Claude slowly unbuttoned Nora’s coat. She didn’t care that it was mid-winter freezing outside, the temperature steadily dropping. He slipped his hands down and drew her into his chest. By the time he was practically sharing her coat, Nora had no problem with the current weather at all.
“That’s better,” he said, grazing his lips over her cheek. “Now I can hold you.”
I’m going to die. Right here in the middle of a Philadelphia street, Nora thought. And Boston will break off and sink beneath the sea.
“Don’t do that,” Claude purred, exploring the delicate spot behind her ear with his mouth.
“Start thinking about Seguin,” he said. A silent laugh rocked her body gently against his, solid as a rock. It quickly pushed any and all other thoughts from her mind.
“Nora,” he lifted her hair free of her collar, claiming the cleft between her jaw and throat as his own, “I’d like to be a gentleman. But if you get in the car there’s no way I’m taking you home.”
A ragged breath forced itself from her lungs as she flinched under the promise in his voice. Claude let one hand fall over her hip, the fabric of her dress gliding beneath his palm. Where the hem ran out, he curled his fingers underneath.
“And if I take you home, I won’t let you leave until you’re a Flyers fan.”
She groaned. His thighs were hard against hers, hinting at the many ways he could make good on his promise. Claude captured her mouth again so she couldn’t answer. He kissed her deeply, with full body contact and fingers ghosting across the back of her thigh. Nora’s resolve crumpled at the warm, whisky flavored sweep of his tongue.
“Get in the car.” The sound of her own voice betraying her.
They sped through darkened city streets, only a mile or two until they were pulling into the garage beneath what had once been a warehouse. It was converted into vertical lofts, each with a ground level entrance and two floors above. Claude held the door open for her and flipped a light switch.
“Wow,” she turned slowly in a circle. A streetlight spilled in through the window, illuminating the living room with it’s dark paneling and low furniture. Sleek and sexy, but everything looked comfortable enough to lay down on. Maybe because her mind could only think horizontally at the moment.
Claude shrugged out of his coat and emptied his pockets onto the kitchen counter. He had no intention of being able to find his pants in the morning.
Nora was admiring a framed photo of Claude and Danny, thinking they didn’t look like the enemy. Not when they were smiling. She wondered if there was happy hour in hell, because that’s right where she was going. Claude slowly walked up beside her, leaned his face into her hair and breathed deeply as he dragged one hand up the back of her thigh. No one spoke. This time he brought the dress right with him until he’d pulled it up over her backside. Nora’s heart hammered in her chest, otherwise she was perfectly still. At her hip she could feel his body responding in kind. His long fingers went down over the bare rise of her ass and brushed the lace strip of her thong where it disappeared between her legs. She sobbed out the breath she’d been holding.
Claude’s face was so close to hers it was nearly impossible to resist kissing her. But he kept his eyes open and watched as hers fluttered in time with his touch. His hand made slow progress to the top of her dress, where he pinched the zipper and slowly drew it down. Finally he couldn’t help himself. Nora turned willingly and Claude kissed every inch of skin exposed as he opened the back of her dress.
It fell to the floor like a parachute. He dropped to his knees and helped himself to the perfect shape of her waist, the flare of her hips. Standing there in just her panties and high heels, Nora attempted to stay on her feet as his soft mouth explored her body.
“Jesus,” she said softly. The vibration of his laugh skittered across her skin. He stroked every inch of her legs, starting at her ankles and pausing behind her knees. She reached back and ran her fingers through his soft curls, then cupped his chin and brought him to his feet. Managing her balance, Nora opened his shirt the way he’d done her coat in the street - slowly, one button at a time - straight down the middle to his belt. Looking right into his hazel eyes, she dragged the ends free; Claude pressed his lips together against the sensation of anything moving beneath his pants. Nora finished the last button and pushed the expensive material open, sliding her hands over this shoulders and biceps, not stopping till it fell away.
“I...,” she cleared her throat, intending to make a smart remark about the Flyers looking pretty good up close. It died on her tongue and all she could manage was a breathy, “Good God, you’re beautiful.”
Claude wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled her toward the stairs. She would have followed him off a cliff. At the landing, her mouth fell open.
The whole second floor of the loft was the master bedroom. The ceiling was high and expensive-looking furniture ringed the room. One wall showcased a big flat-screen TV, the other side a desk and bookshelf. An ensuite bathroom was tucked into the corner - Nora couldn’t even think about a bathtub or a shower at the moment. In the middle, like a pedestal in a museum, was a king-size platform bed with rumpled sheets and gray and white striped down comforter.
Before she could process the whole scene, Claude’s hands were spanning her waist, thumbs meeting at her spine, and he was kissing her back from neck to shoulder. His chest radiated heat against her bare skin. There was no resistance as he steered her toward the bed.
Nora turned at the edge and stopped him with a press of her body. She touched his chest, admiring the bulk of muscle he’d been attempting to hide beneath that dark gray suit. Claude may not be heavy, but there was plenty of him to put her hands on. He closed his eyes and she stroked his flat, hard stomach just below the navel.
“Cherie, please,” he said, voice husky.
Every ounce of Nora’s resistance pooled between her legs as she slipped open his belt. She willed herself to take it slowly, repay the weakness he’d exposed in her downstairs. His pants disappeared to the floor. Her hands kept moving. Claude growled softly as Nora moved her hands over the waistband of his shorts. She wanted desperately to look at him in his boxer briefs, to appreciate the physique that was turning her insides to Jello, but she couldn’t control her fingers as they pulled at the elastic.
