The Maestro Ch. 04

He slipped his tongue into her, lapping at her everywhere but where she wanted it most. She squirmed a little, stopping only when Sebastien's fingers tightened on her hips to the point of pain. She huffed out a breath of frustration, then sharply drew it in again as he applied a flattened tongue directly against her clit. She was climbing rapidly to her peak, when the sudden absence of friction from below halted her progress. Her eyes popped open, and she saw Sebastien produce a slim vibrator - from where, she had no idea - and turn it on, placing it where his tongue had been a moment ago.

The vibrations were gentle, but powerful, and it drove her up nearly to orgasm again. The sudden invasion of her pussy by his fingers nearly sent her over, but his stern look warned her against letting go and giving into the feelings. She curled her toes under and for several long moments was the perfect study of frustrated effort, her legs and abdomen belying the intensity of her tension. She thought of anything and everything to help her keep control, and wondered vaguely if this was how teenaged boys felt. Sebastien moved the vibrator and she sighed, her muscles twitching as they relaxed.

"Don't get too comfortable," he said, lazily driving his fingers in and out of her, but avoiding her most sensitive spots. If she wondered what he meant, she didn't have too long to find out. Over and over, he held the vibrator against her, driving her up to that shining edge of pleasure, and then removing it, sometimes at the very last minute, refusing to let her come. Perhaps he felt the telltale irregular clutching of her pussy walls against his fingers, or perhaps her breathing or the look on her face gave her away. She didn't know, and eventually she was simply too far gone to wonder any further.

She lost track of the hour, the number of times he had given her pleasure and taken it away again. Her body was on fire again, trembling all over, hips twitching reflexively whenever the vibrator made contact.

Dimly, she heard someone pleading, and she realized it was her, murmuring over and over, "please... please..." Beads of sweat had popped up all over her, her legs long since having fallen to the side listlessly.

"Please, what?" Sebastien finally asked her.

"Please... let me come, Maestro."

"Be patient, mon abeille," came the infuriating reply. He was driving her relentlessly forward, and her heart was hammering in her chest. Her pleas had dissolved into incoherent moaning, her hips pushing incessantly up toward his fingers. Even the bottoms of her feet were aching with the tension of holding back. When Sebastien slid his fingers out of her, it gave her a momentary respite that was shattered with the feeling of his hard cock thrusting into her, filling her. He was so hard, she felt his heartbeat inside her and she knew, she wouldn't be able to hold out any longer.

"Maestro!" she cried urgently as he began pounding into her. He remained ruthlessly silent as he grasped her hips, angling her downward so that he slammed against her clit with every thrust. She shivered, and felt it building from deep inside. She looked up, into his eyes, pleading silently with him to release her. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands.

"Yes, yes... come for me... now!" he said, watching her intently as stars exploded across her vision. She felt her bonds abrading her wrists as she thrashed and tugged against them. Every muscle tightened, then released with the sweet pain of a long-awaited release. Pleasure washed over her in waves.

Just as she thought she might finally be coming down from her high, she felt firm pressure on her clit, and intense vibrations sent her into further spasms. She screamed - truly, embarrassing as it was, it was the only word that could describe the sound that escaped her - as her insides turned molten.

Sebastien had dropped her hips back to the bed, was stroking her sides up and down as he continued fucking her, firmly but at an unhurried pace. He curled over to take her nipples, one at a time, into his mouth. She arched up against him, crying out. Her nerves felt alive and tingling.

She felt the pressure on her wrists release, and Sebastien was kissing her breasts, watching her seriously. He slid his cheek up against hers, nuzzling her soft skin.

"Serre moi; je meurs," he murmured softly. Claire felt her lashes thick and damp against her cheek. Tentatively, she tucked her arms around him. He drew his head up, stealing her breath with a tender kiss. Sebastien's hips pumped against hers, sending tingles through her each time he touched her sensitive flesh. She heard a soft sound low in his throat, and then felt torrents of come spilling into her. She tightened again at the sensation.

At last they were both still again. Sebastien rolled onto his side, keeping contact with Claire along the length of their bodies. He brushed the hair out of her face, stroking through its length. Claire felt a shuddering sensation welling up inside of her, like something unfurling that would burst right out of her skin. To her considerable mortification, she burst into tears. It wasn't the first time she'd cried after a particularly powerful orgasm, but this was in front of Sebastien. She curled on her side, pressing her forehead into his chest and dampening it with her tears.

She was surprised that he didn't ask what the matter was, but instead pulled her in close to him, murmuring soothing words into her ear. French. Nothing that she understood. At length, the warmth of his arms lulled her to sleep.

-----

Everything hurt. Still, Claire felt remarkably at peace as she awoke, swaddled in blankets in an unfamiliar - and yet, all-too-familiar - bed. Diffused sunlight lit the room warmly, giving her enough light to notice that she was no longer naked. She was dressed and, apparently clean - had her hair been washed? - in what appeared to be a pair of Sebastien's black shorts and an undershirt. Rolling over gingerly, she saw the man himself. Face still slack with sleep, he rested on his back, arm flung carelessly outward.

She trailed her hand over his flat stomach, feeling his soft hairs against her palm as she worked her fingertips into his shorts. She felt the almost imperceptible tension of alertness fill his body, and with a swift move, he had taken her into his arms, pressing his rapidly hardening cock against her hip.

He blinked his eyes languidly at her, curling his lips into a half-smile.

"Good morning, mon abeille."