Chase. Flora Dain
satin sheath I can only plead, rigid and inflamed as his eager mouth travels slowly down to my wide-splayed thighs, still sheathed in black nylon, my arching feet still poised in my achingly high heels. With delicate, skin-rippling precision he eases the tip of his tongue under the tight, lacy edge of each stocking-top and licks, leaving a taut, wet trail around the top of each thigh, achingly close to my pulsing centre. With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a snarl he finally lands on my fully exposed, quivering sex and starts to feast.
I shudder with excitement but his angry look quells me to silence as his tongue-tip works deep into my private places, sending heat and shame through me, equally fierce, equally inflaming. Slowly, tasting as he goes, he makes his way back up towards my face and when he leans back over me I see a glint in his eyes as I hear the rip of foil.
Focused and stern, he holds my gaze as he plunges inside. Now my rigid position has one big advantage: I’m trussed so tight his thrusting loins ram hard against my pleasure centre at every plunge.
His expression softens as he pounds. ‘Keep looking at me. I want to see this.’
He watches my pleasure build. Bliss creeps closer but my pleasure must dawn and flower under his steady gaze as he observes my surrender.
Amazingly it works. As his eyes lock ruthlessly on mine, my rapture swells.
‘Here it comes, my pet. Sing to me.’
It’s too much. My climax explodes inside me, more intense than I’ve ever felt before, and I sing. Not singing in the usual sense of the term, more a strangled wail, but the light in his eyes seals my rapture as he laughs deep in his throat as he speeds to his finish.
‘Shit, Ella, you’re like a miracle.’
In the morning we wake up together. We do this so rarely it takes me a second to adjust. I open my eyes feeling like I’m six and it’s Christmas. Then I feel heat all along my side and a strong, muscular arm draped over my waist and I remember where I am: heaven. Or somewhere close.
His eyes are closed, his amazing, angular face close to mine, his breathing regular and long like he’s deep in sleep. I drink him in for a few moments before it occurs to me this is doubly rare. On the few occasions we’ve fallen asleep in the same bed he’s usually up, shaved, dressed, hired, fired and made a couple of million before I come to. But today, briefly, he’s all mine to cherish and admire.
It’s maybe the closest I’ll get to this man of mystery.
‘You trying the goods? Or just licking windows, as they say in Paris?’
He’s awake. And a dark glitter along the line of his lashes warns me he’s laughing. He leans on one elbow and grins down at me. ‘Sleepyhead. Turn over.’
I resist, laughing too. ‘They lick what in Paris?’
Warm and lazy from his body heat I swivel in his arms and now his vital part prods at my behind, his manhood triumphantly awake and every bit as eager as I am to start the new day with a bang.
He seizes me between the legs and cups my mound. His warm, firm pressure has only one purpose: to make me horny. Like I need to be any hornier than I am right this minute.
‘Windows. Lécher les vitrines. French for window-shopping. And know what?’
At the rip of foil I splay my thighs, my lower belly pulsing already with an aching, persistent throb as I pant with excitement. ‘What?’
I lean back against him as he pulls me close, his middle finger sending a bolt of electricity through me as it slips between my legs and finds my money-spot. Delight makes me gasp as he surges inside, his full length gliding in easily as my pulsing places respond eagerly to his wake-up call and rouse my sleepy belly. My muscles flow around him, drawing in his jutting, arrogant power-tool like I’m quicksand.
He’s still laughing against my ear, his breath hot and disturbing. ‘When I take you to Paris I’ll lick something way more fun than windows.’
I writhe in his arms as my climax builds.
‘This, maybe.’ His soft chuckle shudders through me as the wicked rhythm of his fingers drums me to a climax. Seconds later he explodes inside me in a gush of heat, our fusion all the sweeter for being stolen so early and snatched from sleep.
I lie in his arms for a while, too wakeful to sleep, too sleepy to talk anything but nonsense. Like a fool I try to lighten the stalking thing by telling him about the woman outside my apartment. ‘And she was outside the Academy this week.’
‘How often?’ He breaks in, his voice harsh.
‘Three times, maybe four. Does it matter?’
‘Shit, Ella. You might have said.’
I tease his lips with my finger. ‘Don’t get mad. She’s probably waiting for a bus.’
He pushes me back down, leaning over me with a growl. ‘This settles it. You’ll have to move in.’
‘What? Here?’ I stare up at him as the idea takes hold of me. Live here, in this palace, with this stunning man? And now I come to think of it, my friend Billy’s back soon. She’ll want space to entertain Eldon …
I fight down temptation. I’m my own woman. ‘Darnley, we’ve talked about this. I need my space during the week. I need to work.’
His eyes darken. ‘Me too. But I need you. I need you here. And know what? I need you now.’
He hauls the cover off me and kneels between my thighs, his expression purposeful as he caresses my thighs, pushes them apart with deliberate twitches of his fingers. Ignoring my laughing protests he lowers his tousled head and fastens on my most private place, where my throbbing, lively little bud is still aglow with orgasm.
At the first touch of his tongue I jolt, at the second I laugh out loud, but as he keeps on, his tongue urgent and compelling, I sink into the easy sea of pleasure swelling around me as another climax starts to build. Soon I buck and thrash in his jaws like a ravished doe as he triggers another earth-shattering orgasm. It ripples slowly away, leaving me glowing like molten gold.
He surges up over me and pulls me into his arms, laughing and triumphant. ‘See? That’s what you need. You need me.’
Later we lounge in bed with a breakfast tray and coffee brought in by a scuttling maid. Has she seen women here before? I’d sooner not know. As I sip he’s already pacing the room, checking his phone, issuing orders.
All at once he glances my way. ‘Tonight we’re due at the State House around eight. That suit?’
‘We are?’ I scan his face and swallow. ‘Are you sure you want me to come?’
His look instantly clouds. ‘Shit, Ella, don’t back down now. I thought you’d be pleased. Anyway, my mother wants to meet you.’
I sit up in alarm. ‘What? How does she know about me?’
For a full second he looks so surprised I wonder what I’ve said. Next second he’s swooped down to place his arms at either side of me on the bed, his face close to mine. ‘One, I told her. You’re the first girl I’ve mentioned to her, so she’s interested. Plus, she already heard of you. She likes your poetry.’
‘You’re kidding.’ I giggle as he sits next to me and slips his hand in my robe, fondling my breast. I arch my neck with excitement. ‘Is she a poet too?’
His face is deep in my neck now. I can feel his breath on my skin. ‘Not really, but she knows a lot of people, including your old professor. Chances are –’ his hand slips over to the other breast and now my arms are wound round his waist, pulling him closer ‘– he’ll be there too. Hey. Move over.’
I’d