Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 19

As we finish the meal, I draw the curtains, the short winter day already fading. The flames set light and shadow dancing across the room. They flutter over her hair, gilding the highlights, deepening the lowlights as she sits on the thick rug by the hearth, her legs tucked under her.

“You want to make love,” she whispers. It’s not a question.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

We need no more words.

Her mouth is a sensual curve as she rises. I slip my hand into hers, leading her to the bedroom, and her lips a little parted, she follows.

Her face raises to mine, reaching for me. And it’s not the hooker with her client. It’s Mitch…

My Mitch…

… wanting me…

Our lips brush, then press. She’s warm, her flesh yielding, soft and tasting of the wine. Her fingers tangle into my hair and her mouth opens, the kiss deepening.

The music, soft and evocative spills through from the lounge. I pull her to me, but abruptly she breaks away, kicking off her shoes, and barefoot, she dances. Languidly, beautifully, slowly, she dances for me.

She’s hypnotic, spell-binding; weaving sorcery as I watch, with the music and the swaying of her body…

The dress, its teal-green silk, whispers as she moves. Her long hair is a cloud of red and gold, and her emerald eyes are jewels.

She reaches for me, her long pale arms outstretched, and laughing for sheer joy. “Dance with me?”

Taking her in my arms, one hand at her shoulder, the other nested at the base of her spine, together we sway and glide to the music which trickles around us.

So close, she smells of some perfume she’s wearing. It rises from within the silk like a drug, and like a drugged man, I stoop to lift her and carry her to the bed.

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The apartment.”

“Yes, you have a lovely home.”

“It's not my home. I bought it for you.”

She stiffens.... “What?”

“It’s not mine. It’s yours. I bought it for you. The deeds are in your name.”

“Put me down.”

“Mitch…”

“Put me down, you bastard.”

Confused, I release her, helping her stand again. She pulls away from me, her eyes slitting. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Mitch, it’s a gift. That’s all. I just wanted to give you what you deserve.”

“Don't you try to trap me,” she hisses. “Don't you dare try to trap me. Was that the plan all along? Get the little bird in its golden cage? Make me beholden to you? Own me?” She snatches up her shoes, jamming her feet inside. “You can go to hell!”

“Mitch. I didn't... I want to make you free. Give you choices...”

“Choices, eh?” she snarls. “The main one to be your chattel. Your property…”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No. Mitch, it’s a gift, no more than that.”

“An apartment? Just a gift? Flowers and chocolates, yes. Even jewellery…” She grabs up behind her neck, fumbling at the clasp of the necklace of emeralds before tugging it away and tossing it onto the bed.

“Yes, just a gift.”

She stands, a hand on one hip, head tilted back. “All right, so I can just accept all this…” She sweeps an arm around the room and to the door… “… and then tell you to get out of my life. Is that one of my choices?”

“No… Don’t do that. Mitch, I only want…”

“I’m going now,” she says. “This has gotten thoroughly out of hand. I can’t imagine what you thought you were doing.” She turns, heading for the door. “You’d better make arrangements to reclaim your property.”

“I can’t. I told you. I’ve put it in your name. Like it or not, legally it’s yours.”

She halts. “Really? You actually did that?”

“Yes. I don’t know what I have to say to convince you. It’s yours. Legally. A gift. To you. From me. If you did throw me out of your life, it would still be your property.”

Her head falls, her throat bobbing.

“Won’t you at least try it?” I say. “Stay here a few days? I'm going to be away for the next couple of weeks. I wouldn't be here.” Her eyes shift to mine. “You'd be free to think. To make up your own mind without me around. You wouldn't be pressured.”

She holds; still, almost frozen, save for the rise and fall of her chest.

“All I want is to give you the things you deserve. Without you having to… Without you having to... work.” She slow-blinks, her eyes softening. “You can always go back to your old place if you want to…”

Her face hardens again. “My own place…”

“Your own place then, if that makes you happy. It's not going anywhere. But this is your own place too.”

“And so where do you fit into this then? Am I supposed to be your kept woman?”

“You don’t have to be. You could if you wanted. I’d be happy with that. But you’d own an extra property. You could rent it out. Live off that. Or you could paint. Sell your work. You have a real talent. And you’d be able to spend as much time as you wanted reading.”

She watches me sidelong, listening, but some of the heat is fading from her eyes. “And you?”

“There's two bedrooms. You saw that. I didn't make assumptions.” The tension eases from her. Before my eyes, she’s relaxing. “Come have some more wine. We’ll sit together, talk. No more, not unless you want to.”

“All right, we’ll sit. We’ll talk. But I’m not promising anything.”

“That’s fine. That’s all I’m asking.”

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Later, I lie in the cold embrace of one of the twin beds, staring into the dark.

The door eases open, light spilling a slit over the blankets. “Got those pyjamas here?” she asks. She’s wearing my shirt.

“I do, yes.”

“It’ll be warmer if we sleep in the same bed.”

*****

Easing into warm wakefulness, I know that I’m being watched. My eyes snap open to meet Mitch’s, her head above mine, propped on knuckles.

“What am I supposed to make of you?” she says.

“Anything you want, Mitch.”

Leaning close, her lips meet mine. “Where were we last night?”

Reaching arms around her shoulders, I pull her close. “I want you.” I move a hand to clasp the curve of her waist, then to cup a breast through the shirt.

