Strangers & Sinners
Part Eight
by sarAdora
~~~

Lowering her legs, he tucked one long limb under his thighs and pulled her other foot to his mouth. Running his wet tongue behind her toes made them curl, then he sucked each toe into his mouth one at a time. She tried to pull her foot back, but he held it firmly. The suction of his mouth on each toe sent shivers skating up and down her spine, making her even crazier, the sting of his swats forgotten. When he had sucked all five toes, as well as the bottom of her foot, he continued the assault on the other one just to feel her shiver.

Lying beside her again, he took the hand she had punched him with and sucked her knuckles into his mouth, his warm tongue licking the soreness away. He dropped kisses on it, and then cupping her face, he kissed the corners of her mouth. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to his chest to cuddle her.

"There's a new toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet, clean T-shirts and sweats in the dresser," he murmured softly as he rubbed her butt with one hand and her neck with the other. "Help yourself. I'm going to shave and then make breakfast."

She took a deep shaky breath, unhappy he wasn't going to finish what he started. She knew he was hard; his erection was poking her mons, teasing her with its hardness. She wanted him to make love to her. "You're not going to..."

"Not going to... what?" he grinned at her, hugging her a little tighter, pulling her closer so she could feel his eager cock.

"Nothing." He's even more stubborn than I am,  she complained to her conscience.

Nick chuckled. He had been hard since he touched her the night before. He had a feeling he was going to stay that way until...

Until when?  His inner voice sneered. Until you tire of her and kick her out?  He ignored his conscience, not willing to deal with the issue.

"You want breakfast or not?"

"Cereal?"

"Nope."

"What?"

"You'll see."

He slipped on fresh sweats and a T-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth. That accomplished, he went downstairs to the kitchen to start their meal, leaving Sophie to dress.

After brushing her teeth and freshening up, Sophie rummaged through Nick's dresser looking for something to wear. She wasn't sure how she felt about him at the moment. He had left her more than a little unsettled from his unfinished love making, and it made her restless and cranky. She opened one drawer after another until she found what she wanted. She couldn't help noticing how organized everything was. Socks neatly folded in one drawer were paired with T-shirts, boxers and briefs in separate piles in another. Sweats were in a third and in the very top drawer, cufflinks and handkerchiefs and... Holy Mole! A gun and bullets!

My sweet lord,  her conscience gasped. What does this man do for a living?

I don't know. But... hmmm, ammunition clips...

He's a cop or... a detective... or... wait! Didn't he say he works at the Hoover building? It has to be something to do with the FBI.

Sophie pursed her lips in thought. I guess A.D. doesn't stand for Art Director, after all.

I still think Assistant Derelict says it all,  her conscience piped in.

Me, too, she grinned, as she slipped his T-shirt over her head and pulled on clean sweats. She pulled the drawstring tight so they wouldn't fall down too easily and bent over to roll up the legs.

She padded into the kitchen on bare feet. He noticed right away, pointedly looked at them and scowled. Sighing, Sophie went back up stairs to his bedroom to get a pair of socks.

If you ask me,  her conscience snipped, that man was toilet trained far too early in life.

Sophie agreed. Not only is he a neat freak,  she thought, remembering the organizational precision of the contents of his dresser, he's a control freak, too.

"Much better," he said when she came back into the kitchen wearing socks. "Hungry?"

"A little," she admitted, sitting on a kitchen stool watching as he stacked French toast onto a platter.

"Almost ready. Pour the coffee while you're up."

She wasn't up, but grinned at his order and placed two full mugs on the table. "Silverware?" she asked.

He pointed to the drawers and then the appropriate cabinet for the dishes. When all was ready, he pulled her up against his chest for a smothering kiss, and then lowered her into a chair.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, neither one voicing their thoughts.

She still look good to you, *Sergei*?

Hell, yes!

No makeup, hair all tangled, thoroughly loved. I'd say you got everything she has to offer.

Looks good with no makeup. I like her hair. As for lovemaking, we're nowhere near done.

You sure?  his conscience nagged. She looks a little too innocent for someone you've tossed in the sack. Wonder if it's an act.

Not innocent. She looks sensuous... delicious... sexy.

Fuckable?

Mmmm.

Carefully maintaining an inscrutable expression, Nick continued eating and arguing with his conscience.

Keeping an equally inscrutable expression, Sophie dug into the French toast.

Wonder why he's looking at me like that?

Her inner voice was quick to respond. What do you suppose he's thinking?

He's probably thinking I've been here long enough and I should finish breakfast and leave!

Okay, you've had enough to eat. Thank him, give him a big smooch goodbye, change into your own clothes and leave. Don't forget to call a cab.

