The Seduction Of Claudia (4 page)

Andrews pushed her onto her back again, sweeping the sheet away from her body. He moved to cover her, deepening their kiss, taking her mouth roughly. Claudia spread her legs enough so that his hips were between her thighs, his cock nestled against her pussy. He slid back and forth suggestively, bathing his cock in her wet heat. Claudia rolled her hips, seeking greater contact. She slid her hands down his back to his buttocks, clenched them, pulling his hips harder against hers.

Andrews kneeled up between her legs, looked down at the way she was spread wantonly beneath him. The expression on his face had hardened; he looked at her dispassionately, heat and lust blazing in his eyes, but the tenderness that had been there before was gone. He took her hands and placed them above her head, wrapped the fingers of each hand around two slats in the headboard of her mission-style sleigh-bed.

"Keep them there," he ordered.

Claudia drew in a shaky breath, unsure of what he was about and incredibly aroused by his commanding demeanor. She tightened her hands on the headboard, anchoring herself.

Andrews leaned over her, opened her mouth with his and gave her a searing kiss. His cock nudged against her clit as he hung over her. Except for that glancing touch and the junction of their lips, their bodies didn't touch anywhere else. Claudia lifted her hips to his, encouraging more contact. Andrews pulled away from her, depriving her of his touch. He reached over and retrieved the bottle of massage oil. He poured some in his hands, warmed it. Reaching up, he smoothed it onto her outstretched arms, kneading the muscles. He looked into her eyes as he stroked, his intense blue ones meeting limpid pools of vivid green. He stroked her slowly and deliberately. Adding more oil, he moved his hands down over her shoulders to her chest and ultimately to her breasts.

He took them in his hands, kneaded them, circled with his fingertips but avoided touching the nipples that had become hard peaks. Her breathing quickened and he leaned down, laved his tongue over one tip, then the other, light caresses that had her catching her breath and arching her back. He alternated between one breast and the other, circling the nipples with his tongue, but never giving her what she wanted. He continued massaging the fullness of her breasts, the result being that her nipples were as engorged as they'd ever been.

Claudia whimpered, thinking she would die if he didn't take her nipple into his mouth. Her nipples throbbed with the need for the suction of his mouth. The place between her legs seemed conspicuously empty; the muscles there contracted around the nothingness there. She writhed under him and managed to graze the top of his cock again with her body.

"Andrews, please! God! Please, do it!" she gasped.

Having achieved the desired result of having her beg, Andrews teased her for a moment longer, then sucked her nipple in his mouth. Hard. Claudia moaned her ecstasy and reached down to cup his head more tightly to her. Without lifting his head from her breast, he grasped her hand firmly and placed it back on the headboard. Switching to her other breast, he gave it the same treatment.

Claudia was desperate for him. She wanted to feel his body plastered to hers. Instead, he feasted on her, his mouth and hands on her breasts the only parts of him that touched her. She arched her back, lifted her hips from the bed, trying to get closer to him. The emptiness between her legs became a pleasurably throbbing ache. She felt as if her skin was too small to contain all the sensations that coursed just under the surface.

Andrews let his hands roam further down her torso, encircled her ribcage, followed the curves of her body with his thumbs. He poured more oil into his hands, slicked it over her. He leaned down, nipped at her stomach, dipped his tongue into her shallow bellybutton.

Claudia moaned, knew what was coming next, could barely contain her delight and relief that soon she would feel his mouth on her pussy. Andrews placed a closed-mouth kiss on her mound that had Claudia pressing her hips upward. Then, with firm strokes of his oil-slicked hands, he moved away from that highly sensitized area of her body. He rubbed the crease of her thighs and down. Claudia's breath caught in disappointment and need, she hung poised in a state of aroused suspension, waiting for what she craved. Andrews worked oil into her skin, moving down the tops and outsides of her legs to her feet, then slowly moved up, working the insides of her legs. Reaching the apex of her thighs, his thumbs brushed her swollen, wet lips. He massaged them. Using her juices and the oil that remained on his hands as lubricant, he ran his hands, a little roughly, all over her mons, avoiding her clit, which was engorged and throbbing.

