The Fool Ch. 10

Carrie sucked him deeply now, her head moving slowly up and down his cock, and the groans she had enjoyed became snarls as he ground his teeth together in an effort to hold back the orgasm she knew must he close. She knew that once she undid his bonds her time in control would be over, but she planned to exhaust his reserves before that happened. Her hands smoothed over his ass and she began to tease the sensitive skin behind his balls, moving her fingers up between his cheeks. In the position, he stood, with his legs widely parted, the ease with which she found the dark star there made her smile as she lifted her head from his cock to wet her finger, making her intentions clear to him.

Sinclair was breathing raggedly, his head lowered, watching her carefully, deciding if the uncomfortable pressure in his ass and against his prostrate that he knew was coming was a limit for him and if he would speak and break the scene. Despite himself, he adored seeing her on her knees and worshipping his cock, he would prefer not being bound and passive, but he couldn't deny the tortuous pleasure she gave him. He grunted and felt a shiver go through him as her finger pushed past the tight ring of his anus and, as he pushed his hips forward slightly, her mouth was there to capture his cock and begin sucking slowly again. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, but he drew the line at begging her for his climax.

Carrie pushed her finger deeper as she swallowed his cock, seeking out that secret sensitive gland. She was in a slow rhythm made difficult by his jerky movements, but once she grew accustomed to the unique position, she dropped her free hand to her pussy, which throbbed with need having come so close to climax before he changed the rules. She was so hot her body tingled and came alive at the first stroke of her fingers over her clit, and she doubled her efforts on Sinclair, wanting them to come together.

When they came, the room filled with a noisy cacophony of both their voices, as well as the creaking and rattling of the restraints that held his stretched and straining body. Carrie took her time to drain him, prodding at his prostrate to ensure he was totally spent. Her orgasm had left her warm and sated so that when she finally got to her feet to release his restraints her legs were steady and she was able to help him to sit and then lie back on the bed. Once his legs were freed, she curled up alongside him as his breathing slowly returned to normal, neither of them saying anything.

"We should probably do that more often," she murmured into his ear softly before kissing his neck and tightening her arms around him.

"I'm not so sure about that," Sinclair groaned and moved to roll her to her back, pinning her to the bed and kissing her deeply. "When you start submitting completely I'll consider your request," he chuckled and kissed her again.

"But I..." Carrie paused. She realised that it was rare that she gave in without any argument or making him work for his dominance over her, whereas he had just given himself over to her without reservation. "Ah, I see," she said quietly. He'd been showing her that even he could submit without argument, if he chose, and not feel less equal after the scene. "Point taken."

*****

They had spent the early afternoon at the mansion with Lady Ophelia, and, as the air began to cool, Sinclair produced an evening gown for her to change into as a helicopter appeared to take them back to London. The view was spectacular as the sky began to change colour with the setting sun. They'd landed and made their way to a train station and, after being rushed through the premiere class lounge, boarded the Eurostar to Paris.

Carrie had dozed, lightly propped against Sinclair's shoulder, waking for a late version of afternoon tea and coffee briefly before closing her eyes again. They'd risen at four that morning to start the drive to the balloon launch site. She smiled as she rested her eyes, wondering at all of the different modes of transport they'd used and the places he had taken her. It was as if he had taken every cliché about Valentine's Day and found a way to squeeze them all into one day, ending with a trip to Paris, the city of love.

A limousine waited for them as they left the train station in Paris, and she shook her head with a light laugh. They were delivered to a small bistro, where Sinclair obviously knew the owners, and had a dinner based on every food ever considered an aphrodisiac, starting with Oysters natural.

"I thought we might take a walk," Sinclair suggested as the finished the meal and sat sipping the last of their wine.

"That sounds wonderful, I have eaten way too much today," Carrie grinned lopsidedly.

"Next year we can spend the day here and I can show you more reasons why Paris is considered the city of love, but we arrived too late for even a short visit to the Temple of Love in Boise de Vincennes," he said, taking her hand and leading her along the laneway.

