“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…!”
* * *
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….