Lisette (7 page)

At the top of the landing, Monty and Juliette
moved left, and Deme and Haven proceeded up another floor. He was
at the very end of that same hall, but hesitated as Lisette had
stopped.

Her eyes were beautiful in the shadows, a
translucent aqua blue, and now that he had tasted her lips,
witnessed her sensuality, he looked over her body, also partly in
shadows, knowing she was feeling what he was.

She supplied, “I shall doubtless have a
restless night.”

He knew he would. However, judging if that
was what he hoped, he offered low, “I often find myself suffering
the same.”

Her tongue wet her lips and she turned,
walking to her rooms, and he was standing there when she opened the
door, looked back at him, and then entered.

He continued up to the apartment offered him,
breathing several long breathes before he went to the bathing
closet and stripped. After cleaning his teeth, he made use of the
water and pan. He bathed his warm body, hearing the rain batter
against the windows, but when he emerged with a towel on his hips,
he also detected the faint intimate creak of a bed in a rhythmic
pattern from the upper floors.

It did not help his own state.

In his bare feet, Elisha went to the wardrobe
and took down a fresh shirt, leaving it undone while he searched
out trousers. He dropped the towel, donned trousers, and then used
the long mirror to comb his hair.

He was setting the brush down when he saw the
knob turn and Lisette entered.

She had obviously washed too. Her dark blond
hair was damp and piled up in some lovely disorder with a few
strands seemingly down in the most alluring manner. She wore a
flowing silver robe with some sort of night-rail under it.

Although he could discern her figure in the
low cut fashions of the day, when she undid a latch at the waist of
that robe, Elisha felt a rush of lust. The gossamer scrap she wore
had ribbon straps and dipped low between her breasts. Each round
breast he could see distinctly, as well as distended nipples. The
sheath fell to her calves in a way that the material clung to her
hips, yet the curls at the apex of her shapely thighs were also
plain to see.

His heart rammed his ribs. He did not know
what the rules were or how deep the play.

She padded toward him. It seemed to Elisha
like some fantasy in which he was suddenly caught. When she was
close, looking up at him, he held her gaze, doubtful he could mask
anything he was feeling at this point.

Her aristocratic face was beautiful, a bit
sultry, a bit teasingly smiling. Her hand came up. It caught the
open flap of his shirt and as she stepped around him, she dragged
it down his defined arm. He assisted willingly so that when she was
behind him, she could easily pull it off.

Catching sight of their reflections in the
far vanity, he made a sound when he felt her hands touch his bare
skin. His ribs lifted. His flesh prickled all over. Elisha had to
close his eyes briefly when those palms skimmed up from his spine
to his nape and back.

She came round him again.

Lashes lifting, he watched her circle his
dark wrist before she was feeling up his forearm and to his
shoulder. She stroked the other, and the moment she was eyeing his
own hard nipples, he knew he wanted her touch them, would kill for
it, before she finally did.

Observing her pale fingertips on his nipple
had his sex so hard he felt a wave of nausea. Nevertheless, it was
overridden by the bliss of her touch. His breathing was deep,
rigid. When he looked at her face, he noticed her slightly parted
lips.

She leaned in and flicked her tongue over his
nipple.

“Christ.” His hand buried in that muss of
blonde hair. She moved back, and then her arms went round him.
Thirsting for the kiss that came, he met her stretching on her
tiptoes by bending his head.

He was drugged by the eroticism in their lips
on lips, their tongues, tasting inside each other’s mouths.
Elisha’s palm caressed down her back, discovering the gown dipped
to her spine. A rush of air escaped his nostrils at the feel of her
soft skin, the curves.

He dared caress lower, over a well-shaped
derrière, cupping it.

The more aroused they became, the hotter
their skin. He instinctively pulled her to him with that hold and
flexed his hips, so his already iron hard cock could feel her
closer.

Lifting his head to allow them air, their
breathing strident, heart hammering, he wanted to kiss more of her
but because of their heights could not. So he stepped back to lead
her toward the bed.

She did not move.

Ah, rule one. He was fine with any rules, so
long as she was not leaving yet.

