13, Rue Therese - Elena Mauli Shapiro [67]
“Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?” she asks.
“I…,” he stammers. “I didn’t want to disturb the peace? Your husband isn’t home, is he?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She lets him in, closing the door quietly behind him. He has a high flush on his face, indicative of some sort of emotion, but otherwise he looks fairly inscrutable to her. He might be here to make love to her again; he might be here to tell her he must never make love to her again. She simply asks, “Why are you here?”
“Because I want you squirming under me, pinned down. Because I want to hear your voice quaver while you ask me to fuck you. Where have you been these past few days?”
“Ah,” is all she finds to say. They are both flustered, as if they have been driven to this moment not entirely under their own volition—as if possessed but still enough themselves to be embarrassed about it.
“Oh dear.” He sighs. “You know too much about me.”
She laughs, gently touching his reddened cheek. “You are sweet, after all.”
“Is that what I am?” he says as he grabs her by the waist and gives her one of his long, womb-quaking kisses. He backs her out of the entryway in the direction of the bedroom, working her dress up over her legs and caressing the warm skin of her thighs above where the garter belt meets the stockings. They leave a trail of her clothes across the living room, kissing all the while as if they are sucking life itself from each other’s tongues. They cannot make it to the bedroom. Louise has to drop to her knees immediately, unbuckle his belt, open his pants, and suck his cock. When it throbs in her mouth, it releases a tiny bit of semen, and Xavier gasps and pulls out. He grabs Louise by the shoulders, turns her around, and takes her on the floor, from behind, in front of the mirror that hangs on the door leading to her bedroom. Louise can see her own face there, transformed by arousal—her eyes dark and unfathomable, her lips as red and swollen as her cunt. From the first thrust, Xavier penetrates her so deeply that she cannot stop quivering—why is it, oh why is it that her body must yield so immediately and so completely to this man who came from nowhere?
… on the chair next to her dresser,
on his lap facing him, his arms around her. He smothers her cries with his kisses. He stands up, still holding her. She squeals and clings to him, to his broad shoulders. He is so deep inside her, there is nothing but him in the whole world. He holds her there and she is amazed; her husband has never done this to her. Xavier carries her to the bed and falls on it with her, on top of her. Her juices drench them both. As he begins to thrust again, he speeds up his rhythm—
“Oh, Xavier…,” she gasps.
He moans in response. She can feel his cock quiver; he is going to come; she is going to die.
“Louise—yes, oh, Louise…”
When he says her name like that, his voice ragged as he takes his pleasure of her, she comes so hard that she could faint.
AFTERWARD, AS HE HOLDS her, she wants to say I love you, but she cannot. It would be too ridiculous. Instead she says, “You drink a lot of coffee.”
“Maybe so; why do you say that?”
“Your semen—it tasted a bit like coffee.”
He looks into her face, and she swears she can see tenderness in his clear blue eyes—which is so much more alarming than the former blankness there, and so much more wonderful. He responds, bemused. “There’s an observation I haven’t heard before! You’re something else.” Then he suddenly becomes very earnest when he declares, “I’ve never seen a woman come like that.”
“How do you mean?”
“Come so much, I mean.”
Louise is utterly disquieted by this pronouncement. She wonders about those other women he’d been with—how did they come, exactly? It strikes her