Full Disclosure Ch. 17

Number 17: But Can They Fuck?

When Etienne had finished his one dance with Jessica, he returned to Natalie with an apologetic look. "Why did you want me to do that?" he'd asked.

"I just wanted her to get her way so we could go back to being together uninterrupted," Natalie had explained, staring at her drink. "It just felt like the easiest way."

Etienne had exhaled deeply, leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Je suis désolé. I am sorry about her," he'd explained. "I led her on very much, it's my mistake. I don't think we should stick around though if we want to stay uninterrupted. My room?"

"Yes," Natalie had replied, then caught the bartender to close the tab on her hotel room bill before escaping with Etienne at a playful run from the club hand in hand.

It hadn't taken long for a bottle of champagne to be delivered. Etienne poured them each a glass, which Natalie took absentmindedly and walked out to the balcony of the room to take in the view.

The room was on the 5th floor of the resort directly above one of the more private pools with a full ocean view. It was dark out and in the pool were a half-dozen or so loose groupings of people, others hanging out around the tables, the area lit for night life and atmosphere. The background noise of chatter and laughter against light music could be heard, but not so prominently that it felt intrusive.

"It's hard to imagine that there's land out there over the horizon that isn't this... insane little bubble here," Natalie noted aloud, sensing Etienne behind her. It was alarming how far away she felt from her real existence. The life that wasn't fueled by sex and cocktails. The life that for the better part of eight years had little to no drama, other than the background hum of a fizzling marriage.

"In Paris, I write ad copy," Etienne said. "It is a very small, very boring little job. A job that doesn't consume me, so I am able to have more of a life, but the French... we do not allow our professions to consume us. So I do experience life maybe more than you Americans," Etienne agreed. "Still you are correct; this is a bubble of its own."

"Yeah, since I've arrived I've had no contact with anyone off the island," Natalie explained. "My parents, my best friends, my work... it just feels really strange to be so caught up in everything here that I have fully disconnected in a way I never have before. It only just dawned on me now. There is land out there over the horizon. Real life, waiting."

Etienne took her hand on the rail of the balcony. "This does not feel real to you?"

She smiled as she watched how his thumb brushed her skin. "That feels real," she sighed contentedly, then met his eyes. "Everything is real, but it's not reality. And certainly this sort of freedom is not--or rather, has not been my reality for a lot of years."

Sliding his hand up her bare arm, he cradled her face to capture her eyes. "And do I feel real?"

Natalie spun around, leaning against the railing to meet his gaze fully. She couldn't ever get over how ethereal he looked. His dark wispy hair that would fall into his eyes if he didn't sweep it off to the side. His piercing light blue eyes, always a little sleepy looking and wide set, that seemed otherworldly against his tanned skin. His angular features, the purposeful bit of scruff. And that smile... a smile so large and genuine it pulled up to his eyes, although now his lips were slightly parted as he stared at her, at ease. He was so unnaturally good looking in a skinny-boy Calvin Klein way, so in that sense he didn't always feel real.

On the other hand, the genuine connection they shared...

"You feel a little too real," she conceded, her voice trembling. "Which I suppose makes it feel equally as unreal as the rest of it. Like it's too much to be real."

Etienne's thumb stroked her cheek as he held her other hand down low, stepping closer so their bodies aligned. His lips brushed hers, feather light, and she held her breath as she closed her eyes. "Réel ou pas réel?"

The corner of Natalie's mouth twitched. "Réel," she stated. He was real. Her attraction was real. Her emotions were real. His kiss just now, a gentle tug on her lower lip with his mouth... real.

She didn't dare open her eyes as he begged the question: real or not real, focusing on the moment as he placed gentle kisses along her jawbone until he reached her earlobe, which was gently sucked; the coarse hair of his scruff tickling her cheek.

"Réel ou pas réel?" he whispered, pausing all motion as if waiting for her to disagree. Waiting for her to say 'not real'.

Brushing her cheek against his, melting into him, she exhaled: "Real."

