Read Online Till We Meet Again by Judith Krantz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Judith Krantz
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length, preparing her gradually for the removal of each piece of clothing. Any haste could cause him the loss of his pleasure. Alain knew that Eve was so uninformed that kisses would keep her hypnotized, and the years during which nakedness had been taboo could be forgotten. He let her keep the blouse on because it would reassure her, and even with it covering her shoulders and arms he could clearly see her surprisingly full breasts with their small, pink, excitingly puckered nipples springing out from between the wide open edges of the cloth. She was perfectly made, he thought, as he explored with his eyes the luscious curve of her lower belly, the blond hair that covered the meeting of her firm, shapely thighs, soft hair, and curly, yet thick enough to be to his taste, for he liked a well-covered mound.
“How beautiful you are, how beautiful,” Alain murmured.
“Alain …” Eve whispered.
“Say nothing. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Let me show you … I understand that you know nothing … I understand … just let me love you.”
Alain glanced down at her thighs. Without knowing it, she was pressing them back and forth on the plush of the sofa and moving them so that they rubbed together. No, shecould not be allowed to continue to do that, he thought, or again he could be robbed of his pleasure. “Lie still, darling,” he muttered, and touched one hand to her thigh for a second so that she would know exactly what he meant. She went limp and he could see her blush mount into her cheeks. “You were made for love,” he said into her ear. “How have you lived so long without it? No, say nothing … let me show you.” He made his whole hand flat and rubbed it over her swollen breasts, taking care not to do more than pause slightly at the nubbins of her hard nipples and pluck them lightly between his fingers, enjoying his mercilessly self-inflicted restraint. Eve gasped each time he pulled. She doesn’t know it, he thought, but she wants my mouth there. She doesn’t know it yet.
He wet his fingers in his mouth and surrounded the pink points with a maddeningly swift caress, repeated over and over until he had to put his hand restrainingly on her thigh again. “Do you want me to kiss your breasts?” he whispered in her ear. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” When she nodded her bewildered, helpless assent it was almost with reluctance that he finally bent his dark head toward the virgin flesh.
Her mouth was sweet, her nipples would be sweeter, and if there were more time to remain in Dijon he would have chosen to postpone this next step for another day, chosen to drive them both to further heights of frustrated wildness, for once he fastened his mouth on her nipples he knew he would become so rigid himself that he could no longer retreat.
With one hand Alain supported Eve’s right breast so that her nipple was captive between his lips, exposed to the ravishingly light and random attack of his flickering tongue, and with the other he slowly ran his fingers, as if they were wandering aimlessly, down over her belly from her waist to the top of the curly blond hair between her legs. He knew that she would be so mesmerized by his tongue that she wouldn’t be completely aware of what his hand was doing, for this movement downwards must be gradual. She must become accustomed to it, tamed to accept it, or she might still shrink away, and, with her timidity, his pleasure could still vanish, even now.
He sucked, gratified at how much harder and bigger her nipple had grown, while the other hand indolently explored the delicate skin above and below the blond tangle, takingcare not to encroach on the hair itself. At first, Eve had tightened her belly and thigh muscles at the touch of that deferential hand and squirmed slightly in protest, but now she was too absorbed in the strange and wonderful sensation of a hot, intoxicating heaviness that she felt between her legs to dream of doing anything
“How beautiful you are, how beautiful,” Alain murmured.
“Alain …” Eve whispered.
“Say nothing. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Let me show you … I understand that you know nothing … I understand … just let me love you.”
Alain glanced down at her thighs. Without knowing it, she was pressing them back and forth on the plush of the sofa and moving them so that they rubbed together. No, shecould not be allowed to continue to do that, he thought, or again he could be robbed of his pleasure. “Lie still, darling,” he muttered, and touched one hand to her thigh for a second so that she would know exactly what he meant. She went limp and he could see her blush mount into her cheeks. “You were made for love,” he said into her ear. “How have you lived so long without it? No, say nothing … let me show you.” He made his whole hand flat and rubbed it over her swollen breasts, taking care not to do more than pause slightly at the nubbins of her hard nipples and pluck them lightly between his fingers, enjoying his mercilessly self-inflicted restraint. Eve gasped each time he pulled. She doesn’t know it, he thought, but she wants my mouth there. She doesn’t know it yet.
He wet his fingers in his mouth and surrounded the pink points with a maddeningly swift caress, repeated over and over until he had to put his hand restrainingly on her thigh again. “Do you want me to kiss your breasts?” he whispered in her ear. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.” When she nodded her bewildered, helpless assent it was almost with reluctance that he finally bent his dark head toward the virgin flesh.
Her mouth was sweet, her nipples would be sweeter, and if there were more time to remain in Dijon he would have chosen to postpone this next step for another day, chosen to drive them both to further heights of frustrated wildness, for once he fastened his mouth on her nipples he knew he would become so rigid himself that he could no longer retreat.
With one hand Alain supported Eve’s right breast so that her nipple was captive between his lips, exposed to the ravishingly light and random attack of his flickering tongue, and with the other he slowly ran his fingers, as if they were wandering aimlessly, down over her belly from her waist to the top of the curly blond hair between her legs. He knew that she would be so mesmerized by his tongue that she wouldn’t be completely aware of what his hand was doing, for this movement downwards must be gradual. She must become accustomed to it, tamed to accept it, or she might still shrink away, and, with her timidity, his pleasure could still vanish, even now.
He sucked, gratified at how much harder and bigger her nipple had grown, while the other hand indolently explored the delicate skin above and below the blond tangle, takingcare not to encroach on the hair itself. At first, Eve had tightened her belly and thigh muscles at the touch of that deferential hand and squirmed slightly in protest, but now she was too absorbed in the strange and wonderful sensation of a hot, intoxicating heaviness that she felt between her legs to dream of doing anything