Strangers & Sinners
"What?" He growled softly when she pushed a hand against his chest trying to put a little space between them. "You want me to stop?"
"I need to come up for air," she gasped.
"Are we still moving too fast?" His expression was unreadable but she had a feeling he was teasing her.
"You're... um... what do they call you where you work - when they're not calling you sir, that is?"
He laughed. "Still stuck on that? They call me the A - D or AD Verona."
"A.D.? A and D like initials for a title?
"What does A and D stand for?"
"You'll have to guess."
"Because I said so."
"Oh... you're very bossy at what you do, aren't you?" She frowned at him.
"Some people think so," he replied, keeping his face as expressionless as his voice was neutral.
"What happens if I guess right? Is there a prize?"
"Yes." I'll make love to you.
"What's the prize?"
"You'll have to wait and see."
"Oh no, I have to know in advance. It might not be worth my effort."
"It'll be worth your effort."
"Mmmm, and if I guess wrong?"
"Then you'll pay a forfeit."
"What kind of forfeit?"
"You'll have to kiss me - with increasing degrees of passion - every time you guess wrong," he said matter-of-factly as if they were discussing whether it would rain or snow.
She liked that idea and grinned. "How many guesses do I get?"
"A bunch," he said, kissing her nose and moving to suck an earlobe.
She gently pushed his mouth away from her ear so she could concentrate on what they were saying and not what his mouth was doing to her body. "And then what?"
And then, I take you to my bed. "We'll have to wait and see what happens."
"You don't know what happens next?"
"Of course, I do." I'm going to fuck you senseless.
"Hmmm, you work in the Hoover building - you wear a suit. Or... was that just for the party?" He remained silent but his hands started roaming over her back again. "You're an administrative something? Am I close?"
"Kiss me," he ordered. She did, but only gently on his lips and pulled back to think some more about what the initials stood for.
"It's not administrative?"
He shook his head. "Not administrative. You owe me another kiss."
"I just kissed you."
"Wasn't passionate enough. Do it again."
She kissed him again - just slightly better than the last one. He scowled at her and she laughed, forgetting they were strangers, enjoying their banter. "Not administrative... art? A is for art? You're an art director?"
"No. You owe me another kiss. Make it a good one this time." His look was very stern as if good kissing was far more important than anything else in the world and she'd better get it right this time or else.
She cupped his face with both hands and kissed him soundly but not with any great passion. He reached up and pulled her hands down and behind her, holding both of them with one of his and kissed her thoroughly.
"Like that," he instructed. His other hand slipped under her shirt and as his tongue plundered her mouth, his hand fondled her breasts. When he finally let her up for air, she took a deep breath and whispered. "I guess being called an art director is worse than being called an accountant."
He chuckled, releasing her hands and lowered her to the couch turning them on their sides so they were facing each other.
"I know," she exclaimed. "You an assistant something, aren't you?"
"An assistant d... d-a... d-e... an assistant derelict?"
"I think you're on to something," he laughed. Then, changing the subject, he wanted to know her name. "What do people call you besides Lucky?"
"They call me Hey you! Or, Listen Lady! Or..."
He pushed a heavy thigh between hers - moving up and against her crotch and back again. "Tell me," he demanded. "What's your name?"
"Lucky," she said, her mouth opening slightly, all of a sudden in need of more air.
"Tell me," he said in a quieter tone and nibbled on her earlobe again, his thigh still moving between hers, causing a pleasant friction on sensitive tissue.
"Lucky," she repeated, shivers skating down her arms, the familiar ache beginning to throb between her legs.
"What's the name on your birth certificate? His lips moved from her ear to her mouth, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth - his hand moving to her navel, his fingers aiming for the waistband of her sweats.
"Sophie," she whispered, wanting him to keep doing what he was doing but suddenly afraid she was going to die. "Are you going to hurt me?"
He stopped what he was doing and sat up, pulling her with him. "What makes you think I'm going to hurt you?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "The words just came out of my mouth and I heard them when you heard them. I don't know why I said it. I'm sorry."
He put his arms around her in a comforting way and then leaned her back against his arm. He stroked his thumb across her cheek thinking she was more than she first appeared but what? He didn't know.
"You were okay before I asked your name. Was that it? You told me your name and that frightened you for some reason. Is that it?"
"I... don't honestly know."
