Heads up: plus steaminess ensues.

Part 6: link


    Arthur crawls forward, s’embrasser her, so that she has no choice but to lie back against the pillows. This time he is pulling at his own chemise and unbuckling his own ceinture as he prowls forward. He once again yanks the chemise over his head and tosses it in the general direction of a clothes hamper he keeps in a corner. Then he descends back down to her, s’embrasser deeply, as if it has been months since they’d been together instead of merely hours. He is determined to take his time this time, and he slows his pace. She seems to notice the change and he feels her hands roving on his bare chest, familiarizing herself with his contours as the feel of her fingers on his skin burns into his memory.
    His own hands start gliding lower, and he slides one up under her shirt. She presses forward, sitting up. He leans back on his knees, straddling her legs, watching her pull her chemise off over her head and drop it gently on the floor beside the bed. While she is still sitting up, she opens his trousers and slides her hand inside, over his underwear. He groans, eyes rolling back in his head slightly. She reaches vers l'avant, vers l’avant with both hands, sliding his trousers and underwear down his hips. He hops off the bed, pulling them off, along with his socks, and returns to her, completely naked. He really is a beautiful man, she admits, her eyes roaming over his body.
    He scoots in so that he is sitting behind her, legs on either side of her. He undoes her bra, sliding it off from behind, his hands replacing the material. She leans back into him, her head on his shoulder as he touches her, a breast in each hand, stroking, squeezing lightly. His work-roughened hands feel exceptionally wonderful on her delicate skin and she sighs. He runs his hands down to her stomach and slides them beneath the waist of her skirt, inching it down. She helps him slide it off down her legs and it lands near her shirt.
    Arthur returns one hand to a breast while the other toys with the dentelle thong. He is intrigued par it, and smiles into her neck. She wears something so sexy beneath her prim work clothes…
    “I don’t always,” she says, lire his mind again.
    “So toi wore these for me?” he nibbles her ear, sending plus flame-kissed chills down her spine.
    “You might say that. toi might also say that Morgana is smarter than she looks, since she brought them with my change of clothes. I— didn’t ask… for— them.” Trying to talk is getting difficult, as he now has his hand inside the tiny garment. Trying to think is impossible. She gives up.
    “I shall have to remember to thank her,” he repeats, tongue tracing a line from her ear down to her shoulder. She grabs his thighs on either side, finding them as muscular and sinewy as the rest of him.
    “What?” she asks, mind on one task only.
    “Huh?” he replies, similarly distracted.
    Gwen’s mind is nothing but a fog and she is vaguely aware of him removing her panties and dropping them with the rest of her clothes. She is pressing back against him, rubbing against him, making him moan at the contact. His hand between her legs is driving her wild and she unthinkingly digs her nails into his thighs.
    “Ouch,” he says into her ear.
    “Oh, sorry,” she manages, still distracted par his hand. She turns around, wanting to face him, needing to see him. She kisses him, leaning him back, and he hits his head on the headboard.
    “Ouch,” he says again, sitting forward, chuckling.
    “I’m so sorry!” she says, but she is laughing, too, the spell temporarily broken, and she rises up on her knees to reach up and rub the back of his head. Arthur suddenly finds himself with her breasts very near his face, so he takes advantage, bringing his lips to one of the hardened nubs, tongue and teeth taunting it. Gwen gasps and grabs his hair.
    He leans her back again, s’embrasser her chest, reminding himself to go slow. We’ve got all night, he thinks, and smiles as he moves to pay some attention to the other breast while his hands stroke her back gently, sliding down to her backside, holding her there.
    Gwen’s hand reaches down for him, holding him in her warm hand for a second, squeezing gently. She runs the very tips of her fingers lightly along his length, teasing, and he draws his breath in sharply at the sensation. Now it is her time to smile at his reaction to her attentions, and she takes him in her hand again, stroking slowly.
    “Guinevere…” he warns.
    “Hmm?” she says innocently.
    He looks at her. What was I going to say? Lost in her eyes, he says, “You. Are. Amazing.” He kisses her lips hungrily, pulling her back down onto him, this time taking care to scoot lower so he doesn’t hit his head.
    The bedclothes are getting quite rumpled beneath them, and they somehow manage to pull them back and out of the way. He flips them over so he is over her again, but off to one side. He wants to see her laid out on his bed. He stares.
    Normally Gwen would feel embarrassment at a man staring at her naked body this way, but she doesn’t this time. She boldly stares back at him, each wanting to memorize every curve and angle of the other.
