13
TRISTAN
A woman who didn’t do love? Holy merde, were Henry and I soulmates? I pressed the length of myself against her bare stomach and said, “I’m willing to take my chances with my heart.” Reaching down, she squeezed my rigid flesh. Her touch was strong but gentle and she moved in to use both hands. I let out an uncontrolled groan as her nimble fingers slid along the length of my shaft.
Racing my hands up her thighs, I hooked my fingers in her black lace panties, pulling them down and off only to kiss my way back up—as my fingers found a home between her tight thighs.
She moaned at my touch and I wrapped my arms around her, unhooking the lacy bra that stood between me and all of her. She grabbed my face, pulling me to her. Slanting her mouth over mine, her velvet tongue slid along the seam of my lips, demanding entry. I ran my hand from her neck, across her heaving breasts and down her tight stomach, to take her hip bone in my grip. She arched her back into my touch and I moaned again at the sight.
Shifting her weight, she rolled over, beckoning me to follow. Straddling my body, she sat up, her knees on either side of me—my rock hard erection lying across my stomach, straining at each delicate brush of her hand.
“Why are you doing this, Henry?” It was the most honest question I’d ever asked of a naked woman in my arms. The truth was, I cared about her. We’d only just met, but she knew me—she knew me better than I probably knew myself. Because she understood my past like no other woman before, I found myself drawn to her—and more than sexually. She was smart in a way I’d never experienced in another woman. I’d known and bedded plenty of intelligent women—and some not so bright. None of them had a timeless soul like Henry. She somehow brought my past, present and future together in one cohesive moment in time.
She frowned at me. “Is this an American question? Why am I naked and in your arms? Why am I going to make love to you?”
I nodded, wondering if she’d heard herself say make love.
“Why not, Tristan? Do you want to stop?”
I looked to my raging erection and back to her. “Does it look like I want to stop?”
“No.”
I brushed the back of my fingers across her cheek. She leaned into it, closing her eyes. “Henry. Look at me.”
“Do you want to stop, Tristan?” Her eyes met mine.
“No.”
Henry laid her body over mine, her teeth catching the shell of my ear. Pulling away she whispered, “Then don’t.”
Rolling her over, I left her on the bed and searched the floor for the leather bag I’d thrown earlier. In the corner, I unzipped the side pocket, taking out three condoms sealed together in a tear-away packet. Dropping the bag to the floor, I separated one from the others, ripping it open with my teeth. Henry sat up, taking it from my hand and pulling me onto the bed in a heap.
Rolling me over once more, she straddled my body again. Leaning down, I watched her slide her beautiful mouth down the pulse of my erection. I closed my eyes, a low grumble escaping uncontrollably from my mouth. Her luscious lips slid up and down with drawing pulls.
She drew away with a wicked smile.
“Oh God,” I sighed. “You’re gonna make me come.”
I could feel my body temperature rise, my muscles tensing and twitching at each touch of her fingers—her lips. Running my hands through her long hair, I fisted it playfully and watched her roll the condom over my flesh with skillful hands.
When I gripped her hips, she resisted, shaking her head, taking my wrists to still the advance. I held my hands above my head in surrender as she raised up on her knees, suspending herself over my hardened flesh.
“I want you, Henry.”
I brushed against the inside of her creamy thighs as she lingered over me. I watched her gasp as she lowered herself. “Yes, baby.” I grabbed her hips, stopping her from going too deep too fast. “Go slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Tristan.” She muttered my name, sucking in a deep breath.
“Jesus,” I said, feeling her tight body around me.
She took more of me, sliding deeper. Her face was flushed with delicious arousal, but laced with the torment of raw passion.
Rolling her over, I eased out, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body. “Jesus, Henry.”
Gripping my ass with her hands, she pulled me into her. Wet with desire, she cried out as I found an unhurried and painfully erotic rhythm. Her hips moved into me with each stroke. I couldn’t stop moaning, the groans erupting uncontrollably from my lips.
Wild with passion, I pressed my mouth to hers, rocking into her hard body—allowing Henry to set the pace. She whimpered my name, nearly sending me over the edge. I’d never felt so connected to my life—I’d never felt so connected to a person.
The release I needed so desperately began to build inside me. I couldn’t get close enough to Henry. I couldn’t get deep enough inside her. She sobbed, “Yes. Yes, Tristan.”
My body possessed me. Every touch of her fingers, each tiny movement of her body caused me to lose control over what few faculties I had left. Primal instinct took over—the release building inside my body. Henry responded to my every move, my every vocal expression.
Tightening around my hot flesh, I felt her body begin to unfold—contracting and shaking. Henry cried out in French, her words unintelligible as her tight body shuddered around me. She fell apart, and into my arms.
