The Mister

by James, E L

  “Do you want to take them off?” She chews on her lip.

  “Always.”

  “I am warm. Too warm,” she whispers.

  What?

  I look down at her once more. My remark was flippant and meant to be amusing—not a come-on.

  What is she saying?

  “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve just been through a terrible ordeal.”

  She lifts one shoulder in a “so what?” manner and averts her eyes.

  “What are you telling me?” I ask.

  “I think you know.”

  “You want to go to bed?”

  Her broad grin is all the encouragement I need, and against my better judgment I grab her hand. Beaming and giddy, we trot back to the house with the dogs in hot pursuit.

  * * *

  “This is my room.” Maxim stands aside for Alessia to enter. It’s a few doors down from the blue room where Danny had brought her earlier.

  A magnificent four-poster dominates the dark green room. Made of the same highly polished wood as the piano, the bed is just as intricately carved. The flames in the fireplace cast flickering shadows over the carvings. Above the mantelpiece there’s a painting of the house and the surrounding countryside, and at the far end of the room stands an immense wardrobe in the same wood as the bed. On every wall are shelves covered in books and curios, but Alessia’s gaze is drawn to the nightstand where the little dragon night-light sits.

  Maxim throws several more logs on the fire until it blazes. “Good. I’m glad someone had the foresight to light the fire.” Returning to stand in front of her, he points to a wicker basket perched on the ottoman at the end of the bed. “I’ve had your stuff brought here from the Hideout. I hope that’s okay.” His voice is low and soft, and his eyes glow. Intense. Growing larger and darker…full of his desire.

  A tingle runs down Alessia’s spine.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers.

  “You’ve had a rough day.”

  “I want to go to bed.” She remembers their kiss on the stairs. She would have taken his clothes off then and there if she’d had the nerve.

  He strokes her face. “Maybe you’re still in shock.”

  “I am,” she whispers. “I am shocked that you love me.”

  “With all my heart,” Maxim says with real sincerity, but then he smiles and puts his arm around her. “And with this.” He tilts his pelvis forward so she can feel his erection against her hip. His eyes alive with carnal humor. She returns his smile as the fire in her belly ignites. She’s been longing to touch him—after all, he’s touched her everywhere, with his hands…with his lips…with his tongue, just as he promised. Her gaze moves to his mouth, his skilled and sensual mouth, and the flames in her belly lick higher.

  “What do you want, beautiful?” The backs of his fingers stroke her face, and his eyes sear her soul. She’s wanted him since he said he loved her.

  “I want you.” The words are barely audible.

  He groans. “You never cease to surprise me.”

  “Do you like surprises?”

  “From you, very much.”

  Alessia tugs at his white shirt until it slips out of the waistband of his jeans. “Are you going to undress me?” Maxim’s voice is hoarse, like he’s stopped breathing.

  She eyes him from beneath her lashes. “Yes.” She can do this. And with brave but trembling fingers, she undoes the lowest of his shirt buttons. She glances up at him.

  “Go on,” he coaxes, his tone soft and seductive.

  Alessia hears the burgeoning excitement in his voice. It feeds her desire. She undoes the next one up, revealing the top button of his jeans and the line of hair that points to his lean abs. The next button reveals his navel and his honed stomach muscles. Maxim’s breathing alters. Rising. More rapid. The sound excites her, and her fingers fly up his shirt, unfastening it until it’s hanging loose and open, revealing his sun-kissed chest. She longs to lean forward and place her lips against his flesh.

  “What now, Alessia?” He’s waiting. “Whatever you want,” he says, arousing her. She leans forward and presses her lips against the warmth of his chest, where his heart thunders beneath his skin.

  * * *

  I am itching to touch her. But I can’t. This is the most audacious she’s been with me since we first made love. My body is straining. How can her innocent touch be so erotic? She’s driving me wild. She eases my shirt over my shoulders and tugs it down to my elbows. I present her with my wrists. “Cuffs.”

