Story of Us trilogy 01: TouchStone for Play (12 page)

I pull him back.

“What?” He looks anxious, unprepared for
another surprise.

“They have showers in first class, but
they don’t feed you?”

His crooked smile lingers for a second. “I
was too excited to eat.” He pulls my knuckles to his mouth and brushes them
with his lips. “But I think I’ve found my appetite now.”

Out of relief, my hand finds his cheek and
my face cracks into a grin: he’s back.

***

We eat coq au vin with French bread and
enjoy each other’s company, later nibbling on cheese and crackers. Ayden opens
a bottle of Chateau Mont Redon and the zesty white wine goes down easily.
Feeling more relaxed, I decide to test his humour.

I relate Charlie’s observations about him
being too attractive to be straight, and all I get is a raised brow. I let him
down easy and explain how I came to his defence, but there’s still a
discernible awkwardness about him and I suspect he’s wondering where this night
is going. Will I ask him to stay? I come to his aid.

“Ayden, about before ...”

He won’t let me finish. “I’m sorry Beth,
I’m used to taking what I want and I wanted you. Can you forgive me?” He wraps
his hand over mine and caresses my heart with his words.

“I can forgive you anything Ayden, what I
can’t forgive is myself.” He tries to interject but my fingers on his soft lips
quieten him. “Something unpleasant happened to me in my final year at Uni. Some
guy grabbed me in a carpark one night and attacked me.” I try to make light of
it but he is so attentive and I’m searching for the right words.

“Christ, Beth.”

I palm his face, accepting his compassion.
I feel the need to explain myself, and perhaps purge myself of my demon in the
process. “I can remember him pinning my hands above my head and gripping my
wrists really tight. Thank God some guy came out of one of the apartments
opposite to walk his dog. When the security light came on, the bastard got
scared and let me go.”

“Thank God!” He seems visibly relieved and
sighs. “Did you call the police, did they arrest him?”

“No I went home and I thought I’d be able
to laugh it off, but it took a while.”

“I bet.” His grip tightens.

“A few months actually. Charlie was a
rock. She got me through it ... I think it brought us closer together.” I
squeeze his hand gently. “You should meet her, she’s nothing like me. All fire
and sparkle.”

He aims a knowing look in my direction.
“Oh, I don’t know? I’ve seen you all fired up.” A seductive smile kisses his
lips and I wish it would kiss mine.

“Please Ayden, you’re making me blush.” I
look away with images of our nocturnal antics after the theatre and the phone
sex replaying in my visual cortex … and the gift!

Don’t even go there…

 
From the look on his face, he has a recollection too. “I seem to
recall someone who was rather hot and wet, on the other end of a phone last
night!”

When he gives me that look I am lost; come
to bed eyes are the least of it. It’s his sensuous mouth, to kiss it isn’t
enough. I want it on me, tasting me, claiming every inch. And … those
distracting hands, powerfully masculine with almond shaped nails, just a touch
too short but perfect for exploring and probing. Everything about him is a
feast for the senses. He holds me, spellbound.

“Or were you just playing games Miss
Parker?” He gives me such a knowing look, I’m defenceless.

“I don’t know what you mean?” I smile so
sweetly and put my thumb nail to my mouth feigning school girl innocence.

“Take your thumb out of your mouth, or
you’ll have me hard again and we both know that’s going to get me in all kinds
of trouble.”

I do as I’m told. “Maybe … trouble’s fun
if it doesn’t involve holding me down?” I look away and rethink my approach.
“But I like the idea of holding
you
down.”

For the first time I feel confident enough
to play him at his own game. “But,
you
said you wanted to modify our
arrangement, and
you
said you wanted to lead. So where does that leave
us?” I observe his brain working with the precision of a pocket watch; the
mechanics of his mind formulating a response. He’s considering the switch.

He has a solution. “Then maybe we should
reflect on the error of
my
ways and resume normal service.” There’s a
seriously naughty twinkle in his eye that almost has me crawling over wine
glasses to get to him.

“Service? You consider what I do a
service?” I won’t look away, I won’t look away. He seems a little ruffled.

Wow! Now there’s a look! Ayden Stone
ruffled?

“I may be having some difficulty doing and
saying things the right way tonight, but I’m hoping you’ll put that down to
jet-lag and blue-balls ...”

I laugh out loud. It’s been a while since
anyone made me laugh like this, two nights ago in fact: that frozen lake in me
is cracking and beginning to thaw.

“Oh nice, laughter, that’s right go ahead.
I’m dying here and you’re laughing.” He’s holding back a smile but the skin
around his eyes is wrinkling; fine lines like the wings on a humming bird are visible
on his cheek bones.  In this natural state, he’s flawless.

I do believe he’s
finding me ‘entertaining.’

“I’m sorry, I’m nervous. I need more
wine.” I go to fetch another bottle but he takes hold of my wrist and stands so
close our bodies are touching. My nose is filling with the delectable aroma of
expensive cologne and it’s making me light-headed. He raises my chin so we are
eye to eye.

“No more wine, Beth.” He kisses my cheeks
left and right. “Tell me what I can do to make up for my atrocious behaviour.
Come on, anything. Be bold.”

I gather my thoughts. “There’s one thing I
want you to do for me.” I take hold of his tie and slowly pull him to my mouth.
He leans in, so close his breath tickles my nose.

“I want you to go into my bedroom and take
off your clothes in front of me, very, very slowly.” I pause then issue a stern
command. “Do you understand?”

He nods his head.

“Do you understand?” I ask again.

There’s a hint of a playboy smile. “Yes E.
LIZ. A. BETH.” He spells out my name, floors me with a stare of such intensity
it makes me hold my breath, and edges his way into my bedroom.

I reach over and finish
his
glass
of wine and follow, my insides full of butterflies, hot and excited little
butterflies.

