Big Girls Do It Married (18 page)

"Yeah, a little. You really did almost get it out of me, though. A little more teasing, and you might have gotten the truth."

"So I just have to tease you long enough?"

"Shit."

I slid my hands into his back pockets. "I'll have to remember that." I kissed his mouth next to his lips. "So, why Paris?"

He bobbed his head side to side. "Well, it was just an idea that hit me. Remember when we sang that Faith Hill and Tim McGraw song together, for that couple's anniversary?"

I smiled at the memory. "Yeah, I love that song. The video is
so
awesome."

"That video is why I picked Paris. That song makes me think of us and of Paris, so it seemed like it might be a fun place to spend our honeymoon."

The boarding call echoed over the speakers, and we joined the crowd lining up.
 

"It's perfect," I said. "You and me in Paris, just like Faith and Tim."

"Exactly," Jeff said, smiling.

CHAPTER 8

Paris was everything I'd ever thought it would be. Winding streets, narrow alleys, quaint cafés, and expensive shops. It was beautiful and cultured and haughty. We spent the first few days too busy exploring the city to do much more at night besides fall asleep in our huge hotel bed. The third day we agreed to separate in a department store and buy something for the other, something reasonably priced and fun.

I bought lingerie, something sultry and lacy that I'd never wear except to turn Jeff on, the kind of thing I didn't expect to have actually stay on my body for long. It was a pair of black and red lace panties, cut high in front, and a bustier to match, strapless, pushing up my breasts to overflowing, cupping my every curve, displaying my body. The clerk wrapped my purchase in a plain brown paper bag, and I carried it with me to meet Jeff for dinner at Cafe Flo on the top floor of The Printemps department store. Words failed me as I walked in. The ceiling was stained glass, an impossible dome of a million, million colors, panes of hand-painted glass rising in an infinite jigsaw puzzle of pastels. The stained glass descended on all sides to maybe a dozen feet above my head as I stood staring up, neck craned to gawk at the elegant ceiling.
 

I wasn't the only one gawking. An older man bumped into me as he stared up, excusing himself in German. I saw Jeff leaning on a wall, watching me, a small opaque plastic bag in his hand, a store logo printed in French on the side. As I didn't speak or read French, I had no idea what kind of store he'd gone to.
 

 
I crossed the café and pressed myself against him, meeting his lips with mine. "What'd you buy me?" I asked.

Jeff grinned mischievously. "You'll have to wait and find out." He reached for my bag. "What about you?"

I held it out of reach, laughing. "I don't think so! You'll have to wait, too, buster. Unless you want to show me yours, in which I'll show you mine."

"I'm kidding," Jeff said, taking my free hand. "Let's eat, I'm hungry."

We ate at a mirrored table, which provided a view of the magnificent ceiling even as we dined. We talked about the various sights we'd seen, and would like to see. We finished eating and strolled slowly through the dark Parisian night back to our hotel. We stood in our room, the blinds open to let in the glittering topaz lights of the city and the lit spire of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. For a long moment neither of us spoke, just looked at each other, the room unlit, shadows long and our hearts beating in unison.

I tore myself away from his gaze and took myself into the bathroom to change into my new lingerie. Nerves pulsed like fire in my blood as I stripped naked, rinsed off in the shower, primped my hair and redid my makeup, spritzed perfume on myself, and then pulled the negligible bits of lace from the bag.
 

This was new for me. I'd been in my bra and panties in front of Jeff on any number of occasions. I was comfortable in my skin with him; he thought I was beautiful and spared no effort to make sure I knew he thought so. But to wrap myself in lace for him, to present myself to him as a gift...this was different. I slipped the panties on, fitted myself into the bustier, and plumped my breasts before looking at myself in the mirror.
 

When I did, I stopped breathing for a moment. I saw myself, yet again, as Jeff might see me. And then, with a shock, I realized I wasn't merely seeing myself through
his
eyes, I was seeing myself through my own eyes. It was a strange, almost dizzying, metaphysical understanding. I was finally learning to see myself as beautiful. Not simply because Jeff thought so, but through his endless repetitions, through his demonstration, through constant love and reassurance.

