The Accidental Mistress (6 page)

"May I?"

"Huh?" her lids opened from her heavy with
desire. He was pushing both her thighs up and apart before the
action registered with her brain. He then traced his tongue over
the sensitive skin of her clit. She lowered her crossed arms from
her breasts and gripped the bed sheets when he dragged her down the
mattress. She pulled the sheets with her to the edge.

He knelt before the foot of the bed. With
her legs spread apart she revealed more than he could ever have
imagined. He flicked his tongue at her bud and Zuri smiled at how
it quivered in response. Christophe fastened his lips on her
clitoris and she shuddered. Pleasure rocketed through her pelvis
almost violently.

His tongue was insistent. It probed and gave
delicious swirls that ended in licks and nips that had her
thrashing about. She wanted to close her thighs, but all attempts
were thwarted by the powerful way he kept her pinned as he feasted.
She tried to scoot back and away, and he growled his impatience,
dragging her back down. When she thought she'd scream with
maddening delight he let go his hold and inserted his finger.
Zuri's back bowed from the mattress.

"I want more," he grunted in such a deep
hoarse voice her pussy clenched.

Zuri barely opened her eyes, racked with
warm zings of pleasures all through her channel as she neared her
end. But he pulled her down off the bed and fell to his back. At
first, disoriented with desire, she didn't understand. She soon
uncovered his true intent when he lifted her and forced her to sit
on his face.

Zuri fell forward, her hands flat to both
sides of his head and her breasts circling. He pierced her cunt
with his tongue then licked up to her clitoris. She grunted,
sweating and panting, now on the edge of abandon.

He did things she couldn't name. It was more
feeling, probing, kissing, licking, sucking down there until she
was digging her nails into the carpet. She ended up bouncing on his
face and creaming him like some brazen harlot. She couldn't believe
the primal urge to shake loose every drop of her essence. Once
done, she fell forward, his face still buried beneath her. He eased
her up off him and she felt weightless again as he picked her up
and then positioned her on the bed.

She felt him shift and reach beyond her as
the sound of the box opening and the unraveling of a row of condoms
caused her to blush. She would have watched, wanted to see the
beast of a cock between his legs sheathed, but she turned on her
side, holding herself around her abdomen while shuddering out the
last of her orgasm. She shuddered until the urge to come was
gone.

He flipped her over onto her back, took her
face into his palms and he forced her thighs apart with his hip,
"You're shivering? Are you cold?"

"Yes, she stammered." It was a lie, but how
could she explain the mix of fear and excitement gripping her. He
drew the blankets over them. In doing so, she felt his cock-head
rub and brush her quivering pussy. She stiffened out of reflex.

Relax, Zuri. Please don't embarrass
yourself. It'll hurt, but it will be over soon. Then you will know
what all the mystery is about. You know the semantics of it. It’s
just your hymen he has to breech, then....

"Better?" he smiled.

"Yes," she nodded, lifting her arms to his
neck. His name was Christophe. Christophe, Christophe, Christophe,
Christophe! But Christophe what? She forgot if he ever told her. He
was Christophe, her first lover, her first one-night stand, or
maybe they could have another?

She forced the thoughts from her head when
his lips brushed hers and she was greeted with the unexpected
flavoring of her own sex on his breath. Aroused, she drew his
tongue back into her mouth and slowly sampled herself. She liked
it, letting her fingers go up into the silken curls of his hair at
his nape. His hands held her hips, angling her pelvis and forcing
her thighs wider still.

The head of his penis probed gently at her
opening. Her breath was a bubble in her throat and her eyes
squeezed tight through their kiss. Then a single thrust lodged him
halfway inside of her. She choked out a cry of resistance, and
pushed at his hips to stop him.

Christophe froze.

Everything in the room went still.

The kissing stopped.

His head slowly lifted and the dazed
expression on his face cleared to a new understanding.

"Don't stop," she said, her voice a quivery
mess of syllables.