    “I cannot believe how incredibly gorgeous toi are,” he says, then drops back down to her and kisses her. His lips are soft, gentle, almost worshipful as he molds his lips to hers, his tongue gently stroking hers, caressing. His hand is on her stomach, sliding up to her breast, sliding down to her hip, her thigh, between her legs, leaving a trail in its wake that feels scorched and sensitive. She moans into his mouth, and he responds par pressing deeper, hungrily tasting, sucking. She bites his lower lip gently, her teeth adding a new dimension to the sensations already running through his body. Her hand is back at his groin, touching and teasing in a manner that seems almost absentminded but still terribly arousing.
    Arthur’s desire is reaching a critical point, and he can only think of being inside her, making her scream with pleasure. He shifts his weight and gropes blindly over to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer, feeling around. His fingers find the packet and he brings his hand back over with it clenched in his fist. She puts her free hand on his fist and peels his fingers open, taking it from him so that she can again place it on him.
    “I l’amour that toi do that for me,” he mutters into her ear as she rolls the latex down his shaft. She smiles and bites his earlobe gently, but hard enough to send a thrill down his abdomen. He moves to position himself over her, but she pushes him back, climbing on haut, retour au début herself instead. She straddles him, resting on her hands, suspended over him. She leans down and kisses him, then reaches down with one hand to guide him into her as she does so. He pulls his lips away as he enters her, breathing, “Oh…”
    He expects her to sit upright as she rides him. She doesn’t. Instead she leans vers l'avant, vers l’avant and twines her legs around his and she slowly starts to slide on him, torturing him with pleasure. Their bodies are in almost complete contact with each other, and she keeps the pace slow, prolonging the sensation.
    “You’re killing me,” he moans, and she chuckles impishly, maintaining her slow pace.
    Arthur leans vers l'avant, vers l’avant and kisses her neck, and she arches back to allow him access to her breasts. He follows this lead and lavishes attention on them, s’embrasser and licking and biting while she gradually increases her speed.
    Gwen can feel her entire body growing warm and weak, as if there is lava running through her veins, burning her from the inside in the best possible way. Arthur is groaning at her breasts, urging her on, faster, harder. She complies eagerly, and climaxes with a few short, breathy shouts. The sound of her pleasure pushes Arthur over the edge himself and he slams into her with a grunt as his entire body feels like it is surging into her. She holds him as he rides his own wave, his every muscle crying out for her. Once he stills, she flips her hair to the side and puts her head down on his chest, laying on him as if he were her own personal mattress. Suddenly Arthur starts laughing, a delighted infectious laugh that causes Gwen to raise her head and stare at him.
    “What’s so funny?” she asks, suddenly finding that she wants to laugh as well, he is so joyful.
    “I have no idea,” he says, gathering her back to him, his hand in her hair as he gently places her head back on his chest. He kisses her head. “But I l’amour you.” She can still hear the smile in his voice.
    “I l’amour you, too Arthur,” she says, s’embrasser his chest.
    They lay there for several minutes, his arms wrapped around her. She shifts slightly; disconnecting them, then leans up and kisses him sweetly. She then rolls off of him and they clean themselves up a bit before pulling the covers up over them.
    “Will toi stay?” Arthur asks her as she snuggles into his arms.
    “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” she says into his neck. Then she looks up at him. “You have to work tomorrow?”
    “Yes.”
    “What time do toi need to be there?”
    “Noon.”
    “Good.” She settles her head back down. Her feet are cold. She tucks them between his calves.
    “Your feet are cold.”
    “You noticed.”
    “Oh…!” he suddenly exclaims, as if he had forgotten something important.
    “What?” She looks back up at him again. Wow, I am not used to all this strenuous activity. Tired.
    He looks to the side, blushing.
    “What??” She presses, intrigued.
    He tucks his head into the pillow, and tells her in a muffled voice, “I forgot that I was going to acquaint myself with your adorable toes.”
    “My what, now?”
    He looks at her and says, quite matter-of-factly, “You have very cute toes.”
    She blinks at him. “I don’t believe anyone has ever a dit that to me before.”
    “Pity.” He screws his lips to one side, still regretting his omission.
    “You’ll have other opportunities,” she tells him, now laughing at him. He stops her laughter with a scorching kiss.
    “Goodnight, Guinevere,” he says quietly against her lips, reaching back to switch off the small bedside lamp.
    “Goodnight Arthur,” she whispers.

Part 8: link