Releasing her head and hand, he undid the top button of her white blouse. Then the next between her breasts. Then the one below that. "Réel ou pas réel?" he asked her, back in her eyes as he made the journey to the final one, then held.

Natalie swallowed heavily. "Real," she said.

His eyes left hers, instead looking between them as he parted the shirt open, done by sliding his hands along the skin of her sides to shoulders, then pulling it down her arms until she had to allow the inch of space between her lower back and the railing for it to fall to the concrete of the balcony.

Natalie rarely considered Elijah while with Etienne--had made a clear point in her brain to compartmentalize the two stories she was living, just as she made a point not to think of Etienne while alone with Elijah. But he crept into her thoughts as she watched Etienne's low gaze, felt the back of his hand brush her collarbone as the other hand held her waist. His touches were so delicate. So seductive.

Etienne exuded romance and sensuality. It was no wonder he was who she'd chosen to test the marriage. He was the polar opposite of Elijah in almost every way.

Pulling both of her bra straps down her shoulders, he ran his hands to her back and again asked the question. Natalie answered, and he unclasped her bra, pulling it from her body.

He palmed her breast, fondling it for a moment and smiled. "And we know these are real," he quietly chuckled, then brought his mouth down to the other and kissed her nipple, which instantly hardened with the delicate touch. Instead of taking it into his mouth, he ran his lips across it and Natalie exhaled in staccatos, barely holding herself together. "Si parfait," he muttered to himself, the tone of his voice like liquid. Like a song. "Si doux. Je pourrais les lécher pour toujours."

She hoped that was a promise: that he'd lick them forever, and let out a moan as he finally took the nipple he'd been teasing into his mouth, pulling her against him with one hand flat on her back. The breeze kicked up, tingling her skin and though it was warm outside, it amplified the sensations. She needed him; had to focus on allowing the long moment. The slow seduction, even though she was craving more.

When he kissed his way down her stomach, he took to his knees, and all that separated his mouth was her red skirt and panties. Meeting her gaze, she looked down at him as he posed the question once more.

"Real," she breathed, gripping the railing as he brushed his hands up her thighs under her skirt. He slowly slid her panties down her legs. When she stepped from one side with her right leg, he pulled the little side table over a few inches and set her foot upon it so her leg was hiked up. Kissing a line from knee to inner thigh, he disappeared under the short red fabric and--with one hand on her ass, the other on her abdomen, he parted her so his tongue could run freely.

Natalie thought she might die and tightened her grip on the railing as she let out a long cry. She didn't trust her legs to hold her up and brought her elbows down to help support her in case her knees buckled against Etienne's skilled motions. "Oh fuck," she exhaled, then bit her lip as her breathing picked up. She barely recognized the sounds she was making, felt as though she were no longer in her body, or at least it was only his head and hands keeping her grounded instead of floating off into the night sky. She'd always struggled with oral because it felt like too much. Too out of her control. All sensation in all the right places, an overwhelming amount, with nothing for her muscles to grip onto.

Without a pause in action, Etienne pulled at the table, widening her leg, and before she could replace it, he applied pressure on her inner thigh to insist upon the width that nearly brought her knee to the bars of the balcony railing. Natalie felt as though she may blackout and grabbed his head, but instead of pulling him away she held--almost pulled him closer. Harder against her. She cried out again, particularly loudly, both the moan and his name, then bit her lip in an attempt to stifle herself from allowing that again: there were people below them in a pool, for god's sake, oh my god!

At this, her heartrate sped up. Did they know? If they were to look up, she had no doubt her silhouette would be seen from below. She had never feared public displays, but the intimacy she shared with Etienne felt different because, to her, the reality was like a secret. No one other than Elijah knew they had anything more than just conversations poolside. Some flirting. And she feared if people knew that it would ruin it.

Still, certainly no one in the pool six floors below would know it was them. They'd be shadows, backlit by the light in the hotel room. But she could not call out his name again.

"Mmmnnnaaah, Etienne!"

