Futile Resistance Ch. 10

He began a series of long, slow tantalizing thrusts into her, bottoming out with each one. She grunted each time he seated himself firmly within her, each time she felt his cock at the mouth of her womb. He reached impossible depths with each stroke and the pleasure he gave her was sharp, bordering on pain. She wanted more.

Aidan pulled out of her, straightened the leg that had been draped over his arm and pushed her hips flat. Her eyes flew open in protest, locked on his in silent plea. He spread her legs apart, gazed down on the enticing, inviting sight of her pussy, dripping wet, the lips engorged and kissable, suckable. He scooted back, draped the one leg over his shoulder and bent over her. Covered her with his mouth, luxuriated in the taste and texture of her.

"Oh, God, Aidan yesssss," she moaned. His mouth was so hot against her sensitive flesh. He circled her clit with his tongue, teasing her again with light strokes. Her clit throbbed; her pussy became wetter. He stroked his tongue down her slit, penetrating her with just the tip. She pressed her hips up, gripped his head, pleading for more. He held her hips down, determined that she should have only what he wanted her to have, when he wanted her to have it.

With great restraint, Aidan moved his mouth slowly and thoroughly over her, using lips, teeth and tongue to explore the folds of her pussy. With deliberation, he sucked and licked, tortured her by grazing her clit with his teeth. The scent of her filled his senses, familiar, intoxicating. She belonged to him. His cock was hard as a pike, clear fluid leaking from the tip; it pulsed, ached to return to its rightful home. But first...

He focused his assault on her clitoris. Sucked it between his lips, played his tongue over it. Engorged and sensitive as it was, it took only a few strokes of his tongue to send her flying apart. French bucked beneath his mouth as her climax rocked through her, intense spasms making her cry out and moan in ecstasy.

He kept his mouth on her, gentling, soothing her as the spasms slowed. She quieted and he stretched up along her body. She lay limp beneath him, eyes closed, her face relaxed, chest heaving from exertion. He kissed her, his mouth wet, flavored with the taste of her. He used his tongue explicitly, thrusting artfully, demanding a response.

She gave him what he asked for, devouring him with the same voracious appetite with which he devoured her. She reached between them and found his cock, rigid and wanting. She felt the slickness of pre-come on the head, smeared it around using the soft heel of her hand. He moaned into her mouth as she guided him to her opening. She opened her eyes, looked up at him, his face tight with the strain of holding back.

"Aidan," she breathed, her lips a hairsbreadth from his, "Now. I need you to fuck me. I want it. Hard."

He pushed in, parting the swollen tissues of her pussy, making room for the thick, hard length of him. He lifted himself onto his knees, spread her legs wide, draping one over each of his arms. He pounded into her, going deep - so deep - with every thrust. French braced her hands on the headboard, held herself still so she could receive every hard, pulsating inch of his cock inside her fully.

Aidan felt her pussy tighten on him, knew he was lost. But he wanted her with him. He changed the rhythm of their fucking, adding a little twist of his hips at the end of each thrust, rubbing against her clit.

"Oh, God, yes, yes, yes..." French panted.

"I can't hold back," Aidan gritted out, "you're so tight... So hot."

He drove into her, harder, faster, their bodies making crude wet, slapping sounds upon impact. His pubic bone against her clit sent waves of agonizing delight into her body. She was melting. She brought her hands down from above her head, cupped her breasts, pulled on her nipples. Her clit throbbed in time with the stimulation.Almost there.

Aidan watched her, was on the verge, on the very edge. She was so sexy, uninhibited and she was this way only with him.He made her this way -- wild, wanton. Open. Ready. Needing and wantinghim. The thought tipped him over the edge and he came hard, shoving into her with sharp jerks of his hips that sent French flying again. The muscles of her cunt clamped down in spastic paroxysms, draining his cock dry.

He lowered her legs and fell forward, catching himself on his forearms. They kissed, putting a capstone on their lovemaking. She shivered, her pussy still spasming around his cock. Seated deeply within her, he thrust again, nudging her womb, massaging her clit, setting off another spate of quivering spasms inside her.

He broke the kiss, looked down at the woman beneath him, brushed a damp tendril of hair back from her face. She was delectably tousled, a little sweaty, a lot satisfied. She opened her eyes, met his gaze, infused her own with warmth, acceptance of the inevitable. Love.

He nodded slowly but didn't speak. He understood, but now was not the time for talking. He yawned hugely, his jaw cracking. Jet lag. French smiled contentedly, stroked his face tenderly.

"Get some sleep, Aid," she whispered.

He pulled out of her in a long, slow slide of heat and wetness. Moving to her side, he dragged her around to face him. He gave her a hard kiss then turned her around and spooned her from behind, one of his hands cupping a breast. A few breaths later, he was deeply asleep.

French woke a few hours later in the dimness of Aidan's room. It was already almost full dark outside. She slid as quietly as possible from the bed, not wanting to wake Aidan. She scooped her clothes and shoes from the floor and tiptoed to the bathroom. She didn't turn on the light until she was all the way inside with the door closed.

She squinted against the glare and stifled a laugh at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Her hair stood on end and she looked ridiculous with her skirt bunched around her waist and with the big hole in her tights. She did a quick clean-up then smoothed the skirt down over her hips, straightening the wrinkles as best she could. She hopped on one foot putting on one boot, leaned against the sink to put on the other one. She finished dressing, putting on her bra and skinny black turtleneck, smoothing her wild hair with water from the sink. She hadn't been able to find the clip she'd worn before on the floor in the dark.

She shut off the bathroom light, quietly opened the door. She tiptoed into the sitting room where the fire had burned down and there were only a few dimly glowing embers. She found her coat and handbag, slipped quietly into the hallway, closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

Aidan woke and reached for French, startled to full wakefulness when all he found was a cold indentation next to him instead of a warm woman. He listened, lying perfectly still, reaching out with his senses, searching for any sign of her. She was no longer in the suite; he knew it with certainty.

What the fuck?! he thought, anger rising in him with the force of a tsunami.I'm going to kill her.