She reached out a long-nailed hand and gripped his erection, making him gasp. The sensation was so powerful that he was frightened for a moment that he would suddenly come all over her fingers and the silk coverlet.
“Do you need more food, I said.”
“Oh, no. It was wonderful.”
Though the truth was he hadn’t much cared for some of the weird specialties she kept pressing on him. Oysters were slippery and cold, though he liked the way Marie threw back her head, mouth wide open, and gulped the oysters down, leaving a tantalizing thread of clear, sticky liquid dangling from her parted lips.
The fish eggs were bitter and salty, though she had boasted about their cost and rarity. But the steak, underdone, with creamed potatoes and garlic had been fine. So had the fluffy apricots, whipped up with cream and some kind of liqueur.
And the wines!
So many, some sweet and some dry. Some chilled and some at the temperature of the warm room. One of them had been delicious, fizzy and sharp. The heavy bottle had popped and foamed when Marie thumbed open the cork.
Her hand was still on him, squeezing hard, harder than Michael wanted, but he didn’t protest.
“Go and turn off the lights, Mickey,” she said. “Then press the white button on the table at the top of the bed.”
“Sure.”
“But first, a little kissing.”
“Yeah.” He leaned toward her smooth face, starting to close his eyes in anticipation.
“Not on the mouth, sweet one. Not yet. A kiss for the toe of each of my boots. Show you’ll do what I tell you. Then a kiss on each knee. Then a long slow kiss just here .” Her other hand slid between her thighs.
Michael nodded, though this wasn’t turning out like he’d expected. He slid down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, taking her foot in his hand and kissing the soft leather, savoring the animal scent. He repeated the procedure on the other foot, then on the inside of each knee.
Her hands were on top of his head, locked in his hair, pulling him closer and higher, tugging his face into her body. His tongue, hesitant, flicked out, tasting her musky flavor, the mat of dark hair tickling his cheeks. Marie clamped her powerful thighs tight around his head, blotting out all sound, making it hard for the youth to breathe.
Seconds, or minutes, or hours later, the woman pushed him violently away from her, so that he sprawled on his back on the thick carpet. Her pale face was flushed, and her dark eyes narrowed as she looked down at him.
“That was exquisite, Mickey,” she whispered. “So gentle and so pleasing. Later we can But first the vids.”
He rose clumsily and turned off the lights, so that only the glow of the fire illuminated the bedroom. He climbed back on the bed, finger poised over the button, hesitating.
“What is it?” A distinct touch of sharpness tinged her voice. “Do it.”
“What did you mean about the others going, Marie?”
“Oh, nothing. Just my silly tongue running away. Just like your lovely tongue nearly ran away with me just now. All you need to think about is you being safe because I’ll protect you.”
Somehow, through the muddling effects of the mixture of alcoholic drinks, the teenager wondered how it could be, that if he was to be safe, then it seemed that it must logically follow that Ryan and the others might be in danger. It didn’t make any sort of sense.
But now Marie Mandeville had wriggled her way up the enormous bed toward him. Her mouth was hot and deep and nothing else mattered. At one point Michael asked whether he’d be going back to his own room before the night was out. Marie smiled and said that he would go when she allowed him to go. He mentioned the worry of the patrolling sec guards. But she smiled again and patted his cheek, explaining patiently that her orders had cleared the corridors between her suite and the rooms of the visiting outlanders.
HE FOUND IT amazingly difficult to concentrate on the flickering vids projected onto a small white panel close to the fireplace.