Ioan Gruffudd Ch. 01


He smiled. "Ahh, second door on the left. First one's a closet but they're both black so be careful."

Chuckling as I made my way, I left my jacket on the hook in the hall realizing he'd only seen a skirt beneath a black trench. He had no idea just how good I looked, and what a cheery thought! Thanks to Danny I looked beyond fantastic.

Inside the bathroom I took care of the necessary. Life was uncomplicated, lasers had removed the hair from my pelvis below. An IUD sat contently in my womb so that I no longer bled or could measure my days passing as a woman. I was primed for just about anything but that hadn't been my intention.

My hair had long since gone back to its disturbing natural gold color and white blonde highlights in the front faded to caramel progressively towards the back. I wore it in a loose French twist, what they'd made topsy-tail for. I loved anything 1940's and it showed. I wore black eye liner, red lipstick, and a deep sweetheart neckline. The skirt flounced at my knees and my killer pumps were round toed, even if they were deadly stilettos.

I retouched my lipstick, powdered my nose, and then I emerged.

He was in the living room and though he was sitting he gave a start when I entered the room. Good sign, very good sign. I smiled.

He collected himself rather quickly and smiled back, one hunter to another and chills ran up and down my spine. He'd brought out cups and a French press. Dear god, what did I do? Part of me wanted to tear his clothes off right then and there and overwhelm us both with lust, another wanted shyly to wait for him to come to me. I've never known which urge is saner with a man. And usually by the time I'd figured it out, it was too late.

I took the wingback chair next to his, the coffee on a round table between us, Ioan's eyes on me all the while. I felt it in my hips, my legs, my breasts. I should have known the games to play, how to cross my legs, how to twitch my hips but I didn't. I'd simply never learned and so I'd never relied on them.

He went to pour and I tried honesty. I slid my hand over the cup before the French press could tip. "No more for me, actually. I guess I lied. I've had enough coffee to last all night."

He raised an eyebrow and sat back down. "All right then, I believe I'm actually sick of it m'self."

I took a deep breath and though every cell was vibrating in a tremble, turned to face him. "Then I think we both know why we're here."

He said nothing but his Adam's apple bobbed reflexively.

"I guess most people would be trying their best to be as seductive as possible right now, but I'm not like that. I'm a very factually based person and there are things I need to know before I-, that is, before we-"

I couldn't finish and he nodded. "All right, such as?"

"God, this is awkward. Well, I would volunteer that my last blood tests came back clean just two months ago, the last were six months before that also clean. I'm perfectly healthy, have no diseases, and I have an IUD so I'm not worried about getting pregnant."

He nodded and looked off, as embarrassed, apparently, as I was. "Three months and nine for me, both clean. I have a completely clean bill of health but for a migraine or two every now and then. I know this sounds crazy but I trust you."

"I don't think it's crazy, but it is a gamble. If you still feel we should use a condom that's fine. For some reason I trust you as well."

His eyes met mine, so dark brown they were hard black and matched the dark room. "I don't even know your last name."

I smiled as he held a hand out to me. I rose to slip mine in his. "Lee, it's Lee."

There was a flicker of recognition at the name but I quashed the spark beneath my lips. His were soft and hot and firm, the bristle of his stubble thick. I was on top, sort of speaking, but he took over quickly. Ioan pulled me across his lap and I settled, cradled in his arms.

He moved his lips over mine and back again and I was so icy cold, so goddamn hot. I thought I was going to explode and it was just a kiss. Then his tongue slid to mine and I lost conscious thought.

We walked, stumbling together, towards the bedroom some time later. We were tearing at our clothes; I peeled his jacket off, he found my zipper. In between we kissed and fondled, and by God did I fondle. He didn't have a killer American body, he was lanky with broad shoulders and fair muscle tone. Very, very British; very, very desirable.

He was fun to touch, almost hairless on the chest and yet rough and textured. I scored my nails over the bared flesh as we entered the bedroom. The only light was moonlight and the black theme spread to a huge four poster bed.

I'd gotten his jacket and shirt off, his belt hung loose. My dress was peeled down and as he stepped back I slid it down and kicked it off. Standing in my bra and panties with my stockings I probably looked more like a lingerie model than I felt.

The look in his eyes made up for any nerves I might have felt. What the hell, why wait to see him? I popped open the front clasp of my bra and let that drop, leaving the girls free to bounce against my ribs. His eyes widened his nostrils flared.

I'd never in my life seen a man get his shoes and socks off so fast. The pants came next and he grabbed me forcefully but gently. I was tossed on the bed and for some reason I got so damn wet at the sensation. I'd never thought I liked to be controlled but Ioan was proving me wrong.

I expected a fast tumble into ecstasy but instead of ripping my panties and plunging right in he pinned my hands down. Both slim wrists fit easily under the span of one hand and the other cupped a breast, brought the peak up to his mouth.

He devoured me and I was writhing. My breasts were very sensitive and with every pull of his lips, every flick of his tongue I climbed higher into madness, begging for release. I moaned something, it may have been a curse or his name, I couldn't tell, and he muttered something in the span of one nipple to the other.

I undulated, begging for his weight to settle between my legs, to relieve some of the pressure he was building, but he stayed to the side. I felt his erection pressed to my hip and I wanted to rub it.

He was reading me better than anyone ever had and he seemed to know what I wanted before I did. I liked being pinned down but I'd never liked it before. I realized it was a fantasy, a total departure from any previously known reality. That was the appeal, so I gave myself up to it.

The panties were ripped after all but only after he'd tied my hands down with his necktie. We never spoke and that first time he knew I needed it rough. But he was a teaser, a showman who knew how to build anticipation. He was gentle when I wanted to be bruised, he was rough when I expected tenderness.

His tongue was gentle on my clitoris, his fingers sliding ruthlessly inside me, in and out, making me buck. I orgasmed twice before he even removed his underwear and joined me. He let me see him in the moonlight and he was big. A little beyond average in length and very, very wide. When he filled me I gasped.

It went on for maybe all of five minutes, the thrusting, but it felt like an eternity and I had two of the oh-so-rare on-the-bottom orgasms. When he came he was far more expressive than I was used to, the sheer beauty of it was what tore a fifth and final orgasm from my weary body.

It didn't end there. He untied me, we cleaned up and cuddled wordlessly, then made love another time. He was still in control but was sitting up against his plush headboard while I straddled his lap. I ran my fingers though his hair and squeezed my PC muscles, making us both gasp and moan. He used those big hands on my hips to force me to move and rubbed deep inside me.

We slept after that and when we woke another session, spooning this time. I bit his hand as I came and when he exploded into me it was a violent rush that made me come yet again.

We talked for an hour after that about inconsequential things, watching the moon sink in the sky. His career, our travels. I told him I wrote romance novels and we laughed. We had one more sleepy time in what I called the T-bone, God only knew what it was called in the Kama Sutra. More a tangle than anything it was easy and perfect in the night.

I waited until he was asleep and when the sun came up I slipped outside in my wrinkled dress. My hair was messy and free, my makeup gone. I looked like a woman wild and I was.

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