"My little Cécile..."
The man beneath her flailed at the sound of the unseen interloper's voice, but Cécile held him down casually with one flexed hand on his chest and the other across his mouth. She looked down at him briefly, smiling, and bore down hard on his rigid cock just to remind him of his reward. She looked up in time to see the Vicomte's hand reaching out to stroke her hair, and she arched into his caress, moaning hungrily at his touch.
"Black suits you, my dear," he noted, fingering her tresses. "But really, Cécile, what on earth were you thinking of, trying to run from me?"
She closed her eyes as he kissed her, her mouth tingling with the memory of oranges.
"After all these years, did you really think I could not find you?"
Cécile smiled angelically up at him. "Black suits you too, M'sieur," she noted, her eyes taking in his sable curls. "As for the rest, I suppose I should be flattered that you even wished to find me," she murmured. "Our parting was not without its... unpleasantness."
He laughed bitterly. "Modest still, though a trifle jaded," he mocked gently.
Their eyes locked for a moment and then he pulled her mouth roughly against his over the back of the long sofa, devouring her tongue in a feverish kiss. "God, Céci, it's been too damn long!" he exclaimed as they broke apart.
He stepped around to the side of the chair and looked down dispassionately at the naked bell-boy, who stared blindly back up at him, unsure quite what to do or say to this intruder who clearly had a better claim to be here than he did. "I see you have at least been making efforts to continue your education without my guidance, Mam'selle," Valmont remarked dryly.
She grinned, stroking the panicking bell-boy's soft golden hair. "Keeping myself in tone at least," she responded coolly. Her gaze dropped to the prominent swell within his sleek grey trousers. "Nice to see you've been doing the same, M'sieur," she purred.
He smirked. "Ah Cécile, you fancy yourself quite the Marquise now it would seem."
She blushed prettily, her cheeks a delicious dusky rose against the pallor of her skin and the soft ebony of her hair. "If I am, it is only thanks to your influence upon me, sir."
Valmont smiled indulgently at the flattery. By such words she had proven herself once more, inevitably his little Cécile. He had been right to return. He looked again at the bell-boy and smiled. "I can see why this one appealed," he commented, sliding one hand along the pale curve of her throat and pressing himself against her back even as she still straddled the boy. He kissed the nape of her neck, feeling the shudder of pleasure that ran through her with a curious mixture of desire and remembrance.
She looked back over her shoulder at him with a smile. The memory of his soft golden hair had filled many a wakeful and restless night since she had so unceremoniously flown from him after his humiliation of her at the Marquise's ball, and now, when she finally laid eyes upon him again...
He laid one hot, proprietary hand on the zip of her dress and rolled it between his fingers. "Well, a new age demands some sacrifices, and black seemed an obvious choice for... us." He hissed the last word with menacing emphasis, and Cécile knew from the look on the bell-boy's face, and the no less obvious sudden withering of reaction inside her, that he was the recipient of one of the Vicomte's most devastating stares.
"Damn you, M'sieur," she snarled back at him. "You've ruined my evening's entertainment." She pouted deliciously and looked at him from beneath her thick eyelashes. "The boy's next to useless to me now."
Valmont laughed, unzipping her dress with an over-familiar hand and caressing the satiny skin of her back. "Ruined it, Mam'selle?" he taunted, one finger sliding between her buttocks and smiling at the way her back arched up against him, wanting what he alone had the audacity to offer her. "I prefer to think of it as giving you a more... satisfying alternative."
He pulled her upright and they both looked down at the bell-boy, who shrank back against the cushions and wilted still further beneath their combined glares. He held her close against him, one hand beneath her breasts supporting the open dress and preserving a fragment of her modesty, the other locking her hips against his. "Go!" he growled. "Now!"
The boy scrambled to his feet and stumbled, grabbing his abandoned clothes and making a frenzied dash for the door. Valmont laughed softly and called his attention once more, releasing his hold upon Cécile enough as the boy turned for the dress to fall to the ground, giving him a generous last eyeful of the woman he had almost enjoyed.
When the door had closed he spun her around and feasted his eyes upon her himself, taking her hand and helping her step out of the puddle of satin that lay about her feet. He turned her around, approving particularly of the taut curves of her calves in the high-heeled shoes. She stood almost as tall as him in them, and they showed off her stockinged legs to absolute perfection. In an earlier age such things would have mattered little, but now... "You have proven yourself an admirable student after all, my dear child."
She smiled and casually scrutinised him, before walking in slow measured steps to the bar. "Then let's drink to that, and to your return to me," she said in a tone somewhere between caustic irony and sultry hunger.
He followed her and pinned her back against the curve of the bar. "Let's not," he suggested thickly, his eyes blazing with lust, his hands cupping the child-like swells of her breasts before running down her smooth belly to seek more intimate pleasures.
