28. Roman
Isabel gazed up at me, anticipating some kind of reaction, while I was still trying to wrap my mind around this new twist.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said breezily, her voice strained. “All I have to do now is cook the ravioli, and lunch will be ready.”
As if she hadn’t just told me how she almost became a nun in a convent. And God help me if her teasing the possibility of becoming a nun wasn’t the most tantalizing concept to join my list of fantasies about her. Probably grabbing top ranking.
Isabel must have concluded from the brittle silence that I was stunned speechless about what she’d told me. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure, her mom being a nun was surprising, and definitely the last thing I expected.
But then the notion of the nymph entering the sacred world of a nunnery under vows of poverty, chastity and obedience filled me with awe. At the same time, my mind and body’s response to the idea was wildly inappropriate.
It was Isabel’s wide-eyed look, her face laden with concern, that yanked me back to the present.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” she said softly. “It probably isn’t something you need to know at this point.”
I was at her side in a couple of strides, cupping her face and tilting it up to mine. “Are you kidding me? I’m extremely glad you told me. You’re this fascinating, complex woman with a rich, incredible story. But here’s the thing, you as a nun just made it into the vault of fantasies I’m collecting about you. Please don’t judge.”
Her concern trickled away and a smoky glare settled in her eyes, her hands trailing lightly over my abdomen and causing every muscle in the vicinity to tighten up.
“Me being a nun is a fantasy of yours?” she mused matter-of-factly. “A nun? For God’s sake, Roman. As long as you understand that makes you a very bad man. Very bad indeed.”
This lunch wasn’t happening soon enough.
“If I repent, can we start lunch?” I asked, not above begging.
“Only if you do exactly what I tell you to do,” she said, heaping the pretty ravioli into a pot of boiling water.
“I’m all ears.”
“Lunch will be ready in a few minutes,” she murmured casually. “Why don’t you go to one of the big couches and take a seat for me, please.”
There was nothing in Isabel’s voice that gave any room for argument. Nor did I have any intention of arguing. “I take it we won’t be eating at the table then.”
“No,” she said, tending to the ravioli with the vigilance of a neurosurgeon at work. “We won’t.”
Well then.
I took our champagne glasses to the living room and opened a new bottle of Laurent-Perrier Grand Siècle. It was clear the Chateau la Mission Haut-Brion Blanc 2009 I’d chilled for lunch might be a better choice for another time.
I poured the champagne and took a seat on the couch, wondering what exactly my honey badger was up to.
A few minutes later she wandered in with a plate of ravioli, wearing nothing but a pair of silk panties fringed with delicate lace. Her mane of locks was loose and cascading down her silky shoulders, her cheeks tinged with a pink flush.
Everything about her was so shamelessly inviting, the pouting lips with the Cupid’s bow surrendering to the sweetest smile. And that wide-eyed look of innocence. God, I’d never seen anything more beautiful, and I was ensconced in an unbearable haze of lust and endearment.
“I don’t want to mess on your shirt, so why don’t you take it off,” she instructed me in a voice that was huskier than usual. Which did nothing to cool the simmering blood coursing through my veins.
Not wasting any time, I undid each button on my shirt, Isabel’s gaze ravenously trailing my fingers. When I plucked off my shirt, she exhaled a sharp breath, her nipples tightening into delicious little pink points as a wave of goosebumps flitted across her skin.
“On second thought, take off your shoes and pants too. I could do it for you but I’m holding lunch.”
“Well, if I must.”
My pants had barely hit the floor when Isabel pushed me back on the couch, She crawled over me and straddled my lap, plate of ravioli in hand. And Christ if she didn’t position herself perfectly over my hard cock as it strained against my boxer briefs.
I felt my way up her thighs, pausing for the briefest moment to flick my thumbs over the edge of her panties, where her arousal was generously weeping through the sheer silk. I willed myself to move on and locked my fingers around her small waist, holding her still, more to protect myself from the tormenting urge to come than anything else.
“You don’t mind sharing a fork with me, do you?” she breathed.
“Share a fork, as in you put it in your mouth, and then in mine? Well, that’s where I draw the line, seriously now.”
That throaty giggle of hers rippled through the air in ebbs and waves, those emerald eyes flicking playful gazes into mine, gleaming with want. I shifted underneath her, just the right amount for her to understand that it might be better for lunch to commence sooner rather than later.
She gently stabbed a ravioli and took some time to admire her handiwork before offering me the bite. I thought it might be difficult to appreciate anything other than the naked nymph perched on my lap. But when I bit into the ravioli, exquisite flavors burst onto my tongue.
My eyes closed as I savored every bit. “This ravioli is incredible,” I said.
When I opened my eyes again, Isabel was watching me with a delicious, knowing little smile. As if feeding me these succulent bites was her dream come true. “I feel a little bad for whoever laid that table so beautifully,” she whispered. “If only they could see us now.”
