Achilles' Charm

by Adrianna Dane

  "I don't know."

  "What did you think tonight was all about? Do you think it always has to end with my cock in your pussy? Did you enjoy what we did tonight?"

  "Well, yes, I did."

  "I told you we'd take it slow. I don't ever want to cause you pain, and when I take your virginity, I want you to feel nothing but pleasure, do you understand?"

  She reached up to stroke his jaw. "I've never met anyone like you before. How did I get so lucky?"

  He pulled her closer. "I'm the lucky one. We made love tonight, honey, it just wasn't the way you expected. Have you ever come before tonight?"

  "Not like that."

  "With a man. Has a man every made you come like that?"

  He felt the shake of her head against his shoulder. "No. Never."

  He stilled, holding her. "You make yourself climax?" he whispered hoarsely into the darkness, envisioning her on a bed with her fingers inside her as she brought herself to orgasm.

  "Yes."

  "Oh, God, baby, you better go inside before I lose it totally. It's late anyway, and I know you have an early morning class."

  She struggled to move out of his lap, and his erection bit hard against the front of his pants.

  She turned to look at him, highlighted by the street lamp, and she looked like an angel. "I hate to go. The more I'm with you, the worse it is to leave you."

  "You could move in with me."

  "My parents would kill me." She shook her head. "There's nothing more that I would love than to move in with you, but it's just not possible. Not yet."

  She was young, just shy of twenty, and he understood her fears. It's why he was trying to take his time with her, giving her a chance to walk away. But he had a feeling it was already too late for that--at least for him.

  "You better go. I'll see you Wednesday night."

  She leaned over to kiss him. He had to work the next couple of nights and it was going to kill him not to see her. The kiss was long and tender, and then she was gone.

  He had taken her virginity carefully and as painlessly as possible. That wasn't the kind of pain he'd ever wanted to cause her. In the end, there had been pain. But it was his.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  Waiting at the counter, she heard the bell chime meaning someone had just entered the store. The clerk was in the process of counting her garments and out of habit Mary turned and her breath stuttered as she recognized the man who had entered.

  His gaze locked with hers and it was as though they had both been turned to stone. And then his attention seemed to be focused behind her. His gaze dilated and she turned to see what had caught his attention and felt the blood drain from her face and a wave of dizziness swept over her. The clerk at the counter had just exposed the corset--the expensive gift Ross had given her. She was having it cleaned before she got rid of it.

  Her focus warped back to his and then skimmed to the counter once again. She breathed a sigh of relief as the clerk swept everything from the counter and placed it on a shelf behind her.

  "Will that be all?" she asked as she finished her notations on the sales slip and look up at Mary.

  "Yes, that's everything."

  The clerk handed her a copy of the slip. "It should be ready by Wednesday."

  She turned away, not meeting Ross's gaze, unable to do so. He stepped in front of her, tossed his suits to the counter and then forced her to look up at him. This close she could smell his unique magnetic attraction and she felt herself weave. She forced herself not to touch him. This sort of encounter with him was something she had hoped to avoid. Often, fate was not kind.

  "Hello, Mary."

  "Ross. It's...it's good to see you again. I didn't realize you lived so close by."

  He reached around her to grab the sales slip from the clerk that she held out to him. Another whiff of his aftershave assaulted her.

  "Next Saturday as usual, Mr. Carpenter?"

  "That would be fine. Thanks, Anna."

  He turned his attention back to Mary and she felt the color sweep back into her face.

  "I transferred here about a month ago. My apartment is just around the corner."

  "Oh, I see." She bit her lip. That was going to make things very difficult. Her apartment was only several blocks away in the other direction. This was going to be really, really awkward. As long as he was far away in another city, she wouldn't be tempted, but this close...that was another matter entirely.

  "Have time for a cup of coffee?" He nodded toward the window. "They serve some pretty good coffee across the street at that little coffee shop."

  She hesitated. She should say no and run as fast as she could. Then she looked up into his eyes and every feeling she'd ever had for him came flooding back. It was the exact response she'd had the first time she'd seen him at the picnic. A feeling of dèja vú swept over her.

  "Yes, I have some time. That would be nice."

  Once they were seated, with two cups of regular coffee before them, she took a moment to look at his left hand. No wedding ring.

  "I always wondered what happened to you, Mary. Did you find the type of position you were looking for?"

  She nodded and took a quick sip of her coffee. "Yes. I'm a senior editor at a small publishing company who handles mostly nonfiction titles. I really like it a lot. How about you?"

  "Yes, I work as a crime scene analyst--work in the field a lot."

  "You always wanted to do that, as I remember." She smiled, fondly recalling their many discussions about the future. Things could have been so different if only she'd been more careful.

  She turned away to gaze out the window, trying not to think about what she'd been forced to sacrifice.

  "I didn't think it was possible, but you're even more beautiful than you were back then." His voice deepened. "You know how I recognized you the other day?"

  She had no choice and was forced to look at him.

  "It was your ankles and the way you had them crossed so demurely. And the anklet was a dead giveaway. Why did you keep it, Mary? And the corset?"