Cécile moaned as his fingers entered her roughly, and slung one arm about his neck, digging her scarlet nails into his flesh. Tears started to her eyes as she looked at him, and a flood of jumbled, torturous recollections came unbidden back to her. The scent of oranges filled her throat and she choked on it, suffocating beneath the weight of the memory. "It's been so long," she sighed, curling her fingers in his hair. "So long..."
Valmont smiled to see her so quickly reduced from her state of remote command to one of helpless, clamouring desperation. A century and a half of wandering the world alone had done little but given her a veneer of self-control, and for one who knew how to play her as expertly as he did, that polish was wiped away easily enough. In his arms, she would always be the unwary, eager child whose chastity he had made it his mission to dismantle. "Would you have me leave, Mam'selle?" he teased, pulling his fingers out of her and making as if to turn from her.
She grabbed at him with reassuringly frantic hands, and though she bit her tongue and said nothing her eyes revealed plainly enough what she wanted of him.
He glanced outside, then back at her with a meaningful smile. "You have a balcony," he said simply, a statement of fact rather than a question.
She returned his smile and licked her scarlet lips. "The view is quite... ravishing," she assured him with a flutter of her eyelashes, before linking her fingers in his and leading him towards the panelled door.
Sprawled out beneath them, the city stretched in garish strips of neon and silver, lit up against the darkness of the sky, rudely advertising its wares like a common whore. Random traffic noise filtered up to them despite the distance, and beneath it all came the juicy quickstep tempo of their hearts beating faster as the cool summer breeze enveloped them.
Cécile stepped over to the edge of the balcony, her heels clicking lightly on the tiles, and rested her hands on the low stucco wall. She looked down across the city and closed her eyes, waiting anxiously for the heat of her lover to caress her.
Moments later she felt the brush of his warm naked skin against her back, and his hands when they touched her now were fiery hot with desire. His lips tantalised her throat, even as his fingers played gently with the tight stiff peaks of her nipples. They watched the city together, playing a game of faux serenity for the sake of prolonging the anticipation as long as could be borne.
"You're right," he said eventually, unable to stand the temptation any longer. "The view is rather impressive." One hand surfed the crest of her hip and pulled her roughly back against him. "But we didn't come out here to see the sights." He nudged closer against her, his cock burning thick and long between her milky thighs. "At least, I didn't," he added dryly.
"Then what, Milord," responded Cécile breathlessly, poised for his possession, "did you come out here for?"
For a second all was still, silent, even the traffic seemed to bleed away into the veil of expectation that surrounded them. And then he was inside her, his cock thrusting its way into her tight yet wonderfully slippery cunt, as with his lips pressed close to her ear he whispered savagely: "To fuck you, Milady!"
Cécile moaned raggedly as he filled her, moaned and pushed back against him as though to take him deeper still, though she knew he would give her everything he had in any case. The brutal honesty of his words excited her almost as much as the thickness of his cock inside her, and she cast her cries to the wind, laughing at the thought of the unwitting audience at their feet who were witness to their reunion.
Valmont followed her gaze, looking down across the city, wondering if it contained as much sin as Paris had done in its age of decadence when they had last fucked. He could scarcely believe it had been so long: as he filled her, the memory of her tightness, her eagerness, was as fresh as the flowers that blossomed on the balcony about them. The sound of her cries was as reassuring and familiar now as it had been then.
He thrust harder, deeper, inside her, groaning at the fierceness of her grip upon him. "My God, Cécile," he laughed. "I swear you're tighter now than the first time I ever had you!" He coiled one hand in her hair and pulled her upright, close against him so that the scent of her skin pricked his nostrils. She smelt of blood and lilies, and it made him hungrier than ever for her. He buried his cock completely inside her with a triumphant gasp, and smiled at the broken cry she uttered, holding her deeply onto him despite her jolt of shock.
"I'm sure you can take it, Cécile," he growled, his lips tickling the soft skin of her throat. "It wouldn't be the first time..."
She looked back at him, wild terror in her eyes suddenly as she realised her vulnerability, and the meaning of the savage edge to his tone. "M'sieur, please," she whispered hoarsely. "Milord..." The memory of that night rose up to assault her in images of violence and pain and she felt faint, her heartbeat laboured and wet in her ears. "You wouldn't... you can't..."
Valmont laughed coldly, enjoying her discomfort. "'Can't', Mam'selle?" he mocked, fucking her harder as he leaned her over the low parapet until, bent almost double, her cheek grazed the plaster. "That seems an unlikely word to use in my presence..."
He stroked her bare back, feeling the shivering tension in her spine even as her haunches flicked back to welcome him, urging him deeper inside her. "I'm sure you know me better than that." He leant low over her, pressing her against the rough edge of the wall and breathing in the scent of her fear and her arousal. He lifted the menace from his voice: "Look at the city, Cécile," he whispered, flicking her hair out of her face and tilting her chin so it rested on the edge of the wall. "Look at how beautiful it is."