My hair floated loose in golden waves around my shoulders, framing my hazel eyes and high cheekbones. My bare shoulders were delicate, my breasts lifted high and full, spilling out for his hands to touch. My sides were held in to accentuate the swell of my hips and my lace-clad buttocks. My legs were long and bare, smooth and pale as porcelain.
 

I was a sensual, sexual woman, and in this lingerie I was a vision of tantalizing eroticism. My nerves faded into nothing, replaced by a river of heat in my belly. Jeff was waiting just beyond the door, and I knew how his eyes would widen when he saw me, how his hands would curl at his sides as if grasping my flesh, how his cock would tighten inside his pants.

I let out a deep breath and twisted the knob, pushed open the door, and stepped through to stand a foot away from Jeff. He had sat down on the edge of the bed, his shoes kicked off, and was rolling and unrolling the paper bag holding his gift to me. When he saw me, his eyes went wide and his jaw went slack.
 

A confident smile crept across my face at the stunned awe on his face.
 

"God
damn
, Anna. You look—just...damn." He stood up and took a hesitant step toward me. "Are you really meant for me? This isn't a dream?"
 

I laughed and stepped closer; mere inches separated us, but he hadn't touched me yet.
 

"Yes, my love. I'm all yours." I swept my hands down my curves. "This is your gift. Do you like it?"

"Do I like it? My god, Anna. I've never seen anything as beautiful in all my life as you right now."

"Then unwrap me."

"Not yet. First I want to just look at you." He gently pushed me toward the bed.
 

He opened the paper bag and withdrew two sets of fuzzy purple handcuffs and a matching purple velvet blindfold.
 

"You bought handcuffs and a blindfold?" I asked.

"Yeah, well, no. I mean, I bought them in Vegas and brought them here. This isn't what I bought you at the store," he said, toying with the blindfold. "I don't know how you feel about this kind of stuff, but I thought it might be fun. Exciting. You know? What do you think?"

"Jeff, I don't want you to think we need this stuff to be exciting."

"No," he said. "I don't. But I mean, do you want to?"

I smiled at him, a small seductive curl of my lips. "Slap those cuffs on me, bad boy."

Jeff licked his lips, then approached me with the first set of cuffs. I stretched my right wrist over to the bedpost, and Jeff gently curled the bracelet around my wrist and clicked it in place.

"Is it too tight?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, it's fine." He hooked the other side of the cuff to the bedpost, then did my left wrist. "You can do anything you want to me, now. I'm at your mercy."

 
He stood staring at me for so long I started to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, he reached for the hem of his shirt and peeled it off, then slipped out of his pants so he stood naked in front of me. His cock stood straining straight up, thick and purple-veined, hard and begging to be touched. I lay, cuffed to the bed, wanting desperately to touch him, to take him into my mouth, to feel him slide between my lips and my palms and the folds of my pussy.
 

"Jeff...let me touch you," I said. "Come here so I can taste you. Let me put your big cock in my mouth."

Jeff gaze went heavy and hooded. "Uh-uh. No. I wouldn't last three seconds if you did that. Just looking at you like that, cuffed and helpless, wet and ready for me...I'm so hard I'm about to come without even touching you."

"What are you gonna do?" I asked.

He grinned and stepped toward the bed, his cock bobbing as he moved. He took the blindfold and wrapped it around his eyes, tied it in back, and crawled onto the bed near my feet. He took my foot in one hand, slid his palm up my shin to my knee, traced the circumference of my thigh from one side to the other. His finger trailed up my other leg, tickling gently along the inside to the lace “V” of my panties. I writhed my hips into his fingers, feeling dampness moisten the black fabric as he barely brushed up the mound of my pussy to the band of my panties.
 

"Oh, Jeff...I love the way you touch me. Take them off, please."

He smiled beneath the blindfold. "Not yet, sweetness." He ran a finger underneath the waistband, teasing me. "I'm not ready for you naked yet. I'll get there, though."
 

He lowered his face to my leg, kissing up my thigh from knee to my hipbone.

"You take everything so slow," I said. "Have I ever told you how much I love that about you?"

He paused with his lips on my belly and turned his face to me. "You do?"

