Christine ignored her, regarding her image in the full-length mirror. She looked conservative, she knew, but she wanted to keep their physical contact to a minimum until she got to know Nick better. The violence of her reaction to him triggered red flags all over her psyche, and she wasn’t about to lower her defenses (what defenses, haha!) just yet in case he turned out to be a jerk.
“I like this outfit,” she said firmly. “And since I don’t know where we’re going, it’s better to go for a neutral look. But I’ll wear the heels,” she conceded. She also did something Lisa knew nothing about. Just in case.
Almost before she knew it, and an interminable time later, it was 7 o’clock. As if on cue, the doorbell chimed, making her jump a little. She scanned her face anxiously. She had put on just a touch of blush and lip gloss, seeing no point in emphasizing her already full lips, which she considered too opulent for her personality. She saw nothing out of place (or out of the ordinary, for that matter) and sighed. Oh well, she thought fatalistically. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the bedroom.
Lisa was with Nick, interrogating him adroitly, but he was holding his own quite nicely. He parried her questions with playful wit, frankly laughing at her. Lisa was unruffled, claiming a sisterly right to be rude to any potential boyfriend.
Or so Christine read in the challenging look Lisa gave her as Christine tried to frown down her irreverent sister. Lisa whispered as she passed by walking back into the bedroom, “Maybe you’ll have better luck, I can’t get anything out of this guy.”
Christine looked up at Nick apologetically, but whatever she was about to say just flew from her mind and scattered to the four winds. He was looking at her and was no longer smiling. If anything, he looked rather grim, and Christine wondered what had displeased him so. Maybe she should have worn a dress…
Fashion sense was the furthest thing from Nick’s mind. He did not even notice what she was wearing at all.
On the drive over, he had convinced himself that he had been exaggerating the force of his attraction on the previous day. Christine was a nice, attractive girl but hardly the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and when he saw her again, he would not want to rip her clothes off and run his hands all over her body at all. At least not until after a few more dates and a little foreplay, he temporized, relishing the thought. They would have a nice date, and maybe a kiss goodnight, but whatever happened, he will be in control of the situation and will not get carried away.
And now she was here, and he knew he was in big trouble. He had never seen her with her hair down, and his befuddled mind was murmuring goddess over and over again. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and nuzzle her neck. How he was going to get through a proper first date with his blood running as hot as this, he couldn’t imagine.
“Is anything wrong?” Christine asked as he continued to stare at her with that queer look on his face. “Should I change? I didn’t know where we were going, so if a dress is more appropriate…”
Nick shook his head as if waking up (and that wasn’t so far wrong) and tried a smile. It was obviously an effort, but better than that starey look. “No, what you have on is fine. I just suddenly remembered something, and I sort of drifted off. Nothing important,” he reassured her.
Oh, yeah? Christine thought satirically, You didn’t see your face. Whatever it was, it was important. But she didn’t pursue the matter, but obediently got her purse so that they could get going.
Nick had chosen a small restaurant that was known only to a handful of people, and had no set menu. You had to reserve ahead and order what you wanted, and the chef would prepare it for you. It was like having a private chef at your own home; all parties are given a private dining room. Needless to say, it cost the earth, but well worth it.
It had seemed like a good idea in the cold light of day, but as they were being led to their dining room, Nick realized it was too intimate to be safe. But he couldn’t welsh on the reservation; the head chef was a personal friend, and would never forgive him.
Christine grew up middle class, so fancy restaurants were not unknown to her, but the understated elegance of the restaurant impressed her more than any opulent display of wealth. She had a shrewd idea that this was not a place where you simply walked in, and she was gratified to have her hunch confirmed when she saw the wine and appetizers being laid out as they came in.
“Very nice,” she murmured. “I bet you know the owner,” Christine said after they had been seated and wine had been poured out.
The room was small, intended for just two people, but it was tastefully furnished with a large settee and covered with a good quality burgundy-colored carpet. There were small oil paintings placed strategically along the walls depicting a dancing couple in various poses in what seemed to be a Regency period drawing room.
“You could say that,” Nick nodded, toying with his wine glass. His mind was clearly on something else, and Christine wondered miserably if he was regretting asking her out. He was looking at her, but there was a hooded quality to his gaze, as if he didn’t want her knowing what he was thinking. It was unnerving, and she started nibbling on a piece of toast with salmon mousse for something to do. Soft music was being piped in and it soothed her frazzled nerves. She had been so looking forward to this evening, and it seemed doomed from the word go. She sipped her wine, found it delicious, and emptied it. As she put down the glass, Nick seemed to come to a decision. He leaned across the table, his hand outstretched. “Dance?”
Christine hesitated a moment, but the temptation to have him close overcame her doubts. She put her hand in his, and felt his smooth palm warming her suddenly cold ones, his fingers long and well-manicured. Christine felt an impulse to check her own nails, which were unpolished and clipped short as usual. Inwardly she grimaced, thinking that Lisa was right after all. As he pulled her up, his fingers curled around her own, and suddenly she felt warm and protected. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, and she felt his other arm go around her waist, pulling her closer. Sighing softly, she relaxed against him, placing her head on his chest as they swayed to the music.
