AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My God,” he said in English. “You are the most perfect thing I have ever seen.”
“Finish what you started,” I whispered, also in English. And, obligingly, he pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest and bruising my lips with the intensity of his kiss. Dragging me along with him by the hand, he propelled us with long, urgent strides down the narrow, cobbled street. Because we had to stop to kiss under every streetlamp, by the time we reached his apartment, I was soaked to the skin and half-crazy with lust.
There were twelve stairs leading to his door. I know because he stopped to remove a piece of my wet clothing on every stair. By the time we crashed through the door of his two-room apartment, I was clad only in my underwear. Without removing his lips from mine, he slammed the door closed with one hand and shoved me hard against the wall. In one swift movement, he hauled my petticoat skirts up around my waist and dragged my bloomers down. I fumbled desperately with the buttons on his trousers and, as soon as I had freed him, taut and throbbing, from the restraining cloth, he lifted me so that could I wrap my legs around his waist. My shoulders slammed repeatedly against the wall as, buttocks pumping in a relentless rhythm, he drove himself hard into me. We rocked frantically together and, within seconds, I was gasping as wave upon wave of ecstasy shuddered through me. He jerked violently and groaned as his own orgasm tore him apart, pressing his face into the curve of my neck and muttering something appreciative, but unintelligible.
When our mutual trembling had subsided slightly, he carried me, with my legs still wound around his waist, into the bedroom and tumbled us both onto the bed.
“Where are you from?” he asked later, when, having removed what was left of our clothing, we lay wrapped in each other’s arms. He slid an admiring hand down the curve of my waist and over my naked buttocks as he spoke.
I paused. Had I really almost blurted out the truth? I had to be careful not to allow this burning attraction to cause me to lower my guard. “I came here from Austria.” The words came out on a sigh as his long fingers parted my legs and slid inside me.
“You accent does not sound Austrian,” he stated, the distant politeness of his tone contrasting with the relentless pressure of his thumb on my clitoris.
“My mother was English,” I gasped. It was very difficult to remain aloof and evasive in the circumstances. He started to kiss my neck, and, hovering on the brink of orgasm, I found I couldn’t speak anymore.
“Well, wherever you are from, it’s very nice to meet you,” he murmured, as, with strong, commanding hands, he turned me onto my stomach and raised my buttocks. In the same movement, he positioned himself between my legs and replaced his questing fingers with the iron-hard length of his cock. I came instantly, screaming with pleasure as, holding my hips steady, he thrust in and out of my shuddering body.
We spent that night and most of the next day in bed, only venturing into the kitchen once in search of bread and wine. “You have the most amazing mouth I have ever seen,” he said as we sat on the bed, sharing this feast. “Almost a perfect cupid’s bow, but your lips are just a little too full, a touch too sensual. Beautiful mouth—belle bouche—how do you say it in your language?”
“It does not sound quite so pretty,” I said, achingly aware of the perfection of his mouth. Kissing him was the second most wonderful thing that had happened to me. Making love to him was the first. “It is ‘szép száj.’” I spoke Hungarian without thinking.
“No,” he said, continuing to study my lips dispassionately, “that definitely does not do you justice. I will call you bouche instead.” I decided it was the most wonderful endearment I had ever heard. I used the mouth he admired so much to show my appreciation.
I studied his slumbering face in the faded afternoon of the next day, and an unexpected jolt of sweet-sharp sadness tugged at my chest. I knew what it was, of course, but I could not afford to acknowledge it. I had made myself a promise, one I could not break. I slid from his embrace and quietly, in an effort not to disturb him, dressed.
As I tiptoed to the door, his sleep-filled voice halted me. “Where are you going?”
