She skimmed her hand up his length and back down again. He mumbled something in his sleep. She leaned over and circled her tongue around his the head of his cock. He tasted salty and manly. She felt a pang of desire between her legs. She dipped her head, taking him in her mouth. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hardness against her tongue. She sucked him deeper, then released him when she couldn't take him any further. He was too big for her, she mused. She wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and took him again in her mouth. Her mouth and hand worked in tandem as she sucked him.
She felt his muscles tighten. He arched his back and groaned. She ran her free hand up his flat stomach, teasing him with her fingernails. She flicked her eyes up to his face. He was alert now and watching her, his eyes a stormy blue. She quickened her pace and he tossed his head back. “Annie!” He moaned, his voice pained. She dragged her fingernails from his six pack to his thigh as she ran her tongue along the sensitive underside of his erection. He bucked his hips, his hands reaching up to grip the headboard. She cupped his balls in her hand lightly, remembering how that drove him crazy. He let out a ragged growl as she sucked him deeper.
“Fuck!” he gasped. She kept working him, wanting him to come. She tasted his pre-cum in her throat, thick and salty. She moaned against him, wanting him to feel the vibration. She tightened her fingers around his most sensitive spot, not wanting to hurt him. She swirled her tongue around his head, and then dipped her head again, taking him deeper than she had before. She relaxed the muscles in her jaw to fit him. She loved the power she held in her hands and mouth. She had the power to give him the best orgasm of his life. She felt slickness between her thighs as she watched his face. He was dying an amazingly slow death. Suddenly, a shiver racked his body. Her eyes never left his face as he threw his head back. With a cry, he came. She felt him explode in the back of her throat and she swallowed everything he gave her. She continued sucking him as he jerked against her, his orgasm still in control of him.
When his body relaxed against her, she released him. His breathing was jagged, his chest heaving. She kissed a trail up his abdomen, worshiping him. She closed her mouth around his left nipple and sucked. His hands tangled in her hair. “Annie.” he rasped. “What are you doing to me?”
She bit the meaty part of his bicep and trailed her tongue across another one of his tattoos. “Nothing,” she said. “Absolutely nothing.” She settled her cheek against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. She listened to his heartbeat as it returned to normal. She didn't say that she wanted everything to stay the same between them when they returned to New York. She didn't want to give him up. She didn't want to let her job and William come between them. But then again, the thought of William knowing about that she was sleeping with Christophe was just as worrisome.
She worried she was being judged by everything, including her personal life. She didn't want William to know something so private about her. And the nagging suspicion that William was pitting she and Christophe against each other had been present the whole trip. She kissed his chest, her mind still going when all she wanted was to shut it up. She didn't want the doubts and real world problems to ruin their last morning in Paris. His cellphone on the bedside table rang. “Don't answer it,” she said immediately. He leaned over, taking her with him. He glanced at the screen.
“It's the jet pilot.” He held up the phone and stroked her hair. “Should I answer it?” he said, a smile on his lips. She buried her face in his chest and nodded. She knew she was being silly but her stomach was in knots. The real world was pushing its way into their reverie. Clawing away at their cocoon. She felt like the air was becoming sticky in her lungs. He put the phone to his ear. “Bonjour Rob, c'est Christophe.” She rolled over onto her back, her breathing labored. “Uh huh,” he said absently, his hand sliding over her shirt. He unbuttoned one button, then another. “Oh really?” Her breath caught in her throat as he ran a traced a circle around her navel. “No worries. Keep me updated.” Then he hung up and tossed the phone back on the table. “Well that settles that.”
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “What settles what?”
“The plane is downed until this storm passes.” He slipped his hand into the shirt, cupping her breast. “I think skiing is the best option at a time like this.”
“Wait, what? I have never been skiing in my life!” she exclaimed as he nuzzled her neck.
“I'll teach you.” He kissed her cheek.
