Lessons In Love Part 26

"I see," I replied, and then laughed at my own comment. I was indeed absorbed by what she was doing to me, wondering what was coming next.

"Good, that means I can enjoy you without you flying away, little bird." Her fingers popped the b.u.t.tons on my jeans and she shimmied them down my hips. Her breath pa.s.sed over my skin as she ducked low to steady me while she stripped me. I was so focused, was like her doll.

Her trick was working.

And then she was standing, her arms lifted, and she moved closer.

I started when I felt bare flesh against mine. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and mine, touching. Hers large and soft, nipples peaked and squashed against my smaller t.i.ts. She kissed my mouth and my hands reached out for her, touching her bare arms, her shoulders, her neck. I wrapped my arms around her, sinking into the experience.

I threw my head back when she moved to kiss my neck. "'Oh, Chrissie, I've been aching for you."

"And me for you." She continued to undress and then guided me toward the bed, sitting beside me. Her fingers traced along the insides of my thighs, her hands easing them open.

I had to bite my lip to stop from crying out when I felt her head dip down between my legs. She kissed me, opening me with her tongue, sending shivers of pleasure through my entire groin. I clutched at the bedcovers.

"As soon as I saw you, I wanted you," I blurted. The words were tumbling out now, my fears, my needs and my knotted nerves all unleashed under her tutelage. "At night, I wanted you so much, I dreamed of you."

She rested her tongue over my c.l.i.t, pressed firmly, rousing me to fever pitch, and then lifted away. "I know, I've been thinking about it too." Her warm breath swept over my aroused flesh as she spoke. "But we're here now." Her mouth engulfed my c.l.i.t again.

She was so right. We are here now. And it was more special than I could ever have dreamed. My entire body was wired into her mouth.

Sensation swamped me. Her body rolled closer and she stroked one strong finger at the mouth of my c.u.n.t, dipping inside, where I clenched her, making her chuckle. She lapped and probed, rocking back and forth in time, and her actions hammered the breath out of my lungs. Her thumb replaced her tongue and I felt her mouth move up against my belly and then rest on my breast with a hungry kiss.

Urgency hit me. My hands moved into her hair, my hips rising from the bed.

When she moved again, lying alongside me, and kissed me, I needed to respond so badly that I went to lift the blindfold off. She must have been watching. Her fingers caught mine.

''No, feel your way, trust your instincts." She returned her attentions to my c.u.n.t, where she stroked one finger inside, hooked it against the plump pad of flesh on the inner front wall.

Desperation made me bite my lip, but I wanted it all and I reached for her. I stroked her shoulders, my fingers raveling themselves in her tousled hair, then shifted to cradle her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, my thumbs tracing over the diamond-hard tips of her nipples. Each and every time I touched her, she swayed closer, moaning aloud. That did strange, powerful things to me, sending me deeper, further than I might have gone, making me brave. "I want to taste you," I whispered. "Please. I want to make you come."

She turned around on the bed, never ceasing her attention to my c.l.i.t. Pleasure spangled through me when I felt her climb over me and I breathed her in, my face between her thighs, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s resting over my belly. I reached up, my mouth groping for her, and then we were totally joined, each engulfed in the other. Her mouth on my c.l.i.t, mine on hers.

Our hips rolled, fingers stroked. We moved in time, drinking each other in, stroke after stoke leading us on in the dance. I was adrift on a hot tide of pleasure and my hands groped for the solidity of her thighs to ground me as I hit home and my hips lifted, my c.l.i.t throbbing, my core m spasm.

She groaned, nursing my tender c.l.i.t in her mouth as she rode out my moves, her thighs trembling with pleasure on either side of my head.

Her sticky juices ran down into my mouth and onto my cheeks as she shuddered to completion.

I squinted into the light when I took off the blindfold and then smiled when I saw her glowing face smiling down at me. She looked even more gorgeous, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. My chest ached with pride.

She lifted the scarf in her fingers. "Did it work, little bird?"

"Like a dream." I nodded, laughing, and pulled her into my arms, brave at last and no turning back.

The road to Etherington didn't look like an unfurling ribbon anymore. Nowadays it looked like Chrissie's blindfold, wavering across the landscape, tempting me in for more lessons in how to lose myself to her love. My heartbeat lifted when I saw the road rise and the outline of the cottages appeared at its end, marking the spot.