Nick wanted to touch her; it was an all-encompassing need that was impeding his thought processes. Dancing seemed to be a safe alternative to what he really wanted to do, and hopefully would help clear his head. Now with an armful of Christine, he closed his eyes in pleasure, drinking in her smell and the feel of her body molding into his. The inevitable soon happened, and as he felt the stirring in his groin, he made a move to step away, afraid that she would feel his arousal.
Christine felt the sudden withdrawal, and without thinking pulled her hand free and twined both hands around his neck, tilting her head to look up at him. “Don’t,” she whispered, softly stroking the hair on his nape with her thumbs. She felt him shudder and he tensed as if to move away again. She loosened her hold a little, suddenly doubtful. Maybe I smell funny she thought in dismay.
Nick saw the way her eyes, dreamy as she looked up sharpen in anxiety when he made to pull away, and then cloud over. He saw how she might get the wrong idea about why he needed to move away, and saw no way of explaining it without sounding like an idiot, or a goat, or both. He tried anyway. “Christine, I—“
At that moment, there was a discreet knock on the door, and two waiters came in with their soup and salad. Christine moved out from the circle of his arm, smiling slightly.
“Smells good,” she quipped with determined cheerfulness, taking her seat in front of a steaming bowl of French onion soup. Nick joined her slowly, feeling bereft, scolding himself for pulling away.
Christine was miserable, and she masked it by talking far more than she usually did. She was all praises for the dishes that came out, although they all tasted like ashes in her mouth. She downed glass after glass of wine, but it didn’t seem to help her feelings of inadequacy. She couldn’t wait for the evening to end so that she could indulge her misery in peace.
Nick listened to her chatter, smiling at all the
right places, responding when necessary, and feeling her withdrawing further and further away from him. Over a delicate lemon gelato, Christine looked up to see Nick watching her intently and suddenly felt that it was just too much to bear. She placed her dessert spoon carefully on the table.
“I’m really very tired, could you take me home now,” she said in a small voice, not looking at him. Tears were very near the surface, and she blamed the wine she had consumed for her weakness. They threatened to spill over when she felt him drop down on one knee beside her chair and take her hand. She tried to draw it away, but Nick held on firmly.
“Christine,” he said gently. “It’s not what you think.” Christine was unable to speak, so she just shook her head, and tried to take her hand back again. Nick responded by grasping her chin and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and one spilled over, travelling to the corner of her quivering mouth. Nick followed its path and his eyes locked on her slightly parted lips. With a groan, he leaned in and licked the teardrop, tasting the salt and the sweet-tangy remains of the lemon gelato and wine on her soft mouth. Her breath fluttered past his cheeks. He threw caution to the winds and fastened his hungry lips on hers, his hand on her nape, cradling her head as she filled his mouth with her sweetness.
Christine felt herself melting into the kiss, tasting his tongue as it ran across her lower lip, filling her senses with his smell and the feel of his lips. He inserted his tongue further into her mouth, tentatively touching it to hers. She closed her lips to suck him gently, and heard him groan again. It was a sound filled with need, and she could feel her nipples start to harden and tingle at the sound. She moaned at the sensation, and felt the warmth between her thighs spreading. Oh, dear God, I’m horny! she mused wonderingly.
Nick drew back, his breathing ragged, and his erection complete and uncomfortable. He looked at her flushed face, her lips fuller and red from his onslaught, her eyes dark with desire, and he felt himself drowning,
“Christine…” he breathed, burying his face in her neck, where he could feel her pulse fluttering. Christine moaned softly, her spine tingling deliciously from having his lips move against the sensitive skin on her neck. His hand moved to her breast, cupping it gently, and his thumb brushed against her unbearably sensitive nipple. She gasped, a hand flying up to his head to grasp a handful of his hair, arching her back so that he could have fuller access to her breast which was straining against her bra.
Nick raised his head to look at her, wanting to take her there and then, but needing her to make the decision. “I want to make love to you. I have ever since I first saw you. Do you want me to?”
Christine knew no hesitation. Sex was not something she had needed before, and probably would have continued not needing it before tonight. But she needed to have it with this man. She knew she wouldn’t get any peace of mind until she did. Anything else was secondary to releasing this pent-up desire.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Can we do it here?”
Nick laughed shakily, and in response got up , said something to someone outside and locked the door. He came back to find her standing before the settee, slowly unbuttoning her blouse, her pants already on the floor, still wearing her heels. He watched her undress, hands clenching as he saw the black lace under the prim linen material of her blouse. She let the blouse fall and let him look his fill of the see-through black lace of her underwear.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, coming to her to release her breasts from their prison , lifting them over the top of the bra. Her nipples were dark and hard as pebbles, and he bent his head to take one and then the other into his mouth, sucking and nipping gently.