  She shook her head unable to form an answer. Certainly not one he could ever understand. She looked down at the coffee cup setting before her and then a thick finger beneath her chin forced her to look at him.

  His smoky eyes were as intense as they had ever been, demanding an answer--the truth, and she couldn't tell him that, so she remained silent.

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair, studying her. "Too many years, Mary. I've missed you."

  Oh, please don't say that, was the only thing running through her head.

  He reached out to lift her left hand, and quirked an eyebrow. "I don't see a ring. Are you seeing anyone?"

  "No," she said in a low voice and tried to retract her hand from his. Tingles raced up her arm at his touch.

  "Me neither. Free and clear." A finger stroked along her forearm and she shivered at the intense sensations it invoked.

  "It's no use, Ross. Too many years have passed."

  He leaned forward. "Did I scare you, Agnes Mary? Is that why you ran away? Did I disgust you with my needs?"

  She gasped. "Oh, God, no. That wasn't it. Oh, my God, no. Is that what you've thought all this time?" She'd never guessed he might put that spin on her leaving without contacting him.

  "Then talk to me. Tell me why you left. It was like you disappeared off the face of the earth. I called your house, but all they said was that you'd moved away."

  She stiffened. "Who did you speak with?"

  "I think it was your older brother...Brian? At least he said he was your brother."

  Oh, no. Of all people. "Did he say anything else?"

  "No." Ross looked at her closer. "Was there something else he should have told me?"

  Mary shook her head. "No. Nothing else." She rose from her chair. "I have to go, Ross. It was good seeing you again."

  He got up from his chair. A hand snaked out to grab her arm. She looked up at him. "This isn't over, Ma
ry. There's something you're not telling me, and I'm going to find out what it is."

  "No, Ross, it is over. What we shared was a long time ago. It was great. It didn't end because of anything you did or didn't do. It just ended. Let's leave it at that." She jerked her arm out of his grasp and shot toward the door. She had to get out of there before she gave into him. She couldn't offer him what he wanted; she couldn't have what she wanted.

  She raced out the door, bells tinkling, and onto the sidewalk, gasping for breath. If only she had left the damned corset home, this wouldn't have happened. If only...a lot of things.

  She waited for the light to change and then dashed across the street. There were churning dark clouds in the sky and she felt the first bloated drops of rain hit her cheek.

  That corset was the source of such pleasure...and now it was only a memory filled with bittersweet pain. But it was a searing memory she would never forget.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  It was Ross's birthday and they had gone out to dinner and she had paid. When they returned to his apartment she saw several gift boxes setting on the sofa. She turned to smile up at him. "Looks like more gifts for you."

  There was an expression on his face that said he had a secret, he knew something he wasn't telling her. He walked over to the couch and picked up the largest one and held it out toward her. "They're for you."

  "For me? But it's your birthday, you're not supposed to be giving presents."

  "What if they're for you, but will give me pleasure, too?"

  She strode toward him and took the rectangular box from his hand. She shook it, but still couldn't tell what it might be. Turning, she sat on the sofa and untied the beautiful blue ribbon, then lifted the lid of the unmarked, silver box. Folding back the delicate, pale blue tissue paper, she gasped at the contents, then felt warm color suffuse her cheeks.

  "Ross?" She held up the garment to see it better. It was a maroon and gold brocade corset. It certainly didn't look like anything one would find in a regular store. "You had this made?"

  He hovered over her, watching her. "Yes. For you. Do you like it?"

  She looked inside the box and saw a pair of maroon silk panties and white stockings.

  "Oh, my."

  "Will you wear them for me? Tonight?"

  She stroked a hand over the fine fabric, held up the stockings to the light, then looked up at him.

  "Of course I will."

  He leaned down and picked up another box and handed it to her. It looked like a shoe box. She opened it and found that was exactly what it was. She carefully lifted out a pair of four-inch white stiletto heels, with a narrow leather strap and tiny silver buckle that would enclose her ankle. She looked around at the last box.

  "That's for later," Ross answered her unspoken question. "You can change in the bedroom."

  Picking up the garments, she rose from the chair and walked toward the bedroom. Turning back, she looked at him before entering. He was sitting on the couch, watching her, his dark gaze centered on her.

  "I'll be right back." She smiled flirtatiously and winked before entering the bedroom and closing the door. She couldn't imagine what he might have in mind for her tonight. And she really was curious as to what was in the other box.

  Stripping off her clothes, she then donned the silky panties which barely covered any skin at all, and pulled on the stockings. The corset was a fairly simple style and hooked up the front, therefore making it easy for her to put on by herself. She sucked in breath and began to do up the tiny hooks. When she was finished, she needed a moment to catch her breath. How women used to wear these things on a regular basis she had no idea, there certainly wasn't much breadth of movement available. She fastened the tops of the stockings to the garters attached to the corset and then looked down at the shoes. Oh, oh. No way would she be able to strap those onto her feet by herself. She should have put them on first. Ross would just have to help her.