“When does he think we'll be able to fly out?” She felt a tiny sliver of something shining and happy in her. She didn't have to give him up yet. Christophe shrugged.
“Two days, maybe? Enough time to head outside of the city for a bit.” His eyes flashed mischievously. “Do you want to see my scar from skiing?” He lifted his leg. “I broke it so bad, the bone sliced through the skin.” He laughed as her eyes widened.
“I'm supposed to fly to home on Friday with my sister, for Christmas.” She sat up, leaning over to see the scar on his leg. “We have to make it back to New York by then.” She ran her finger over the white surgery scar on his shin.
“I didn't know you had a sister.”
“Antoinette. She dances with UNB.” Annata tapped his leg. “Why the hell would I want to go skiing when you showed me this?”
“It healed and grew back stronger than before,” he said. “ No harm, no foul. And I don't even remember the pain.”
“You're insane.” She shook her head.
“Can I go with you to Louisiana?” he said softly, drawing out the syllables of Louisiana, just like she had the night before. She tossed him a glance over her shoulder, trying to read his face. He smiled. He was teasing her, she hoped.
“You really are insane. I can just imagine my granny's face if I showed up with you.”
“Because I'm so handsome? And obnoxiously rich?” he asked, matter-of-factly.
“Obnoxious is right.” She laid back against his chest. He slipped his hand back into her shirt and twisted her nipple.
“And I have such a big cock,” he whispered in her ear.
“I hate you,” she mumbled even as she felt herself starting to relax into his warmth. “Keep it up and you and your cock can—”
“Me and my cock can what?” He interrupted, his voice dangerously low. He tweaked her nipple, almost painfully.
She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “You're disgusting,” she said. He chuckled, his breath tickling her ear.
“I'll show you how disgusting I can be.” He slid his hand under the blanket and between her legs. She moaned and felt herself molding into him. He circled her clit with his thumb. He dipped a finger between her already-slick folds. She jumped, her whole body tightening. “You love that don't you?” he said, his voice husky. She closed her eyes, her body pulling him deeper without her permission. He chuckled in her ear. “You don't have to say it. I know.” He kissed her neck and she sighed. He had her in the palm of his hand, literally. And there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she wanted to do about it. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
Chapter 13
Annata sunk down into the jetted tub and sighed as the hot water soothed her sore muscles. That morning, she and Christophe had taken a speedy train to the nearest skiing resort in the Vosges mountains after checking out of their hotel in Paris. Annata barely had time to think before they were on the snowy mountain in rented gear. She was in awe of the beauty of the wintry splendor of the ski resort, but after a few hours of skiing, her whole body ached. She had taken more falls than she could remember, but toward the end of the day, her pride liked to think she had gotten the hang of it. She leaned back, wincing as pain danced along her hip.
Outside the frosted window panes, the sky was dark. The sun had set spectacularly on the mountain and then Annata had called it quits. She could tell Christophe would have preferred to keep skiing all night, but he had accompanied her back to the room he had gotten in his name. The room was de
lightfully old-school, complete with a big jetted tub in the center of the room. The bed was a huge four-poster, covered in a heavy patchwork quilt. A bear skin rug—an actual bear skin rug!—lay in wait in front of the stone fireplace. She wondered how many other girls Christophe had brought here. He seemed to know his way around this particular resort, and at the front desk, had asked for this specific room.
Annata rolled her head against the side of the tub as the jets worked their magic. She could feel her body relaxing as the steam rose around her. Her eyes drooped and closed. Despite her falls, she'd had a good time that day. Christophe was a patient teacher, albeit a teasing one. He never got frustrated with her for being a slow learner. And she liked watching him ski. He was such a natural athlete, at ease in his own skin and with his own abilities. He had a power she had never given him credit for. And she liked seeing him wield that power.
The door opened and Annata's eyes rose at the sound. She felt a flutter in her chest when she realized he was back. She couldn't help but smile. A week ago, who'd have thunk that she would be happy to see him? Christophe breezed into the room, carrying a brown grocery bag. He still wore his blue ski suit and boots and tracked a few clumps of snow across the floor.