"You look happy," Brian commented over the drone of the engine and the creaking shelves.

"I am."

"You're settling into Etherington well enough, since you moved out here?"

"Oh yes. Indeed I am. Feels like I found home, you know?"

He nodded. "It's a beautiful spot to be, no doubt about it."

''That it is," I replied. That it is.

When we reached the village, I hauled the mobile into the lay-by, pulled on the brake, and looked at him for his feedback.

He gave me a wink and a nod, signaling approval of my first trip at the wheel. Apparently he'd decided that I had discovered my confidence.

I smiled and shook his hand. And isn't that just the icing on the cake.

THE FRENCH LESSON.

KIM BALDWIN.

Waterloo Station, London he Eurostar looked fast and futuristic with its streamlined shape and smooth conical nose, all bright red and brilliant T blinding chrome. And I was going to travel in the very poshest car, on this, the poshest train around. When you're out to fulfill a fantasy, it's best to do it up big, I say. I'd dreamed all my life of going to Paris, and getting there was part of the whole experience. The Chunnel Train would deliver me to my destination in less than three hours, providing unmatched accommodations and the scenic splendor of the English countryside on the way, while freeing me from the ha.s.sle of airport security checkpoints and endless waits.

Of course, you can't have everything. Though I hadn't minded exploring London by myself, my fantasies of romantic Paris-with its candlelit cafes and moonlit bridges-had always involved seeing it with a lover. But I hadn't been very lucky in the romance department, and I just got tired of waiting. So instead of having wild s.e.x on the train to Paris (as I'd always fantasized), I appeased myself with an upgrade to premium first cla.s.s.

The car was nearly empty when I got on board. An attendant in a crisply starched uniform was serving drinks to the only others on board-a young couple, seated halfway down the long car. I paused in the aisle to admire what was undoubtedly the most luxurious train I'd ever been on.

The gray and burgundy seats were wide and plush, with deeply cushioned headrests and ample legroom. Each seat reclined and had its own folding table made of cherry. The floor was gray carpet. The decor had touches of Art Deco, with etched gla.s.s accents on the windows and stylized sconces providing soft, subdued light.

I chose a seat in the back, on the aisle, facing forward. It's a good place if the car is empty, like this one, because I get the maximum view out of both sides of the train.

A moment after I settled into my seat, the steward approached with a smile.

"Welcome aboard the Eurostar. May I get you a beverage?" he asked with a Scottish brogue.

Now, I've always been a sucker for accents, and hearing a variety, of British dialects during the past week had been a real treat. But it was Paris I was really looking forward to. French really does it for me, if you know what I mean. Ooh la la. Gets me all hot and bothered, though I haven't a clue beyond oui and par- lay- voo what any of it means.

"I'd like some Earl Grey, please," I told the steward, and he gave a little bow of his head and retreated toward the back. I returned my attention to the young couple. They were oblivious to everything but each other, holding hands, their heads bent together, talking in low tones. They looked very much in love.

Suddenly, she was standing there-near the front, her presence filling the aisle. I hadn't seen her come in. I sucked in a breath at the sight of her as all the air rushed out of the car.

She was tall and sleek and beautiful, dressed head to foot in form- fitting black leather-pants and jacket and laced-up boots that came to mid-calf. Powerfully s.e.xy. Subtly dangerous. Perfect androgyny. Her hair was dark and fairly short, with s.h.a.ggy bangs that half hid her dark eyes and long, lush eyelashes. She looked about the car, taking in its accoutrements with a pleased nod. Her glance fell on the young couple and lingered on them a moment, then continued on toward the back, toward me. I felt a chill of antic.i.p.ation run up my spine.

When her eyes met mine, she froze-and when I did not look away, a smile curled at the edge of those dark red lips, making her even more beautiful. She raised her eyebrows and c.o.c.ked her head in question.

Still I could not look away, or breathe, or swallow, or think a rational thought beyond oh, please.

"Miss?" The spell was broken by the steward, who'd materialized beside me. I glanced up dumbly as he served my tea, blocking my view of the apparition.