Claudia ground her hips against his hands, desperation fueling her. Andrews spread the lips of her pussy with his thumbs and let the cool air of the room wash over her hot, wet flesh. He leaned down, inhaled the heady scent of her arousal. Extending and stiffening his tongue, he ran it from the bottom of her sex to the top, ending with a firm stroke against her clit, then lifted his head. Claudia cried out, afraid that he would continue teasing her, yet despairing that he would stop. She reached down, tightened her fist in his hair.

"Put your hand back on the headboard," he said in a low voice, his tone brooking no argument.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Claudia obeyed. Satisfied with her compliance, Andrews lowered his head again and proceeded to feast. He licked and nibbled her pussy, sucking her lips into his mouth, spearing his tongue into her as she bucked her hips against him. He gripped her hips, held her down, lightly circled her clit with his tongue. Her body trembled and she began to moan, gasping and panting, pleasure claiming her senses. She wanted more, wanted him to suck her clit into his mouth, to end her agony of sweet ecstasy. She tried to press her hips upward, found she couldn't. Shifting his hands, Andrews pressed one on top of her pubic bone, still holding her immobile. He slid the forefinger of his free hand into her, felt her muscles clamp down. He added another finger, felt her stretch wetly around him. He began to thrust his fingers in and out of her sheath slowly, twisting them as he did so. He firmed the strokes of his tongue on her clit, sometimes laving her with its pointed tip, other times flattening it, letting her feel the entire suede texture of it against her.

Claudia panted, her breaths coming faster and deeper. Waves of pleasure coursed through her body, washing her in heat. Andrews sped up the strokes of his fingers in her. He lifted his mouth from her to watch her as he fucked her with his fingers. Claudia gasped, bereft that he'd taken his mouth off of her. She keened, "No, Andrews, please don't stop. Please!"

He lowered his head, flicked her clit with his tongue, felt her body start to quake.

"Mmm, yes, Andrews, that's so good," she moaned and found that she could move her hips again. She ground upward, pressing her clit more firmly against his tongue, grunting, moaning and panting in rhythm with the thrusts of her hips, his fingers and his tongue. Then he sucked her clit firmly into his mouth and she exploded, bucking hard, squeezing his head between her slim thighs. Andrews pressed her thighs apart and pushed her harder, higher until she was lightheaded and felt her fingertips and toes start to tingle. She rode the crest of her orgasm for a long moment. She held her breath as she hung suspended on the tide of pleasure. He seemed to know just when to let up on her; he gentled his motions, his tongue and fingers more soothing now than arousing. She gasped for air, her eyes closed, her fingers loosely gripping the headboard. Her body was completely limp, she was drained. The muscles in her pussy clenched in spasms; apparently they were the only muscles on her body capable of any movement whatsoever.

Claudia opened her heavy-lidded eyes. They were glazed with passion, her pupils dilated. Andrews slid his fingers out of her slickness. Her eyes widened slightly when he held his hand to her mouth and said,

"Suck them clean."

Claudia opened her mouth, took his fingers in, tasted herself, sucked her sweet/tangy juices off of them. Andrews's composure cracked. He had held himself apart during this encounter, wanting to drown her in desire, bathe her in passion. He had driven himself mad in his seduction of her. He was painfully hard; he needed to be inside of her in the worst way. Without preamble, he thrust into her hard, drove into her to the hilt. She was so wet, so tight; her pussy clamped around him as he withdrew and thrust home again. He was beyond the point of being gentle, beyond the point of making love to her. He took her roughly, fucking her, going as deeply into her as he could.

Claudia released her grip on the headboard, pulled Andrews's head down to give him a hot open-mouthed kiss. She met every one of his thrusts with an upward thrust of her own. The fine line between pleasure and pain began to blur as he pounded into her. All of her was focused on where they were joined; she felt herself being sucked into a vortex of all-consuming pleasure. Sweat gleamed on his body and his face was starkly set; lines of excruciating passion marked his features.

He straightened his arms, braced himself above her, changing the angle of penetration. He was able to thrust harder, at the same time stimulating Claudia's clit on each inward thrust. Claudia moaned, a low sustained sound that signaled the arrival of her climax. It ripped through her violently, wave after wave of it flogging her raw senses. Andrews felt the strong rhythmic contractions of her pussy and managed to thrust once more, again, then again. With a muffled roar, he came, pumping into her forcefully and repeatedly. He collapsed on top of Claudia, his breath coming hard and fast, the pulse in his neck pounding visibly.

