by Bliss Devlin
Andras shook his head. "You're one of the few people outside the family who's ever seen it. It's been in my family's possession since it was painted, so there aren't any records of it in catalogs or at auction houses. Plus, I have an excellent security system."
"It's amazing to see something like this outside a museum," Katie said. "And it's been professionally cleaned and restored—how did you keep the painting a secret? An iron-clad non-disclosure agreement?"
"Better than that--it was a family job. I have cousins in Italy who are restorers at a major museum." Andras' gaze returned to the painting. "As an interesting side-note, the two models in this painting are my ancestors. They were successful merchants who wanted to celebrate a wedding anniversary, and they were rich enough to commission a painting on a secular theme."
"Wow." Katie studied the painting. "Come to think of it, you do look a little like that Cupid—same nose and chin."
Andras chuckled. "I'm flattered. Now, may I interest you in dinner?"
Katie allowed him to steer her downstairs, though not without another backward glance at that amazing painting—and the bed that stood beneath it. It looked so sinfully inviting. Was it too much to hope that she might end up there before the evening was over?
She swallowed hard, remembering what he had promised her at the club: I swear to you that I will make you come so hard and so often that you won't be able to move...I want to tie you up and play with you, until you're begging me...
Dinner was fabulous. Andras had made crab cakes flavored with green onion and grated ginger and served them sitting in a pool of red coconut curry sauce, accompanied by a salad of mixed greens with diced mango and a refreshing citrusy dressing, and served with a Pinot Grigio that reminded her of tart apples.
Before coming here tonight, Katie had been worrying that seeing Andras might be awkward after all the intimate secrets she had spilled at their first meeting. But it wasn't. They continued to talk about art, including a recent exhibition of Dutch Masters that had recently been at the city's museum, and which both of them had visited separately.
Katie learned that the prints on his downstairs walls were all by an artist named Yoshiko Nakazawa, who had been Andras' friend.
From the way he spoke of her, Katie suspected that they had been more than friends.
"You talk about her in the past tense," she noted. "If you don't mind me asking—"
"She died two years ago," Andras replied, somberly. His bleak expression made him look old and sad for a fleeting moment. "She was very dear to me."
"I'm so sorry." Katie reached across the table and took Andras' hand. Except for his hand at her waist during the tour, he had not touched her since she arrived, and she was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd had second thoughts about his proposition.
Without hesitating, he turned his hand palm-up, and enclosed her hand in his. "Thank you. We knew each other a long time. I miss her a lot," he said, simply.
Katie raised her wine glass in her free hand. "To absent friends," she said, and drained it.
He mirrored the gesture. "To absent friends and to new ones." He tipped the glass in her direction before drinking.
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he released it, and pushed back his chair. "Ready for dessert? Coffee?"
She helped him clear the dishes from the table, rinsing them and putting them in his dishwasher while he assembled the desserts and made them both cappuccinos. It felt companionable and pleasingly intimate.
After their first date, Katie had walked away hoping fervently for an exciting fling with Amanda's gorgeous brother. But now she realized she could fall hard for him, if she wasn't careful. He was so perfect—smart, cultured, kind, and very, very sexy.
What on earth does he see in me?
Dessert was a blood orange sorbet served with a delicate drizzle of dark chocolate sauce. Katie savored every spoonful with rapturous delight as Andras watched her with a pleased smile.
"There's no higher compliment to a cook than to see someone enjoying a meal," he told her, leaning back in his chair, and raising his cappuccino to his lips. "There's such sheer sensuality in the sight of someone savoring their meal. It confirms my first impression of you, Katie, as a very sensual person."
For an instant, she wondered if he was making fun of her, then decided he didn't seem the type. So, she took a chance and licked the last bit of chocolate sauce off her spoon with an exaggerated swipe of her tongue. "It's easy to be a sensual gourmet when the food is this good."
Andras laughed. Then he put his cup down and leaned forward, green eyes intense. "I'd like to try an experiment tonight, if you're comfortable taking things to the next step on a second date."
Katie's mouth went dry. "What did you have in mind?"
"I'd like to assess where your erogenous zones are, and what level of stimulation you need."
She blinked at this. "That sounds a bit...well, clinical. Unless you're into playing doctor?"
"Not exactly." He grinned at her. "And I think you'll enjoy it. In fact, I can guarantee you I will, if you think you're ready to trust me. If you'd like to wait, then no hard feelings on my part. It's been a wonderful evening so far, and I'd really like to see you again."
"What do I have to do?"
"Just lay back and enjoy what I do to you." He leaned back in his chair again, and toyed with his half-empty cup. "Here are the rules: full-on sex is off the table for right now. It's hands and mouth only for this session. And underwear stays on for now. You can stop me at any time by saying 'red,' but while the session is on-going, I want you to be completely honest with your responses.
"If you like something, let me know. If you don't like it, I need to know that, too. The system of safe words I like to use is on a sliding scale: green means go, yellow means slow down or take a different approach, red means stop right away, I'm uncomfortable or in pain.
"There's no 'right' answer, and you don't have to worry about disappointing me. Tonight is about you, and how I can best please you."