“Oh, I’d prefer Gladys not see us right now,” I said. “But thanks for putting that thought in my head.”
When she finally stopped laughing, we shared the ravioli between sips of champagne and deep kisses. I had entered a state of complete and unimaginable bliss, the path to nirvana unencumbered and wide open.
Finally, when the last morsel of ravioli was devoured, the nymph slid the empty plate onto the end table. She delicately dabbed her lips and mine with the napkin, and then unceremoniously chucked the napkin aside.
And Christ if she didn’t sink to her knees between my spread legs, her big green eyes glinting into mine, her lower lip caught between her teeth. As if she was taking on a task that was about to change the world.
She tugged down my boxer briefs and inhaled a quivering breath at the sight of my throbbing cock. She dipped her nose into me, as if reveling in my scent.
Moisture pearled at the tip of my crown, and she languidly twirled her tongue over it, lapping up the drop, marveling at the taste. Which caused a thrilling blitz to cascade down my back and pool into a coiling blizzard of heat at the base of my spine.
All shades of desire painted her features before her tongue traveled a long, leisurely path up and down my shaft. Her lips parted as she took my crown into her warm wet mouth, gently sucking it as her small delicious moans vibrated through my cock.
My head dipped back, my vision blurring as slivers of sensation burned molten paths through my veins and limbs. “God I want to taste you, I want to be inside you,” I rasped, barely able to breathe.
When I looked at her again, she shook her head imperceptibly. “No, this is just for you,” she purred, her eyes searing into mine. “Happy Birthday, mon coeur.”
And with that she draped her hands around the base of my cock and blew a hot feathery breath across the tip. “Now show me what you like.”
I eagerly complied, groaning as my fingers raked through her mane, my hand cupping her head as her mouth eagerly wrapped around my cock. I gently guided her, for no other reason than to see how keenly she submitted to my demands, her body writhing between my thighs.
I couldn’t get enough of her enthralling resolve to take as much of me as she could into her mouth, even if it was an arduous task. Nor could I get enough of the sounds she emitted, noisily lapping and sucking, her tongue flicking against the underside of my cock, until every part of my body was a twisting tormented pool of tension begging for release.
I gritted my teeth, determined to stave off my orgasm a few seconds longer, not yet willing to let go of watching the nymph gracefully feasting on my cock, my eyes trapped in her ravenous gaze.
But pleasure and torment bit into every part of my skin, coiling through me relentlessly, annihilating every last shred of restraint. Until Isabel’s every lick and whimper became fuel dripping on a blazing flame.
My fingers skimmed down her cheek, down the column of her throat and curled around the base of her neck, where I could feel her pulse thrumming against my thumb. “My Isabel.”
And if the nymph didn’t look up at me with those emerald eyes glimmering in the light, her breath a little ragged, murmuring how she desperately wanted to swallow all of my seed until the very last drop. A sultry plea I wouldn’t have been able to resist if the empire was on the line.
It was my final undoing.
Her tongue fluttered one last time over my pulsing cock, and my climax clawed its way out and spiraled from the base of my spine to the very end of every part of me. My hand clenched a fistful of he hair as I succumbed to the orgasm tearing through my muscles and veins and crashing over me like a wave onto the shore.
I shuddered through my release, soaking the nymph’s greedy mouth and watching her catch stray drops with her pink tongue while lavishing me with a sweet little smile. As if she hadn’t singlehandedly blasted me into orbit and artfully cushioned my fall back to earth.
For a while it was quiet, the nymph’s head idling on my thigh, her fingers tenderly curled around my resting cock.
Once I caught my breath, I gently pulled her up onto my lap and kissed her, my fingers buried in her hair. I kissed her until she was breathless, until it burned through any doubt she might ever have. Any doubt that now she belonged to me, and to me alone. She kissed me back as if all she wanted to be was mine.
Her heartbeat fluttered against my chest as I whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She sighed, crawling into me, a familiar little tremble skating up and down her spine. My fingers found their way to her panties, which were already mercilessly soaked.
And even if all I wanted to was rip them off and bury my mouth between her thighs, I knew it was the pair of French panties the nymph treasured. Not like I couldn’t gift her a treasure trove of French lingerie, but alas I’d expect her to protest that notion heatedly.
So I took my time to gently rid Isabel of her favorite underwear, and the feel of her slickness on my lap had me go from soft to hard again in seconds.
I relished the feel of her silken skin against mine, the soft gasp when she felt my cock springing back to life underneath her, and the way she buried her face in my neck when my fingers trailed down her back.
In one sweep I scooped her up and carried her to the king-size bed on the other side of the apartment. I laid her down on her back and gently opened her legs, her glistening sex shamelessly inviting me to indulge.
She sighed happily as I licked and teased and kissed my way down from her neck and breasts to her belly, whispering, “Now it’s your turn, my sweet.”
Then I buried my mouth between her thighs.