Futile Resistance

"You guys looked hot!" Fifi said, in typical fashion. French rolled her eyes and grabbed her martini, took a sip to compose herself. Aidan moved, his body forming a barrier between French and Fifi's group. He sat on a barstool, drawing hers closer to him practically in the same motion, so that her knees were sandwiched between his legs before she knew what had happened. French scowled at him, "Don't you know when to quit?"

"Not when it comes to you. I don't know what you've done to me, but I'm smitten," he said half-jokingly, placing a hand over his heart.

"Geez," she said rolling her eyes and taking a big gulp of her drink. "So, Aidan, what have you been up to?" she asked breezily. She figured she might as well talk to him since he was sitting there staring at her. His certainty, his arrogance, was disconcerting to her, but she'd be damned if she'd let him see it. She finished her drink in a gulp that gave lie to her apparent coolness and signaled for another.

"Am I making you nervous?" Aidan asked, leaning closer to her.

"No. Why do you ask?" French replied nonchalantly, looking everywhere in the room but at him. Peter caught her eye from the dance floor and beckoned her to him. She shook her head and turned back to Aidan, eyebrows arched.

"No reason. I spent the last two months in Eritrea, Africa," he responded to her earlier question. "As you know, there is spill over of the tribal unrest in Somalia and Ethiopia into Eritrea. I went there to document exactly how bad things are there. I sold my photographs and story toTime magazine."

French was taken off guard again because she'd assumed that, being a travel writer, he'd been in some glorious corner of the world enjoying a taste of the exotic with a view to bringing a piece of that back to the US with his stories and photos.

"Oh. I'll be sure to pick up a copy when it comes out," French said politely, but couldn't stop herself from blurting, "What are you doing here?"

"My father is the founding partner of the firm. He and my mother like for me to be at these things when I'm in town. A small thing for me to do since I refused to go into the family business, I figure."

"Ah, ever the obliging son," French sniped.

"Why can't you stop being so judgmental?" Aidan asked, annoyance plain in his voice.

"Because I've done this with you before. That's why," French said flatly. "You wouldn't let there be athis between us!"

"Ugh," she said, disgustedly, "I don't want to argue with you, Aidan. There's no point, is there? We're not together anymore, what we had is in the past. You need to realize that." With that, she grabbed her drink, took a healthy sip. "Hmm, these are good!" she said, apropos of nothing.

"Maybe you should take it a little easier on the Cosmos," Aidan warned. "Isn't this how you want me, a little tipsy, with lowered inhibitions?" French cooed tauntingly, batting her lashes and leaning forward into him, resting one hand on his thigh. She had a split second to notice how muscular his leg was under her hand before he kissed her. She was too stunned to react at first, then opened her mouth in shock. Aidan seized the opportunity gratefully and slid his tongue into her mouth to taste her. French sank into the kiss for a long heart-stopping moment, then regained her senses and abruptly pulled away from him. She felt flushed and hot, turned on and embarrassed at the same time, because she never engaged in public displays of affection. She reflexively reached for her drink again, but he pulled it out of her reach.

"I'll take you home," he said. Turning to Fifi he said, "I'm taking her home."

Fifi, never happier than to see her friends together, surrounded them with a flurry of kisses, hugs and promises to talk to them both tomorrow. She had them in their coats and out the door before French knew what had hit her. She felt, knew, she must resist him, even though his kiss had stopped her heart,because his kiss has stopped her heart. This wouldn't be good for her, she thought sulkily. She wasn't normally sulky or petulant, but she'd been nothing but since she'd been in contact with him tonight and that made her mad.

"Do you need to see to your car before we go?" Aidan asked politely.

"Nope, I took the T," she replied.

"I don't have a car here, either. So we'll have to take a taxi."

"I can get myself home," French said hotly.

"I know you can," he replied mildly.