"Bite the bullet, Sophie. Tell me the rest of it."
"The rest of it?"
"Yes. Sophie is short for Sofia with an 'f' or Sophia with a "ph?"
"And your last name?"
"Is that important?"
"It's important. Tell me."
"Why is it important?"
"Because I said it was. Tell me," he ordered.
"Okay, Sophie Bergdorf. Bergdorf? I know that name. Where have I heard that name? What's your middle name?"
"Sophie is my middle name. I mean, Sophia is my middle name."
This is like pulling teeth. "Your first name?"
She remained silent.
"Tell me." He pulled her face to his and kissed her again. She didn't object. "I'll bet it's a pretty name. Tell me," he urged softly.
She remained silent.
"Tell me or I won't kiss you again."
She said nothing.
He changed tactics. "Tell me or I won't *stop* kissing you."
A small, sexy giggle escaped her throat "It's... Anna."
"Anna? Anna is a beautiful name," he murmured as he nuzzled her neck, the tightening in his groin starting to make demands.
"You're saying it wrong. Not Anna like AAAnna. It's Ahhhnna like ahhhh."
"Ooooohhh. Ahhhnna," he smiled at her and drew out the 'ah' in her name. "Even prettier than Anna," he teased and promptly kissed her. "Why didn't you just tell me? Anna Sophia is a beautiful name." And, then he knew why. "Anna is short for something else, isn't it?"
When she didn't answer, he flipped her back on the couch and straddled her hips. "Mmmm, Annabel Lee? Annalee? Anna and the king of Siam? Anna... Anastasia? Anastasia Sophia Bergdorf?"
He straightened his legs, his body lying on her from waist to hips, his thighs nestled between hers. He supported his upper body with his forearms and cupped her face, kissing her with a certain amount of passion. He wondered why he suddenly felt tender toward her - this complete stranger with mesmerizing eyes - and full round breasts - and round hips - feeling as if he had known her all his life and thinking again if he had been mistaken and maybe, she wasn't a hooker, after all.
"I'll call you Anastasia. I like that better than Lucky."
"I prefer Lucky. If you call me Anastasia, then I shall call you Mr. Assistant Derelict."
In nanoseconds, he reverted to the irascible and demanding Assistant Director of the FBI. The smiling Sergei was nowhere in sight. He narrowed his eyes and glowered at her. "You will *not* call me Mr. Assistant Derelict." His voice was low with a hint of menace. Braver ones than she had cowered at that voice.
"You will *not* call me Anastasia," she countered softly.
"I'll call you whatever I want," AD Verona announced.
"Go right ahead, Assistant Derelict Verona," she said with the same degree of determination and pulled his head down so she could kiss him with the passion he had earlier demanded.
He held the kiss and rose from the couch, his hands re-positioning her legs around his waist. Keeping her against his chest, he carried her to his bed, impatiently pulling the covers down and startling her when he yanked her T-shirt off. As soon as her head hit the mattress, his hands went to her breasts, cupping, gauging their fullness, testing their firmness, and stroking the silkiness.
She shivered, inhaling sharply and made a low throaty sound when his thumbs dragged across her nipples, and because he liked the sound she made, he did it again... and again. When his mouth replaced his hand, she whimpered and pulled at his shoulders.
"I want to touch you. Take your shirt off... please. I want to touch you."
"Hold on, Tiger, it's coming off," he assured her, the fašade of AD Verona fading, Sergei holding her in his arms once again. He parted from her just long enough to pull his shirt off and when he lay back down again, he slipped his arms under her thighs and pulled her legs back around his waist. He covered her mouth and just when she thought he was going to suck the air right out of her body, his lips traveled down her throat to her breast, replacing one of his hands, suckling at the nipple, making her ache. His other hand continued to tease her other breast, his fingers lightly pinching the areola and nipple. Her hands moved down his sides, her fingers and palms sliding up and down his back. She mapped his body, noting the strength and sheer mass of him and wondering how such a powerful and muscular body could feel so silky smooth. Like velvet.
His heavy manhood was positioned at her folds and he teased them both, moving his hips slowly side to side and up and back in a circular motion - creating friction - arousing them further. In no time, they were both wet - his crotch damp from pre-cum, hers from the hot moisture seeping from her sex.
"Am I going too fast for you, Kitten?"