  She flashes me a grin and undoes each one in turn, then drags my shirt off and drapes it over the armchair in front of the fire.

  * * *

  “Now what are you going to do?” he says. Alessia steps back to admire his fine, toned physique in the dancing light of the fire. The gold in his hair glints, and his eyes are a luminous green. They watch her, full of promise as he stares.

  Emboldened by his gaze, she reaches down and peels off her sweater, then tugs her football shirt over her head and shakes her hair loose. But her courage fails at the last minute, and she hesitates, holding the top to her breasts. Maxim steps forward and gently takes it from her. “You’re lovely. I like looking at you. You won’t be needing this.” He tosses it on top of his shirt, then takes a strand of her hair and winds it around his finger. Bringing it to his lips, he kisses it. “You are so brave. In so many ways. And I’ve fallen for you. All of you. Madly. Passionately.” His words heat her blood, and he tugs the lock, drawing her into his arms. He angles her head and kisses her like his life depends on it. “I could have lost you,” he whispers.

  His skin is warm against hers, and the desire within her burns brighter. She wants him. All of him. Greedily, she kisses him, her tongue twisting with his. Her hands rest on the back of his head, drawing him closer. His lips move to her jaw, her throat. And her hands travel down his body to the waistband of his jeans.

  She wants to touch him. Every inch of him. But she stops. She doesn’t know what to do. Maxim holds her chin tenderly between his fingers. “Alessia,” he growls against her ear. “I want you to touch me.” The need in his voice is arousing.

  “I want to.”

  He grazes her earlobe with his teeth.

  “Ah,” she groans as the muscles tighten deep in her belly.

  “Undo my jeans.” He kisses a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck. Hastily her fingers scramble to his waistband, brushing against his hardened penis. She stops, fascinated by his body, and in a really bold move places her hand over his erection.

  “Oh, God,” he whispers.

  Tentatively her fingers trace around him.

  He gasps, and she stops. “I am hurting you?”

  “No. No. No. This is good. Yeah.” He’s breathless. “Really good. Don’t stop.”

  She grins, feeling more confident. With deft fingers she undoes his top button. He stands stock-still as she moves to the zipper.

  * * *

  I take a deep breath. She is going to unman me. Her delight is contagious and I love that she’s finally plucking up the courage to undress me. In the firelight her skin is radiant, and the deep red and blue highlights glimmer in her hair. I want to throw her onto the bed and make easy, sweet love to her. But I need to slow down. Let her discover things at her own pace. While she undoes my fly, she seems less self-conscious. She’s even forgotten she’s not wearing her bra. She has beautiful, full breasts. I want to worship each one until her nipples are rock hard and she’s squirming beneath me. But I restrain myself and muffle my groan. She tugs my jeans down my legs, and I step out of them, so I’m standing before her in just my underwear.

  “Your turn,” I whisper, and make quick work of her fly and peel off her jeans. She steps out of them, and I cup her face gently and kiss her. “It’s cold. Let’s get into bed.”

  “Okay.” She slides under the
covers, her eyes on me.

  “Oh—the bed is cold!” she squeaks.

  “We’ll warm it up.”

  * * *

  Alessia’s eyes flit to his straining shorts.

  He grins. “What?” he asks.

  She flushes.

  “What?” Maxim insists.

  “Take them off.”

  “My underwear?” Maxim’s smile is lopsided.

  “Yes.”

  He smirks—and removes one sock. Then the other. “There!”

  “That is not what I was talking about.” She giggles, marveling at how boyish he can be. He laughs and with one swift move slides off his shorts, freeing his erection—then tosses the underpants at her.

  “Hey!” she cries out, playfully. She deflects them, but he leaps onto the bed, landing beside her.

  “Brrr…move over.” Maxim snuggles in beside her under the sheets, putting his arm around her and pulling her close. “I want to hold you for a moment. I can’t believe I almost lost you today.” He plants a soft kiss in her hair and squeezes her tight. She sees he’s closed his eyes—as if he’s in pain.

