Dirty Laundry Round 2: DNash Beneath him, he felt Marguerite tense. A flash of doubt hit him, and he feared he'd somehow managed to ruin the moment. He paused his sensuous explorations and met Marguerite's gaze. The look in her eyes took him completely by surprise. It was so open, gentle, and full of entreaty that the question he'd been about to ask died on his lips. "John." Marguerite spoke so softly Roxton wondered if he'd imagined it. "Marguerite?" he breathed. "You're squishing me." "Oh! Sorry!" Immediately the hunter rolled off of her. They lay side by side on the well-worn floorboards for a moment. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine," replied Marguerite with a hint of a wry smile. "Better than fine, in fact." She used one hand to gently but insistently push him onto his back. The heiress trailed one hand down Roxton's bare chest, fingers playing lightly with the soft line of hair running down his strong belly to his groin. John inhaled deeply at her touch. When he spoke, it was clear he was straining to keep himself under control. "Marguerite," he began. "I said I wanted to fulfill your fantasy now." Another sly smile quirked the heiress' lips. "What makes you think you aren't?" she countered coyly. She curled a lock of his dark pubic hair around one teasing finger and tugged gently. The hair was still damp from their lovemaking, but she didn't mind. To her it was a welcome reminder of their shared passion. "Here you are, the big, powerful hunter…" She took his flaccid member in her hand and began to massage it back to life. "…helpless before me." Roxton wanted to protest that he was far from helpless, but it would have been a lie. Never mind the effect her touch was having on him—his pants were still down around his knees and he'd never had the chance to remove his boots. Even if he wanted to get away, he'd have been hard pressed to stand, let alone run. Marguerite continued massaging him, smiling as Roxton's erection slowly returned. It wasn't the urgently throbbing hardness of his earlier arousal, but a steadily growing heat and firmness under her hand. "Would you like me to tell you my fantasy?" she asked sweetly, releasing his penis and gently raking her fingernails over his scrotum. "Yes…" Further words were momentarily beyond the hunter. "I'll tell you," Marguerite continued. "I would like, for once in my life, to give up control. Do you know what it's like to never be free? Always some responsibility, some self-imposed restriction hanging over you?" She smiled down at him. "Yes, I suppose you do, in a way." She kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Well that's my fantasy," she whispered. "To find someone I can trust enough that I don't have to be in control every single moment." "Marguerite." Roxton's hand was on hers, stilling its movement. He withdrew her hand from his groin and raised it to his lips. "You can trust me." He kissed her fingers, smelling the residue of their mingled juices. He found it erotic and exhilarating. "You know something?" Marguerite began quietly. "I believe I can." "Where would you like to go?" asked John. "Ah-ah," chided his lover. "I refuse to make any decisions." Her grey eyes met his hazel ones, and her gaze seemed to reach into his soul. "I trust you," she said. Roxton was no novice. He'd sown his share of wild oats in his younger days; there had been dalliances with ladies of the court; and there had even been women he'd imagined he'd truly loved. But never had he felt the way he did now. He didn’t imagine he loved Marguerite; he knew he did, and she loved him. The trust and responsibility placed on him by her simple statement warmed his heart and chilled his spine all at once. "You're sure?" he asked, not wanting to take any chances, not wanting to suddenly discover she was toying with him as she had so often. But never like this, his mind insisted. She's never taken her games this far. Unaware of John's inner turmoil, Marguerite simply nodded. "I'm sure." Roxton sat up, bringing her with him. Both got to their knees, and John awkwardly pulled up his drawers and pants enough to stand. Holding his waistband in one hand, he reached out the other to Marguerite. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet, the silk of her skirt rustling as it settled around her slender legs. Without a word, he led her to her own bedroom. Scarves hung over the windows, filtering the daylight through layers of colored fabric. He released her hand. Marguerite remained standing where she'd stopped, watching him with calm, inquisitive eyes. Roxton was a little disconcerted by her unusual quiescence, but was determined to do everything in his power to fulfill her fantasy. If this was what she wanted, it was what he would do. But the trust she'd placed in him had to go both ways; he had to know that if he did something she didn't like, she would say so. "You'll tell me…" he began, uncertain if he was breaking the rules she'd imposed but needing to know the answer. "You'll tell me if I…do something wrong? I don't want to hurt you." Her response was another of her teasing smiles. "I don't want you to hurt me either," she replied. Then her smile softened to one of affection. "Don't worry. I'll let you know." "Fair enough." Satisfied with her reply and finally comfortable with the