"Yes, I do. I dodged the question."
"You dodged it and shut down."
"I know." He cleared his throat. "I've always wanted to have children. But my motivation may be a false one. I've always wanted to give a kid a better father than I had. Even if my mother had lived, I'd still feel deprived. I guess part of me wants to prove I can do better."
"That's not a great reason to become a parent."
"Oh, hell, that's not the only reason. It's just part of it. Believe it or not, I really like little kids. I'm drawn toward innocence. There's so little of it in my world." He looked at me when he said that and put his hand over mine on the tablecloth.
"You still insist on calling me innocent after what we've done together?"
"I told you before, innocence is more than a lack of experience and it doesn't mean naiveté. Innocence is a way of seeing the truth of the world and reacting to the world in truthfulness."
I laughed at that. "You need to spend more time around children. My nephew and niece are natural liars. 'Not me' is the perpetrator of all naughtiness in Olivia's house. Who broke this vase? 'Not me.' Who ate the last cookie? 'Not me'."
Tristan chuckled. "Right now, I would like to perpetrate some naughtiness with you, my queen. Shall we move our little party upstairs?" He helped me to my feet. On the way out he asked me to wait a minute. He spoke to the maître d for a moment and then we pushed the button for the ancient elevator.
I was more than ready to get back to the room. I wanted to feel Tristan's warm skin against mine again. There was never enough of him. Each sensuous adventure was a journey of unbelievable discovery about myself and my capacity for passion. He had opened doors that I never wanted to close. They were portals into depths I didn't know I possessed until his touch unlocked them for me.
Seven
"Are you ready for something a little different?"
"Unless you've packed some bizarre toys in your bag I can't imagine what we can do that would be as different as what we've already done."
"I am truly amazed that you underestimate me." He whipped open his robe and swung his hips so that his cock swayed like a pendulum between his thighs. Even flaccid, it was an impressive sight. "You see this magic wand of mine? You haven't even begun to test the limits of my carnal creativity."
I giggled. It seemed he intended to lighten the mood. It was one of the things I enjoyed most about being Tristan's lover. He could be passionate, dominant, tender, and even, at times, silly. Silly was good. We'd had a day that covered a lot of ground. He deserved to take the night off and just play. It was another measure of how he had transformed the way I thought about sex. With Tristan, I had permission to be anything, do anything with my body.
The doorbell startled me.
"Are we expecting company?" I had a sudden flashback to his comments in France about 'girls liking to play with other girls'. Surely I had made my position clear on that. There was a moment of panic before he opened the door. It was not a hired 'girl'. It was a waiter with a rolling table. There was an ice bucket and a couple domed dishes.
"In the bedroom, please," he told the waiter. Judging by the smile on his face when he left, the guy got a generous tip. "Now you in the bedroom, too."
"Good god, after that dinner you expect me to eat more? What kind of glutton do you think I am?"
"You, my sweet, fuckable one, are a glutton of the very best kind." He guided me over to the bed, slipped my robe off and seated me on the edge of the mattress. The bedside table had complimentary sleep masks and he pulled one out. "It'll be a lot more fun if you can't see."
"Are we having fun with food tonight?" I eyed the table next to the bed.
"Hush. Don't spoil it." He put the mask over my eyes. It was very effective; all I could see was blackness.
He lowered me onto my back and ran his hands down the length of my body. It was always an effort of some will not to just pull him against me and urge him to mount me. The mere touch of his silky fingers on my skin sent a signal to my clit that was impossible to ignore. Much as I longed to see him and watch his cock grow in front of me, I knew the power of the blindfold by now. He would soon have every other sense blazing.
He took one of my wrists and brought it above my head to the bedpost where he tied it. Then he walked around the big bed and tied the other one. "One of the key reasons hotels should always supply robes," he leaned down and whispered in my ear. "My neckties wouldn't be nearly long enough."
As before, the bonds were loose and I could have easily wriggled free. It was the idea that held me, not the knots. I loved the thought of being the object of his lust, of being captured in his desires and fantasies. He had considered and planned what he was going to do with my body and that made me wild for it.
"First, a little torture in your secret place."
I thought he meant my clit. He went for my belly button. A wet finger poked into my navel, hard enough to make me try to move away. In my body, there seems to be some connection between my belly button and my clit as if a wire runs between them. Tristan, damn him, remembered how sensitive I was there and intended to torment me. He pushed and circled and the sensation, while I couldn't describe it as painful, was just plain weird. I squirmed under his attention.
I felt his mouth on my belly next and his tongue probed where his finger had been. The connection remained, but the warm wet exploration of his mouth felt utterly different than the pressure of his fingertip. My pussy swelled and moistened and I couldn't contain a little moan of pleasure.
I heard the clink of something on the table. When the ice cube plopped in my navel was still warm from his mouth. I flinched and sent the ice sliding down my side. Tristan ran it back and nestled it into the hole again. The skin he had made so sensitive seemed to close around the cube and I could feel the liquid accumulating under it as it melted.
His warmth was near my breasts next as he suckled and twirled my tight nipples in his mouth. The scrape of his teeth was intense. My focus narrowed to the triangle of feeling on my chest and torso and the background music of my pussy, readying for whatever he had in mind. Time vanished with my sight and I gave myself permission to be a canvas for whatever artistry he could command. As the ice melted on my belly, so did my defenses and my fears. He wanted me to join him in the moment and the moment was all there was.
He circled the swell of my breasts with both hands, both holding more ice. Beginning at their outer edges, he cooled ever smaller circles around them until he reached my impossibly rigid nipples. Then his mouth was back, only this time he had the ice to roll against me with his tongue. The combination of the heat of his lips and the chill inside his mouth was incredible--two opposite sensations that eddied around me like finding a cold spring in a warm summer lake. I wanted to drown in him. I wanted to sink to the depths of wherever he might take me and never come up for air.