So much for that. But his finger had entered her against the assault of his tongue and... "Oh, oh, oh no! Ahh, oh fuck, oh no!" She gripped the rail for dear life as her legs shook, her hips bucking without her control, and in the next moment she orgasmed, her legs finally giving way.

She didn't know until the initial first few waves had subsided that Etienne had taken her right leg over his shoulder while wrapping an arm around her to keep her from collapsing to the concrete of the balcony--as the railing was high enough that there was no risk of her falling over it. And held this way, he continued, only this time using his left hand that was wrapped around her thigh to readjust how he spread her lips to keep his tongue moving, and she rolled right into one--two more orgasms back to back.

As that third wave released, he rose, wrapping his arms around her while she trembled against him, his mouth placing light kisses on her neck and shoulder. "Real or not real?" he asked in English.

"Real," Natalie told him, a hitched, staccato'd exhale that caught in five pulses, aligning with the tempo of her trembling.

"Real," he agreed, taking her hand and kissing her palm before draping her arm around his neck. "Hold onto me."

She felt him fiddle with his pants between them, then hike her left leg up, which was at least shifting her weight to the other leg. He positioned himself against her--she needed him so badly it felt like a life or death matter--and he slowly entered. Natalie's head fell back in a long moan, finally--finally!--getting filled by him. Giving her muscles what they ached for.

"Ah, Natalie," he cooed, only said with more than the accent--said with the full French pronunciation, which he rarely did, always attempting to meet her name with the American syllabic emphasis--and then he rapid fired a phrase in French so quickly that it took Natalie's sex-addled brain a moment to fully comprehend as something along the lines of how heaven is living in her pussy.

His hand behind her gripped her hair and pulled back so her eyes were in his as he pumped himself in and out of her. She felt locked in a vice grip this way, his dick working its magic while his hand pulled her hair hard enough that she couldn't have moved her head. "Look at me," he told her, then kissed her briefly. "Look at me and tell me this isn't real to you."

Natalie was about to come again, between the perfectly fluid motions of his hips, the way he held her and how he'd made a demand--a demand that carried a profound amount of weight behind it. She was further turned on and exhaled a long moan as the weight of it settled against the powerful physical sensations she was experiencing.

Instead of answering immediately, she hiked up her grip around his shoulder by wrapping her other arm--the one that had been gripping the balcony rail--around his neck as well, which forced both his hand to release his hair and placed her head slightly above him. She pressed her mouth to his in a hard kiss, all the passion and meaning--and the answer--behind it. As she broke the kiss, she held his shoulders impossibly tighter and said "Real," only it exited as a whine.

Etienne's cock left her and a new whine exited in disappointment, devastated to have lost him. Etienne, however, was quick and deliberate with his motions as he lifted her fully from her feet and carried her back towards the chaise lounge. Thin as he was, he was strong and lithe, and to Natalie's surprise he was able to sit down on the cushioned chaise, adjust so he was cross-legged with the help of Natalie bearing her own weight for a moment, then wrapping his arms back around her, she worked her way upon him, mouth agape as she made the descent with her legs wrapped around his back.

The position was intimate. By design, she decided, because that was just who Etienne was. It was dark out here on the balcony, but she was close enough to his face to see his light eyes in hers, a few inches below hers, as they mutually found a rhythm of their hips. She was lost in him, one arm around his neck, the other hand caressing his cheek with her thumb on his chin. He angled his chin down to briefly take it between his teeth before she leaned in and kissed him. She felt like she couldn't get close enough, even though they were as close as humanly possible in this pretzel of entwined limbs.

Foreheads pressed to one another, they each held a cheek, and Etienne gasped another rapid-fire phrase in French. Though Natalie was fluent, it felt garbled and too quiet, like an exclamation under one's breath. He seemed to note the lack of reaction. "You are like... my goddess. To adore. Je te vénère," he translated through rugged breaths. His thumb met her lips, which she kissed, then brought into her mouth to lightly bite. "All I want... pour l'éternité... just you."