"All right," she said, trying to sound calm. Inside, she was jumping up and down. He's going to kiss me again! We're gonna make out! "I'm game."
"I was hoping you might be." Still smiling, he rose from the table, and taking her hand, her into the living room. "Strip down to your bra and panties."
She glanced around reflexively at the loft's huge windows, and was relieved to see he was the kind of guy who believed in blinds.
Andras seated himself on the large leather sofa, looking perfectly at ease with his legs crossed and one arm draped across the back, and waited expectantly.
Katie licked her lips nervously, conscious of his intense green gaze. She toed off her pumps, and slowly began to unbutton her silk shirt. Her lack of speed was due to shyness at first, but then she discovered that she was enjoying the act of tantalizing him.
One button...two...three...then four. The shimmering fabric parted under her fingers, revealing the pretty, lacy bra she had purchased with such high hopes.
She was gratified to see Andras look pleased and surprised as she slid the blouse off her shoulders, and down her arms. "Very nice! That's a wonderful color on you, Katie."
"I was hoping you would like it." She folded the blouse and put it on the coffee table.
She unzipped her skirt and let it fall around her ankles, stepping neatly out of the circle of rumpled fabric before stooping to pick it up and fold it on top of her blouse. Doing that gave him a nice view of her ass, and he seemed to appreciate it.
No hose—they were out of style this year, despite the cool spring, so she straightened up and stood there for a moment, feeling hesitant.
Andras studied her with open appreciation. "You are so beautiful, Katie. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate your trust in me."
"Thank you," she murmured, looking down at the rich red and ivory-colored Persian carpet beneath her bare feet. The wool felt soft and plush against her toes.
"Come here and sit on my lap," he inv
ited. "I really want to kiss you."
He took her hand as she slowly approached him, and guided her down to face him. It felt oddly titillating to be straddling his lap half-naked while he was still fully dressed, the expensive fabric of his slacks caressing her inner thighs.
"Mmmm," he said, and raised his hands to cradle her face. "How do you feel?"
"All systems go." She smiled down at him. "This feels nice."
"Good." He kissed her softly, his mouth gentle against hers, lingering, nibbling gently on her lower lip. She liked that he didn't try to shove his tongue into her mouth right away. Instead, he waited for her lips to part naturally beneath his. Even then, he teased and explored, touching her tongue lightly with his before withdrawing.
The kiss in the restaurant had been amazing, but this kiss, unhurried, sensuous...this was heaven.
Katie began to drape herself over him, trying to get closer as he finally thrust his tongue into her mouth, and explored boldly.
If just kissing him made her brain feel like it was melting, like candle wax meeting a flame, all hot and liquid, then she couldn't wait to find out what actually having sex with him felt like.
He held her at bay with effortless strength, and slid those big, sexy hands slowly over her bare shoulders and down her arms. Circling her wrists, he held them behind her back as his kiss deepened.
Andras kissed her eyes, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth, even the tip of her nose. Each touch of his lips was gentle and lingering, like the brush of feathers against her skin.
His mouth moved downwards and Katie eagerly offered her throat to him.
She had always loved having her neck kissed—it was guaranteed to make shivers race down her spine—but she didn't expect him to bite her there, or that the pressure of his teeth, combined with having her wrists held captive at the small of her back, would start a heavy pulse of arousal between her legs.
"You liked that," Andras said, his lips brushing the skin of her throat.
With a start, she realized that she had closed her eyes, and had been silently soaking up the wonderful sensation of his teeth against sensitive skin.
"Oh, yes," she breathed, and an instant later, "I'm sorry. I know you asked me to tell you—"
He chuckled. "Don't worry, beautiful. I think I'm getting the message loud and clear."
Andras bent his head and returned to what he was doing, alternating kisses and gentle bites. She began to squirm against his iron hold on her wrists as the throbbing ache between her legs increased, and felt a gratifyingly large bulge in his pants pressing against her crotch.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, kissing her shoulder. "I would find a moan or two very encouraging."
He bit down.
"Oh! Yes!" she said, a bit self-consciously. She had never been a moaner or a screamer during sex. But he was making her feel so very, very good...
That earned her a wry smile. "I guess I'm just going to have to try harder."
She liked the sound of that, especially when he bent his head and blew a soft breath across the top of her bosom. Katie arched, offering her breasts. "Please."
"Mmmm, begging. That's almost as good as a moan."
He skimmed his lips over the rounded flesh exposed by the top of her bra, then moved lower. Katie tensed in anticipation, but his lips barely touched her nipples through the sheer, silky fabric, in a frustrating, fleeting touch.
"Tell me what you want," he said, his mouth brushing against one nipple with each word, stiffening it.
"Touch me," she said, raggedly. "Harder. There. Please."
He took the tip of her breast between his lips, and sucked at it through the fabric, flicking it with his tongue.
It felt good, but...
"More?" he asked. "Harder?"
"Yesssss...oh!" She started in surprise when he bit her nipple. "Oh God, that's wonderful. Don't stop!"
He didn't, working magic on her breasts until she opened her mouth, and found she was moaning.
