Again and Again

But the difference between logic and male prerogative was evident in the brusqueness of his tone.

Her eyes widened for a moment.

“Actually, now is good,” he added in an altogether different tone, an obliging tone he’d perfected in countless boudoirs on countless occasions when he’d seen women look at him like that. He was deftly unbuttoning her gown, another competence acquired over the years in boudoirs. And a moment later, he murmured, “Lift up your arms.” When she did, and he’d tossed her nightgown aside, he thought-how could he have forgotten?

Her breasts were magnificent, opulent; she’d not changed while abroad… except perhaps- were her breasts larger? Her graceful pose with her hands crossed before her, her arms framing the mounded fullness of her breasts, called attention to them. Or perhaps the way she sat, almost as though she were presenting herself as some lush female ornament or plaything, emphasized their glory?

Suddenly gripped by a stabbing jealousy, he wondered how many men had gazed on her splendid, nude beauty? How often had she displayed herself with such natural grace?

“Hello there…” she whispered into the silence, and reaching out, she took Simon’s hand and placed it on her breast.

Her courtesan’s gesture did nothing to mitigate his resentments and mounting jealousy. He was about to say something rude when she guided his hand over the plump swell of her breast, the sensation exquisite, warm, his rough palm grazing her silken flesh, his erection particularly taking note. And he was instantly reminded of more important things.

She smiled, a familiar smile from his youth and he was able to relegate his umbrage to some lesser sphere, banish the last five years to some amorphous netherworld and smile back. “Sorry. You were in a hurry.”

She didn’t recognize such reticence; Simon had never been a man of reserve. “Let me,” she said, no longer a passive young girl and reserve or not, she was too heated to care. Leaning over, she pulled away the blanket covering his legs and paused, the quilt still gripped between her fingers. “You’re looking… spectacular,” she purred. “At least what I can see.”

He slipped out of his shorts with quick finesse.

Too quickly, she heatedly thought, knowing how familiar he was with occasions like this. But the allure of his rampant penis hard against his stomach curbed her displeasure. Dropping the quilt along with her qualms, she leaned back on her hands, and opened her thighs. “It’s been a long time,” she murmured.

His eyes narrowed. “I may not want to,” he said, surly and resentful, wondering whom she’d entertained with that artful pose before.

“Don’t be childish.” If she could overlook his life of excess, certainly he had no reason to take issue with hers. “It’s just a fuck,” she said, deliberately provocative, letting her thighs fall open, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of paradise.

“Bitch.”

“But fortunately for you, available right now,” she replied, silkily.

“I suppose I should count my blessings,” he murmured, his voice once again suave. Who better than he understood that sex was just sex.

“You should. I’ve learned a few things in five years.”

“I’m intrigued. Should I put in my order?”

“I expect you’re still well ahead of me in expertise. Why don’t you surprise me instead.”

Her voice was low, teasing, irritably coy, and five years of lurid possibilities flashed through his mind.

He knew what she was like in bed; she’d been one of the best. And apparently, she’d been gaining additional experience abroad. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

She wanted a surprise. How convenient. Because he felt like giving her one.

A second later, she was flat on her back, her legs forced wide, his body braced above her-save for his erection that was nudging her throbbing labia. “Now then,” he said with a wolfish smile. “Why don’t you ask me politely?”

Her gaze beneath her half-lowered lashes was sultry, assured, confident in her allure. “I thought I was being polite.”

“Maybe the word I was looking for,” his voice lowered to a husky rasp, “was… submissive.” At the spark of temper in her eyes, he felt a perverse satisfaction. “No ready quip?”

“I’ve never been submissive,” she drawled. “You must be thinking of some other female.”

“I have a feeling you might change your mind.”

“Not likely.”

“But I want you to.” It was an ultimatum no matter the softness of his tone.

She glared at him. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Did Louvois teach you that?”

“Yes, and any number of other things,” she replied, oversweet and smiling. If you’re very nice to me, I might show you.“

If you’re very,“ his smile was cheeky, ”submissive, I might let you end your long celibacy.“

“I’m not begging, Simon.”

“Really.” With devilish finesse, he guided the taut, engorged crown of his penis up her sleek, pulsing labia, and then very slowly, down again, the answering flush rising on her cheeks gratifying evidence of her response. “You’re really wet, slippery wet… here-feel this.” He circled her lubricated flesh with the rock hard tip of his erection, and smiled faintly at her stifled gasp.

“If you’d like me to go deeper…” he murmured, teasingly penetrating a inch or so, “I’d be happy to accommodate you.”

The color on her cheeks had deepened, her thighs had gone rigid, and when he eased into the liquid heat of her vagina a fraction more, she shut her eyes and softly moaned.

“Would you like all of it?” He swung his hips in a supple, teasing motion, so every surface of her aching tissue felt the intoxicating friction and her panting changed to a plaintive whimper. “All you have to do is ask me nicely, and I’ll ram this big cock into your tight little cunt. Do you remember how you used to scream when you were crammed full of cock?” At the memory his erection surged higher, driving in a small distance more, forcing her throbbing flesh to further yield, bringing her already trembling orgasm to the veritable brink.

“Damn you,” she ground out, her voice barely audible, her palms pressed against the bed as though she could forcibly restrain the fevered tidal wave. But it had been too long and breathless with need, she couldn’t stem the coming flood. Regardless, he’d barely penetrated her, with a suffocated little cry, her climax broke… too quickly, prematurely, the cursory orgasm so frustratingly inadequate, she wanted to hit someone.

And conveniently…

“Jesus,” Simon muttered, rubbing the red imprint of her hand from his cheek. “Don’t blame me.”

“Who else should I blame?” she exclaimed. But his erection was still tantalizingly poised and rigid at the very entrance to her vagina, making it difficult to be completely vexed.

“You could be a little more amenable…”

She knew what that meant. “I’m not playing games.”

“As I recall… sometimes you do.” Dipping his head, he drew one of her nipples into his mouth and moved his hips just enough to gain her attention.

She clutched at his shoulders, the exquisite pressure of his mouth, the compelling promise in his erection lodged against her vulva, effectively stifling her protest. She shouldn’t be so willing and had she not been without sex so long, she might have been more blase. As it was, within moments, she was melting with longing and suddenly it didn’t matter who set the rules.

She was famished, the wild thrill rushing downward from her tingling nipple to her throbbing cleft, obliterating discord, fierce need effectively erasing contention. All she wanted was to feel him deep inside her. Arching upward, she lifted her hips to draw him in.

He pushed her back, his large hands splayed over her hips, holding her captive. “Ask for it,” he whispered, spurred by an inchoate jealousy, and a quixotic sense of betrayal that wouldn’t be assuaged.

She tried to jerk away.

His fingers bit into her flesh, jerking her back. “Ask,” he muttered.

She hit him so hard he tasted blood.

“Fuck this,” he growled, abruptly done with useless argument, intent on doing what he’d been wanting to do