Her voice is a honeyed growl. “I thought we'd agreed we would make love rather than just have sex?”

“Are the two incompatible?”

“No, I don't think they are.” Hooking a finger into the waistband of the pyjamas, “Get rid of them.”

My cock rearing up, an obstruction to every movement, I tug the damn things away and she Mmmms, running a fingertip over my length, then gliding circles over the head. I can’t help myself, groaning and gasping as the pleasure tightens my groin and sets my balls crawling.

She hoists herself up, slinging a leg across me, straddling me, the shirt dangling to cover her vee’d thighs. She doesn’t touch me, doesn’t take me inside herself, but the heat of her bathes me, my shaft basking in the warm dampness close to her sex, pulsing with my heartbeat, twitching with anticipation.

Her eyes fixed on mine, she slips open the bottom button of the shirt, then the second. Slowly she moves upwards…

It’s odd; familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. She’s done this for me before, when I was paying her, when she was just the woman I’d rented for a few hours. But now, there is something in her glance; a knowledge of me…

Is that all?

Affection… perhaps?

She likes me.

She does like me…

Is that all it is?

Could it be more?

Be patient…

The shirt falls open. The morning sunlight is a sheen over the full curve of her breasts, a pale contrast to the valley between. I raise my arms, warm flesh filling each palm, her nipples small hard pearls, and the scent of her billowing…

Aroused?

Yes…

I was the first that did that for her…

I’m sure of it…

…

…

Take your time…

Take her slowly…

I want to thrust up, to jack-hammer into her, to fill her with myself, but I don’t, biting down to resist the urge.

What I want…

What I really want, is that moment; that moment of careening perfection that sends her reeling and me tumbling after her. When I know that I’ve given her what no-one else ever did.

My palms slipping away from the weight of her breasts, they slide flat down the line of her stomach. She tensions, her belly taut under my touch, but it’s not the tension of stress or denial. Her thighs, arched over me shudder and tremble, and her scent….

She wants me…

She wants me….

With one hand, I stroke the delicate skin of her thighs, working inward. With the other, I draw long, soft strokes inside, the lightest of touches over her folds.

Her head falls and she moans….

…. and it is the sweetest sound I ever heard.

She’s wet, growing ever more fluid, and as I tease at her clit, her body spasms then slackens and the sound that escapes her throat is a long ululating wail that holds words that are not words at all but sheer emotion…

Use my mouth?

No…

Watch her face…

With the pad of a thumb, I tease back the fleshy hood which protects her sweet spot then spiral the bud inside with a fingertip, toying with the tiny thing, flirting with her nerve endings.

She bucks and heaves then falls forward onto her hands, her breasts swinging over my face. Snagging a nipple between my lips, I mirror the movements of fingers and tongue, feeling it crinkle and harden, nubbing as I suck.

She rears up again, gazing down with those jewelled eyes. “I want you inside me.” The words escape with her breathing, her panting, and sweetest of all, I know that she means it.

My hands on her hips, I draw her down, my shaft anchoring against her, nuzzling at her entrance. As she takes me inside herself, her lids flutter and her pussy throbs around me.

I shift my grip, holding her by the hip with one hand, working her bud with the other as I thrust; long easy strokes that spill hot juices over me and draw the moan of an angel from her.

There’s a vibration, a shudder that passes from her pelvis to mine. Nudging at her clit, rubbing slippery flesh between thumb and forefinger, I watch her face, watch the glory rising there…

Her cries grow louder, longer, more… Her breathing grows ragged.

… and she wails into climax. Dropping forward onto her hands, her flesh ripples as she presses her face to my chest. One hand trapped between our bodies, with the other I hold her close, still thrusting as best I can from my position under her.

Her orgasm shudders through her body and against mine, that tidal-wave of the flesh. And as finally, she gasps and sags, the Rush takes me too. Blind to everything except her and my own euphoria, out of control, I pulse into her…

And again…

And again…

Mitch hauls herself upright, still straddling me. I’m buried deep inside her and she’s flushed, sweating and smiling. “That was amazing,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Yes…” I swipe sweat from my eyes… “… it was.”

She reaches down, strokes my face. “What am I going to do about you?”

Is that a serious question?

“I don’t know. What are you going to do about me?”

She rises with a noticeable sucking noise, swinging a long leg over, then perches beside me on the edge of the bed. Leaning in, she kisses me.

“Considering how we met, I suppose it’s nice to be invited into the bed of my lover.”

Inside me, something Hallelujahs!

But I try to keep my voice casual. “As I explained, this is your apartment.” I plant a fingertip between her breasts. “As is everything in it. In fact, you have invited me into your bed.”

She grows pensive.

“Can’t we at least talk about it?”

“You really bought this apartment, furnished it and put it in my name? It’s mine?”

“The apartment, and everything in it…”

Dare I say it?

“… and that includes me.”

“Larry…”

I press a finger to her lips. “As I said, I’m going away on business for a few days, a couple of weeks perhaps. Please say you’ll think about it.”

She drops elbows to knees, her hair swaying. Then, “Yes, I’ll think about it.”

I sit up, kiss her. “Thank you.”

She runs her hand into my hair, her face resting against mine. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“For two weeks?”

“At most.” I take her by the chin, hold her eyes. “I’ll be back by the fourteenth at the latest.”

“Valentine’s Day?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

*****