"Had enough to eat?" he asked as she put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Uh-huh. And you?" she smiled.

"Nope. Not early enough," he said matter-of-factly, pushing his chair away from the table. He reached for her, pulling her onto his lap and pulled her T-shirt up, exposing her breasts.

"Sergei!"

"Easy, Tiger. I just want to kiss you," he said huskily. "And touch you... and love you with my mouth." Before she had a chance to react, he dipped his fingers into the syrup on his plate and rubbed it over her nipples. He chuckled at her growl, but took his time licking it off one nipple and then the other.

The first touch of syrup startled her, but now her only thought was how good his mouth felt.

You've turned into a slut Sophie-girl,  her conscience sneered. An absolute slut!

Sophie didn't respond. There was no reason to argue with the truth. She lay back in his arms, allowing this magnificent bear of a man to kiss her, fondle her, make love to her. It was all she could do not to scream her pleasure... until he untied the drawstring on her sweats.

Nick lifted her hips slightly so he could pull her sweats down. When they pooled at her ankles, he slid them over her feet. Lifting her legs to his shoulders, he turned her so her upper body was lying on his lap, her head at his knees. He dipped his fingers into the remainder of the syrup on his plate and then smeared it into her damp curls. Not satisfied, he opened the container of syrup and let a few drops fall over her folds. He made sure the sticky, sweet condiment covered her clit and seeped into the warm mouth of her sex.

He inspected his handiwork, then lifted his head to view Sophie's reaction. He felt her tense when he rubbed the syrup on her body, but now her mouth was open, her breathing a little harsh. Her hands were fisted, holding onto the fabric of his sweats, and she was in full blush. The color stinging her cheeks pleased him immensely.

He devoured her. His lips roamed over her - rubbing her hard - easing up - pressing down again and again. With enormous hunger, his tongue licked the syrup from her body. His acts were those of a starving man and she was manna from heaven. He tasted, he teased, he taunted her, making her wild and crazy for more.

Sophie was lost. She no longer had possession of her body or her mind. It belonged to Sergei and what he was doing to her. It belonged to this man who anointed her with the touch of his mouth. It belonged to this stranger who had filled her with the most incredible and pleasurable sensations. She was totally lost, but dimly aware that until he made it happen, she would not be found again.

When he finally sucked her clit into his warm mouth, he felt her body tense in climax, her soft moans becoming one continuous throaty purr. He dipped his tongue into her body, greedily lapping her sweetness. His mouth now sated, he carried her to his bed and entered her. With several long possessive thrusts, he claimed her.

Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he acknowledged his need for her - this tiger kitten - this beautiful stranger.

They had known each other less than 24 hours. But in those hours, they had explored each other's bodies with their hands and mouths, their lips and tongues. They had touched and kissed each other everywhere there was to be touched and kissed. They had tasted each other's flesh and each other's pleasure. And still they were not sated. They both craved more.

He cuddled her to him in the aftermath of their loving, both of them content to lie close, chest to breast, thigh to thigh. His arms were around her, stroking her back. Her head was under his chin, one hand on his chest, the other around his waist.

"You're beautiful, Kitten." he whispered. "So very beautiful." He pushed a few tendrils of hair out of her eyes and cupped her cheek. "I can't seem to get enough of you." He pulled her onto the pillow so they were face to face. "We're strangers," he paused, looking into her eyes. "We met by chance and..."

You love fucking her, right?  His conscience quipped.

"We're strangers," he continued, kissing the tip of her nose and then the corners of her mouth. "And I just can't get enough of you," he repeated in a hushed voice.

"We don't have to be strangers," she whispered so softly he barely heard her. "You tell me about you and I'll tell you about me."

He kissed her brow and her eyelids. "Close your eyes, Kitten. We'll take a nap and talk later."

"I want to love you later. Let's talk now," she said drowsily, her eyes drooping shut.

"You'll love me later, Kitten," he smiled as her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. "And then, I'll love you and..."

And you'll avoid her questions and get on with your life. Right, Sergei?  His conscience sneered, intimately familiar with his mode of operation.

We *will* talk, later. I have a few questions of my own. I'd like to know more about her.

She may give you a few answers, but not much more if you don't answer her questions about you, your job, your family, your background, your...

I can be very persuasive. She'll tell me what I want to know.

Persuasive?  He could have sworn his conscience laughed. More like intimidating,  it clarified.

We're strangers,  he argued.

Strangers? Very intimate strangers,  it snorted. What's holding you back? Why don't you just tell her enough to make her happy? Because, I...

Because you want to remain strangers?

No. Because, I...

~ End Part Eight ~

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