game, Roxton grinned. "Don't move." Marguerite gave a small nod of compliance and simply waited to see what the hunter would do next. He sat on the edge of her bed and removed his boots, setting them out of the way. He stretched his bare feet and wiggled his toes. "That's better," he commented. Amused, Marguerite said nothing and continued to watch him. Roxton stood once more and this time removed his trousers and underwear completely. He tossed them negligently over the chair in the corner. Marguerite inhaled appreciatively, enjoying the view. Her flesh grew hot, and she knew it had nothing to do with the jungle climate. She felt a contraction in her belly—an instinctive response to the visual stimulus of her lover's strong, naked body. But she didn't move. John looked at her looking at him, and he smiled. Her hard nipples stood up under the rose-colored silk of her half-open vest. He reached out his hand and ran his thumb over the hidden nub, gratified when Marguerite shivered at the touch. "Good?" he asked tenderly. She only nodded, smiling. "Good." He brought up his other hand and now caressed both of her nipples at the same time, fingers brushing tantalizingly over their silk covering. Slowly, he moved his hands to the center of her chest and released the last hooks holding her vest together. It fell open and he pushed it back enough to reveal her round, soft breasts with their flushed and erect nipples. He bent down and took one in his mouth. Marguerite groaned as his skillful tongue flicked over her nipple softly, then harder and faster, and then eased off once more. She felt a trickle of liquid slip down her inner thigh and hoped he would set his sights lower very soon. But it wasn't her decision. She knew he would go there if she asked him. She knew he would do anything she wanted if she asked him. She didn't ask. This time, she would follow wherever he chose to lead her. The hunter had his own agenda. As he suckled at one of her breasts, his hand played with the other, rolling the nipple tantalizingly between thumb and forefinger. Slowly, he began to move lower. He knelt as he placed hot kisses between the soft mounds and began to trace a trail down the gentle slope of her stomach. His hands caressed her back and sides as he descended until they finally reached the waistband of her skirt. So close to her center, he could smell her passion. He smiled against her belly and kissed the soft flesh there. He sat back on his knees and looked up at Marguerite's face. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing unevenly, but she was smiling. He hadn't removed her silk vest. It still hung open, but without him holding it away, it had fallen closed enough to half hide her rounded, supple breasts. The fabric against already sensitive skin kept her nipples hard; he could see their outline in the silk that so beautifully complimented her skin. "Good?" he asked her again, a lascivious smile quirking his lips. "Good." She returned the leer eagerly. Roxton easily found the three hooks that held the skirt around Marguerite's hips. He undid them all at once with a clever twist of his fingers. The skirt slipped to the floor with a whisper of fine silk and pooled around Marguerite's bare feet. Roxton sighed appreciatively and inhaled her scent. It was hot and sexy and so very female. He leaned in and kissed the dark triangle of hair before him. He felt more than heard her resulting moan of pleasure. Wrapping one hand gently but firmly around her hip, he ran the other up the inside of her opposite leg until he reached the point where her thighs met. "Open up," he said tenderly, looking up at her once more. The heiress nodded and stepped her feet apart enough to for him to reach up between her legs. As she did, another trail of wetness was released, sliding down her inner thigh. Roxton caught it with his finger and followed it back up—but not quite to its source. Pulling his hand away, he licked his finger thoughtfully. He withdrew the digit from his mouth and smiled. "You taste wonderful." With those words, he dipped his head lower and kissed her hot, wet center. Marguerite groaned again. Unable to stop herself, she reached out a hand and caressed the top of her lover's head, silently encouraging him to go on, go deeper. Instead he sat back. Marguerite's belly clenched at the sudden loss of exquisite contact, but before she could formulate words of protest, Roxton rose and lifted her in his arms. "Wha—?" she exclaimed in surprise. His intention became clear when he sat her on the edge of the bed. "Lie back," the requested, and she, understanding, complied. Marguerite reclined, her long dark curls flowing across the narrow bed and over the far side. John knelt before her and with both hands gently spread her legs apart. He smiled at what he saw—the soft pink lips of her labia were slick and swollen with pleasure and anticipation. "You're beautiful," he breathed reverently. It wasn't something Marguerite had ever imagined hearing in the circumstances. She found it added to the sensuality of the moment, excited her that much more. Roxton leaned in and tasted her wetness, his tongue gently licking tender flesh. His hands massaged the soft thighs that cradled his head. Without warning, he pushed her legs wider and plunged his tongue inside her. Marguerite