“Mon dieu.” The words drifted along her shoulder as she pressed her breasts to his chest and her hands over his cock.
Claude’s mind slipped gears like a bike dropping it’s chain. How she could go so slowly - if he hadn’t felt her wet, hadn’t tasted the buzz of anticipation in her kiss, he’d wonder if she really wanted him at all. She took him in her grasp and stroked gently along his length, making him even harder. There was no blood left for his brain or lungs, she controlled everything. Another stroke. He stepped them closer to the bed.
This time she didn’t resist. She was on her back and he was on top of her in a heartbeat. Nora pushed him up to kneeling and stripped off his shorts, then kicked them away. Claude drew down her panties, wishing he had the fortitude to taste her right now. But even as he was thinking it, she was tugging him up at the shoulders. When he came level, body barely suspended over hers, Nora was looking up at him with those deep brown eyes.
What he was feeling was too confusing, what he was thinking was too much. So many things were happening out of order that Claude couldn’t speak. He shifted between her smooth thighs, moving until his trembling tip met her slick skin. Then pushed.
They both groaned in pleasure; low, feral sounds. Claude forced himself to keep his eyes open, though every fiber of his body wanted to explode. Nora lost the battle, her eyes rolling back before fluttering closed, neck arching, teeth biting deep into her delicate lower lip. Claude thought the show was almost as good as the feeling as he slowly screwed himself inside her.
Nora gasped at the heavy, steady force and felt every inch as her body gave out, surrendering just enough for Claude to achieve another fraction of his length. She managed a glance and saw concentration on his face, the pulse beneath his neck beating visibly as he stapled her to the mattress. Being the object of such focus was almost as unreal as the target of such energy.
Finally, with a last slip like a drop of water falling, Claude’s thighs came to rest against her body. She risked a tentative, staggered breath. It suddenly felt as if she might cry. So she pushed her lips and hips to his with the last of her strength.
It was all the green light Claude needed. The edges of his vision were starting to blur, distorting the lovely vision of Nora beneath him, struggling to take him all in. He didn’t want to hurt her but he certainly enjoying knowing he was everything she could handle. He drew out with patient caution then guided himself back into her tight, hot core.
Don’t, don’t, don’t... he warned himself, taking it slowly. He was extremely hard and incredibly close.
“Oooooooooh,” she moaned quietly. He was going to push right through her like a snowplow and she’d die a happy girl.
“Yes, fuck,” he panted, planting himself inside her again. Then again. A little faster, a little harder. She panted and he grunted, dragging her body downward and then driving it up again. Nora ground into him, begging for the upswing even though it threatened to make her black out.
Claude curled his back, hunching down over her, giving leverage to his thrusts. She clung to him and took every one, the tiny bursts of breath signifying he’d rung the goal post. His lips found her breast, sucked her nipple, traced it with his tongue. All to stop him from screaming her name. He bent his knees, pulling her backside into his lap and spilling her over his lap, back arched and head on the bed. His arms were strong around her waist as he held her down for every stroke.
She bit back a strangled scream, her fingers digging at his thighs as the only part of him she could reach. In full flex they offered nothing to hold onto. Just as she twisted fistfuls of the comforter, Claude flicked his thumb across her clit.
“OhmyGod,” she gasped, her entire body flinching and her pussy clenching hard around his dick. He did it again. She whimpered.
“That feels so fucking good.” Her voice was barely audible.
“You have no idea,” he said. With a full grasp on her hip, Claude rubbed his thumb in a light circle over her hot button. She tensed and quivered like a perfectly tuned guitar string. He had to grit his teeth against the twist and suck of her swollen pussy, tugging him back even as he got a running start for the next stroke. For all their slow, delicious start, he was pounding her good now. There was no way he was letting go - he pushed harder.
She gasped his name like she was hurling a curse. The rough, wide pad of his thumb was making short work of her body, spinning her like a top. Any second she’d lose her balance and fall. Nora wanted desperately to take him down with her. She forced herself deeper into his next heave.
And lost it. Claude rang her bell like a strongman swinging a hammer at the fair. She heard a noise tear from her throat as fireworks exploded inside her body. Everything locked and rolled and burst at the same time. Tears sprang to her eyes.
Claude roared in triumph and let slip all that he’d been holding back. Lust, surprise and an unexpected amount of caring poured out of him as he dropped on top of Nora and jacked himself home two, three times, spilling more than seemed possible for a woman he’d known only a few hours. He buried his face in her neck and waiting for the shaking to stop.
Nora lay still, holding Claude like she might otherwise slip through the mattress. Her head swam. Her body ached. And in the pit of her stomach, the butterflies chose that moment to reappear.
He lifted his face, those beautiful eyes drowsy and unfocused. She felt like curling up and drifting off herself, a sensation she almost never had after sex. Certainly not sex with a stranger in an unfamiliar place. Claude rolled off and turned her too, drawing her into the little spoon without knowing how much she loved to be held. They settled in together, let their breathing match until the rise and fall was a perfect rhythm.
Claude inhaled deeply from her skin, feeling drunk the scent of her perfume mixed with the exertion of being with him. She fit tightly to his body, warm and steady in his arms.
“Stay,” he murmured, sleep creeping into his voice.
He smiled, and whispered like a hypnotist might do. “Like the Flyers.”
She laughed weakly.
“I like one Flyer, I’ll give you that.”