"Keep your hands behind your back," he ordered, and she obeyed, lacing together her fingers.
His hands came around and caressed her waist, her stomach, her belly, then slid up to cup her breasts through the damp bra. He took each nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger
"It seems to me," he said, "that you like a lot of stimulation here. Let me know when it becomes too much."
He pinched the tips of her breasts hard. She gasped and squirmed on his lap as lightning shot down her spine.
"Status," he ordered. "Red, green, yellow?"
She had to make an effort to concentrate. She just wanted to close her eyes and let him do whatever he wanted while she melted, her insides liquefying from the heat of his touch. "Uh, green. Definitely green. Please do that again!"
He did, several times, rolling her nipples between his fingertips with pressure just shy of bruising, then lightened up his touch.
After the rough treatment, she found her nipples felt pleasantly sensitized, and now his tongue flicking against them through her bra felt really good.
"Time to change positions," he said, and she whimpered in protest when he stopped touching her breasts.
Comprehension took another few seconds. She gave him a silly smile. "Sorry. I think you fried my circuits."
"And I've been enjoying every minute of it," he told her, lifting her off his lap, and rising to his feet. "Lay down and put your arms over your head."
She obeyed, the leather of the couch cool against her shoulders and the backs of her legs. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of ribbon. "I'm going to tie this around your wrists," he said, "just as a reminder that I want you to keep your hands out of the way."
"Okay," said Katie, and felt the satiny touch of the ribbon around her wrists.
The restraint was very loose. In fact, if she wasn't careful, the ribbon would slip right off. But she still felt strangely vulnerable and exposed.
He stroked her belly, leaving shivers in his wake, and she burned in anticipation of him reaching her panties.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Really, really turned on," she answered.
"Good."
He moved to the end of the sofa, and took her feet into his big hands.
Who would have thought a foot massage could be so erotic? Her moan of pleasure this time was completely unprompted as his thumbs pressed into the arch of each foot with just the right pressure.
"So you like that?" he asked, in a teasing tone.
With an effort, she opened heavy-lidded eyes. "Marry me, please. My Mama told me that anyone who can cook and give a killer foot massage is a keeper."
An odd expression flickered across his face before he smiled. "That's quite a compliment."
"You bet," she answered. "I have high standards. Cooking alone won't get you there."
His hands skimmed up her legs, thumbs caressing the soft skin of her inner thighs. She opened her legs for him, and stiffened when he brushed a light touch against the scrap of silky fabric between her legs. It felt like an electric shock.
"Good?"
She nodded, hoping he would do that again.
Instead, he teased her with a fingertip tracing over her belly, following the lacy line of her panties across her hips. "I want to touch the rest of you now. May I do that?"
"Please," she whispered, her throat feeling suddenly dry. This was the moment of truth? Was he going to try to make her climax? Would he be disappointed if she couldn't reach it?
Maybe this time will be different. She was pretty sure she had never been this turned-on in her life.
She had a vision of Andras unzipping his pants and fucking her on this couch. She wanted it. Badly.
Then she stopped thinking as he knelt next to the couch and eased his hand under the top of her panties with tantalizing slowness.
She almost screamed when his fingertip slid over her swollen clit, teasing it with a firm touch.
"How do you like this?"
; She moaned, spreading her legs, and he continued.
His finger circled her with agonizing slowness, tracing each swollen fold, dipping the barest fraction into her entrance before returning to her clit, his touch slippery now with her arousal.
It felt so good, and he was so patient, circling and stroking, teasing and caressing.
And her miserable body stayed exactly where it was—turned on, but no closer to coming. She wanted to cry with disappointment, and felt her arousal fade begin to fade as anxious thoughts crowded her mind.
Everything had been going so well, too! She had found his dominant style a turn-on, and he had figured out exactly what she needed.
"Hey." His touch stilled, and she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her with a concerned expression.
"You're worrying about taking too long, aren't you? Stop that," he said, matter-of-factly. "I love doing this, love watching you get closer and closer to the edge."
"But I'm not getting any closer," she confessed. "I'm sorry. What you're doing feels so good, and I love it, but—"
"Don't apologize. Just tell me what you need."
"Fuck me," she begged.
He shook his head. "I don't think that's going to help in this case. But maybe a bit more stimulation—do you want me to take things up a notch? I have something you might like."
"Please," she begged.
He reached into his pocket and put something in his finger. It looked like a medieval torture device, bristling with a cluster of soft purple silicone spikes.
"No one's ever used one of these on you?"
She shook her head mutely.
"It's a fingertip vibrator. You'll have to let me know if you like it." He turned it on low and slipped his hand back between her legs.
She felt it brush over her clit, and gasped. It felt amazing, all of the spikes vibrating separately, magnifying the sensations.
"Green?" he murmured.
"Oh God, yes!" She moaned, writhing.
"You're gorgeous like this, all flushed and turned on," he whispered. "And I want to play with you for a while."
And he did, rolling her nipples with the fingers of one hand, as his other hand stroked everywhere between her legs with the strange little vibrator, but paying special attention to her clit.