He trailed kisses around the nape of her neck, feeling her resistance melt away beneath his persuasion. "It's all yours, my love... ours, if you'll let me stay."
Cécile moaned softly, bracing herself against the pain that she was sure was coming. She knew that for all his gentle words he was still the predator, and still in complete command of this game. If this city was to be shared between them, it would be at his word, not hers. She had always been his doll, his toy, to be played with when it amused him, and thrown back into the corner when he had tired of her.
And yet, what pain would not be worth the pleasure of this moment, even now in the pitch of approaching terror? The feel of his cock inside her was what she had craved for longer than she cared to think of. She had played this moment in her head a thousand times, and ached for him more nights than she could count. "Please..."
She had time to say no more, for he was upon her then, his teeth buried in the flesh of her throat, his hands gripping her hips, his cock impaling her harder than ever. She tried to scream, but the sound died in her throat and became an urgent senseless wail as the pain of one penetration met the pleasure of the other, and her orgasm welled up inside her, engulfing all logical thought.
Valmont clutched her close with feverish hands, knowing with every grasping motion of her cunt, every twitch of her hips, every thunderous beat of her pulse in his mouth, that this moment could not last forever. The sound of her climax, the feel of it that shuddered through her body with all the force and chaos of a derailing freight train, triggered a response in him more primal even than the hunger for her blood.
He staggered back from the wall, dragging her with him still impaled by his cock and his teeth, and still moaning and squealing her pleasure at both. He buried his fingers in the angle of her hips and fucked her harder still, until he broke from her throat at last and they sank to the ground together, still rutting frenziedly, both knowing the end was near and chasing it with renewed vigour.
And then she bucked and squeezed on him again and her cry now was wild and feral and free, a cry of intense abandonment and the kind of fulfilment deferred for centuries, and he knew he could restrain himself no longer.
"Turn around!" he barked at her, sliding her off him and cupping his swollen, glistening cock in his hand.
She turned on her knees, her long legs bent, her tiny feet raised slightly, tall heels kicking in the air. Her face when she looked up at him was flushed a deep, aroused rose, her lips trembling and wet, her eyes wild and heavy-lidded. Her dark hair had tumbled about her shoulders in wild abandon, tangling in the glossy line of blood that trickled across her collarbone. A look of frantic, wanton need filled her face, making her look almost petulant at being denied the vigorous stuffing she so clearly felt she merited.
Valmont laughed breathlessly, stepping towards her til his cock danced swollen and huge just before her painted carmine lips. "Suck me," he ordered, pulling on her hair to hold her back just before she devoured him. His eyes glistened with amusement and arousal. "Nicely!" he teased.
Cécile grinned widely and sank upon him, her taste buds going into a frenzy as they relished this long-desired object. She sucked fiercely, determinedly, as though sensing how close he was and keen not to keep him waiting any longer than they had both already been. As she tasted him, she slid one hand between the raw, slippery folds of her cunt and teased up the flickering embers of her earlier climaxes.
Valmont watched her, pleased at her own demanding, her refusal to be satisfied with what he alone could give her. Any lesser man would have been wary of allowing his mistress such licence, felt threatened by it. It just added to his pleasure that she had not forgotten his lessons during their long separation.
"Oh god!" Her expert and hungry mouth worked its magick almost instantaneously, and he cried out as the orgasm finally swelled and tore up inside him. He saw her brow contort as she found her own third and final release, heard the moan of it that was choked beneath the sudden explosion of his seed in her throat. "God, god, god!" He emptied himself into her, stabbing her mouth with his cock in a desperate attempt to prolong the ecstasy of the moment.
Cécile received his tribute with dutiful care, letting not a drop of his precious offering go to waste. She swallowed his spunk gratefully, and looked up at him for commendation. "Did I please you, Milord?" she asked quietly, as she licked his aching cock clean, tasting herself on his skin.
"Please me?" he queried with a wry smile, cupping her face in his trembling hands and drawing her to her feet. "Cécile, if this city were not already yours, I would give it to you myself this very night in thanks for what you have just done!" He laughed, drawing her over to the parapet and holding her close so they could watch together as the first shifting rays of dawn crept in across the glistening ocean.
She settled back in his arms with a heavy satiated sigh. "So you forgive me then?" she queried.
He smiled into her hair. "I forgive you, my dear," he concurred. "How could I not? Once again you have proven yourself my most gifted pupil."
"Ah well, M'sieur," she responded quickly, her eyes glittering with mischief as she stole a glance back at him. "You always did tell me that my education would not go to waste..."
[27th January 2001]
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