Claudia wrapped her legs around his waist, the movement eliciting another spasm from her and a moan from Andrews. She turned her head, nipped his shoulder with her teeth, licked the spot, then kissed it. She stroked his back, soothed him, feeling the muscles there ripple as he struggled to regain his breath. A layer of sweat coated their bodies and as Andrews lifted himself off of her, their skin came unglued.

He collapsed next to her without a word and reached across her to extinguish the lamp on the nightstand. Exhausted, he pulled her to him spoon-fashion and kissed the back of her neck. The next thing she knew, his breathing had turned deep and regular. He slept.

Claudia was dazed; she felt so many things at once. A little bruised and battered, but sated from head to toe. She had been well-loved, then well-used. She was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open, but she was also exhilarated and strangely energized. She felt the fog of contentment stealing over her, yet the niggling worry that it was temporary was at the back of her mind.

She lay awake for a time, cataloguing her feelings. As the blue-gray light of dawn stole into the sky, she drifted off to sleep, cradled in Andrews's arms.

Claudia woke in the morning to a bright winter sun shining through the bamboo blinds on her bedroom window. Immediately, instinctively, she knew that she was alone in her apartment. Andrew had left. She felt a vague sense of disappointment that he wasn't there, but she also acknowledged that she needed time away from him to examine their newly forged relationship under the clear light of day.

Getting out of bed, Claudia slid into a kimono of jade-green silk shot through with a red, yellow and black embroidered pattern. She padded barefoot down the hall to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. When she reached the kitchen, she found a note from Andrew leaning against the coffeemaker:

'Morning, Legs - I'm at my house, working. I'll be there most of the day if you want me. Dinner tonight? 6:30-ish? I'll be by to pick you up then. Dress casually. A.

Oh, really? Dinner, she thought. For a split second, she entertained the idea that she should stand him up. He hadn't really asked if she would go out with him for dinner, had he? She wanted to see him, though, and knew that if she didn't go, she'd be depriving herself unnecessarily. She'd go.

Claudia wasn't sure how she felt about Andrew having left without saying goodbye. She supposed that she wasn't entitled to feel anything at all about it. One of the terms of their agreement was that there were no strings attached. That meant that they could each come and go as they pleased, that they would have no real expectations of one another. She had always thought that was what she wanted in a relationship, but it felt strange to be alone after they had shared such a passionate night. Before, they always spent mornings together drinking coffee and chatting before they went their separate ways. She had missed that when they had broken up, but had eventually grown used to being on her own. She had been expecting that they would drift back into their old patterns and habits and was a bit disconcerted that they hadn't. You've finally gotten what you said you wanted; companionship with no strings, no entanglements, she told herself sternly, expectations lead to disappointment and heartbreak. Smiling ruefully, and maybe a touch sadly, Claudia finished measuring coffee and water and flipped the switch on the coffeemaker. While the coffee brewed, she took a shower, lingering under the hot spray. In spite of the unease that lingered in the back of her mind about the situation with Andrew and a pleasant ache between her thighs, she felt an overall sense of well-being. She felt as she did after a vigorous workout -- energized, centered and strong. She finished her shower and toweled off with a fluffy sage-green towel. Looking in the mirror, she had to acknowledge that her appearance matched the way she felt. She hadn't noticed until now that she had been displaying tension, strain and worry on her face. The absence of those emotions left her with a glowing complexion and relaxed visage.Well, at least the sex is doing me some good, she thought as she lavishly applied moisturizer to her body.

She dressed for maximum comfort in a velour tracksuit and a warm pair of wool socks. She planned to spend the day listening to the audition tapes she hadn't gotten to last night. She poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a yogurt and a banana for her breakfast. She went into her office-cum-guest bedroom where she sat at her desk and cued up the first tape.

She worked all day, listening to tape after tape, making notes about each on her laptop and reviewing each applicant's curriculum vitae. Surprisingly, there were a few talented students this time around and hearing their tapes made the day's task seem less onerous. She had to force herself to focus on her work, because thoughts of Andrew and last night were never far from her mind. Sounds, images, tastes and sensations of their lovemaking flashed in her mind. Her body suffused with heat, arousal curled low in her belly as she thought of the things she and Andrew had done. Over and over, she pulled her mind back to the tapes she was listening to and, more than once, she had to rewind a tape in order to give it the undivided attention it deserved. She didn't leave her office at all that day except to satisfy her body's most basic demands. She finished listening to the tapes just as night fell. It was really only late afternoon, but it was as dark as night what with the winter-shortened hours of daylight. She looked at her watch and saw that she had about an hour and a half before Andrew came to pick her up. Her stomach lurched with a mix of excitement and nervousness. How should she behave with him tonight, she wondered, and where was he taking her?