Carrie had heard the accordion player before she reached the spot where couples danced the tango around a mini amphitheatre on the bank of the Seine River. Sinclair pulled her into his arms and they danced into the small gathering.

"They say the song and the modern version of the tango dance are about a man who was betrayed and abandoned by the love of his life and he pined away for her long afterwards," Sinclair murmured in her ear. "It's a song of tragic love, but originally it is said to have the feel of intense and abiding love without the heartache."

"Perhaps it was always tragic and intense," Carrie said a moment before he spun her from his body and snapped her back into his arms, years of formal dance training making him confident and light on his feet.

"Perhaps," he smirked. "Though I would like to believe every love story has its moments of intensity without the tragic end."

"In the end, only time can tell," she teased. "Even couples that have been married for fifty years or more must eventually lose each other to time. Nobody lives forever."

"Some great loves live on, however. Romeo and Juliette, Tristan and Isolde." Sinclair countered.

"Bonnie and Clyde," she laughed. They were both thieves who blurred the line between black and white often enough to make the comparison.

"True," he laughed with her. "As neither of us enjoys the spotlight, perhaps we could leave clues to our infamous acts and great love; once the fool is gone we could replace her as a duo." He continued trying to make romantic gestures in the face of her flippancy, knowing that she still struggled with the fact that she loved him and that the love she felt was real and not part of the plan for the Fool's next heist.

"Clues?" she asked curiously.

"Small ones that could be easily overlooked by anyone except those that followed our exact path," he nodded knowing he was cryptic. "Come, let me show you."

They walked away from the dancers into the night. Carrie could see that they were heading toward Notre Dame Cathedral, and wondered what he had in mind. She was so focused on the large building, which looked imposing even from a distance with its exterior lighting, that she hadn't noticed the small bridge Sinclair had steered her onto.

Sinclair stopped in the middle of the bridge and pulled her into his arms to kiss her. Searching in his coat pocket, he pulled out a small gift and presented it to her with a look that Carrie couldn't decipher.

"Another gift?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"It's not like it would be a surprise, given our location," he smirked as she frowned at him and opened the gift. She held the sturdy looking lock in her hand and looked up at him.

"I don't understand," she admitted.

Turning the lock over her hands to show the details engraving of their names, he chuckled, realising she didn't know that they stood on the love-lock bridge, and turned her to look at the side of the bridge which was crowded with locks left by other couples.

"Oh, my!" Carrie exclaimed, "I was busy looking at Notre Dame, but, still, how did I not see that?" She stepped forward to study the locks that had been fixed to the bridge and turned over the lock in her hand again, seeing the names surrounded by a heart. She smiled, "I didn't know this was a thing. I've never been in Paris as a tourist before, at least, not enough to know anything but the main monuments."

"There are spots like this all over the world, we can visit them all if you like, make it a valentine's tradition," Sinclair offered, enchanted by the look on her face as she surveyed the mass of locks placed there by couples as a show of their love. He waited patiently as she took her time finding the perfect spot for their lock and gathered her back into his arms once she was done.

"That was a lovely gift, thank you," she tilted her face up to kiss him.

They walked further then, crossing the bridge and walking along the back of the Seine to a small pier. A small flat boat waited for them and Sinclair led her to a comfortable loveseat and nodded to the two crewmen before sitting himself for the voyage up the river.

"You can't come to Paris and not visit the Eiffel Tower," Sinclair chuckled, as he could see the question forming on her lips.

"Then what?" she asked.

"Then you trust me," he chuckled.

"I do trust you," she complained. "I also like to know what's happening next."

"Just relax and enjoy the night," he lifted her chin, turning her face to his and kissed her.

They toured Paris a little longer, making sure to kiss under the Eiffel Tower before he helped her onto an empty bus, encouraging her to sit on the long benchlike back seat with him.

"A bus? Seriously?" she laughed. "What's left?"

"Hang gliders, parachutes, submarines, tractors," he joked.

"It's late, maybe we could save some of the more adventurous options for next year," she urged, regretting having asked him.