They got into the cab and she gave the driver her address. Aidan slid her across the taxi's vinyl seat so she was pressed to his side and wrapped an arm around her. The streets of Boston were congested with typical Friday night partiers and holiday revelers, so it took them longer than it normally would have to make it to her place. They made inconsequential small talk along the way. He began drawing absentminded circles on her neck where it was exposed above the collar of her coat, occasionally playing with curls that had escaped from her up-do. French, unwillingly enjoying the caresses, kept a dialogue running in her head, listing all the reasons why this guy was just too slick, too arrogant, toowrong for her to fall for again. When they arrived at her place, he paid the driver and helped her from the car.

"I'll walk you up, then I'll walk the rest of the way home," Aidan said.

French knew that it was pointless to argue with him so she led him up the steps to the brownstone in which she'd bought an apartment. Once she'd opened the door to the vestibule, she turned, ready to dismiss him. She stuck her hand out, hoping he'd be content with a handshake and be on his way.

"Thank you for seeing me home, Aidan," she said politely.

"It's so cold out," Aidan said, taking her proffered hand, toying with her chilled fingers. "I've got to walk all the way home. You could at least invite me up for coffee."

"Oh, for God's sake. Come up," French said huffily, walking into the house without waiting for him. He followed her up the stairs to the third floor and French was aware of his eyes on her the whole way up and was thankful that her long alpaca coat shielded her from his gaze. She opened the door to her apartment and stepped into the warmly lit space. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the coat-rack, reached for his and did the same. "Coffee or something else?" she asked, turning to him.

"Something else," he replied in a low voice. He reached for her somewhat roughly and kissed her, eating at her mouth with his until she opened for him. Having gotten what he wanted, he gentled the kiss, exploring the heat of her mouth with his tongue. French felt her wits spinning away with each sweep of his tongue in her mouth. Aidan's kisses were incendiary; before Aidan, she had never been kissed with such passion. She felt a wave of yearning for him, a craving to be connected with him, yet she knew she could not allow herself to give in. His desire for her was evident in the way his hands swept up and down her body in ardent, arousing caresses, as though he could absorb the very essence of her with his hands.

She began kissing him back, wrapped her arms around his neck. He groaned and pulled her even closer to him, his hands cupping her ass, pressing her against him in a way that left no doubt as to how much he wanted her. She ran her hands through his longish dark brown hair, passion sweeping her away.Why shouldn't she take what he was offering, she thought,one last time with him wouldn't do her any harm and would probably do her some good, maybe it would get him out of her system...

Having made up her mind to have him, she pulled away from him and walked down the hall to her bedroom, confident he'd follow. He watched her go, his eyes glued to her sexy ass, loving the way her hips swayed as she walked, her sexy high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She'd worked the back zip of her dress down when she noticed she was alone. She went back to the door, poked her head out and said,

"Are you coming or not?" He looked entirely bemused at the change in her, having expected her to resist him every step of the way. He had made up his mind to have her and had begun planning the chase that would lead her back into his life once and for all. He was mildly disappointed that he wouldn't get the chance to woo her, but he was no fool: he would always open the door to opportunity when it knocked. He walked down the hall toward her, unknotting his bowtie as he went. When he reached her, he draped the tie around her neck and pulled her to him for another kiss, sliding his hands inside the open back of her dress. He pushed it off her shoulders and knelt down to help her step out of it. Standing up, he took a step back to get a good look at her. She now wore his untied bowtie, a black bra of silk and lace, tiny black bikini panties, matching thigh high stockings and those sexy black heels. He exhaled in a whoosh.

"Jesus, you're gorgeous, French."

French went to him and kissed him deeply, hotly, their tongues mating. She slid her hands between them and began undoing the tiny onyx buttons of his tuxedo shirt. When it was mostly unbuttoned, she pulled it from his waistband and up over his head. She wrapped her arms around him again and reveled in the feel of his hot skin against hers. He walked her backwards until her the backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed. He sat her down, knelt at her feet, took off her shoes and began to roll her stockings down, stroking the long lengths of her legs as he went. He lay her on the bed and came to lie next to her. He spent a moment absorbing the sight and feel of her body, glimmering bronze in the dim light cast by her bedside lamp, her skin soft as silk. She reached for him, needing to feel him against her. She ran her hands up and down the smooth hot skin of his back, chafed her legs against the fabric of his tuxedo pants as he kissed her again.