She decided pamper herself a little with a nice hot bath before he picked her up. As the tub filled, she went to her closet and surveyed her wardrobe. Casual, she thought, he'd said to wear something casual... She decided to wear her favorite pair of jeans; they were low-slung and fit her perfectly, being neither too tight nor too loose. She selected a dove-gray cashmere v-neck sweater that she'd picked up on sale at the Barney's New York clearance outlet. It was sinfully soft and molded to her curves perfectly, displayed a hint of cleavage without looking slutty or overtly provocative. Now for underwear, she thought with more than a twinge of gleeful anticipation. She chose a pewter-colored bra with lace cups and matching ultra low-rise lace boy shorts. Mmm, she thought approvingly, just the right mix of casual, understated sexiness. Can't look like I've tried too hard, can I?

Satisfied with her clothing selections, she retreated to the bathroom. She undressed, then drizzled scented oil into the steaming tub of water. She secured her curly hair atop her head in a messy knot secured with two ebony chopsticks she kept for that purpose and stepped into the tub.

She luxuriated in the bath, allowing the scented steam to permeate her senses. Leaning her head back against the inflatable bath pillow, she replayed the events of last evening in her mind. She had thoroughly enjoyed being with Andrew. Even from the first moment she saw him, she had been unable to resist or deny that she was still strongly attracted to him. She had been laboring under the delusion that she was over him; seeing him had quickly disabused her of that notion. The fact that she hadn't successfully mastered her emotions had seriously annoyed her and as she thought about it now, she felt a little ashamed that she'd behaved like a spoiled child who wasn't getting what she wanted. She knew that she'd been unpleasant in her behavior toward Andrew. She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd told her to go to hell. In fact, she would have told him exactly that had the shoe been on the other foot.

She felt a little guilty when she thought of what it must have cost Andrew to persist in his pursuit of her in the face of her petulance. Well, he did ultimately get what he wanted out of it, she thought with a naughty grin, she couldn't feel guilty about everything that happened last night! Her smile dimmed as she decided that, at the very least, she should apologize and try to make it up to him somehow.

That was the hard thing, though. As a result of the turbulent home life her mother had provided, she had a hard time dealing with emotions. Even something as simple as an apology, made her feel uneasy, vulnerable and just, well... messy. She had never been physically abused, but she had been exposed to many overly adult conversations and situations growing up and they had left an indelible mark on her. Strong emotions, she had learned, led people to behave irrationally. She also knew that she never wanted to be held hostage by her emotions; she did not want to feel that someone else had power over her because of feelings she may have for that person.

She vividly remembered one incident when she'd awoken in the night and heard her mother's raised voice, shrill one minute, pleading the next. Claudia had left her bed and crept down the hallway to her mother's room to investigate. The door was only partially closed and Claudia saw her mother with tears streaming down her face as she looked beseechingly at her lover. Claudia couldn't remember the man's name. Indeed, his name was unimportant, for he was just another one of the interchangeable wealthy businessmen her mother met through her job as an executive assistant at an investment firm downtown. The tall, aristocratic looking blond man stood next to the bed, mostly dressed, but his pants were still unzipped, his shirt unbuttoned. Her mother, dressed a silk wrapper, her long, curly black hair wild and loose, stood on the opposite side of the bed. The huge bed between them was a mess of expensive tangled sheets. The light in the room was dim and Claudia remembered how candlelight had flickered across the ceiling and could recall the musky floral scent the candles had emitted. Her mother, Marcheline, had begged the man not to leave, telling him she'd do anything if only he'd keep seeing her. The man told her in no uncertain terms that he was through with her and sat down on the end of the bed to put on his shoes and socks. Not willing to take no for an answer, her mother had stripped out of her robe and stood naked before her lover.

She lowered her voice, adopting a seductive tone as she ran her hands over her silky dark skin.

"Baby, you won't ever find anyone who does you like I do," she whispered, cupping her small breasts, squeezing her engorged nipples between her fingers. She walked slowly to where the man sat at the foot of the bed.