Natalie was intoxicated. The way their bodies moved together was nothing short of erotic, and her body was producing a heat that the humidity drowned out, so each breeze that wafted through the air tingled all the senses against the light sweat that was beginning to form. Her sighs and moans went doubled with his, and she was once again close to an orgasm, her tempo increasing and her ability to focus diminishing.

Etienne's hand slid down her neck and to her chest where his palm flattened between her breasts. He slowly leaned back, adjusting his legs as Natalie adjusted hers until he was able to lay flat upon the cushion with Natalie's knees down, never having fully exited her. He was in the shadows for her, but she was aglow from the lights in the hotel room, riding him now with only her goal in mind.

It wasn't long, the pressure had mounted, and with a few swivels to get the angle she needed she found it in leaning back, his hard cock hitting exactly the spot that would send her over the edge. A few long quick bounces and she lost herself without anything more than his hands on her hips, impaled on him. This one came in pulses of energy that rocked the very foundation of the earth, as far as she knew and she cried out against them, certainly louder than she should have been outside on a balcony.

She realized she'd paid no attention to where he was at in the process, and after the final pulse rocked through her, she exhaled, her body shaken and placed her hand on his chest, worried. She was usually so much better at meeting her partner where he was at. Swiveling her hips, Etienne fully embedded, she asked, "Oh my god, did you come?"

Etienne laughed delightedly, that smile that always pulled up to his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. "After watching you orgasm like that? It would have been impossible not to!"

Natalie smiled. Felt a little self-conscious, but not embarrassed. "Yeah, well..." she began sheepishly, circling her hips once more. "That's what you do to me, I guess," she finished, still heaving in deep breaths. She laid down upon his chest, saddened when he fell from her and that feeling of fullness disappeared. There was nothing quite like the awareness of emptiness after sex, especially that kind of sex. The kind where you wish you could meld into each other's bodies.

What made it better though was how he wrapped his arms around her and pet her hair. "C'était parfait," he breathed. "It was our best yet. Quite possibly the best, dont je me souviens. Jamais."

"Impossible!" Natalie exclaimed, said in the French intonation as she lightly whacked his chest. Sitting up she narrowed her eyes at him. "If you say things like that, I will think you're lying to me with everything."

Etienne shook his head. "C'est vrai! It's true!" he argued. "I mean it! You are the best sex I believe I have ever had, and I think I would know. I would think my recollection of sexe génial would be accurate."

"Maybe you haven't slept with enough people, then," Natalie countered, refusing to accept that he thought of her as the best sex he'd ever had.

This made him laugh harder. "I am not a... how would you say coureur?" Natalie peered at him with a roll of her eyes and grin. Did not give him the translation out of sheer amusement while he tried to figure it out. "A man slut?"

"There ya go," Natalie laughed and nodded.

"Okay," Etienne cried in laughter. "I am not that. I have had extraordinary sex with some women." He sobered, stroking her cheek with a gaze of adoration. "I only insist that it has not compared with you. Nothing compares to you."

Natalie's heart sped up again. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of him, or at least by the intensity of how she felt about him. She couldn't help but pull herself to his mouth and kiss him. The craziest part being that, just like on the beach that day where all they did was kiss, she still could have only kissed him tonight and been fulfilled.

She felt his hands over her rear on top of her skirt; she hadn't realized it was still on and she chuckled. "I think we should get cozy, drink the rest of that bottle of champagne in the AC, and then we can do this all again like six more times before we sleep."

Etienne mouthed the word "six" in feigned surprise and horror, as though the idea were outlandish, and she nodded her head vigorously and jokingly mouthed it right back. "I have maybe five in me," he contended as she crawled from him, still teasing her. "But no need to worry, I can play you like an instrument with my mouth as long as you need."

Natalie laughed as she began to walk into the room. Paused for a moment, pulled her skirt off with her back to him, then rose in what she hoped was a sexy way.