Elisha looked around and then arched a brow,
motioning towards two trunks against the wall. She followed,
holding his hand. He went to them and half sat, his legs wider,
bringing her between them.

Before she could kiss him, he cupped her
face, kissed her deep and sensual, then pulling back to trail
kisses over her jaw and cheeks, across her brow, moving his hands
down, while hers came to his shoulders. He pressed with his palm on
her spine to urge her closer still, his mouth then scoring her
throat.

“Mmm,” the sound came from her while he
tasted the scented flesh at the sides of her throat, around, then
bit it lightly, and suckled at her nape.

One of her hands lifted. Her fingers tangled
in his hair. Elisha made his own grunt of pleasure. He kissed
her.

This time the eroticism led. He suckled her
tongue, bit lightly at her bottom lip and then laved the spot. When
it ended, they stared at each other with faces tense, lids sluggish
and with hungers and breathing out of control.

His hands skimmed up her sides to her
breasts. He dropped his gaze to watch the moment he covered them,
and massaged. When he would have kissed them through the material,
she stopped him. He almost begged for a taste.

Lisette moved her hands from him and eased
the bodice down, until each perfectly round globe was exposed. Rose
nipples quivered in the center of those perfect mounds. Quivered,
like her breathing.

Elisha eyed her face before he captured her
nipple with his lips.

Mindful of sound carrying, they had thus far
been controlling it, her breathing became like whimpers when he
suckled.

Elisha lost himself for a time, suckling,
licking, bathing his lips and tongue with her soft flesh. They were
feeling each other too, hands roaming, hers somewhat feverishly
going from his nape, his hair, down his back.

Her body arched in offering those breasts to
his mouth. His hand kneaded her buttocks, his mind swimming in a
haze of not believing he was doing it, yet relishing every second.
Drawing back with a soft suckling sound when he released her
nipple, he took a tongue-caressing kiss from her, feeling her push
his hands down at the end of it, and step back.

He could see her gathering herself. It
occurred to Elisha then that she had no more expected the hungry
rush to be so intense than he had. He could see things had gotten
out of hand for her. Lisette was struggling between wanting and
caution.

Elisha recognized it was not sexual caution,
but rather caution because it was him—and she did not fully trust
him. He doubted she had fully accepted the fact they could make
each other feel like this.

Cupping the back of her head, he brought her
close and put his lips near her ear, “You can trust me, Lisette.
Whatever you want, you can show me…”

When he released her, she searched his face;
breaths making her tremble even as her palm knowingly or
unknowingly touched each breast. He thought perhaps to ease that
feeling, since his own here that sensitive.

* * * *

Having long since lost control of whatever
game she started, Lisette was still trying to absorb what his touch
and taste made her feel. She was looking at him half sitting there,
tightly muscled, strong veined and sinewy. At the rounded muscles
on his shoulders and arms, divided slabs at his upper chest, and a
ridged stomach with a swirl of black hair at his navel. His throat
was strong, and where his face seemed remote and craggy most time,
as he was aroused and having his hair mussed from her fingers, she
was almost weak kneed just viewing the potent and virile image.

Dangerously masculine, whispered in her head.
His sensual lips were flushed. They had felt like heaven on her
breasts. Trust him. Trust him. Even as her mind cried for that
because she ached sexually, she needed assurance and whispered,
“You must be discreet about this. Everything must seem…normal, when
we are around others.”

“Certainly.” He nodded willing to agree to
anything for a moment more, a kiss or touch more.

She looked seductive with her breasts
exposed, her face a picture of feminine want and her body thinly
veiled in that gown. Her legs were well shaped, her breasts and
hips, ass, sweetly round. She was lovely. One Skeen of hair fell
from the front along her temple and down to her rib; several in the
back lay along her nape and shoulder blades. He would have
begged—just to sit there and look at her for an hour.

A gust of rain smacked the window. Fire
sparked in the hearth. He watched her go and turn the lamp lower.
It cast the room in deep amber, warming her creamy skin and her
hair, shimmering on that scant covering.