“You better not be asleep,” he said, setting the bag on the table.
“Too late,” she replied, drowsily. He turned to her and his eyes swept across her, taking in her nakedness under the churning water. A slow smile spread across his lips. She held out her hand, wanting to touch him, wanting him closer. He moved to the side of the tub, unzipping his snow suit. He pulled the top part of the suit down, revealing his undershirt and bare arms. He knelt beside the tub and took her hand.
“How are you feeling, baby?” he said in a low voice.
“Sore,” she said, closing her eyes again. “This is all your fault.” She pouted, puffing out her lip.
“You looked so cute out there on the slope,” he said. “On your ass in the snow.” He laughed. She yanked her hand out of his and crossed her arms, covering her breasts.
“Jerk,” she mumbled. He laughed again, and she heard him rustling beside her. She slit open one eye as she felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Lean forward,” he urged her in a whisper. Still scowling, she leaned forward in the tub, draping her arms over her knees. She felt the warmth of his hands as he began to slowly knead her muscles. She moaned and dropped her head against her arms. He worked his fingers slowly and effectively. Her body reacted to his touch immediately. She was putty in his hands. He ran a finger along her spine. Even in the hot water of the bath, she felt goosebumps rise on her skin. “Annie?” he whispered.
“What?” She breathed, her eyes still closed.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” she mumbled.
“For coming with me.” He kneaded the muscles under her shoulder-blades. She groaned loudly, as he hit a particularly tight muscle. “You like that?” He asked. She nodded and he kneaded the muscle again.
“It's perfect,” she said. She enjoyed the feel of him for a few minutes in silence. Something nagged at her, and she couldn't stop herself. “How many other women have you brought here?” she asked.
“Dammit, Annie.” He dropped his hands and sighed. She sat up and turned to him. “You think I fucked girls up and down this mountain?” he asked. She stared at him, wanting the answer. “We used to come here for family vacations. The Old Man and my mother used to stay in this room.” He stood and went to the table. “I haven't been here in years.” He pulled a bottle of wine out of the bag he brought. Annata blinked. Definitely not the answer she expected. He popped the cork on the bottle. “It's ridiculous isn't it? I mean, look at this fucking bear skin rug. You think PETA will revoke my membership?” he joked, badly. The smile on his face didn't match his eyes though, she noticed, and he took a deep swig of the wine from the bottle.
“I like it.” She looked around again, nodding. “Mr. Bear's got character.” He smiled a bit. “How many people do you think have fucked on that rug?” This time he snorted with laughter, and she could feel his mood lighten. “The stories Mr. Bear could tell,” she deadpanned. He laughed out loud and she held out her hand for the bottle. He leaned forward and handed it to her. She took a swig, her eyes never leaving his.
“You really like it?” he asked, his voice low.
“I do.” She held out the bottle for him and he took it back. “Now, I need to get out of this tub before I turn into a prune.” Annata flipped the switch, turning off the jets. The water settled around her. He took another swig, staring at her. She hoisted herself up, and his eyes widened. She stood naked in the tub, the water running down her in rivulets. She stretched her arm, pointing at the folded towel on the chair. “Hand me that.”
He shook his head. “No fucking way.”
***
Christophe was entranced by her body, naked and glistening wet in front of him. There was no way he was giving her that towel. He considered licking every bit of water off of her body, drop by drop. He watched a tempting drop make a trail through the valley of her breasts and down to her bellybutton.“So I'm supposed to stand here and drip-dry?” She asked, her shifting her hips. He licked his lips. He felt a devilish desire to make her suffer for that insinuation she made earlier about him and other women. The fact was, he had never brought anyone to Gérardmer. As a child, his family came every Christmas, as his mother loved France. When given the chance earlier that morning, he couldn't resist coming back and paying a ridiculous sum of money to get the room at the last minute. And as always, she thought the worst of him. He wanted a romantic getaway with his girl, and she still couldn't see what his intentions were. As his eyes roamed her body, he wondered what the best way to punish her would be.
