Futile Resistance Ch 02

French woke up in the middle of the night with a headache, a dry mouth and a large, warm man wrapped around her.

Oh, no

, she thought,

what did I do?

Lying as still as possible so as not to wake him, she took stock of the previous night.

She'd seen Aidan at the party, then drank a margarita. Then she'd danced with Aidan. Then drank – no gulped – a martini. He'd brought her home and here she was: naked and deliciously entangled with him.

"Are you ok?" Aidan asked in a sleep-roughened voice.

French paused before she answered, not sure what he was inquiring about – her headache or whether or not she was 'ok' with having slept with him.

"Um, I'm fine," she said, slowly disengaging her limbs from his.

"Don't move," Aidan said groaning as he stretched his body against hers. Gathering her back in, he said, "It feels so good to hold you like this again."

"I need some aspirin and a glass of juice," French groaned, "my head is killing me!"

"I told you to take it easy on the Cosmos," Aidan tut-tutted. "You stay put and I'll make you feel all better."

French rolled to face him as he got out of bed. In the darkened bedroom, she couldn't see much of him. But, as he walked away from the bed and into the hallway, she could make out his lean body and nicely rounded buttocks silhouetted by the nightlight in the hallway. She flopped onto her back, groaning silently to herself. She really couldn't believe that she'd slept with him. Not only that, but she'd behaved like a sex maniac, saying and doing things she'd never have done without a few drinks under her belt.

God, had she really told him to 'suck them' and to 'fuck me now'?

As her headache hadn't affected her memory, she knew for a fact that she had said those things. A hot flush of embarrassment suffused her whole body. How could she face him?

And face him she would, because he was coming down the hall toward the bedroom again. He sat on the side of the bed with a glass of orange juice and two ibuprofen tablets. Switching the bedside lamp to the dimmest setting he turned to her.

"Here, let me help you sit up, so you can swallow these," he said soothingly. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he helped her sit up. The down-filled comforter slid away from French's breasts as she reached for the pills and the juice glass. In an effort to cover herself, she fumbled the pills and would have spilled the juice had Aidan not been paying attention.

"Easy," he said calmly, retrieving the pill she had dropped. French had the covers clenched to her chest with one hand, so he put the pills in the other, holding the glass while she tossed them in her mouth. He handed her the glass so she could wash the pills down, watching her carefully as she swallowed. Panic was emanating from her body in palpable waves. He thought for a moment that maybe he should just tell her his intentions. Tell her that he wanted her forever and that he intended to win her, body and soul. He quickly came to his senses, realizing that if he declared himself, she would simply become equally determined not to let him have his way. He'd play it cool, he decided; he'd let her think that he would allow her to resist him and to deny her feelings for him... For now.

French flopped back on the pillow, eyes closed to block out the sight of Aidan. Her brows were knit against her headache and the myriad thoughts pounding through her brain. Aidan reached out and ran a soothing finger across the shallow furrows between her eyes.

"Turn over," he said, "I'll rub your neck and back for you. That should help you get back to sleep."

"Aidan," French protested, "this is crazy."

"I agree," he said, "it would be crazy if you turned down one of my famous massages."

"You know what I mean!" French said, but turned over nonetheless.

"Do you still have that scented oil in the nightstand?"

"Mm, hmm."

Reaching into the bedside table, Aidan located the oil. He also saw that she had acquired a couple of new toys that looked rather interesting. One of the famous Rabbit vibrators lay next to a nice-sized, lifelike dildo in a clear plastic zippered pouch. Before he could take a closer look, French's eyes flew open and she lurched awkwardly over him to close the nightstand drawer.

"Don't look in there!" she panted. She could not believe she had forgotten about the new 'friends' she'd purchased after she and Aidan had broken up.

"Um, ok, but I think I already saw what you didn't want me to see," Aidan said.

"God, I'm so embarrassed," French moaned, not registering that her naked body was stretched across Aidan's equally nude form. His cock lay snuggled between her breasts as she leaned across his lap, her forehead against his thigh, hoping that he would disappear if she couldn't see him.

Aidan was only too aware of the way her breasts felt against his cock. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, mentally ticking through the steps he took to develop pictures in his darkroom to keep from thinking about exactly how perfect, how soft her breasts were against his sensitive flesh. When that didn't work, he decided to give in to his desire to touch her. He stroked her neck as she lay across him, smoothed a hand down her back. He reached for the massage oil, poured a little in his palm to warm it before slicking it onto her smooth, tawny skin. The feel of her under his hand did little to assuage the lust that was riding him.