"Okay," he chuckled, kissing her again. The day had gone better than he had hoped, and he hadn't felt rushed and only had to change plans once because of her well-travelled history. He felt relaxed and happy as they travelled to the small private airfield just outside the city limits where his jet was waiting for them. With the night almost over, the biggest decision he had to make now was whether to make love to her on the flight home or let her rest until they reached their final destination.

"Are you tired?" he asked as she snuggled close to him.

"Yeah, a little. We started this adventure pretty early this morning, and we've been pretty active so far today," she grinned, making her meaning clear.

"We can rest a little on the flight back if you like," he offered.

"And deprive you of another notch on your mile-high post?" she asked in mock horror, making him laugh loudly.

"I still have plans for when we arrive back in England, so if you need to rest I will try and restrain myself for an hour or two," he continued to laugh, albeit at a lower volume.

"I could help you with those restraints," Carrie offered with a perfectly straight face, making him laugh loudly again and pull her into a tight embrace.

"That won't be necessary. I think your enthusiasm for restraining me is a little frightening, if I am honest," he chuckled.

"You didn't enjoy being tortured?" she asked sweetly.

Sinclair didn't answer, knowing it was a trap. If he said he did, she would want to take that role more often, if he said he didn't, she would know it was a lie on some level. Instead, he kissed her deeply and felt the bus come to a complete stop close to his jet.

The flight back was uneventful, as he let her rest and dozed himself, imagining their final destination. At a signal from the co-pilot, Sinclair woke Carrie gently and carried her out to her seat for the landing, offering her water just before their final descent.

Carrie struggled to wake up properly. It was late, and she felt like she had been awake for days with all of the travelling they had done today. She barely felt the landing and let Sinclair help her from the plane into a waiting car that she acknowledged vaguely as being huge and unwieldy for the London roads.

"It's a Hummer!" she stated, as if it was astonishing when he helped her from the car at the hotel when they arrived.

"It is," he confirmed. "How are you feeling now?" he asked, wondering if he had overdone it, trying to pack so much into one day.

"I'm starting to wake up properly now. I needed that nap, thank you," she gave him a soft smile as he took her hand and led her toward the elevators in the underground carpark.

"I checked us in yesterday, so we wouldn't have to deal with a night manager," he explained, pushing a button on an upper floor after they stepped into the elevator.

"That was good thinking," she congratulated him, letting him pull her closer. "It would seem a bit odd checking in without any baggage. At least odder than knowing we own a house close by but we're staying at a hotel. Tell me this is the last stop on our whirlwind tour," she sighed with exhaustion.

"It is the last stop on our whirlwind tour," he repeated for her.

They exited the elevator and he made a show of finding the right door and opening it with a flourish. She had jokingly asked about flowers and chocolate earlier in the day, but she hadn't been prepared for this. She gasped as she stepped into the sweet-smelling room.

Flowers filled the room, roses sat alongside lilies and daisies, as well as more exotic varieties, and in amongst it all were chocolate fountains in a myriad of colours and flavours. It took her some time to realise that the room had been set up as if being renovated, with dust covers shrouding most of the furniture and floor, which made the flowers and chocolate even more vibrant against the stark backdrop.

"All of this for the two of us?" she asked in bewilderment, turning to face him seeing him beginning to undress.

"It's not just for eating," he grinned at her and continued to remove his clothes before walking any further into the room. "You're a little overdressed for what I have in mind for that chocolate."

Carrie turned to survey the scene again, trying to decipher his words. She walked toward a fountain of white chocolate and picked up a strawberry, dipping it into the smooth liquid before biting into it. She blinked as the reality of what she saw just hit her, and she picked up a soft paintbrush and turned back to Sinclair, raising an eyebrow.

"You're still overdressed," he lectured and advanced on her with a look of determination.

Carrie marvelled once again at his perfectly proportioned physique. Her eyes skimmed over his broad shoulders and chest down over his belly and the perfect vee made by the muscle and bone of his hips as they dipped down to the softly curling pubic hair that topped his groin.

Sinclair grinned under her inspection and was eager to do some inspecting of his own. He slipped his hand down her sides and legs to the hem of the dress she wore and slowly pushed it up, revealing the sexy body beneath. Obediently she raised her hand above her head so he could remove the dress, and she stood passively as he made short work of her underwear. He took her in his arms then, enjoying the feel of skin on skin, and kissed her deeply.

