Innocent in the Ivory Tower

Dan hadn’t done this. Dan hadn’t been anywhere near down there with his mouth. She’d read about it, but the reality was liquefying.

When he parted her and she felt his fingers slide into her she keened, and when his tongue ran over her clitoris her hips began to undulate on the bed. She didn’t care how loud she was being. It didn’t take long until her inner walls were tugging on his fingers as he slid them out of her, and his tongue dragged over the sweet centre of her one last time before he stood up, unhooking his jeans with suddenly clumsy fingers.

Maisy lay there watching him, her cheeks red, her eyes bright, her body unbelievably lush in his eyes. From her softly rounded arms to her breasts, the curve of her little waist to stunningly flared hips, the solidity of her female thighs and the taper of her calves down to her pretty feet. She was a pink-and-white study in eroticism, with the golden fire of her tumbled curls and the red-gold at the apex of her thighs a touch of genius.

An artist would give a great deal to paint her like this; a man would give his soul just to look upon her. That he was getting it all sent Alexei into overdrive. He didn’t want to be out of control with her, but he could already feel himself slipping and sliding towards mindless pleasure. The things he could do to her—the places he could take her if she would let him. And he knew she would let him. And every primitive male instinct in his body charged to the fore.

She sat up slowly, as if knowing not to rush her movements, and replaced his clumsy hands with her own, gently popping every last button.

He had a look of incredible concentration on his face, and as his jeans hit the floor Maisy’s mouth made a perfect circle of wonder. This was not what she was used to. She ran a fingertip along the heavy veined shaft, wondering how on earth they were going to fit. He put his hand over hers and drew her fingers over him, around him, up and down, giving her voiceless instruction on how much pressure he needed, the speed.

Just watching him made her tremble. The force of him, the weight of his desire was almost too much. Maisy knew she had just hit the deep end and could no longer feel the bottom. He unwrapped her hand but kept hold of it, anchoring her back on the bed, coming over her. He kissed her with the full force of his mouth, his hands sliding down under her lush behind to lift her and position her.

‘I want you under me the first time,’ he muttered into her mouth, as if she needed telling.

Maisy felt him brush at her entrance, his blunt tip penetrating her. She reached up to stroke his face, wanting him to be looking at her, seeking a connection with him. He went a little further and then swore under his breath, pulled out of her, drew back, stood up.

‘Don’t move,’ he instructed.

Alexei was tearing open a foil packet, and she watched as he dealt with the necessities, sheathing himself at speed, so that she was reminded he had done this far too many times. Whilst I’ve only done it once, she thought, her heart pounding.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and as he positioned himself over her again he paused to lean in and kiss her again—a kiss that told her he knew who she was.

He sank slowly into her, moving with stealth, as if relishing the surprisingly tight clasp of her. Maisy began to lift her hips to coax him, bring him into her. Bring him home. Her eyes flared wide as he fully seated himself. His shoulders were braced above her, the muscles heavy across his shoulders and chest. He looked down at her with the intent expression of a man who knew absolutely what he was doing. He framed her face with one hand.

‘Okay, Maisy?’ His voice was strained, his whole body tensed above her.

It was the second time he had asked her that, and she liked it. She liked it so much she thought her chest might explode with feeling. It showed he cared about her. In answer she wrapped her good arm around his strong neck and brought his mouth down to hers.

Her body had taken over now, and that tiny doubt planted in that grimy room in Earls Court was exploded in the time it took Alexei to fully penetrate her. This was her man, the right man. He knew exactly what to do, and her body responded in kind. He drove her higher and higher, until she was hanging over the edge of a cliff with her fingertips. When she fell he came with her, and she clung tight to him as he thrust again and again, her brain on hiatus as she gave herself over to the sheer joy of being a part of him.

When he sank forward, his head pressed to the curve of her neck, she held him as tightly as he would let her for as long as he would let her, and when he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back he rewarded her by taking her with him.

‘I don’t usually do this.’

Alexei couldn’t think. But that wasn’t surprising, given he was still coming down the other side of an incredible orgasm. He knew his brain would flick the functioning switch in a minute, but right now all he could do was say her name—Maisy—and run his hand happily down the full round flank of her bottom and thigh. Her head lay on his chest—all those long ringlets cascading over them—her smooth thigh rested on his hair-roughened front quad muscle, and he could feel the hot wet centre of her pressed against him. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, and just anticipating the weeks to come made his blood hum.