"Lie flat so I can reach you better," Aidan said.

French was mortified all over again, having felt his cock hardening against her breasts as she lay draped across him. Her body was on fire with embarrassment.

Was there no end to her stupidity tonight? How could she have forgotten the toys were in the same drawer as the massage oil?

She moved off of his lap without looking at him and lay facedown with her head cradled in her arms.

"Baby, you don't have to be embarrassed. The thought of you playing with that stuff is mind-blowing," Aidan said, knowing her well enough to know that she definitely was embarrassed, and not just about him having seen the toys, but about everything that had happened that evening.

French responded with a murmured protest that was muffled by the position of her head buried in her arms, but then groaned as Aidan began his massage in earnest. Starting at the nape of her neck, he smoothed out all the kinks and knots, moving down her back with long sleek strokes, applying firmer pressure whenever he encountered a particularly tight knot. He had straddled her thighs in order to get better leverage and though he didn't place his full weight on her, his semi-hard cock grazed her ass each time he leaned forward. He slid a little further down her legs, moving the massage to her firm buttocks, and then down to the backs of her thighs. He took his time massaging her legs and then her feet. French was lying limp beneath him, her breathing having evened into deeply relaxed inhalations and exhalations. Having thoroughly massaged the back of her, he leaned over her and whispered,

"Ready for me to do the front side now?"

While French had been thoroughly enjoying her massage, she had also been gathering her courage to deal with the situation at hand. She did turn over under him, but clutched the sheet to her chest.

"I think we should talk. About us. I mean, not about

us

, because there really is no us, but I mean about what happened tonight," she stammered out.

"OK. Talk," Aidan said, moving off of her. He seemed completely unabashed at being naked and partially aroused. He moved up so he was lying next to her on his side, elbow propping up his head.

"This was a mistake," she began determinedly. "I had too much to drink and I just wasn't myself."

"French, don't blame what happened on being drunk. This is me, remember? Don't lie to me or to yourself. You didn't have that much to drink tonight. You wanted it just as much as I did," Aidan said testily.

"No, I didn't," she tried to lie, but one look at Aidan's forbidding face had her admitting, "OK, I did want you. But just that one last time, sort of like a farewell. That's all."

"Don't I have any say in the matter?"

"Aidan, don't be difficult," French pleaded. "This is hard enough as it is. You know that relationships never work; one or both people involved invariably wind up hating the other even if they pretend to be "happily" married. It's a farce I refuse to play a part in. It's crazy to even go down that path when we both know better. We'll wind up hating each other and I'd rather have you as a friend than as nothing at all."

"French, I don't know anything of the sort. You've never given us a chance to find out what could be between us. Have a little faith! Not everyone in the world is like your mother and her string of loser lovers or like your father and his ice-maiden of a wife! My parents have been married for nearly forty years and they are happy together. I'm not saying that every day of their lives together has been perfect, but nothing in life is perfect. They love each other and they have entrusted their hearts to each other," Aidan said, the frown on his face and the tone of his voice making his frustration plain.

"Aidan, of course your parents would tell you they were happy and put up a good front to avoid hurting you and your brothers," French said, "but do you really believe them? Come on! Don't be so naïve."

Taking French's chin in a gentle grip, Aidan turned her head on the pillow so she had to meet his eyes. Once he was sure he had her full attention, he said,

"I'm not being naïve. I believe in their love. Hell, I believe in love period, which is more than I can say for you! God, when I think of the way you were with me earlier tonight, I realize just how much of yourself you hold back from me. I want every part of you, French. All that passion you keep locked up inside of you... I want it! Why can't you trust me?"

French was quiet for a moment. Inside, there was a piece of her that wanted to let go and love him and let him love her. She wanted to be able to throw herself into his arms, tell him how much he scared her, how much her feelings for him scared her. But, as always, something stopped her. Being so alone was agonizing, but so was the thought that he might take what she had to offer and throw it back in her face. She knew she had to strengthen her resolve and deflect him from his pursuit of her.

"God, this is beginning to sound so cliché," French said hotly, "except it's usually the woman who's arguing the merits of love!"