The sound of her pleasure sent me tumbling over the edge of no return. “Yes,” I groaned, feeling myself grow harder. I cried out in beautiful agony, saying her name. “Oh my God, Henry.”
I collapsed. Covered in sweat, I was stripped bare and defenseless. I kissed the nape of her glistening neck. I’d never felt more whole. I’d never felt more exposed. Stars danced behind my eyes, the elation of sexual release not yet departing my mind or spent body.
“That was…” I paused, not having the words to describe what had just transpired.
“Magnifique.”
I nodded in agreement and kissed her tenderly. It was indeed, magnificent.
I rolled over in the bed, lifting my wrist above my face to check my watch. It was just after midnight. Between making love and not adjusting to the time zone, I had sex-lag, I’d fallen asleep—hard. I rubbed my eyes and felt beside me. It was cold. Sitting up, I reached for the bedside lamp as the room was completely dark, other than moonlight streaming through the window.
“Henry?” I whispered, switching on the light. The bed was empty. My clothes were strewn across the floor, along with two used condoms. She was gone. I swung my legs off the side, dropping my head into my hands. At my feet were her stilettos. I heard the toilet flush in the bathroom and looked up to find her coming out of the bathroom, her naked body backlit by the bright lights.
She walked to me, her eyes staring into mine—and I felt it. “Your gaze. It reminds me of something.”
She stopped. “What?”
I was hypnotized by her stare. I swallowed hard. “When I was just a boy. Fifteen. I locked eyes… I dunno,” I muttered, shrugging my shoulders. “There’s just something about you.”
“It’s because I’m French,” she said walking to me again.
“That’s not it.”
She giggled, and it went all through me. “I thought you’d left me.”
Silently she walked to me, pressing her beauty between my open legs. Her chest to my cheek, she slid her hands across my temples, embracing my head. I kissed the side of her beautiful breast, cupping it before taking it in my mouth. I wanted more.
“I believe you missed your train to Paris.”
I kissed her other breast, reshaping the underside of the first. Nuzzled in her warm body, I murmured, “Mmmhmm.”
Henry grabbed me by the hair, gently pulling me away from her. “No more sex.”
“What? Why?”
Her eyes twinkled in the glow of the lamp—her gaze drifting over me from head to toe. “For now.”
I sighed, releasing my shoulders in relief. Taking her hand, I beckoned her back to bed. She didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s very late, Tristan. I need to check on René, and I’m hungry.”
I nodded, feeling my stomach rumble. “I’m starving.”
“Yes. You stormed out before the rack of lamb made it to the table.”
“Je suis désolé.”
Henry gave me a side eye. “You’re not really sorry.”
Dragging her warmth into me, I stood enclosing her tall body inside my own. She rubbed my back with her hands and I melted into her. “Of course I’m sorry. I’m sorry Pierre ruined our dinner.”
Playfully, she smacked my bare ass with her open palm.
“Okay, okay,” I admitted. “I’m sorry I walked out when Pierre walked in. And I’m sorry René had an episode.”
Henry pulled at my hand. “Come. Let’s find something to eat and we can check on René together.”
I dropped my head in uncertain protest. “I’m all for eating, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face René again.”
Leaving me, Henry ignored my response, slipping her feet into her stilettoes. “Jesus, Hen. You can’t stand in front of me wearing nothing but those heels and tell me no more sex.”
“I said, for now.” She held her hand out to me once again. “Come with me to see René.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m finding it hard to disagree with you. Can you at least put your sexy panties back on? Then we can discuss it.”
Henry laughed, snagging her black lace bra from the floor. I leaned over to pick up the matching panties, holding them on the tip of my index finger. “Merci,” she purred.
“I’m defenseless when you’re naked.”
“That’s funny,” she said looking to my junk, then back to me. “I’m perfectly fine when you’re undressed.”
“Gee whillikers, Hen.”
She stepped into her dress, sexily sliding it over her hips and through the arms. “I don’t know Whillikers. Who is he?”
Still mortally wounded from her attack on my manhood, I groaned before answering. “It’s an expression. Something Bob Sponge would say.”
Reaching behind her, she struggled to zip her dress. She shot me a dangerous look. “You’re making fun of me.”
I walked to Henry, telling her to turn around with the circle of my finger. I did her up, then rotated her by her shoulders to face me. “I’m making fun of you?”
“Oui.”
I brushed the bangs from her eyes. “I’m not making fun of you. I think you’re adorable.” I kissed her softly, feeling her cool fingers cup my manhood in the palm of her hand.
“Come with me,” she murmured into my ear before licking the lobe with her tongue.
“Now, how can I say no to that?”