It had the desired effect of an inhale. "I've changed my mind," Etienne stated. "I have many more than six in me. Eleven, minimum."

Laughing in sheer happiness, Natalie walked over to the closet and grabbed the robes, tossing one at Etienne, who was still half dressed. "Champagne and some coziness first, please," she told him, shrugging it on. It felt nice to be in the cool room instead of the humid balcony, and she climbed on the bed, retrieving the remote for the tv.

Etienne handed her a refilled glass and climbed on the bed. "Do we need this on?" he asked her, raising a brow.

"No," Natalie said, shaking her head and setting the remote back down, though on the bed beside her, not putting it away. "We don't need anything but each other tonight. Still, I really do want that six more times, and for that to happen I'd like to rest a tiny bit. While that wasn't like... vigorous, it still shook my body in a way I wasn't prepared for."

"Explain that to me," Etienne asked her, his eyes imploring.

Natalie exhaled sharply as she shook her head. "You make love to me in such a powerful and intense way that I lose myself. Like nothing in the world exists outside of us. It's profound how we can move together the way we do--how you look at me the way you do--and how I can feel so exhausted and drunk after my orgasms with you with hardly any real physical exertion."

"Drunk off of me," Etienne said with a quirked smile. He clinked her glass. "I feel the same, you must know it."

"You take control in a way that weakens my knees," she continued. "The way you speak to me, the way what you say feels tantamount to worship." She laughed lightheartedly there. "You're too careful with me."

She knew instantly that she'd made a mistake with how his brows narrowed. And she knew how it came out before he even began to say, "You don't like how I do--"

"No, oh my god, no!" she cried, cutting him off. She quickly sat her glass down on the bedside table and moved closer to him, brushing her hand through his hair. "No." This stated firmly. Vehemently. "I am obsessed with the way you make love to me. I'm literally telling you I need to rest because of how much those orgasms you gave me exhausted me to the point where I feel the need for a stupid sitcom or something to rest and reset!" She laughed lightheartedly. And he was receiving her words; he wasn't suddenly downtrodden. This is why we work so well, she thought. We hear one another. "I am only saying that you don't need to be so careful with me. That out there was perfection." The rambling was tough--she didn't know fully how to express it without diminishing how deeply meaningful their sex together was. "I want that, always. Truly perfect. I'm expressing here that I can handle the imperfect. I can handle--"

"Fucking," Etienne finished for her.

"Well, ah--"

"You want me to fuck you," Etienne continued.

What him speaking it into the universe did between her legs was nothing short of a phenomenon. And she didn't know why, because she had certainly been fucked and still felt the way Etienne had sex with her was... well, perhaps not superior, but so uniquely different--so uniquely him--that if he didn't fuck her the way Elijah would, she was still blissfully content being with him in a way that had her questioning everything.

But if he could... would that mean--

A knock on the door ripped her from her thoughts or any sort of answer, and the moment instantly vanished. "Are you expecting--?"

"Absolutely not," Etienne insisted, setting his champagne down and rising from the bed. "Do I even answer it?"

"I don't know... it's your room..." Natalie whispered.

"They will leave, there's no reason to think anyone is in here," Etienne stated just as another knock happened. "I can go see...?"

"Go see," Natalie agreed. Would Elijah come up here looking for her? She was sure he knew she was with Etienne, even though it hadn't been spoken, in the same way she knew he was with the bitchy Leah. They were both with the other's worst nightmare tonight, which is why Natalie knew he would leave her alone: aside from being otherwise occupied, this was the pivotal night they had both spoken of needing, so they had to respect that boundary at least until morning.

The door clicked open. "Jessica?" Etienne inquired, and Natalie's heart sank. For a different reason, of course. She felt bad for Jessica. And while deeply unfair and hypocritical, the girl Etienne spent time with when he wasn't with her was not someone she wanted to be reminded of just as he'd asked if she wanted him to fuck her.

For fucks sake.

