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She released the sucking motion but still held him within her mouth. I love you here, she sent.
He did not move. He could not, otherwise he would spill into her and he did not want this night to move so fast.
But he took his hands and drifted them down the sides of her head to her neck, then touched her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. I love that you take me in your mouth.
Slowly, he began to draw back. He was stiff and so close. She seemed to understand. When he was fully out, she smiled. “You almost came.”
He nodded. “Too soon, chérie.”
She relaxed back into the cushions and sighed. “I’m so happy right now. Thank you for this, for the strawberries and the champagne. I love you for that.”
But the moment the words left her mouth, a blush climbed her cheeks and her gaze fell away, as though embarrassed she had spoken the words. Did she love him? Did she love him as he loved her, in that tender way?
“I don’t want to make too much of this,” she added, her gaze again shifting to look up at him.
He sat down beside her. “It is for the best to keep everything very simple, but, Fiona, I do love you. I cannot say how deeply, but I care so much about you. I wish you to know that.”
She tilted her head. “I feel the same way. You are very dear to me. I truly wish that our situation was different, that there wasn’t a war or dimensional worlds or all this horror.”
He petted her head again. “So tell me, how is the potion in your breast?”
“A wonderful fire.”
“Do you wish for more?”
“All that you can give me.”
“Bon. But, I need you in a different position.” He held his hand down to her, she took it, and in an easy motion he lifted her to her feet. He meant to lay her out on the couch in a different way, but the moment she stood next to him, he opened his arms and she pressed herself against him, her arms around his waist. She was just tall enough that the top of her head came to his chin.
She fit him. That is what he thought. She fit him so perfectly.
After a moment, he released her but only enough so that he could slip an arm behind her knees, lift her up, then move to settle her low on the lounge.
I am so hungry, Fiona.
You must eat, then.
Oui.
He shifted to the end of the lounge and moved between her legs. A soft whimper left her throat and he smiled. She had lifted up to support herself on her elbows. He slid his arms beneath her legs then, still holding her gaze, he kissed her low, and licked between her folds.
She threw her head back.
He did not wait, but with his fangs struck her at the top of her clitoris and released a potion. He had to hold her down with his arm because her body reacted with a long writhing wave that bowed her back. She cried out, contorting. “Oh, God. So good. So good.” Her voice was a series of breathy punches.
He smiled and relaxed as he withdrew his fangs.
She grunted low in her throat. He looked up at her. Her face was twisted as if in pain, but he knew it was not pain she felt. He teased her with the tip of his tongue, flicking over every sensitive part of her until her hips pushed hard against his arm over and over.
He removed his arms from beneath her legs. He needed his hands free for what he wanted to do next.
He folded one of the large strawberries into his hand. “Fiona,” he called to her softly. “I am so hungry.”
She looked down at him wild-eyed, and when he held the strawberry up she gave a little cry. He dipped low and at her opening he swirled the whole fruit, swirled and pushed, just a little. He loved the cries she made.
He removed the strawberry. Look at me, he commanded.
Again, her gaze was panicky. He held the strawberry in his left hand high enough that she could see it. She was breathing hard and so very close. At the same time, he carefully slipped two fingers inside her and began to work her body, in and out. More whimpers.
He then he put his mouth around the strawberry. She cried out and at the same time he shifted to work her with his fingers.
When he bit the strawberry, the juice flowing down his chin, as he held her gaze and drove into her with his fingers, she came screaming for him, writhing as he pistoned his hand and brought her. The broken fruit he rubbed on her stomach so that she came and came and came, her hands on his hands, her fingers exploring his mouth, her body riding the waves of ecstasy, on and on, until finally she began to settle.
But her body jerked and twitched. She was breathing hard yet her face looked relaxed, her lips curved in a satisfied smile. It took him several mental gyrations, but he brought a damp washcloth into his hands and wiped all the juice off her stomach and anywhere else.
“I have a gift for you,” he said.
Her eyes were closed and her hands resting at her sides as she laughed and said, “You just gave me a gift. Several in fact.”
But he rose up. He crossed to the kitchen and washed all the sweet juices, hers and the strawberry, from his hands and his lips. He left her lying there, sprawled and at ease. From the table in the entry, across from the piano, he retrieved what he hoped would give her a different kind of pleasure.
The gold box was very light.
But when he returned she had shifted position. She lay on her side facing the fire so that her body was outlined in the soft flickering light. He loved this view of a woman, with the dip of her waist accentuating the swell of her hip. She was beautiful from behind and he loved taking her in that position, but for what he had in mind next, he doubted he would have the opportunity. In fact, he hoped he did not, but this would be up to Fiona.
He moved to kneel in front of her. She looked so beautiful in the soft light, her lips swollen, her eyes lethargic. She put her hand on his face and rubbed her thumb over his lower lip. Her gaze fell to the square box.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Oh, but I did, for I believe you asked for this most specifically. It would have been very thoughtless of me not to have bought you such a gift.”
Her brows rose. She lifted up on her elbow and as he placed the box in front of her, she pulled the bow with one hand. He helped since he didn’t want her to sit up. He didn’t want his view of her waist and hips, of her beautiful naked br**sts, disturbed by anything.
She lifted the lid and her brows rose. She drew a long narrow scarf from the box. “Oh, Jean-Pierre,” she whispered, her eyes wide. She laid the scarf over her waist, then pulled out the second one. She let this elegant piece of silk join the other. She pulled out a third and shuddered when she withdrew a fourth.
