Cooking up a Storm (10 page)

He closed his eyes. ‘Abby.’

‘Stay,’ she said in a stern voice that made him shudder again. She leapt from the bed and rummaged through his dresser. From the top drawer, she took a pair of long black socks. She carried them back to the bed. He hadn’t batted an eyelash while she was gone.

‘Abby,’ he said again, more miserably, as she tied his wrists to the rails.

‘It’s for your own good,’ she said, because that’s what people did say, wasn’t it? In any case, he seemed to like her improvisation. His cock throbbed back against his belly, the head threatening to stretch past his navel. At the moment, he was as big as she’d ever seen Bill. Her pussy liquefied at the thought of cramming all that hot red flesh inside. First, though, first she would try out her new toy. She turned on the vibrator and waved it over his body, not touching skin, just letting him feel the humming warmth.

‘You’re not allowed to come,’ she said, settling the head against his left hipbone. ‘Not until you’re inside me. We know you’re good at holding back, after all.’

Their eyes met. This was the first time either had referred to the night she’d watched him masturbate. Abby felt hot blood sweep her face a second before his went dusky, too. She refused to look away. He’d wanted her to watch. She knew that now.

‘I need my hands free for that game,’ he said.

‘You misunderstand me. I don’t intend for you to have any sort of orgasm at all, not unless your cock is in my cunt.’ She couldn’t believe she was saying these words but she loved the effect they had on him. His heart beat so hard she could see his chest shake. ‘Your job,’ she said, ‘is to warn me when you’re about to come. Then I’ll stop and let you rest.’

‘Ah,’ he said, but it wasn’t his usual confident ‘ah’ and she loved that, too.

‘Of course–’ she swept the vibrator up his side to his underarm ‘–the longer you last, the better I’ll like it.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed, then coughed as she veered sideways on to his nipple.

‘Too much?’

He shook his head and trembled, his lips pressed tightly together.

She explored him slowly, lingering at the pleasure spots she’d found during previous encounters and trying to discover new ones. He was sensitive all over, really, one big erogenous zone. The first time he made her stop she was running the wand over the soles of his feet. The second time, she had his balls in her mouth and the vibrator tucked against the pucker of his anus. He’d cursed over that one, cursed and begged.

‘Goddamn it, Abby, please,’ he’d said. ‘
Arrête.
Stop.’

French was a nice language, she thought. So expressive.

She kissed his face while he recovered, soft baby kisses across his trembling lids and down his too-long jaw. His heaving chest began to settle. His mouth relaxed. When he smiled at the kiss she dropped to the tip of his nose, she knew he was ready to be teased again. She continued the trail of kisses down his chest, down his belly. She eased one finger under his high-slung erection and tilted the cap towards her mouth. His thighs tensed.

‘Don’t,’ he warned.

She cocked one brow at him. ‘Are you denying my wishes?’

He drew a ragged breath. ‘I’m trying to follow your order not to come.’

She smiled. ‘I have immense faith in your self-control. Besides, I’ll leave the vibrator out of it…for now.’

Before he could protest, she tucked the big swollen cap into her mouth.

‘Ah,’ he sighed, hips squirming under her, up at her. ‘Ah, God, Abby.’

Sighing with pleasure herself, she swirled her tongue around the hot, silky head. He tasted good, even the juice that seeped from his tiny cock slit. Knowing Storm, he probably drank some freaky semen-sweetening tea. She giggled and sank further down on him. She couldn’t take all of him, so she wrapped one hand around the base and confined her gentle rise and descent to the flesh that remained.

‘Abby,’ he gasped, after one short, delicious minute. ‘Please, slow down.’

She lifted her head. ‘If I go any slower, I’ll be going backwards.’

‘Then stop, please. It feels wonderful, but I just can’t hold on. I can’t.’

She looked at him. He seemed serious. Sweat rolled down his face and his brow was knitted with effort. She’d read a few books, though. What if this was one of those situations where the person said ‘stop’, but really wanted to be forced to go on?

‘Please,’ he said again, and she couldn’t bring herself to force him.

‘Do you want to be inside me now?’ she asked.

‘God, yes.’

She smiled at that and stretched her body over his until they lay chest to chest and nose to nose. Though he’d let his arms fall to the mattress, his wrists were still tied to the railing. Abby slid her hands over his palms. He meshed their fingers together and squeezed. He did not, however, ask her to remove the bonds.