"I was lonely when you left the club," Natalie heard Jessica pout from the door. She was surprised he'd opened it at all, though on the other hand, it had been the kind thing to do instead of leaving her hanging. Leaving her to knock for who knows how long, especially once he'd peered through the peephole, which would have alerted her the room was occupied. "Can I come in?"

"Not tonight," Etienne stated. And he didn't give any excuse or reason, to Natalie's surprise. A bold move. She admired it.

"Please?" Jessica whined. "I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. I need you."

"I am busy tonight," Etienne responded, his tone firm. "Tomorrow we can talk."

There was a shuffle, though Natalie couldn't see what was happening, it sounded like the whooshing or shoving of the door. "Are you with someone?" Jessica pressed, her voice rising.

"I am," Etienne responded honestly. Again, Natalie respected it. Good for him for not being a liar.

"Who!?"

"It is not any of your business, Jessica," he stated. "You don't need to go to your room, but you cannot be here tonight. You've been drinking though, so perhaps your room is the best place to be."

"Who are you with?!" she demanded.

"Jessica, do not go in there," Etienne warned.

But Jessica appeared in front of the bed and met Natalie's eyes. Natalie, who was nothing if not a grown up, sat back on the bed against the pillow, holding eye contact with the girl in a way that dared her to speak.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jessica cried. "Where is your husband?"

Nodding her head slowly, Natalie's face tightened. "Well, I imagine he's in bed."

"Oh, that is so gross that you are cheating on him, fucking yuck," Jessica groaned.

Whisking up her glass of champagne, Natalie held it up. "I didn't say whose bed," she drawled, then took a large sip.

Jessica's face turned red. Natalie could read her thoughts all over her face: she didn't know what to say to that. She'd intended to scare Natalie and Natalie had instead sucked the wind right out of her sails. She instead turned to Etienne. "So... you're choosing a married woman over spending more nights with me?" she implored, and Natalie did feel a bit bad for her at that moment: a sadness had leaked into her voice.

Etienne held strong. Kind, but firm. "I am with Natalie tonight," he stated. "I want to be with her. Her status is insignificant. I am perfectly willing to discuss all of this with you tomorrow, but tonight you must leave. Now."

Jessica stammered for a moment, looking between the two of them. Then shook her head, her mouth firmly drawn. "Fine," she stated. "This is so fucked up, but fine."

Without anything more, she marched past Etienne. Natalie heard the door slam shut. A wave of pity washed through her. The next, some guilt: Etienne was spending time with her, a married woman, and not the single girl who wanted him. Was she wasting his time? Unequivocally yes, she was. Maybe she was who needed to leave.

In fact, that thought she assumed might pass soaked into her blood and she suddenly began to panic, though didn't wear it. Again, she was nothing if not a cool-headed adult. A walk. Maybe she just needed a walk.

"Maybe she's--"

She didn't want to finish the sentence.

"No," Etienne stated, even firmer than he'd been with Jessica. Firmer than Natalie had been with him over squashing his own off the rails thought that she might have been unhappy with their sexcapades.

"You could be with someone single and devoted to you in a way I cannot be," Natalie said, rising from the bed. "And not because I don't want to be, but because we laid out very clear rules on our trip here."

"You have explained everything to me," Etienne insisted, quickly closing the gap between them. He took her in his arms, stroking her hair and cheek. "I understand exactly what is happening and this is my choice. You do not get to make my choices for me."

Natalie peered at him. "I am robbing you of something that could be real--"

"Putain de bordel de merde!" Etienne groaned. "Did we not decide out on the balcony that all of this is real?" He thrust his arm out, pointing toward the sliding doors. "Do I need to replay that for you to believe me when I say that this is real, for the both of us and you know it?"

Natalie sighed. Bit her lip. Felt the tingling return as a few moments from an hour ago flashed in her memory. "Okay," she conceded, making a decision that she would not question this again. Etienne, too, was an adult. Just as she would not allow someone to dictate her feelings or actions, she would not with him either, despite the perpetual nagging feeling that this would end in horrible pain for at least one of them. "Okay. I'm sorry. I had a moment of doubt. I will not put us through that again."