“Come and get it,” he said, whipping the towel off of the chair and holding it out. She narrowed her eyes and ran her hands down her body, sluicing off the remaining water. She stepped out of the tub, and walked toward him, leaving wet footsteps on the wood floor. Not being able to resist, he met her halfway, wrapping his arms around her slick waist. He pulled her against him. He could feel her moisture seep through his thin shirt. “I like you all wet,” he said, dipping his head to run his nose across her jawline. She smelled fresh, and a hint of her citrus perfume still lingered in the hollow of her neck.
“I'm going to catch cold.” She breathed, her arms snaking around his neck. She tilted her head, and he met her eyes. He tried to read what he found there, in her concentrated look. He wondered what she wanted from him. He felt heat rising in his chest. His pulse was racing, and his heart thundered in his chest. He wondered if she could hear it. Blood pounded in his ears. What did she feel for him? The need to know was suddenly burning him up. He looked for an answer in her golden-brown eyes, but found nothing. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. If he told her he loved her now, he would ruin everything. He felt her shiver against him and instinctively he wrapped the towel around her.
“I'll start a fire, if you're cold,” he said, his voice hoarse. She shook her head, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. He continued drying her, moving down to her ass. He held her against him, the towel between him and her soft skin.
“Christophe?” she said, her lips moving against his chest.
“What?” he said, barely able to choke out the word. All the blood had settled in the lower half of his body and his brain was barely functioning.
“I want you to fuck me in that big bed over there.”
Shit. She didn't have tell him twice. Christophe immediately dropped the towel. It fell with a light plop around her feet. He scooped her up, hooking her legs around his waist. She ran her lips up his neck as he carried her to the bed. He tossed her onto the soft quilt and she gasped as she landed. Her legs fell open wantonly, and he stood back for a moment and drank in the sight of her. She twined her hands above her in the quilt, and watched him. Her lips parted and she wet them w
ith her tongue. She was soft and ready for him. He couldn't wait any longer.
He undressed slowly, and slipped on top of her, between her legs. She put a hand on either side of his face and kissed him, her tongue slipping between his teeth. He felt a moan rumble in his throat as she dropped her hand between them and lightly closed her fingers around his cock. She squeezed and he crushed his mouth into hers, flattening himself against her. He moved his cock away from her grip and he heard her whimper in disappointment. He pulled himself up on his elbows, his breathing jagged.
He positioned himself against her, wanting to push into her and escape into oblivion. He slid his head between her wet lips, her pussy getting slicker with each pass. She moaned, her knees gripping his ribcage. “Annie,” he hissed, not wanting to stop, but wanting permission. “Are you on birth control?” She nodded quickly, her golden-brown eyes glazed. She tightened her thighs, bucked her hips, and the head of his cock slid inside of her warmth. He threw his head back, his eyes closed. He knew he should get his ass up and get on a condom, but he couldn't stop. Not when she felt this good. He dropped his head, his forehead against hers, and rolled his hips. She took him deep inside and they moaned in unison as he melted into her. She fit him so perfectly.
She ran her fingertips up his back and his body shuddered with the sensation. He pumped against her, slowly, wanting to draw out every feeling, every bit of pleasure. He gritted his teeth as all the nerve endings in his body seemed to fire off at the same time. He resisted every urge to fuck her senseless. He wanted to draw it out as long as possible. He captured her lips again, wanting to show her every bit how much he loved her. The only way he could show her was with his body. He pulled out, slowly, so slowly. She moaned into the kiss and adjusted her hips beneath him. She wanted him faster and harder. She wanted him to fuck her senseless. But still he resisted. He slid deep again, inch by agonizing inch.
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 9