When I enter the bedroom, he is standing
five feet away to the side of the bed, still dressed, waiting, eyes fiery and
alive. I reach over to the bedside lamp he bought for me and dim the light. He
gives me a grateful smile even though he’s happy to exhibit himself, and why
wouldn’t he be with a body like an athlete?

Perched on the side of the bed, I begin
our game. Trying to sound as dispassionate as possible, I give him his first
instruction and, in response he loosens his tie; he pulls it slowly from left
to right until it ends up on the floor.

“What else can I do for you Elizabeth?”

“Unbutton your shirt, and take it off.”
His crisp white shirt goes the way of the tie. I’m getting into my stride but I
have an idea.
“Be bold,”
he said.

Deliberately I make space between my knees
a centimetre at a time. His focus shifts from my face to the hem of my skirt
and back again. I have
his
attention now.

“Remove your socks and shoes Ayden.” I
half expect him to make a spectacle of himself, to fall over and for this spell
I have cast to be broken, but the task is completed with perfect balance and
poise.

“And now…?”

Experiencing a longing which starts at my
thighs and finds its way to my mouth, I utter, “Take off you trousers and place
them on the chair.”

His strong fingers pull at the fastening
and make short work of the belt and the zip, but he’s eager and I want to wet
my appetite with this visual feast.

“Slowly.”

He obliges and, as a reward I start to
hitch up my skirt. I place my hands just above my knees and edge towards my
damp thighs. His striptease falters as he catches sight of my provocative
movements; his chest is rising and his breathing is visibly quickening.

He pauses. “Are you ready for this
Elizabeth?”

“I’m very ready.” I’m trying not to smile
but I know my eyes are betraying me: pure joy radiating from them and making
its way to his side of the room. When he steps out of his trousers, it’s as if
all my birthdays have come at once. He is every woman’s aphrodisiac: unkempt
hair, taught muscle and an impressive erection that threatens to make its escape
from his Calvin Kleins.

“Are you sure?”

My God, you are so self-assured.

In response, my fingers screw up the hem
of my skirt and I pull it higher so he can see my moist underwear. This is a
tortuous game for us both, but I’m determined to follow through: he’s daring me
to see it through. I go for broke. Let’s see if I can’t ruffle his feathers,
just a little …

“Show me how you please yourself.”

At that, he looks a little surprised but,
after a moment’s hesitation and a failed attempt to mask a sexy smile, he slips
his right hand between the elastic and his hard abdomen. His eyes betray his
mounting arousal and his heaving chest is a giveaway.

I incline my right hand towards my lacy
pants and trace the edge with my thumb. How I wish it was his thumb seeking me
out and rescuing me from this torture. But he’s suffered enough and if I don’t
tell him to stop he’s going to jerk himself off.

I meet his dancing iris’ with a fierce
stare. “Stop! Come here to me.”

Was there ever a man more grateful for a
command?  He’s trembling and I sense the relief in his bones. I contain a gasp
when I see the sweat gathering on his upper lip and between his forefinger and
thumb: he’s taking this role play very seriously. Now he stands a little off
balance but passive, his hard torso inches from my mouth: a perfect specimen. I’m
finding it almost impossible to construct a coherent sentence. “… Put your
hands behind your back and grip your wrists. If you try to touch any part of
me, I will stop. Do you understand?”

He swallows deeply and answers with a
quivering whisper. “Yes Elizabeth.”

I feel as horny as hell and knowing I can
do anything with his amazing body causes me to throb with desire. I feel
empowered; this has got to be the boldest thing I have ever done.

Holding his attention, I trace the top of
his boxers with my fingertips, front to back, testing the elastic as I go. His
stomach muscles ripple and flex at my touch and I am encouraged. It hits me:
I’ve never seen this gorgeous man naked. I have held him and run my hand the
length of his cock but this is a whole new level. The thought of seeing him in
all his primal glory makes my hands shake. I play for time and caress the rod
of throbbing muscle with my palm and, feeling the need to attach myself to him,
put my cheek against the steaming cotton material. He leans into me, aching for
my mouth and I stop.

“Don’t move Ayden. Let me do this. You
have to be good or I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

“Oh fucking yes, Elizabeth!”

The neediness in his voice makes me smile.
When I look up at him he is teetering on the edge; his face is glossy with
perspiration and there’s that sexy, ‘fuck me’ smile that has me creaming my
panties.

“Good.”

Having regained my control, I pick up
where I left off, but this time I start to lower his boxers. I feel his arms
straining and the grip he has on his wrists, tightening; he wants to grab my
head and fuck my mouth. Not tonight Mr. Stone.

With as little pressure as possible, I
roll down his boxers and he steps out of them effortlessly. His bulging cock
springs into action and I cannot hide my surprise when its proximity to my face
makes me lean back. My astonishment does not go unnoticed.

When I glance up, he has managed to
manifest a look which combines self-satisfaction and amusement at my naiveté.
He tilts his head to one side, silently saying. ‘What did you expect?’ Our
connection is profound; there’s no embarrassment and no fear, simply trust.

“Be good,” I caution, and he adopts a more
obedient stance. I take him in two hands. From crown to base, he’s beautiful,
captivating. I lick the tip with my tongue, tasting a pungent fusion of hot
saltiness. As a reflex, he pushes forward and, realising his mistake, pulls
back slightly.

I take him in my mouth and deep, guttural
noises emanate from his throat. Or is it his chest? As I quicken my movements,
his mouth opens and the sounds become louder and less controlled:  more animal
than human. I fist the base with my right hand and allow my lips to trace each
bulging veins, feeling myself blushing as an internal flame finds its way to my
cheeks. 

He’s about to orgasm so I intervene. I
release him from my mouth.