kneeling over my face, his eyes burning down into me with all the fire he’s kept hidden so long.
Excitement flares. The pressure at his flies is startling now. I feel an answering pressure down below. With an effort I lean up to try to unfasten him with my teeth, one of my most effective party tricks whenever we reach this point.
With a grin he pushes me back down. ‘Not so fast, missy. You’ve still got some ground to make up from your schoolgirl antics earlier. I’ll do the honours here.’ He’s smiling as he frees himself. His massive column juts in my face, my doom and my delight, and as he edges it just within reach of my eager lips I lap eagerly, the light scent of his shower gel blending with his body heat in a heady mix that stirs my senses and sends a fierce glow straight to my groin.
‘Whoa, easy. Leave some for later.’ His voice comes out in a rasp, surprising me a little. Why is he so moved by this? Why tonight? He’s been watching me all evening, like he can’t get enough of me. Now he’s close to the finish line already and we’ve hardly started …
‘Lick it a little. All the way. I like to see your tongue. You look like a kitten with cream.’
I obey eagerly, nervous at first and then eager, thrilling to the salty, silky surfaces he shifts to present to me, making it easier for me to reach. His breath is uneven now as he holds off from release, determined, as always, to make me beg.
Just when I’m sure he must erupt into orgasm he pulls away with an effort, wrenches my dress a little further down my arms, scoops my breasts out of my lacy bra cups and plunders them with his mouth.
I writhe below him as he feasts first on one and then the other, his kiss deep and arousing as he fastens on each swollen, stiffening nipple in turn, bringing heat to the surface of my areolae and nibbling my hard, rumpled little pebbles to tight, quivering numbness.
Pinned and helpless in my bunched 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