For Christine, all thought was gone. All that was left was the sensation of Nick’s mouth enveloping her aureoles and pulling gently. She arched her back, urging him to take in more of her breast in his mouth, and he responded by slipping his free hand under her lace panties to grasp her ass, squeezing rhythmically as he suckled. Christine felt weak, one leg wrapping itself around his hips to press herself closer to him, and she clung to him to keep from falling down. He lowered her gently on the settee and started to unbutton his shirt. Christine sat up, looking at the bulge in his pants, and put out a finger to stroke it. Nick’s hands stilled, and he closed his eyes as she continued to stroke him through his pants. She then tugged at his belt and unhooked his pants, his slim hips no hindrance to the loosened pants, which pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off together with his shoes, and Christine leaned forward to kiss the bulge that was now clearly outlined by a pair of white bikini briefs between muscular thighs. It twitched and pulsed under her touch, and she wanted to rip his briefs off with her teeth.
She looked up at Nick, who was watching her with smoldering eyes, and felt a responding quiver between her legs. She sighed as he pushed his hips forward, and she could see that his briefs were darkened by some moisture. She pulled down his briefs with some urgency, and at last she saw it. Her mouth watered at his size, and she saw a drop of clear fluid forming at the tip. She snaked out her tongue to lick it off and Nick grabbed her head on both sides, making a guttural sound deep in his throat. She opened her mouth and accepted the shaft into her mouth, tasting him, exploring every groove and crenellation with her tongue, flicking the smooth helmet with quick darts like licking ice cream. His hands tightened on her hair, and there was pain, but it also increased her excitement, and as he guided her, she stroked his manhood with her mouth at an increasing rate until he gasped and pulled away.
Christine protested, grabbing his ass to bring him back within sucking distance, but he resisted. “If we don’t stop now, I’m going to come,” he warned her, pushing her down so she was reclining on the settee. “Your turn,” Nick said breathing hard, his manhood pulsing steadily. He eased her panties off, kissing and nipping the inside of her thighs. Christine moaned at each nip, but eager for that first touch in the most private part of her body, hot and pulsing like his erection, but Nick seemed to be teasing her, touching and licking everything but there.
“Oh, please,” she moaned, pulling at his hair. “Nick, please.”
Nick relented, breathing in the peculiar scent of her sex that was both musky and heady as he darted his own tongue into the slit, her pubic hair tickling his nose, and felt his manhood surge up at the sound of her muffled whimper. She was very wet, and he wanted to be inside her very badly.
“Nick!” she whisper-screamed, tugging at his shirt, which was still on. “I can’t stand it! Please, please! I want you inside me now!”
“If I go in now, I’ll come,” he groaned, straining against his rising climax.
“Oh, please,” she panted. “I’m going out of my mind! You have to take me now!”
Nick gave in, not sure how long he could control himself. He fumbled a little in his haste, lifting her legs so that he could get between them. He penetrated her, and oh! the exquisite tightness and warmth! Christine stiffened as he slipped in, squeezing his waist between her legs as he drove in deeper, and she bit her lip to stifle her cry of pleasure, her hips bucking in rhythm to match the pistoning movement of his hips. His fell forward and his chest was crushing her breast. She could hardly breathe, but this just heightened her pleasure.
Christine shuddered as spasms radiated from her sex throughout her body just as Nick stifled his own cries of release into her neck. Christine felt heat pour into her as he bucked twice, and felt deep satisfaction at his fulfillment. Finally, the tautness left Nick’s body and he collapsed fully against her. Christine savored his warmth, and she felt she could stay there forever, never mind that she couldn’t breathe. After a moment, though, he raised himself on his hands and smiled down at her. She gave him a dreamy smile, stretching luxuriously and all but purring.
“You are something else,” he said wonderingly, reliving the feel of her skin under his hands, and the silky tautness of her thighs wrapped around his torso, and incredibly felt himself stirring again inside her. He withdrew
gently, wincing as his shaft slipped past her opening.
“I just had to have you,” Christine admitted. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Me too,” he said, grinning wickedly. “But I sure didn’t think I’d get lucky tonight. Can I tell you something?”
Christine nodded, thinking of how she had donned the black underwear she had bought on the sly that day with just this result in mind.
“I—er, jerked off before I came over,” he confessed, blushing adorably. “I was afraid I might lose control if I didn’t, I wanted you so much. Boy, was that a waste of time!” She gave a little laugh.
“You’re so funny. I would have been very disappointed if you had been—er, too spent .” She paused, then said quietly, tracing his collar bone with her fingertip, not looking at him, “I thought you didn’t want me, earlier.”
Nick shook his head, lifting himself up so he could see her better, watching her lashes sweep against her cheek. “I wanted to fuck you so badly, I was afraid you’d think I was a pig if you felt how hard I was getting just having you close. After all, it’s our first date.”
Christine looked at him then, her eyes troubled. “I know, and I wouldn’t blame you if you assume I always have sex on the first date. But I don’t. This is a first for me.”
Nick nodded. “I believe you. But tell me…” he hesitated, wondering if it sounded weird to ask.
She raised herself up on her elbows to signify attention, oblivious to the fact that it pushed her full breast up higher. Nick was not; he looked down involuntarily, and cupped one in his hand. Christine immediately forgot what she was going to say, closing her eyes as he started rubbing her nipple, “Mmmm, I like you touching me.”
Good Girl Gone Wild: When Lust Turns to Passion... (Good and Wild) Page 3