"All right, so I'm a woman," Aidan said with a smile in his voice. He forcefully restored a calm demeanor. He'd thought of a new tact to take with her. "If you don't believe in love and don't believe that relationships between men and women can ever last, then why not just enjoy whatever it is we have between us for as long as it's comfortable? We could see each other, go out on dates and of course, have hot sex. No strings. There's really nothing to lose if our hearts aren't involved, right?"

French realized that she'd walked right into a trap. If she said no to his proposition, he'd think she had feelings for him that she was afraid to confront, and rightly so. If she said yes, then she'd be forced to be with him, constantly waiting for the worst to happen. The idea of spending time with him again was temptingly appealing, while at the same time she was terrified that she'd reveal her innermost feelings for him and make herself vulnerable. She was already more than halfway in love with him. Constant exposure to him would get her the rest of the way there. She was certain of it.

And then what?

She looked him in the eye, trying to decipher what he might be thinking, trying to see if he was joking, trying to goad her into making some unseemly declaration. His eyes were serious; his face was calm, set in an open and questioning expression. He was waiting for her answer and the longer she took to give it to him, the more he might read into her hesitation.

As if on cue, Aidan said, "Baby, this isn't that tough a question. Yes or no? Nothing to lose. We go our separate ways whenever either one of us feels like it," he lied, hoping he'd never have to face that reality. He looked into her eyes imploringly, reached out to brush one of her corkscrew curls off her forehead.

"Aidan, this is crazy," French protested somewhat weakly.

"Nope. But what

is

crazy is that we're both here, we're both 'nekkid' and we're not having sex!" Aidan joked leeringly. "I'll have your answer, woman, and now!!" he growled, playfully biting her on the neck.

"Shouldn't we iron out the rules of this little proposition?" she asked, ignoring the goosebumps that had pricked up all over her.

"Rules, schmules. Let's just do what comes naturally, OK?"

"But, Aidan, this could get complicated..." French protested.

"Only if you make it complicated," Aidan said. His eyes darkened to a deeper blue as he looked at her intently.

French felt her resolve slipping.

Am I really about to do this? Yes. God help me, but yes I am!

Aidan sensed her capitulation in the way the tension went out of her body and her troubled green eyes cleared.

"You'll see, we're going to do just fine," Aidan promised softly. He leaned in then to seal the promise with a gentle kiss.

French held still under the kiss, holding herself apart from Aidan for as long as she could. It was his tenderness that had been her undoing before and the reason she had broken up with him. It had touched her too deeply, made her feel things she had been afraid to feel. But now she had agreed to his diabolical proposition. She would have to brazen her way through whatever was to come.

Aidan placed tiny butterfly kisses against her face, knowing that she was fighting an internal battle. He reached her mouth again and gently took her bottom lip between his teeth, then the top one. French opened willingly to him then and he swooped his tongue between her lips to taste her. His head was still propped on his arm and he used his free hand to caress her face and hair.

French grew impatient with the soft kisses and fisted her fingers in his hair to pull his mouth more tightly to hers. She slid her tongue into his mouth with a hum of satisfaction. Her senses were overwhelmed by his nearness. The taste of him was as intoxicating as the martinis she'd drank earlier. His special scent filled her nostrils, a combination of his spicy, musky aftershave and that indefinable

something

that was his alone. She rolled onto her side to face him, the better to touch him, to explore the terrain of his body. His skin was hot and smooth as silk where it wasn't roughened by hair.

Aidan 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. French 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. French rolled her hips, seeking greater contact. She slid her hands down his back to his buttocks, clenched them, pulling his hips harder against hers.

Aidan 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.

French 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.

Aidan 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. French lifted her hips to his, encouraging more contact. Aidan 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.

French 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.

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

Having achieved the desired result of having her beg, Aidan teased her for a moment longer, then sucked her nipple in his mouth. Hard. French 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.

French 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.

Aidan 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.

French moaned, knew what was coming next, could barely contain her delight and relief that soon she would feel his mouth on her pussy. Aidan placed a closed-mouth kiss on her mound that had French 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. French's breath caught in disappointment and need, she hung poised in a state of aroused suspension, waiting for what she craved. Aidan 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.

French ground her hips against his hands, desperation fueling her. Aidan 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. French cried out, afraid that he would continue teasing her, yet despairing that he would stop. She reached down, tightened her fist in his hair.