  “You didn’t. I am here. I would have fought them to stay with you,” she whispers.

  “They would have hurt you.”

  Sitting up suddenly, he lifts her hand to inspect the bruise on her side. His demeanor hardens. “Look at what they did to you.” He hesitates, concerned.

  “It’s okay.” She’s suffered worse….

  “Maybe we should just nap.” Maxim looks doubtful.

  “What? No.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Maxim! Don’t think.”

  “Alessia—”

  She reaches up and places a finger on his lips. “Please…” she says.

  “Oh, baby.” Taking her hand, he kisses each knuckle. Then he bends down and rings her bruise with tender kisses. Her fingers find his hair, and she tugs hard, so that he has to look up at her.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” she says hurriedly. “I want this. I want you.” He sighs, and his mouth travels up to her breast and its nipple, teasing and sucking as he goes. She groans and writhes beneath him, closing her eyes and surrendering to the pleasure of his touch and his lips. Her fingers dig into his back, and she feels his erection against her hip. She’s yearning to explore his body. All of his body.

  He looks up at her. “What is it?”

  “I…I…” She blushes.

  “Tell me.”

  She laughs, embarrassed, and shuts her eyes.

  “Tell me.”

  She opens one eye and squints at him.

  “You’re driving me crazy. What is it?”

  “I want to touch you,” she says, and hides her face with her hands.

  Peeking through her fingers, she watches Maxim’s eyes soften—amused, she thinks. He lies down beside her. “I’m all yours,” he says. She leans up on one elbow, and they gaze at each other. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers.

  She strokes his cheek, enjoying the feel of his rough stubble.

  “Here, let me help you….” Taking hold of her hand, he plants a kiss in her palm. He moves it to his chest, and she splays it out against his skin, feeling his warmth. His lips part as he takes a sharp breath. “I like you touching me.”

  Encouraged, she moves her hand down, her fingers tickling the fine hair that’s sprinkled across his chest. She skims over one of his nipples, and it puckers under her touch.

  “Oh,” she breathes in delight.

  “Oh,” he responds, his voice hoarse, his eyes hooded and a dark, mossy green. He’s watching her like a hawk. She bites her upper lip, and he groans. “Don’t stop,” he whispers. Feeling more wanton and enjoying the fact that she’s turning him on, she moves her hand south over his smooth skin, over the bluffs and dips of his abdominal muscles. He tenses beneath her touch, and his breathing accelerates. She reaches the line of hair that leads down to her destination, and her courage falters.

  “Here,” he says, and, taking her hand, wraps it around his erection. She gasps, both shocked and thrilled in equal measure. It’s big and hard and velvet smooth at once. Her thumb brushes the tip, and he closes his eyes, inhaling sharply. She tightens her hold, enjoying the feel of him beneath her fingers, feeling the pulse within him. He turns blazing eyes to her. “Like this,” he whispers, and, guiding her hand, moves it slowly a fraction down and then up.

  * * *

  I’ve never had to show a woman what to do. It’s possibly the most erotic thing I’ve ever done. Alessia’s brow is furrowed as she concentrates, but her eyes are alive with wonder and desire, her mouth a little slack as she moves her hand, finally finding her rhythm and driving me wild. When she licks her lips, I want to come in her hand.

  “Alessia, enough. I’m going to come.”

  She immediately removes her hand as if she’s been burned, and I regret saying anything. I want to swoop over and into her—but she’s got that damned bruise, and I can’t. I don’t want to hurt her. She takes matters into her own hands, climbing onto me, her lips finding mine as she kisses me, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Tasting me. Her hair forms a lush curtain around us. And for a split second, we stare at each other in the firelight. Rich brown eyes to green. She’s so bewitching. And giving. And sensual. And she’s here with me.

  She leans down and kisses me once more, and I reach over to the bedside table to grab a condom.

  “Here.” I show her the packet, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to take it and put it on me—but she blinks, uncertain.