He rained kisses down her neck, lingered at the place where her neck and shoulder met, then slid one silky bra strap down her shoulder. He ran his fingertips across the tops of her breasts, cupped high in the scallop-shaped cups of her lacy bra. Her skin was hot and smooth under his fingers. Her nipples hard peaks under the thin fabric of her bra. He reached behind her and, unable to make himself delay gratification, unfastened her bra.

French let out a shaky sigh of relief and yanked the bra off and tossed it aside. She pressed her breasts to his chest, rubbing the tips back and forth, shivering when the hair on his chest abraded her nipples. "Suck them," she entreated. Aidan was vaguely surprised at her command; she had never been one to say much during sex. He didn't stop to dwell on it except to briefly note that the sound of her husky voice made him crazy with lust. Her breasts were perfection. Firm and full, they fit his hands perfectly. Set amid burnished bronze flesh, the peaks were like milk chocolate kisses he had to taste. He lowered his head immediately, taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking it, circling it with his tongue.

She felt the stroke of his tongue on her nipple in a curl of arousal low in her belly, felt herself getting wetter. She was torn between wanting him to continue what he was doing and wanting him to fuck her. Hard. Deep. Now. Her hands speared through his hair as she dragged his mouth to hers.

"Aidan, I want you to fuck me," she whispered. Aidan felt his arousal spike even higher at hearing her explicit words.

"It'll be better if we wait, Legs," he teased, trying to slow the pace of their lovemaking. He cupped her face in his hands, opening her mouth with his for another kiss. He slid his hands up to her hair, fingers searching for the pins that kept the curly mass contained. One by one he pulled them out and her hair came tumbling down in wild ringlets that reached past her shoulders. "I love your hair like this," he whispered, "you should wear it down more often."

He nuzzled her at that sweet spot where neck meets shoulder and back up to suck at the pulse in her neck. She writhed beneath him and tipped her head back, lost in sensation. She stroked her hands down his back and around to the front of him, grasping at the fasteners of his tuxedo pants. Once they were open, she slid her hands inside and stroked his hardness. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she ground herself against him, a blatant parody of what she wanted from him.

"Oh, God," Aidan said, shuddering, trying to hold on to even a shred of control. He wanted to go slowly, savor each and every moment of their encounter. He wanted to watch her unravel for him, to draw pleasure from her slowly. She was making it impossible for him to hold back. She pulled his mouth to hers, giving him another devastatingly erotic kiss.

She rolled him to his back, straddled his thighs. Giving him a searing look that nearly stopped his breath, she hooked the tips of her fingers in the tops of his pants and boxers, drew them down slowly, teasing the skin she revealed with flicks of her tongue. At the bottom of the bed, she pulled the pants completely off and set them aside. She removed his socks, massaged his feet firmly, letting him feel the heat of her body.

"Now, I've got you just the way I want you," she taunted as she crawled up his body, stopping when her head was on a level with his hips, her face hovering over his cock. He stiffened, trying to resist the urge to grab her by the hair and thrust into her mouth. She placed a hand on his cock, stroked it slowly, felt the wetness at its tip. He clenched his teeth, stifled a curse at the feel of her hand wrapped around him, torturing him with the slow strokes. He fought to keep his hips still, to keep from forcing her to caress him harder and faster. French lowered her breasts to his cock and slowly, deliberately ran the silken wet head of it over her nipples. He watched her, enthralled by her fascination with his cock, awestruck by the erotic sight of his hard cock nudging her stiff nipples. He felt as if his skin were being turned inside out when she finally took him in her mouth. He moaned as he felt the wet heat of her close around him, clenched his fists and put them behind his head to keep from grabbing her and fucking her mouth ruthlessly, which is what he wanted to do. She was killing him. His head supported by his arms afforded him a better view of her working on him and he thought he'd never seen anything so hot in his life. He closed his eyes against the image, the only way he could think of to haul himself back from the brink of climaxing. When he opened them and looked down, his eyes met with her heavy-lidded green ones. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she took him deeper into her mouth, deeper still until he felt the tip of his cock at the back of her throat. It was almost his undoing.