"Shit." He tried to lift off her.

"No! Wait,
don't
—
"

"Why?" he asked.

"
Je veux te faire
l’amour
," she said
softly.

Christophe looked at her with concern, and
surprisingly distrust. But she grabbed his face, despite her
discomfort she lifted off the pillow to greet his mouth that parted
with half formed objections. She gave him the most pleading of
sensual kisses. He groaned in his throat, putting his weight on
her. Then raised his hips and sank all the way in. She dug her
nails deep into his flesh and came undone. The stretching was
almost bearable thanks to the soft caresses he applied up and down
her thighs during his descent.

Christophe began to move, the sure solid
thrusts taking him deeper. He kissed her face, dropping to her
breasts as he humped his back and continued to pump his way in and
out of her.

Zuri heard her cries and didn't recognize
the pleasurable high-pitched notes escaping her throat. She was
unable to control the shockwaves of ecstasy crashing over her as
his loving touched a part of her she never knew existed.

Christophe stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice strained
but tender as his shoulders shook with his battle to remain in
control.

"Yes," she sniffed. "It feels
wonderful."

"You're wonderful, Zuri, to
give me something so precious." He kissed her, and that sealed
it.
She was in love.
Right there in that moment, she knew in her soul that he was
the one.

He began to move in an exquisite unstoppable
rhythm that had her body responding in her delight. The sore ache
turned into a blaze of sensations that gathered in intensity like a
lightening storm to the center of her clitoris and she exploded in
such a flush of pleasure and wet release that she clawed at his
back and bucked beneath him in wide eyed amazement.

Yes. This had to be love.

***

"Zuri, Zuri?" he said kissing her face.

She needed a minute to gather herself. It
was too much too soon. She just couldn't speak. He caressed the
side of her face with his jaw "Tell me you're okay," he said into
her ear.

"I am," she managed.

Christophe kissed her brow, heaved a deep
sigh, and withdrew his semi erect member, slowly. Cold air covered
her feverish body as the blanket lifted and he escaped the bed to
the bathroom. She heard him piss, and flush away the condom, and
wash his hands. She gathered the sheets about her, moving out of
the wet spot, anxious for his return.

She felt marvelous.

"I don't understand this. Why didn't you
tell me you were a virgin?" he asked.

She opened her eyes. He had returned but not
to the bed. He towered over her. The hard edge to his voice was
unmistakable. He was angry. Why?

"I just didn't tell you. Why does it
matter?"

"Your first time doesn't matter?" he
snapped.

"Huh? No, what I mean
is
—
"

"And the condoms, you planned this? Picking
up some guy in a bar? Seducing him? To just give yourself away? For
what?"

"No. Not like that, I just
thought
—
"

"What's your game?"

Hurt, she sat up, the sheet now balled to
the front of her chest in her fist, "I wasn't playing a game. I
told you my sister gave me those."

"I think you should leave."

Zuri was floored. "You what?"

"The alcohol got the best of us...of
me."

"You bastard. You make love to me and then
throw me out?"

"It wasn't love. We don't know each other,"
he corrected her coolly.

Zuri couldn't believe how foolish she was.
She didn't understand how he could be so mean to her. Just a moment
ago he was kissing away her fears, now he stood there as if she was
trying to rob him of something. Worse yet, was the humiliation of
what he implied. It was true. She had dismissed all the strict
disciplines of her life, her father's lessons and rules, and she
had just walked up to a complete stranger and handed over something
so precious. Tears glittered in her wide eyes. Christophe looked
away, but crossed his arms determined that she leave.

"Forgive me for thinking you were a decent
guy. Guess the joke is on me." She got up from the bed taking the
sheet with her. He stepped in front of her.

"Look, I didn't mean it that way. It’s
just... I don't know what to make of you, and I'm so sick of
fucking women tricking me into believing they are one thing when
they’re not. I just don't understand how you could be so innocent
and respond to me the way you did in bed? What the hell is going
on?"