  “Move down. I’ll show you what to do.” I rip open the packet, take out the rubber, and, pinching the end, quickly roll it over my eager dick. “There. All done. We just have to get your knickers off.”

  She laughs as I roll her onto the mattress and hook my thumbs into her pink panties. The pink panties. I sweep them down her long legs and pitch them onto the floor. I’m kneeling between her thighs, but I sit back on my heels and pull her onto my lap with my arm around her waist, careful to avoid that bruise. “Is this okay?” She has her hands on my shoulders, and I lift her and position her over my straining cock. I’m waiting for her answer. She leans forward, her lips eager on mine, and I take that as my cue, and slowly…oh, so fucking slowly…I lower her onto me. Her teeth close around my bottom lip, and for a moment I think she’s going to bite me.

  When I’m fully inside her, she gasps and releases my lip.

  “Okay?” I breathe.

  “Yes.” She nods. Enthusiastically. Her fingers are once more knotted in my hair, and she yanks hard, bringing my lips to hers. She’s ravenous. Devouring me. Needy. Kissing me with the same intensity that she showed on the stairs. And I don’t know if it’s because of what happened to her earlier or if it’s because I’ve told her that I love her, but she’s on fire. She moves. Up and down. Again and again. Taking me…taking me…

  It’s heady. It’s hot. But it’s frantic.

  This is going to end too soon!

  “Hey.” I tighten my hold around her, stilling her, and I smooth her hair from her face. “Easy, baby. Easy. We have the rest of the evening and all night. And tomorrow. And the day after that.” Dark, dazed eyes blink at me. And my heart swells with a new and intoxicating feeling that consumes me. “I’ve got you,” I whisper. “I love you.”

  “Maxim,” she breathes, leaning forward and kissing me once more, her arms clasped around my neck. She starts to move again, more slowly, letting me savor her. Inch by inch. Steadier…easier…It’s heaven.

  Fuck.

  And she rises and falls. Rises and falls. Taking me with her…climbing and climbing, until she stalls and cries out her orgasm, her mouth raised to the heavens and triggering my own shattering release.

  “Oh, Alessia…!”

  * * *
<
br />   We lie still and quiet, facing each other. Not speaking. Just looking. Eyes. Noses. Cheeks. Lips. Faces. We gaze at each other. Absorbing each other. The only light is from the flickering flames of the fire, and all I hear is the spit and crackle of the burning logs and the thud of my heartbeat as it slows. Alessia raises her hand and traces my lips with her fingers. “I love you, Maxim,” she whispers.

  And I lean forward and kiss her once more. Her body rises to meet mine and we make sweet, sweet love again.

  * * *

  We are cocooned beneath the sheets in our own makeshift camp in my bedroom. Both of us are sitting cross-legged, knees touching, eyes intent on each other, and lit by the light of the little dragon that joins us in our secret, tented hideout.

  She’s talking.

  And talking.

  And I’m listening.

  She’s naked, her hair is loose and flowing down to her waist, preserving her modesty, and she’s explaining how she learns a new piece for the piano.

  “I will read the music for the first time, and I will see the colors. They…how do you say? Match a key.”

  “A color for each key?”

  “Yes. D-flat major is a green. Like a fir tree. From Kukës. The ‘Raindrop’ Prelude. All greens. But some darker greens as the piece changes. Other keys are different colors. And sometimes a piece may have many colors. Like the Rachmaninoff. And they…um…print in my head. And I remember the piece.” She shrugs and gives me an impish smile. “For a long time, I thought everyone sees all the colors in music.”

  “If only we were so lucky.” I run a finger down her soft cheek. “You’re special. Very special to me.”

  She blushes her lovely shade of pink.

  “And who’s your favorite composer? Bach?” I ask.

  “Bach.” She breathes his name with such veneration. “His music is…” She gestures and waves with her hands seeking inspiration, trying to capture the magnitude of what she wants to say, and she closes her eyes as if she’s experiencing an ecstatic, religious moment….