  Carefully walking to the dresser to look in the mirror, her gaze widened. The corset rose to cup and mold her breasts, pushing them up, but otherwise the nipples and tops were bare. Her waist was cinched tightly, allowing her hips to flare. The stockings offered an intriguing glimpse of pale flesh. She'd never looked or felt this sexy in her life. She wondered what Ross would think when he saw her.

  She slowly knelt to pick up the shoes, then rose to her feet and left the bedroom. Ross had lowered the lighting in the living room and had put a smoky, jazz CD in the player and it was playing softly in the background.

  She noticed a bowl of strawberries and a bottle and two glasses resting next to it on the coffee table, and the other, smaller gift box was setting there as well. Two crimson candles were in clear crystal holders and he was bent over lighting the second one.

  "I need your help," she said as she gingerly walked into the room.

  He whirled around and the look in his eyes flared to one of pure lust.

  "Help? You look gorgeous."

  She held up her hand and dangled the pair of shoes in front of him. "I should have put these on first, but now I can't exactly bend over to fasten them."

  He walked toward her. "More than happy to oblige, ma'am." He led her over to a straight-backed wooden chair and she eased down. Ross knelt on one knee and lifted one of her feet to rest on his thigh. Slowly, he stroked a hand up her stocking-sheathed calf, and back down again. She saw the bulge of his cock pressing against the front of his trousers.

  She knew he loved touching her this way. Something about this particular intimacy always had the ability to arouse him. His hand moved upward, past her knee, and slid along her inner thigh. She sucked in breath. His fingers played over the exposed skin just above the rim of the stocking tops and she felt her cream dampen her panties at the sensual touch.

  "Ross." His name was just a breath on her lips.

  He looked up at her. "Are you wet, Mary?"

  She nodded her head and he smiled. Picking up one of the shoes, he slipped it on her foot and buckled the ankle strap. He gave the same intimate attention to her other leg. Then he leaned back, pressing her knees open with his hands.

  The look in his silvery eyes, which now looked like dark storm clouds over a vast, black sea, told her how aroused he was.

  "Touch yourself," he growled.

  He'd never asked her to do that before. "I-I don't know..."

  "Touch yourself. I know you've done it when you were alone, you told me so. Let me watch. I want to see you touch yourself. He lifted one of her legs and placed her shod foot on his thigh, close to his groin. His hands absently danced along her leg as he watched her.

  Unable to look away from his intent stare, with one hand she moved her panty to the side, exposing her moist cleft, then stroked a finger along her slit. Separating her labia lips, she bared her throbbing clit. Ross's pupils dilated even more as he watched her. His hand stroking her calf kept the connection alive for her, gave her the courage to press a finger inside her vagina and stroke her stiff clit with another.

  It felt so naughty to be doing this in front of him, and so very hot. She felt herself mounting the summit, added a second finger to the first.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the chair, her mouth agape as she struggled for breath.

  "Come for me, baby. I want to see you come."

  There was no holding back the surging waves of her orgasm as she came for him, arching as much as the restrictive corset would allow. She felt herself pulled forward, her legs pressed open and her hand removed and moist lips and a hot tongue took over.

  "Oh, Ross," she cried as ecstasy spread through her. His tongue penetrated, and he sucked at her juices. His tongue retreated and swirled over her sensitive clit, and delved back inside, time and time again, until she came once more.

  When it was over, he lifted her into his arms and she wrapped her long legs around his hips, and her arms around his neck, holding on tightly. With his hands he cupped her bare bottom and waltzed with her aroun
d the room.

  It wasn't until much, much later that he allowed her to open the third gift.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Mary walked into her apartment and slammed the door closed behind her. She leaned back against it and shut her eyes. She'd almost been ready to tell him everything. Exactly what had made her run. Why she'd been forced to leave him.

  Pulling away from the door, she shuffled into the bedroom. Kneeling on the floor, she opened the bottom door of the dresser, rummaged through the clothing and pulled out what was buried at the back. She opened the box and looked at the contents. Lifting it out, she turned it on. The vibrations ripped through her body. Flipping the switch off, she set it down and pulled out the tube of lubricant.

  Shimmying back against the wall, she spread her legs and, turning it on, she pressed the tip of the vibrator against the silky cloth of her panties, moving across her lips, against her clit. The vibrations sent her flying. Her panties grew damp quickly and she shrugged out of them and pressed the tip of the vibrator between her lips. She was so wet there really wasn't a need for lubricant. She closed her eyes, sank back against the wall, and pressed the vibrator deeper.

  He'd peeled off her panties the night of his birthday, then reached for the last box and handed it to her. She'd been so sated already from the number of orgasms he'd given her, her mind was a bit hazy.

  "What's this?"

  "Open it."

  She'd gone speechless when she saw what was inside. She'd looked up at him, unable to say anything.

  He pulled the box from her lap and set it aside. And then he'd pulled her down from the chair into his lap, her mound nudged close to his rigid cock. She could feel the broad tip of his penis through the cloth of his jeans. She knew he'd be hot and moist and so very hard.