She wet her lips and cupped his face.

He delighted in her following kisses, soft
ones, or a rub of her lips on his erotically. His palms felt her
breasts, massaged, weighed them, then skimmed her ribs and stomach,
then back up to her breasts.

He closed his eyes giving himself up to her
kisses.

Feeling her breath on his lips, Elisha opened
his eyes, took in her heavy look and murmured, “Trust me.” To the
question still there.

Lisette stepped back and took his hand. He
willingly followed her to the side of the bed. It was there she had
her pretty little feet on the steps leading up to the high side,
and began easing up her hem.

Marston could see her nerves battling with
hungers. To ease those, Elisha let his palms feel her legs and
touch her skin while she brought it up past her curls. His eyes
admired everything exposed. When her thighs parted, the shape of
them flanking her sex was a beautiful sight.

Elisha had his palms at her groin when she
covered his hand and brought it over to the heat of her. He kissed
her while feeling her soft curls and slick heat.

Finding no easy way to touch while in front
of her, he stepped round so that he sat beside her. Where she
needed the steps, he did not.

He nibbled her neck and kissed her ear. “So
warm, so soft.” Now cupping her between the legs.

* * * *

Lisette covered his hand, easing it up then
pressing, moving it under hers, until her breath hitched while his
warm finger went between the folds.

He was kissing her nape so she could look
down and watch, and at some point, he was too, but she needed
release.

She moved his hand a moment, to spread the
curls with her fingers and expose the glistening flesh and swollen
nub.

“Lisette,” he whispered in a beautiful
sound.

She looked at him and saw he was watching her
finger circle and glide before he nudged her hand aside and took
over.

Panting, she arched her neck and closed her
eyes, holding herself open for him and moving her hips to the
friction. It was building.

She moaned. Her lashes lifted only a
fraction. He was looking at her face.

“Please, Elisha.”

Marston kissed her deep, hard, and then eyed
that face. His whole body responded to her little cry. He looked
down where the pad of his finger glided over the nerves, and let it
dip down into her opening.

Biting his lip and sucking a breath inward,
at the erotic feel and the look of her sex with petals held wide,
the inner flesh glistening peach. His swarthy finger was making
deeper and deeper forays, He felt her inner muscles squeeze around
it, then heard her gasping his name, and gave her another kiss
while thrusting in and out of her several times.

“I can’t take anymore.’” She stared at him
with pleading eyes, her expression pleasure pain.

“Show me.” He was intoxicated. He had never
felt so out of his head and skin in such a lust hungry way. Erotic
did not begin to describe the encounter.

Lisette was trembling. She stretched and
kissed him then moved her hands away and husked, “Are you sure, I
don’t want to do anything…I…can do It later…”

He only understood half that, but was
discerning enough to know the gist of it. “Show me.” He grinned
sexily and winked. “Anything you want.”

She raked her teeth over her lip. He
appreciated the feeling, as she could not stop trembling—he was
trembling too, but did not think she had noticed yet. She turned
aside a moment and kissed him, letting her hand massage his thigh,
coming closer to his cock every time. When the kiss ended, she
stared at him and managed, “It won’t offend me if you join me.”

He blinked.

She expounded, and seemed somewhat shy all of
the sudden. “You can touch yourself.” Her breath rushed out. “Or I
will touch you.”

He would die for it—give his breath that very
moment for her touch on him. However, he wanted something more from
her. He could wait.

Elisha lifted her hand, kissed it and husked,
“Let’s pleasure you.”

Releasing a sigh, she scooted up in the bed
and he followed, but sat opposite, so his fingers could caress that
secret place.

Marston could also see everything, and
experience exquisite torture watching what his fingers did.
Carefully thrusting in out of the sleek heat, he sensed the moment
and withdrew them. He was watching her part the folds and expose
the glistening bud. He rubbed it, the skin firmed and she grew
slicker. Her climax was a thing of beauty, skin flushing, back
arching, her lashes fluttering—the long whispered sigh that came
before her mmm sound of delicious languor. The shudders spread, her
eyes glittered.