He dragged her away from him with a growl, pulled her up until she straddled his head. He yanked the silky black fabric of her panties aside and buried his face between her legs, tongue seeking to taste her. She pressed herself harder against his mouth, whimpering, begging him. "Mmmmm, Aidan, please."

She rocked herself against his tongue, wanting to feel it against every part of her overly sensitive flesh. His tongue slid to the top of her sex, flicked over her clit and then he sucked. She came apart then and he felt the strong pulses of her pussy against his mouth. He continued to flick his tongue against her clit, spinning her orgasm out for a long moment. Breathing heavily, she lifted herself from his mouth, slid down so she was straddling his hard cock. She leaned over and kissed him deeply, loving the taste of herself on him, feeling how wet his mouth was from being on her. Reaching down, she struggled out of her panties. Then, caressing his cock, she stroked it through her wet sex, teasing herself and him. Aidan put his hands on her hips, steadying her, stilling her so that he could push up and into her.

Her eyes closed at the feel of him. Her back arched at the first pressure of his cock against her opening. He pulled her down, just so the bulbous tip of him was inside her. Again, he almost exploded at the feel of her tight, wet heat clenched around him. Tiny spasms squeezed him as a small orgasm shook her. She plunged down suddenly, taking every thick inch of him inside of her. Mindless with need, she ground her clit against his pubic bone, triggering another mind-blowing orgasm.

She shuddered above him, letting the waves of pleasure course through her. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head. Green eyes glittering, she said, "Aidan, fuck me."

With one hand holding her by the neck, he tugged her mouth to his, kissing her deeply, his tongue fucking her mouth, devouring her. His other hand was firmly planted on her waist, pulling her to him tightly each time he thrust upward. French tossed her hair back and began circling her hips, dancing on him in a sensual grind. Aidan's whole being was focused on the place where their bodies were joined. His breathing became more labored as he felt his balls tighten, feeling his impending climax beginning deep in his spine.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," he said through clenched teeth, "fuck me. You feel so good, baby."

He thrust up into her harder, faster, deeper than before and French felt herself teetering on the brink.

"Ohh, Aidan, I'm coming again," she gasped in the instant beforele petit mort consumed her. Her slick walls tightened around his cock, sucking him deeper, milking him and he lost it. With a muffled roar, he came, feeling as though his soul was being torn from his body in exquisite torment. With each jet of come, he plunged into her, setting off more spasms within her. She gasped, pressed down on him with her hips, seeking closer contact, wanting to have him inside of her forever.

Francoise collapsed on top of him, feeling limp and exhausted. Aidan wrapped his arms around her, stroked his hands soothingly up and down the slim line of her back. She had surprised him tonight. She'd never been that way with him before. Sex with her had been good, great even, but he'd always felt that she held something back from him. She had tried to do that tonight, but for whatever reason, had changed her mind. Once she had decided to have him, she had consumed him with reckless abandon, reaching for what she wanted and taking it. She was a study in contrasts: cool and controlled on the outside and all fiery heat on the inside. He was more convinced than ever that he wanted her. Forever.

Francoise stirred and lifting herself wetly off of him, slid to his side and curled against him, one arm and one leg thrown across his body. She gave a bone weary, deeply satisfied sigh. Reaching up, she kissed him softly.

"G'night, Aidan," she said, sleepily.

Aidan gathered her closer, stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Good night, Legs."