Next time, I’ll tie his ankles, too, she thought, which shocked her mind blank for a moment. What was happening to her? What had he done to her? She immediately undid the knots.

He sighed and wrapped her in his arms and rolled her under him on the satin sheets.

‘Go slowly,’ she said as he kneed her thighs apart and shifted his hips in preparation for entry. ‘I want to feel every millimetre.’

He groaned and rolled back the other way. He pushed her into a sitting position on top of him. ‘If you want it slow, you’d better do it yourself. I am too, too ready to roll.’

‘Really?’ She smiled down at him, pleasantly surprised. ‘I can be on top?’

He smiled back and gave her thighs an encouraging squeeze.

‘Well, OK, then.’ She lifted his cock into position, tipping the head between her wet, swollen folds. The sight of him rising from his nest of dark curls and disappearing into her fair one called a gush of cream from deep within her sex.

‘Ah,’ he sighed as it trickled over him. ‘Look at me, Abby. Look at me.’

She looked at him, at the soft fire in his eyes, at the flush on his mouth and cheeks.

‘Push,’ he whispered, his hands tightening on her hips. ‘Take me inside you.’

‘Slowly,’ she whispered back and sank until his glans was clasped inside her gate.

‘More,’ he said.

She leant forwards so that her forearms supported her weight and her nipples brushed his nearly hairless chest. He slipped inside another inch.

‘More,’ he said. ‘I want all of you.’

His hands skated over her buttocks, tickling the crease between and then lower, reaching through her legs until he touched the place they joined.

‘Feel how thick I am,’ he said, his eyes locked on hers, his accent deepening as his pleasure rose. His fingers slid over the stretched skin, over him and her both. ‘Feel how the blood pounds inside me.’

Abby groaned and swallowed him to the halfway mark. He did indeed pound against her secret folds, warm and thick and eager.

‘Deeper,’ he said. ‘All the way.’

Abby bit her lower lip. She wanted this. She wanted him. ‘All the way,’ she agreed, and thrust swiftly to his root.

It seemed he hadn’t expected her to comply. He rasped out a curse and closed his eyes. His cock swelled inside her, and quivered. He cursed again and made two tight fists behind her thighs. After a few tense moments, he opened his eyes.

‘
Mon Dieu.
’ His laugh was hoarse. ‘I can’t move. If I move, I’m done.’

‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I don’t need to–’

‘Like hell you don’t.’ He grabbed the vibrator with a vehemence that made her start. ‘Sit up again.’

She sat, then jumped when he pressed the humming end to the apex of her mound.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Oh, my goodness.’

Her clit was buzzing, leaping with the ultra-quick vibrations.

‘
Dieu
,’ he said, and she knew he could feel it too, through her flesh, through the hungry pull of her sheath. He wagged the vibrator back and forth, not wanting to numb her, she guessed, but it made for a strange kind of torture. The vibrations felt so good, especially with him so full and hot inside her, but the rise to climax wasn’t as quick as she’d expected — not like pushing a button, but more like opening a too-narrow flood gate. She wanted to come worse than she could ever remember and the vibrator just kept shoving her higher.

‘I can’t come,’ she cried, writhing with frustration.

‘You can,’ he growled and rolled her under him. When they almost teetered off the bed, he yanked her to the centre of the mattress. The vibrator was trapped between them, still buzzing away. He pulled back and thrust hard.

‘You can,’ he repeated and thrust again.

‘More,’ she said, feeling the peak glimmer into reach.

‘More.’ He captured her hands and gripped hard. ‘
Pousse
, Abby. Push with me.’

She met his next downstroke with an upstroke and a whimper.

‘Faster,’ he said, and began to count out the rhythm. ‘Now, now.’ But the ‘nows’ soon turned to groans and the groans soon turned to cries. They rang in her ears as she struggled to meet his thrusts. Their bellies slapped together. The box spring squealed. Their hips were a flurry of movement. She hitched her knees higher, dug her heels into the satin sheets, and still they pounded together.

He manoeuvred the vibrator to the crux of their meeting. His cock buzzed inside her as he pressed it to his shaft. Her clit screamed with agonised pleasure.

‘
Dépêche-toi
,’ he rasped. ‘Hurry.
Je viens.
’ The force of his will made her climax break. She cried out, her legs stiffening with sheer, unthinking pleasure, her head thrown back, her hips shuddering hard.

