Chapter 15
“Tell me…”
“There was no photographer,” Isaak whispered.
His voice in her ear made her squirm in the nicest of ways and his words had her mouth open in surprise.
“When we were in the park? I made it up.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did,” Isaak said and she gave his back a small slap.
“You let me think we were being watched just so you…”
“No,” Isaak said, “I wanted you to be turned on.”
She lay there remembering that lovely sunny afternoon, the flutter in her stomach, the heat between her legs, and how badly she had wanted him to take her back to the hotel.
“It worked,” Kate said.
“I know,” Isaak replied. “You were soaked…”
“I wasn’t.”
His hand moved between her legs stroking her thigh as he kissed her, creeping ever higher up and then tracing his fingers around her labia slowly. “You were—like you are now,” he said as he slipped his fingers in.
God, it felt nice, Kate thought as he stroked her from the inside, deeper and deeper, building her up to come. She could feel his cock drizzling on her thigh as his mouth claimed hers and she just gave into the lovely sensations, the deep, noisy kisses, that rhythmic probe of his fingers. Isaak felt the clamp of her thighs around his hand but she remained soft and warm inside and he moved faster, deeper, till her mouth tried to move from his just so that she could breathe, just so she could concentrate on the feel of his fingers and the pressure of his palm but his mouth would not leave her. Kate could feel her face all hot and the friction within her had her thighs start to tremble, and she tried to pull her hips back, but he held her from the inside and would not give her space and he would not relent. She came to his hand, and Isaak stroked her through the deep contractions with both his fingers as his mouth caressed her and till her flushed face fell to the pillow.
Isaak felt her come abate and removed his fingers and took a breath and inhaled her scent and then moved over where Kate lay catching her breath, sated but slightly shocked as he pressed his fingers to her lips so she could both taste and smell herself. Then his mouth came over them, tasting her too, smelling her intimate scent, their tongues searching for each other from behind his fingers till she was frantic for his kiss, and when finally he removed them, wild, as his mouth claimed her, rolling her onto her back with Isaak over her, and he kissed her in a way she had never been and with a want she had never known.
He was up on his elbows, which anchored her head and his mouth made no allowance for breathing as he kissed without restraint, the way he wanted to, the way he possibly shouldn’t, if he wanted to take things slowly, as had been his intent.
His weight was deliciously consuming, and she craved more of it, his cock wedged between them, his balls smothering her sex that ached and lifted itself and silently pleaded as her hand slid between then and held him. Her legs parted, guiding him down, feeling the power and wanting it within. He moved her hand away and held onto her wrists, and there was no question if she was ready, her sex was pouting and slick and to Isaak it felt like it kissed his head as he nudged it in.
He said something low in Russian, something sexy and, Kate was quite sure, dirty and bad because as their mouths met, he laughed. “Don’t ask.”
“Okay…”
He was a little way in and yet it felt huge, nudging and squeezing inside to a place where he was very welcome.
“How do you describe your husband?” Isaak panted, trying hard not to come, his cock jerking as if someone had a foot on the hose, his balls already lifting as he tried to hold back while inching inside.
“Hot,” Kate said because that was how she felt, hot and sore and stretched but delicious. “Amazing,” Kate offered her hips raising and starting to move with his.
“And,” Isaak added, “very, very into you.”
He was, Isaak was very into her, and he gave her that moment to adjust to the sensation, then almost out, and then deeper in. He meant to be gentle. He meant to go slow and did for a few tender thrusts. Then when he released her hands, they moved down his back and to his buttocks and dug her nails in and then the bite of her mouth on his chest. With Kate he could be who he was at the time and right now, hearing her moan, feeling her move, Isaak gave in.
Kate felt the tension rip through him and she wanted more of it, the sensation of Isaak taking her beyond any point she could ever have imagined.
It hurt. Love hurt, but it was a delectable pain as he stripped her of shame and took her as she deserved to be taken—unreservedly. Deep, rapid thrusts that had her legs wrap around him, that had her mouth say things it had never because the more he claimed her, the more she wanted him.
Energy gathered, shooting down her spine and up her thighs, joining in her hot center, pulsing, gripping, begging, and then the reward of Isaak, the final swell and then the groan of release as he shot into her.
“My Katia…” he used the Russian version of her name though it meant pure in either language, and pure was their love, pure the passion, and pure their need for the other.
They lay there breathless in a bed that was all tangled, her nightdress torn and dangling from a chair and on their last morning in Paris, finally it looked like a honeymooners’ room should.
“You swore,” Isaak said.
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, baby, you did,” Isaak said.
“A bad habit I picked up from you, perhaps.”
“I’ve got so many more for you to pick up,” Isaak smiled and then cussed as the door knocked.
“Who the hell ordered breakfast,” Isaak said.
“You did.”
“Ah that’s right.” He kissed her naked shoulder. “Just so I could have you creep into my bed in the morning.”
He called for them to wait and he more suitably arranged the sheets and she remembered that very first morning and the care he had taken even them and how lucky was she to be the real Mrs Zaretsky.