"Would you like wine?" he asked, kissing down her neck to her shoulder and scraping his teeth over the exposed skin.

Carrie could feel her arousal heightening already. Sinclair was being gentle, but she felt him asserting his control, which made her want him all the more. She moved her hands to run them over his chest, but he gently took her wrists and pulled them away from his body, placing them behind her back, moving his lips to hers and kissing her before stepping away to open a bottle of red wine and filling a glass. She stood watching him as if rooted to the spot by his gentle but firm removing of her hands and the controlled dominance radiating from him.

Sinclair was pleased that she didn't move, and returned to her, offering the glass to her lips and tilting it slightly so she could sip. Tilting it a little further, he let several drops spill from her chin to her breasts and lowered his head to scoop them up with his tongue. He trailed his tongue up the trail left by the wine on her skin, his breath blowing warmly over her nipples making them tighten all the more. Standing again, he took another sip of the wine before holding it out to her.

"Hold this," he commanded, and she automatically reached for the glass he offered, taking a sip as he moved away from her again. She watched as he ran two fingers into the chocolate fountain and offered them to her.

Carrie looked into his eyes as she parted her lips and accepted the chocolate coated fingers, sucking the sweetness from them and rolling her tongue around each digit as he moved them gently in and out of her mouth.

"More?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes, please," she whispered, feeling the eroticism of what he had prepared for them. He smiled at her then and picked up a pastry brush, handing it to her before picking up one for himself.

"Choose your favourite," he indicated the fountains and took the wine glass from her, remaining in the centre of the space as she moved to the chocolate. He watched her carefully as she dipped the soft brush into the thick brown liquid and turned to face him. He took a sip of the wine as she painted a thick band of chocolate over his hip and along the ridge of muscle leading down to his semi-hard cock before following with her mouth. His cock hardened as he felt her teeth graze over his skin.

Dropping his brush, he wound his fingers into her hair and pulled her up and pressed his lips against her in a hard kiss.

"Are you planning to drive me insane by tormenting me yet again?" he growled as the kiss broke.

"Perhaps," she said huskily, her lip curling into a smile.

"Two can play that game, and it would seem you have no restraints at hand this time," his eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Think carefully before you proceed," he warned and took another sip of the wine.

Sinclair allowed her some latitude while using his brush in the chocolate to torment her equally with brush strokes to sensitive areas without giving her any relief. He could see her arousal hitting fever pitch as they continued, and when he knew she couldn't take much more, he lowered his hand to cup her pussy, his fingers exploring the wet folds and seeking out her swollen clit.

"Oh yes," Carrie breathed softly, believing he had given in to the desire he had felt before she had. She closed her eyes, savouring the feelings and the tingles his fingers sent through her body. Her eyes flared opened as his hand withdrew and reconnected with her pussy in a hard, wet slap, making her squeal and jump. He moved with lightning speed to capture her hands, tying them behind her back with a strip of the white cloth that covered the furniture. She looked up into his face and could see the smirk there made almost sinister by the desire and need behind it.

"You had your turn, now it's mine," he growled softly and led her to a short low bench covered with a cloth. She considered that it was possibly a coffee table, and, as he lay her back over its surface, he deftly pulled her hands apart and retied them to the legs of the low bench. It was barely long enough to support her torso and left her legs dangling to the floor. Sinclair widened her thighs and bent her legs so they moved back toward her bound arms, essentially doubling her over and binding her ankles to her wrists with long lengths of cloth she hadn't noticed in the room before.

Carrie hadn't struggled. She understood what he had done earlier in submitting to her, which she knew had been difficult for him. She had passively allowed him to bind her, looking at him with trust and desire written clearly on her face. When he leant down to kiss her, she ached to wrap her arms and legs around him and whimpered softly in frustration as her arms flexed in their bonds. He kissed down her chocolate flavoured body, spending time on her breasts using both his hands and his mouth as she lay spread out before him.