He cried out as she did, a masculine echo, deep and hoarse. She knew what
je viens
meant then: I’m coming. Shoving the toy aside, he thrust to his limit and stiffened. He pulsed inside her, then sighed with relief and sagged bonelessly on to her chest.

‘Boy, oh, boy,’ he said, still sounding French. His head nuzzled next to hers on the pillow. ‘After that, I think we both need a little rest.’

Abby stretched and yawned and wrapped her arms around his back. She guessed that meant she was staying, at least for a while.

*   *   *

Hours later he woke her with his lips at her breast and his hand playing gently between her legs like a man strumming a guitar.

‘Storm,’ she murmured, and he rose to kiss her. Mouths coupled, they rolled to their sides. He smoothed her leg over his hip. His cock was long and hot.

‘Now?’ he whispered, nudging it into the split-peach softness of her mound.

‘Now,’ she said.

They pressed together as smoothly as sun-warmed silk. Her body parted for his as if they’d been born a matched set. This time, simplicity marked their lovemaking, simplicity and leisure. Their hands roved tenderly, here praising the curve of a muscle, there seeking the pleasure of a single nerve. Through it all they kissed, their tongues speaking a language older than words.

‘Don’t wait,’ she said, when she read the signals of his final climb.

He shook his head, shaking sweat-dampened hair from his eyes. ‘But you–’

‘Don’t wait.’ She cupped his buttocks and added her strength to his slow, rolling thrust. ‘Just let it come.’

His eyes glittered in the dark. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ she said and pressed a kiss to the cleft of his chin.

His neck released a shadow of tension. His eyes slid shut and the angle of his thrusts changed subtly, for his pleasure, for his relief. Knowing each stroke was precisely as he wished, precisely as his cock wished, excited her. Instinct told her he didn’t often let go this way. He pressed down harder, dragging his cock slowly, firmly against the back wall of her sheath. A few more strokes and his breath caught in his throat. His thighs trembled, and his hands. The first throbbing contraction tightened his cock…

But he didn’t come alone. He pulled her down through the last of his undertow. She moaned as the sweet wash of sensation drowned her. Every time with him had been different and this was sun sparkling on a foamy wave, the ripples coursing through her strong and clear. He held her close until she finished shaking, until they both finished shaking.

‘Storm,’ she said when his hands fell away.

They slept.

She woke again to find herself plastered to his back like a limpet. Thighs sticky with her own juice, her sex pulsed with hunger. Her hand was wrapped around his cock — which was admirably hard — and his chuckle rumbled in her ear. She let go as if he’d burnt her.

‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Not again.’

Storm laughed. ‘Oh, yes, again. Very much again. You were dreaming of me, love. You were mumbling my name.’

‘I wasn’t,’ she cried.

‘You were.’ He rolled free of her arms and dropped lightly to the floor. He threw the covers to the foot of the bed and grabbed her knees. ‘ “Storm,” you said. “Oh, yes, Storm.” ’

She had to laugh at his mimicry. She was still laughing when he dragged her hips to the side of the high bed and thrust his cock directly home. Her body offered no resistance; she was that wet, that ready. He pushed her thighs towards her chest, slowly, letting her feel each incremental change in sensation as her legs doubled back on themselves and her body changed shape inside. He slid deeper as she opened. He seemed to thicken, to harden and heat inside her.

‘Again,’ he said, and it wasn’t a question.

Halfway to heaven he pulled out and buried his head between her sprawled thighs.

‘Ah,’ he said, inhaling deeply. ‘You smell delicious.’ He tasted her with the very tip of his tongue. ‘
Merveilleux
.’

His praise embarrassed her, but she didn’t pull away. Her legs settled to his shoulders and she touched his long, lean cheek.

He suckled her to the brink of climax then pulled away, breathing deeply, gathering himself. She didn’t protest. She knew what was coming. She opened her arms. He slid into them, and into her, with a luxurious sigh.

He brought her off first this time, then collared her wrists in his hands and drove fiercely to his finish. His forehead he pressed into the sprawl of her hair. Near the end, he turned his face back and forth among its waves and whispered something in French–
mon coeur
, she thought: my heart. She was sure he didn’t mean it literally but it was sweet nonetheless. He was so close, his belly and arms and chest all pressing hers, that she felt his heart give a great pound as he came. He was silent then, every ounce of energy focused on pouring out his pleasure.