"Yes," I said, sucking in my belly in anticipation as he resumed kissing my flesh ever farther downward, now at the inside of my thighs. "It's so delicious. It—oh, god, yes, right there—makes everything...just better."

"You like it slow, huh?" A hint of something in his voice made me shiver. "Well, then, I'm gonna have to go
real
slow, aren't I?"

He pressed his mouth to my pussy through the lace and breathed on me, a long, slow, hot breath. I moaned and writhed on the bed, wanting his fingers in me, or his tongue on me, or something, but he refused to even slip a single finger under the elastic to touch my bare flesh.
 

Instead, he traced a fingernail over my pussy where his breath had blown, the lace and the flesh beneath still hot. I trembled and thrust with my hips, but he drew away and laved his tongue along the inside of my thigh parallel to the elastic band.
 

"God, Jeff, touch me, please!"

He only laughed, another blast of heat on my folds. "Already begging, my love? This is gonna be so much fun." He bit the soft skin of my thigh, hard enough to draw a yelp of protest. "You're handcuffed, Anna. Did you think I wasn't going to draw this out as long as I could? I have you helpless. I could draw this out for hours. I could feed you, and give you water, and never ever let you come. You're so expressive. I know exactly when you're getting close to coming."

Something like real fear shot through me; he was perfectly capable of torturing me with near-orgasm, I realized. "You wouldn't."

He tugged the waist of the panties down to the very edge of the crease of my nether lips and dipped his tongue in, a mere brush against the sensitive skin, but it was enough to make me cry out.
 

"Oh, no? You don't think I would?" His voice dared me to think otherwise.
 

"Please, Jeff..."

"Please what?" His tongue dipped back into the crease and slid toward my clit.

"Please, touch me. Let me feel you. I want you inside me."

"Oh...no. I don't think so. Not yet. You aren't screaming my name yet, baby. You're not even really begging me properly yet."

What have I done?
 

I'd known he would tease me, but he seemed to be dead set on truly teasing me into hysteria.

Jeff pulled the panties lower, exposing my clit, giving me hope. My body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with hope of stimulation. He hadn't touched me above my waistline.

My breath huffed in and out, and I made my first pull against the handcuffs. He laughed and speared his tongue against my clit, giving me my first taste of near-climax. He left the panties where they were and removed his mouth from my skin, exploring me now with his fingertips. He drifted from kneecap to inner thigh, traced up the line of my pussy, brushing briefly over my clit and across my hips, the merest grazing of the pads of his fingers, crawling slowly over my flesh. His fingers slid up under the edge of the bustier, touching my ribs and the padding of flesh over them, just beneath the wire of the bra.
 

Touch me!
I pleaded silently, but the words wouldn't come out past my panting breath. He clawed his nails slowly and gently down my sides, gathering inward toward my wet, aching folds. My hips involuntarily left the bed as he drew closer, closer, nearing the goal, across the smooth-waxed mound and—

Down either thigh, drawing a desperate whimper from my lips. I wanted him to touch me,
needed
to feel his fingers dip inside me. I knew he wouldn't give me his cock, not yet, but surely he would slide a finger into me, give me a taste of release?

He curled his fingers into the panties at my hips and drew them down farther.
 

"Yes, yes...please," I whispered.
 

He kissed my belly, my side, my hipbone, the edge of my pelvis above the lace panties, and then...yes, he licked my clit, a single slow swipe of his hot, wet tongue, and then a second, even slower. While his tongue made its aching path against my clit, his fingers danced up my thighs and hooked inside my panties, brushing my cleft, and my entire body lifted off the bed, bridging with shoulders and feet. He lapped against me yet again, and now hope blossomed through me, tangled with the rising phoenix of orgasm.
 

Abruptly his tongue and fingers were gone, and he was kissing my shoulder, his weight hovering over me but not touching, a felt presence. I lifted my head to watch him, felt a thrill of excitement at the sight of his naked body over mine, covering me, his broad shoulder and back rippling with heavy slabs of muscle, the burn scars ridged ropes glinting in the moonlight and city light. His buttocks flashed pale and hard as he stretched over me, his palms planted on either side of my breasts, his arms tree-thick and his cock throbbing against my belly.