The Architect Becomes Her Ch. 07

As always, a thank you to MrWhiteTiger for his brilliant editing. At some point I would like to do something similar to this from Hugh's point of view. I liked having a little glimpse into the day to day playful sexual side of these two. And this is what came of it.

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The mornings she was with him were lovely, but they were an experiment in patience. As Hugh didn't need to be at an office or any other place of business, he didn't feel the need to get up at an early hour, whereas she had to be at her desk at the disgusting hour of eight 'o'clock. Hugh was forever tugging her back into bed whenever she would rise. He tempted her with slow kisses and wicked fingers. Trapping her hands above her head, he would pay lavish attention to her breasts, distracting her until she would gasp and struggle to dart out of bed in a panic as she rushed to get dressed in time.

He would laugh, then lay back in the pillows to watch her dress. Watch her conceal her luscious body in very prim and proper clothing. She would catch his eye and her fingers would slow until she was teasing him as she lingeringly did up the buttons on her shirt. She would move even more while propping a foot on the bed and sliding her stockings on, taunting him and gliding her fingers up with the silky material, until she attached the top to her lacy garters. Lucy would bite her lips seductively and give him a knowing look. If he made any move towards her she would scamper out of his reach, and finish dressing rapidly. The fun was seeing him lose his cool; watching his eyes darken with lust. Sometimes it was so easy. The hardest part was leaving him, knowing she was fully aroused. Oh, had he only known, he'd have captured and his fingers would have found out how wet she was.

Her only consolation was that he would make her pay for teasing him. And the way he made her pay more than made up for spending a morning with damp panties and an urge to touch herself. There had been too many years where the only source of satisfaction had been her fingers. Having someone who plotted out the hills and valleys of her body like a surveyor and seemed to know what she liked better than herself, kept her from seeking release until she was in Hugh's arms.

And, Oh! Could Hugh make her feel. He had a way about him that was quiet and determined. He would start out slowly, relaxing her body and mind with soft kisses, gradually and easily like a very good whiskey. They would warm her up, and melt any resistance, not that she had much, before the heat and burn would spike her blood. He would strip her slowly, kissing and tasting her skin like she was some favorite treat.

Then the air would sizzle as his fingers would brush and tease. Tweaking her nipples to hard peaks before soothing them with the palms of his warm hands, before doing it all over again until she was writhing and moaning in his arms. He was wicked.

Lucy would beg and plead, plucking at his clothing with her frantic fingers, but he would just chuckle and pin her arms behind her back.

One time, he had snatched up the silk scarf she had worn, and bound her hands above her head. He had ordered her to keep them there or he wouldn't continue. She'd glared daggers at him. Glared, that is, until his mouth went to work on her naked skin.

He had tormented and whipped her to a frenzy and he was still fully clothed. There she was, sprawled out on his sofa, her legs spread by his shoulders as he licked and sucked her pussy, the only skin visible were his forearms, where he'd pushed up his sleeves. It was scandalous! It was wicked. It was erotic as hell. Lucy had never felt more delectable than at that moment.

And when he'd finally taken her, he still had on all his clothes. Her legs had wrapped around him and slid against the soft material of his slacks. His shirt had abraded the plump softness of her breasts and teased her nipples to taut peaks. Lucy had writhed against Hugh and he had laughed in a very strained tone. He had murmured in her ear when she had fought against the scarf holding her wrists and his hands holding her arms up.

Sweet words told her how gorgeous she was to him. How he wanted to stay inside the silky heat of her body. He whispered how tight she was squeezing him as he thrust in long deep strokes that felt like he was pushing clear up to her throat.

She had tried to speak. Tried to tell him to hurry, but the words caught and all she could do was let out an incoherent cry. She had buried her face in his neck, rubbing against the collar of his shirt.

When he had finally let her come, she sank her teeth into the resilient flesh of his neck and reveled in his grunt and ever increasing pace. His release had sent her over the edge a second time and she had arched into his pressing weight. He had given her a satisfied kiss before finally releasing her bonds to hold her close to his fully clothed body.

In moments like that, Lucy wondered how she had gone so long without someone in her life. She was addicted to Hugh and felt like she could never get enough of him. For once in her life, she felt like she belonged.