara, she'd think about it later.
"Why don't we go to the family villa instead?"
Clarisse used one of the linen napkins to clean herself as best she could, then slid off the table and began to wiggle into her gown. The satin clung in all the wrong places against her skin sticky with perspiration and loving. “Ick, I need a shower. My hotel is closer than your place. Let's go to my hotel first, then we can go to the palace you call home."
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