Christmas morning dawned snowy and beautiful. French opened her eyes and squinted against the brightness of the day. Stretching, she luxuriated in the feel of the silky sheets against her naked skin.
Obviously very high thread-count
, she thought. Curious about the rest of the decor, she looked around the room in which she had slept but with which she hadn't really had time to become acquainted.
It was furnished with antiques. The sleigh-bed was, from all appearances, hand carved, varnished cherry wood. In judicious arrangement, there was an old-fashioned writing table with a delicate upholstered chair, a dresser and an armoire of the same dark, highly polished wood.
The shiny hardwood floor was covered with an Oriental rug with a deep green and antique gold design. The cushion on the window-seat where she and Aidan had made love the night before held the same tones. The nightstands positioned on either side of the bed each held Tiffany lamps, originals French thought – not merely 'Tiffany-style'. Each stained-glass lampshade matched the green and gold motif of the room, but were of different designs. With its tasteful décor and understated elegance, the room was lovely. It wasn't exactly to French's personal tastes, but she could tell the room had been decorated with an eye towards its occupants' comfort and aesthetic beauty.
Having satisfied her curiosity about the room, she peeked beneath the bedcovers Aidan had drawn over his head to ward off the brightness of the morning. Smiling, she took a hank of her hair in her hand and feathered it across his ear. When he swatted at it, she moved out of the way quickly. Another little brush, this time on the tip of his nose. And another swat. She teased him further, drawing the sprig of hair down the side of his neck. She wasn't quick enough to dodge him and his hand closed tightly around her wrist. Aidan opened one eye and glared at her.
"Merry Christmas," she said, with a syrupy smile.
The eye snapped shut and he turned onto his back, pulled her down so that her head rested on his shoulder. He drew the comforter more securely around them. French snuggled into him, caressed his chest and abdomen as she lay alongside him.
"It's getting late, Aid, don't you think we should get up? I'll bet your parents have been awake for hours already..."
"Nope. We always sleep in on Christmas morning..." he replied gruffly without opening his eyes.
"Oh."
French continued to stroke him, drawing lazy patterns in the swirl of hair on his chest and savoring the hot, smooth yet hair-roughened texture of his skin. She noticed that he had a trio of tiny moles on his shoulder that formed a perfect equilateral triangle whose outline she traced with her fingertip. She ran her hand down his torso, lightly brushed past his morning erection and on to the muscular curve of his thighs and massaged the muscles there with firm strokes. She slid her hands up again to his stomach where she dipped a finger in his belly button.
Again, her wrist was seized in a tight grip. And again, Aidan opened one eye and gave her a baleful stare. "You aren't going to let me go back to sleep, are you?" he asked, then kissed the palm of her hand and drew her closer.
"I'm bored," French pouted.
"You're bored... You could've at least woken me up properly."
"Don't sulk. Against my better judgment, I put you to sleep 'properly' last night. Remember?" she poked him in his ribs.
"Mmmm... No, I don't recall. Refresh my memory?"
"Oh, you are too much!" she laughed, "It's Christmas morning and the first thing you think of is sex? And in your mother's house, with her in a room right below us?"
"Leave my mother out of this," he said lazily, his eyes closed again.
French's caresses turned a little more menacing. She dragged her fingertips lightly across his skin, making it pebble with goose bumps. She traced the line of his collarbone, a very sensitive spot for him. She teased him, running her index finger back and forth across it lightly, lulling him with the gentle caress. Suddenly, she applied quick, hard pressure to his collarbone and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He grabbed her and rolled her underneath him.
"You're dead," he threatened.
"Oh? Show me what you've got, big boy," she taunted.
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Aidan pounced on her and began tickling her where she was most vulnerable: her sides. She squirmed and giggled, tried her best to get away from his marauding fingers. Her giggles turned into outright belly laughs and she lay helpless under his assault.
"Do you give up?"
She took advantage of his pause in tickling her and jackknifed her legs around his waist and squeezed him between the lean muscles of her thighs. Now that she had leverage, she twisted to the side taking him down to the bed. She scrambled on top of him, crowing,
"Ha - got you! I'm king of the mountain!"
"Yeah, right. I
let
you get me. You're no match for me, little girl," he said, putting his hands behind his head. "Get down here and give me a proper good morning, will you?"
"I will," she said, bracing her hands on either side of his head and bestowing a peck of a kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, he pushed his hands into the curly tangle of her hair, kept her in place to ensure he got the kind of good morning kiss he was looking for. Aidan savored the kiss and the feel of her body on top of his. He caressed her creamy smooth skin from the nape of her neck down to the curve of her hips, ran his fingertips lightly along the crease of her buttocks and deeper between her legs to caress the lips of her sex. Feeling a wave of involuntary, intoxicating arousal, French shivered and ground against Aidan's hard cock. Then pulled away from the kiss and smiled down at him smugly.
"Nice try, but you won't do it again."
"Do what?"
"Seduce me."
"I betcha I can."
"No you can't."
"Do you dare me?"