"Aren't you going to miss this?" she asked, placing a foot on the bed next to his thigh. She ran her slim hand between her breasts, caressing herself, moving her hand ever downward until she reached the nest of curls between her legs. With her foot propped on the bed, the lips of her pussy were spread open. Marcheline's plan was working: she had her lover's undivided attention. She stroked her pussy for a moment, then probed one finger deep inside and brought it out, waved it under her lover's nose, sighing,

"Mmmm, smell me. Taste me."

The man's eyes darkened as he inhaled then grabbed hold of her mother's hand and sucked her fingers into his mouth. Marcheline had purred in delight. She took his hand and guided it to her pussy. The man played there for a long while. Claudia couldn't see what he did, but her mother seemed to like it. She was moaning, encouraging him, begging him for more.

"Do you feel that, baby? Do you feel how wet I am for you?" her mother had purred. Dropping to her knees in front of him, she tugged at his pants and underwear until they fell in a pool around his ankles. She slid her hands seductively up and down his thighs. Claudia had never seen a naked man before and couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of the man's thick length. Marcheline took his throbbing cock in her hands, cooing something Claudia couldn't hear. Wide-eyed, she watched her mother stroke and tease the man's cock with her lips and tongue until finally he had taken her head in his hands and said hoarsely,

"Marcheline, take it, take it all in."

Her mother gazed up at him with heavy lidded eyes and slowly took the whole length of him in her mouth. The man moaned, eyes closed as his head fell back. Claudia thought he looked like he might be in pain, but intuited that it might be a pain he enjoyed because he kept moaning and saying things like,

"Yeah, that's it, that it's, Marcheline, suck my cock."

Artfully, deliberately, Marcheline brought the man perilously close to coming over and over again, stopping just before he did each time. She had a look of satisfaction on her face as she worked him, like the cat who got the cream. When he begged her to let him come, her eyes glowed with triumph. Taking her mouth off of his cock, she gave the head one last long, slow lick then rose up and pushed him back on the bed. She crawled up him, took his cock in her hands and guided it slowly into herself. Claudia watched incredulously as the man's thick cock slid into her mother. Marcheline was very petite and Claudia couldn't imagine that the whole thing would fit. It did. Her mother sighed and murmured something when the whole thing was inside her. The man gripped Marcheline's hips tightly, his long white fingers in stark contrast with her mother's dark chocolate flesh. His fingers dug into her as he raised her up and brought her down hard again. Her mother braced her hands against his chest and swiveled her hips. From her position above him, she slowed the pace of their fucking. The man began to pant raggedly and, with sharp upward thrusts of his hips, attempted to force Marcheline into a faster rhythm. Marcheline kept the pace slow, rising up until only the tip of his cock was still inside her, then ever so slowly taking the entire length of him. Now, then, and again, she would twist her hips and grind against him.

They went on this way, with Marcheline controlling the ebb and flow of pleasure. The lovers' bodies had grown sweaty and shone slick in the flickering candlelight. Marcheline rode him, gradually increasing the pace and force of her gyrations, spurring both of them toward climax. She arched her back suddenly as she came, crying out in sweet agony and ecstasy. The man seemed to lose control then and flipped her mother over and pounded into her with fast, deep thrusts. Claudia thought he looked ridiculous with his pants in a bunch around his shod feet. He humped into her mother, grunting, and Claudia thought his pale buttocks looked somehow pitiful or forlorn. Her mother spurred him on, saying breathily,

"Yeah, baby, fuck me, fuck me hard. You know I'm the best, don't you? I love feeling your cock inside me..."

He roared suddenly and Claudia flinched at the suddenness of the sound. He pounded into her mother a few times more, then collapsed on top of her. Marcheline stroked his back, once again saying soft, soothing things Claudia couldn't hear. The man got up abruptly. Still breathing hard, he yanked his clothes into place, fastening buttons and zippers.

Marcheline looked shocked. She sat bolt upright in bed, naked and wild looking.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" she asked, disbelief plain in her voice.

"I told you, Marcheline. It's over. You're a great lay; I can't deny that. For all the other womanly attributes you lack, you are talented in the sack," he'd said with a rueful laugh, "but I'm still going and I won't be back."

"Mon amour, please don't go," her mother cajoled sweetly, "I love you in ways no one else has... You told me so yourself! You'll never find another woman like me!" As she spoke, her voice gathered in volume and desperation.