He had a small silver tray in his hand containing cream and sugar, cup and saucer, napkin and spoon, and a small teapot of tea. There was also a plate of a.s.sorted cookies and freshly made scones, normally a real favorite, but I couldn't wait for him to set it down and leave.

"Thank you," I mumbled, finding my voice.

"Just ring if I might be of further service," he said, indicating a call b.u.t.ton by my hand. "I'll be serving brunch in an hour." He retreated toward the back again as the train began to move.

I saw her then. She had taken a seat on the aisle, several rows away, facing me. Watching me. Of all the available seats, she had taken one where both of us could see each other easily and also get a view of the couple sitting in between us.

The steward reappeared and took the woman's order. Her eyes never left me, just as mine never left her. She licked her lips in a most inviting way and appraised me with a candor that I found both unsettling and unbelievably exciting. As her gaze skimmed over my body, her hand absently caressed the armrest of her chair. I felt something twitch in my belly, a stirring of beat. I missed every bit of the scenery flashing by, and my tea grew cold.

She glanced toward the couple sitting between us, and I did, too.

They were kissing now with abandon, their arms around one another, unmindful of their surroundings. That twitch in my belly got worse. My eyes went back to the woman. Her smirk rea.s.sured me that she was getting as aroused as I was.

Without warning, we were in the tunnel, and the car darkened dramatically. A mild case of claustrophobia kicked in. I took a deep breath and tried not to think about being under the English Channel for the next half hour or so. I was suddenly aware that it was particularly dark right where I was sitting. I glanced up and noticed for the first time that the wall sconce nearest me was burned out.

During that momentary distraction, she appeared beside me.

" Je peux me joindre vous? " she asked with an amused expression. I stared up at her, transfixed, letting her rich, fluid voice wash over me, understanding not a word and never more frustrated to be lingually deprived.

When I didn't answer, she frowned and said, " J'ai fait une erreur? "

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't speak French." I said. It must have been clear from my desperate tone of voice that I didn't want her to leave.

Her frown disappeared and that rakish smile returned. " Oh, ca va tre amusant, " she said, almost to herself. And then, gesturing toward the seat beside me, added, " J'ai demande si je pouvais me joindre toi. "

It was at least clear now that she was asking if she could sit with me, so I nodded like an idiot and got up to let her in, fumbling with the tea tray.

She paused briefly in front of me and brought her hand up to lightly stroke my cheek. " Et polie avec ca! C'est mignon, " she purred seductively.

Speaking French to me was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Every time she opened her mouth, I got hotter. On the other hand, it would be nice to know what the h.e.l.l she was saying. "Do you speak English?" I sputtered as she withdrew her hand and we took our seats. "Par-lay voo ang-lay?" It was the one phrase I had learned.

" Non," she answered, shaking her head. " Desolee." Those luscious full lips of hers stuck out in a disappointed pout.

"d.a.m.n," I muttered under my breath, and she understood that well enough to laugh-a throaty, rich peal of delight that broke the language barrier and made both our intentions clear.

Her dark eyes bored into mine as she moistened her lips provocatively with the tip of her tongue. I could feel my heartbeat pick up. " Fini? " she inquired, tilting her head toward my tea.

I nodded.

She picked up the tray and rose to set it on the seat in front of us; then she folded my table back out of the way and very deliberately raised the cushioned armrest that separated us. When she sat back down, she turned to face me, tucking one leg up beneath the other, and I did the same.

" Tu es belle, " she said, her eyes falling to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and lingering there. " Tres belle. Et tres s.e.xy. " That last word was clear enough. I wondered for a moment whether I really was dreaming, but she rea.s.sured me I was very much awake when she leaned forward and placed her hand lightly on my thigh. I swear I could feel the warmth of her hand through the thick denim of my jeans.

Restraint slipped away. I didn't care where we were or who might be watching. I wanted her, as I'd not wanted anything in a very long while. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I was finding it a little difficult to breathe. I couldn't contain a soft moan of pleasure.

She smiled again, obviously pleased at the encouragement. "Je t'excite? " she murmured as her hand began to move, fingertips tracing an excruciatingly slow path up my thigh.

Excite. Okay. I got that one. She's asking whether I'm getting excited, I think. No problem there. I nodded mutely as my mind willed her hand to continue its teasing path of exploration.