gasped in startled pleasure. He withdrew and kissed her pubic hair again. The taste and smell of her were intoxicating. He couldn't get enough and began to suck gently, tongue flicking in and out of her vagina. "Oh, John!" Marguerite gasped. In her varied sexual history, she'd never had a partner with so skilled a tongue. She reached her arms over her head and grasped the edge of the mattress, causing her vest to open wide and baring her breasts fully. It was a fight against her own nature not to take control of the situation, but this was her fantasy and she would let it be played. That tiny thought amidst the chaos in her mind was enough to satisfy that part of her that needed always to be in command: giving up that command had been her choice, and in that way she was still in control. Any coherent thought left her at that moment as John switched his attention from her vulva to just slightly higher. With incredible and unexpected accuracy, he located the tiny bundle of nerves and teased it with his tongue. Marguerite's abdomen tensed at the abrupt increase of sensation. Instinctively she arched her hips into the touch, her body craving the release it promised. Recognizing the cue for what it was, John continued to tease her clitoris at the same time he slipped a finger into her slick vagina. He slid it out again and added a second. Marguerite moaned her encouragement. Gently, John removed both fingers and added a third before sliding them all back inside. He found Marguerite's excitement contagious. The slight erection she'd teased him into earlier suddenly returned in force. He moved his free hand, the one that still rested on Marguerite's leg, and quickly dragged it across the wetness along her inner thigh. Then, palm sufficiently slick, he grasped his penis and stroked it hard and fast. It was almost too much to manage, but his own climax was quick in coming. Semen oozed over his fingers, this second ejaculation lacking the power and drive of the earlier one but satisfying him all the same. He let himself go and returned his hot, sticky palm to his lover's hip. Marguerite had no inkling of John's momentary distraction. She was incoherent with pleasure, and his ministrations to her had never wavered. Again she arched into his touch. Her muscles spasmed, clenching and unclenching around his strong and clever fingers. Her clit throbbed against his tongue. Her heart raced, her breathing was ragged. John's movements increased in response to her own as she drove herself against him to climax. Marguerite cried out in release. Tight muscles quivered as wave upon wave of orgasm washed over her, growing calmer and slower each time until she lay still and panting on the bed. John sat back on his heels. His back protested his time spent in its hunched position, and his knees cracked as he moved. His first thought was that he was getting too old for this sort of thing, but then the practical part of his brain told him to just put a pillow under his knees next time. He chuckled silently at himself. He wiped his face and hands with the hem of the blanket before sitting up enough to look over his sated lover. "Good?" he asked her once more. Her smile was answer enough, but she spoke anyway. "Very, very good." "Good." Roxton rose enough to sit on the bed. He laid back next to her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. The pair contemplated the ceiling in comfortable, satiated silence. John was dozing when he was woken by Marguerite's sudden shiver. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. "All right?" he asked solicitously. "Fine," she answered easily. "But I think it's time to get up." She sat up and glanced around the room. She knew she'd napped a bit as they'd laid there, but the light indicated they'd both been asleep longer than she'd realized. It was nearly evening. Roxton reluctantly pushed himself up to a sitting position. "It's getting late!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I'd noticed," quipped Marguerite lightly. "We'd better clean up and collect the laundry. It certainly ought to be dry by now." As she stood, her leg brushed a cold, damp spot in the blankets. "Ugh!" she exclaimed. Then she laughed. "Oh well. It was worth it," she declared, smiling at her lover. She leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his unsuspecting lips. "But you're washing the blankets." "I think I can manage that," John agreed amiably. Particularly in light of my own additions to the mess, his mind added lightly. He rose and stood next to her, bare skin tingling where their bodies brushed lightly against one another. "We can't go out like this," he murmured suggestively, tugging on her silk vest—the only piece of clothing that hadn't been discarded in their passion. "Perhaps a shower is in order first. Would you…care to join me?" Marguerite eyed him haughtily. "Whatever happened to 'ladies first'?" John knew she was teasing and chuckled. "Fine by me if you don't want any company." He shrugged and turned to collect his clothes. Marguerite's hand on his arm stopped him. He turned back to look at her questioningly. "I never said that." She grinned salaciously and was rewarded by a matching grin from Roxton as she took his hand and led him toward the shower. *****FINIS***** Back to Round 1 Return to Birthday Fics |