"What are you? Eleven?" she taunted, then scrambled out of bed when she saw the glint of determination in his eyes as he responded to her challenge.
"OK, listen. I'm going to take a shower. By the time I get out, I hope that you will have... um, calmed yourself down and re-acquired your sense of decorum," French teased, gesturing to the sheet that tented over Aidan's hard-on.
"I'd prefer it if you'd 'calm me down'," he grumbled.
"Ooohh, I'll just bet you would, babycakes," she replied. With as much dignity as she could muster while standing around stark naked, she swept into the bathroom and closed the door.
She wasn't surprised when he joined her in the shower.
"You're such a tease," he said, "come here."
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her beneath the spray of hot water. French surrendered, knowing that resistance was futile where Aidan was concerned. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. Feeling hot and hungry for him, she deepened the kiss. His hands wandered over the water-slicked terrain of her body, lingered when he reached her breasts, gently pulling and twisting her already engorged nipples. Aidan grabbed the bottle of shower gel, squeezed a dollop into his palm and worked up a rich lather as he massaged her neck and shoulders.
He turned her around, so his cock rested against her bottom. He rubbed the lather into her breasts, his hands filled to overflowing with the supple flesh. He whispered in her ear, telling her in erotically explicit terms what he wanted from her, what he was going to do to her. Her knees weakened when he slid one soapy hand down her torso to the patch of hair between her legs. He cupped her mound, pressed the heel of his palm against her clit and rubbed in slow circles. His middle finger slid between the lips of her pussy, lightly caressing from her opening up to her clit and back down again. His touch was feather-light, intended to goad her into demanding - no, begging - that he take her.
French spread her legs wider; she was already yearning to be penetrated. Aidan slid his hand back up her torso, raising her arms and positioning her hands flat against the tiled wall of the shower stall. He traced the elegant line of her back from top to bottom, ran one hand down the crack of her ass, grazed his fingertips over the swollen lips of her pussy and down the backs of her thighs. She arched her back and pressed back against him, longing for his gloriously hard cock. He slid one arm around her waist and guided his cock into her tight, wet cleft.
In one long, slow thrust, he was buried to the hilt. French moaned, thrilling at the feel of being stretched around his cock, exulting in the exquisite fullness she felt. He stayed still inside her, his cock throbbing when he felt the flutter of her inner muscles around him. He withdrew almost completely, then thrust slowly into her again, setting a slow, controlled pace. He loosened his hold on her waist, slid his hand between her legs to the hard nub of her clit. He circled it softly with soapy fingers and she gasped,
"More... Harder."
Aidan kept his pace slow, his caresses teasingly light and held French poised on the brink of orgasm. He knew her well enough to know that she would be feeling impatient, knew she wanted him to push her over the edge hard and fast. He didn't want hard and fast, he wanted it slow and easy. He wanted to savor the feel of her slick heat gloving him, to take his time enjoying the feel of her firm breasts and hard nipples in his hands, to delight in her sighs and moans of pleasure.
She began to thrust back against him, increasing the pace and the force of his entry into her. She removed one hand from the wall, reached down and rubbed her clit with firm circular strokes. She moaned and rested her forehead against the wall, felt the rampant clench of arousal low in her belly. Aidan's hands cupped her breasts, palming them, tugging and squeezing her nipples. He let her take over, allowed her to plunge down onto his cock with deep, hard thrusts.
"Mmmm, yes. Harder, Aidan," French begged.
Aidan leaned forward and grazed his teeth along the line of her neck and shoulder. She shivered in response and her skin erupted in goose bumps. He reached down and moved her hand away from her clit and put it back on the wall. He lightly brushed his fingertips across the hard nub, back and forth. French needed more, wanted more and clenched her teeth, groaning in frustration and bliss.
The shower stall was full of steam and echoed with the sounds of passion. Droplets of water glistened on the lovers' bodies, a mixture of sweat and spray from the shower. Aidan applied more pressure to her clit and she gasped in pleasure. He felt her pussy walls clamp around him spasmodically. She was making breathy, whimpering sounds and cried out when he changed tactics and squeezed her clit lightly between his index and middle fingers. A repeat of the caress had her climax roaring through her. It hit her hard and would have buckled her knees had Aidan not gripped her waist to keep her upright. He rode her hard, pressing pleasure upon her. He felt the continuous ripple of her orgasm squeezing and releasing his cock as he fucked her. The low quivery moans she made and the sensations of her cunt pulsing around his cock were overwhelming. He squeezed her clit again and the responding spasms of her pussy triggered his orgasm. He exploded, making short deep thrusts into her.
Drained, he leaned over her back and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his breathing labored. French slithered around in the circle of his arms to face him, clung to him languidly as they kissed and caressed one another, prolonging the intimate moment. Aidan reached for the shower gel again and French giggled and took it from him.
"Give me that," she teased, "I think I'll wash myself this time!"
In the end, they wound up washing each other and dawdled in the shower longer than they should have. They were having too much fun teasing, playing and exploring to get out.
It felt good to wake up next to him, to play with him