She didn't disappoint. Her fingertips skimmed the fly of my jeans, danced across the soft plane of my stomach, and then grazed my painfully erect nipple. "Mmm," she purred. " Delicieux. "

Delicious. Got that one, too. Suddenly I was feeling pretty bilingual after all. My body leaned toward her of its own accord. I was on fire. "Please," I groaned.

Her lips curled upward in a satisfied smirk. " Non. " She shook her head, correcting me. " S'il te plat, " she instructed, grazing my nipple again with a fingertip. A promise.

" S'il te plat, "I dutifully repeated, my voice unrecognizable.

''Tres bien, cherie, " she said, rewarding me with a firm pinch of my nipple. It sent a jolt of desire through me and ratcheted up my arousal to a fevered pitch.

" S'il te plat, " I begged again. "Oh G.o.d, you're making me crazy..."

She silenced me then with a scorching kiss, thrusting her tongue into my mouth, claiming me with searing intensity. Her hand slid around my waist and she pulled me tight against her body.

If all the blood in my brain hadn't fled to the lower regions of my anatomy, I might have been grateful I'd splurged for the roomy seats of first cla.s.s and that the premium car was so blissfully empty. But I was beyond rational thought by then, immersed in the overwhelming sensations of her hands on me, her warm breath on my face, her body pressing mine against the seat back.

" Touche moi, " she whispered as she unzipped her jacket and led my hand to her breast. She was wearing a thin, silky top and no bra, and her nipples were already rigid and sensitive, too. I pinched one lightly between my fingertips, then the other, and she groaned, reclaiming my mouth in another kiss as she shifted her weight to straddle me in the oversized seat.

She tasted like chocolate and espresso, and she kissed me hard and long, as though she, too, had fantasized about an encounter such as this.

I was lost in her, oblivious to all but the sensations roaring through me. I cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in my hands, fondling the weight of them, caressing the nipples roughly with my thumbs. She moaned into my mouth and pressed her body more firmly against me, grinding against my stomach. My hips rose to meet her, and we rocked together, both seeking greater contact.

She broke the kiss. She was breathing hard, and so was I. " C'est fou ce que tu m'excites, " she whispered next to my ear as her hand slipped between our bodies, seeking the fly on my jeans. I didn't need to know what she said. We were speaking the same language now.

She was only fractionally faster getting into my pants than I was getting into hers-our hands found each other at almost the same moment. I'm not sure which one of us was wetter-it was probably too close to call.

We stroked each other in unison, working in an unspoken, teasing tandem to prolong the experience. When I felt her nearing her peak, I would back away-lighten my touch just enough-just as she kept me on the edge of my precipice, until both our bodies screamed for relief.

"Please," she begged in a ragged voice, her face pressed against my neck, and we came together then, in a shattering burst of frenzied strokes. We collapsed against each other, gasping for air. I had not yet regained my wits or my strength when a burst of light filled the car. We were out of the tunnel.

My companion gave a disappointed sigh and gently extricated herself from my embrace, smiling at me mischievously as she straightened her clothes and sank into the seat beside me.

I managed to zip up my fly just before the steward reappeared. He tried to hide it, but the trace of a smile on his face as he addressed us suggested he was probably well aware of what we'd been up to and had timed his entrance accordingly. "Are you ladies ready for brunch?" he asked.

Since I was blushing profusely and hadn't yet regained my ability to form a coherent sentence, I was rather glad my companion spoke up.

" Quelques fruits et croissants, s'il vous plat, " she told him. " J'ai des projets pour elle Paris, mieux vaut s'a.s.surer qu'elle garde toute sa vigueur. "

Whatever she said made the man smile. The fruit and croissants part I understood. But I didn't get the rest.

" Comme vousle desirez, " the steward replied and turned to go. I hadn't considered that the train staff would be bilingual, though it made perfect sense. "Wait!" I called after him.

He turned back around with a puzzled expression.

"I got the fruit and croissants part. What else did she say?" I asked him.

He chuckled. "She said she has plans for you when you get to Paris, and she wants to make sure you keep your strength up."

I had a feeling that by the end of the week, my French would be perfect.