"Go to hell, you pompous
ass. It takes two. If you had questions and doubts, then you should
have asked them before you screwed my brains out!" She hurried to
the bathroom where her clothes were. Behind the door, she let go of
her tears. She quickly put on her soiled dress and came out to find
him seated on the edge of the bed in his boxers with his head in
his hands. He looked up at her as if he was wounded. She hated
him.
Christophe, Christophe, Christophe,
the mean bastard!

"You had no right to go through my purse,
you jerk."

"Zuri, I'm messed up, okay. I shouldn't have
let things go this far. Trust me. You should be thanking me that I
asked you to go."

"I'll pretend this never happened. You do
the same."

"Zuri
wait
—
"

Wait for what? More
insults? No thanks.
She didn't. She was out
into the hall and nearly running in her heels to the elevator. She
felt shattered. Zuri would never understand how after all he made
her feel she would end up feeling betrayed in the end.

Chapter Four

Christophe punched the door once, twice,
three times, until the plaster chipped. "Fuck!"

The fury didn't ease. He lowered his
throbbing fist and sucked down several calming breaths. He could
feel the swelling spread across his knuckles. He should have
controlled himself. Realizing his mistake, he snatched the door
open. The hall was empty. She was gone.

What did he need with a woman who made him
think of a time when he wanted to be a massage therapist, and live
off playing his guitar? All stupid frivolity went through his head
when he kissed her. Christophe slammed the door. His hands clutched
his hair and gripped fistfuls until he felt the tightness from the
root. He spun to face the darkness.

The suite felt colder and so did he.
Christophe's gaze eventually returned to the bed. He saw her again,
with those large brown eyes and succulent mouth. He could still
smell the lavender on her skin and taste the tangy sweetness of her
sex. Christophe closed his eyes for a brief second to shake the
image. When he failed, he stormed through the room into the outside
suite. He found the half empty liquor bottle and decided to drink
from it. Gabriella was the bitch he wanted to hurt. Instead, he'd
been a dick and crushed an innocent woman. His father was right,
when he finally walked out on his bitter manipulative mother.

Women weren't worth the trouble.

***

"Zuri!
Qu'est-ce que c'est?
What is it?"

Zuri clung to her sister. She hugged Joi's
neck, barely letting her close the door. Together they stumbled
back inside.

"I thought you went home, that you left?"
Zuri’s arms were forced down and from around her sister's neck. Joi
searched her face for an explanation. She knew how wild she looked.
She reeked of dried vomit, alcohol, and his sex.

"Did somebody hurt you? Zuri, stop crying
and tell me what happened. You're scaring me!"

The question made her sick,
and soon the sickness became a physical pain. Zuri rushed into the
bathroom; she sprayed vomit over the toilet again. Joi dropped to
her knees and rubbed her back. "Tell me what happened, please. Tell
me,
s'il te plaît
," Joi wept.

Zuri found the words to share the sordid
story. The bar, the drinks, waking up in a man's bed that she
thought was Joi's. She told her how she kissed him, asked him to
take make love to her. How he made her feel, until he discovered
she was a virgin. Even then he was caring. But in the end it all
went wrong. He threw her out like she was nothing more than a
whore.

"The bastard! What is his room number?" Joi
shouted. Her sister began to speak fast in Creole, of finding and
castrating her tall Casanova. Zuri didn't want revenge. She just
wanted to forget.

"No. He didn't hurt me physically. He's not
worth it, Joi."

"The hell he isn't. How dare he?"

"I'm fine. Let me catch my breath," said
Zuri.

Everything dissolved to a bland all
encompassing numbness. Colors were no longer vivid. Joi's questions
went past her. Her body was stiff and she felt awkward in her
skin.

"I'm disappointed, I suppose," she
confessed.

"Disappointed? You were insulted,
abused."

"No. Not really. I put myself in that
situation. The thing is, Joi, I really thought we hit it off. But
something is wrong with him."