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.