Etienne grabbed her chin. "Good," he stated, then kissed her deeply. "I will deal with Jessica tomorrow. I will not be with her again."

"I don't need that," Natalie said honestly. "I will be with Elijah--"

"Irrelevant," Etienne stated majestically. "You are working on something. I will take every minute you offer me as a gift, and I will not waste another minute with anyone else. There are plenty of activities I can do. Why sleep with someone I feel nothing for."

Natalie's heart swelled. She knew it was wrong. She knew it so deeply, but this place was not reality. They would leave here in four days. Three full days left. He was correct in believing he didn't need to spend every moment sleeping with someone.

"I will not sleep with anyone else, either," she said. "Elijah--"

"No more of his name, either," Etienne told her. "We agreed when we are together, it's only us. I will see him a lot, we are cordial, but he doesn't need to intrude on what we have here. Right now."

He kissed her again, lacing his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. She was turned on by just how firm he'd been in every statement made since opening that door. She loved his sensuality. She equally admired his strength. Even in his sensuality, he had been in control, like out on the balcony. She regretted telling him she could handle more. It had made him doubt himself, when she really did want that level of seduction and love making from him.

"Etienne, about what I was saying, I don't--"

"About you wanting me to fuck you."

This said almost as a statement, and the tone read as much.

"Yeah," Natalie said with a sigh. "I'm sorry if you--"

"Stop," Etienne ordered, and physically covered her mouth with one hand. Natalie was shocked. He reached out and deftly untied the belt of the robe, slid it from her body until it fell to the carpet at her feet. "You will get on the bed for me." As it was said, Etienne's free hand ran over her breast, then down between her legs. The hand that had covered her mouth slid around the back of her head once more, and he kissed her deeply. "Because I can, and will, fuck."

Natalie didn't know how she wasn't a puddle, electrical currents coursing through her blood. Could she really have it all? Was it possible that in this man, she could have someone profoundly connect with her physically in a way that connected their souls and still receive the other side of the spectrum?

As she climbed onto the bed, she felt nervous, but she quickly altered her mindset: this was nothing new. She hated to think of Elijah so quickly after he'd insisted the name not enter their time together, something she usually adhered to without trying, but Elijah above all else did know how to fuck. He was slightly wider than Etienne, though no longer. He did know exactly how to use it. Her mind was reeling, but she halted the Elijah-car and disconnected him from the train: she would not compare.

And when Etienne's hand met her bare ass, she gasped. Why? Why was she nervous?!

Because this was him. Him. Because with him, everything was new. Everything was different. The look of him, the shape of his body. Straight on down to speaking a literal other language. He was not what she had. And everything--her whole world--was turned upside-down. The champagne glass appeared in front of her. "Drink this down," she was told. An order. She loved an order.

Taking it, she met his gaze with her chin tucked low and demure, sitting on her knees and tilted the glass to her lips, staring into his beautiful light blue eyes until every last drop had disappeared. She held it out to him, though he didn't take it. He climbed from the bed and retrieved the bottle, bringing it back with him along with his own glass.

He filled both, then clinked her glass. "To fucking," he stated.

Natalie smiled, knew it was said both tongue in cheek, and as a dare. A dare that went both ways, seemingly. They each sipped, then he set the glasses on the bedside table.

He untied his robe and shrugged out of it, his underwear still on. Pulling the belt from the loops, he held it up and said, "Poignets, s'il vous plaît."

With a hard swallow, Natalie bit her lip, still sitting upon her heels. She did as he politely had asked: held her hands out, wrists up, as though ready to be arrested. Watched as Etienne carefully wrapped the doubled belt around her wrists, pulling the ends through the center.

He crawled a few feet while holding the ends as he said, "Up," in a way that brought her down to her back with her arms above her head and he set to tying the ends on a rung of the headboard. Once he'd finished, he sat back and looked her over from head to toe in a way that lit her skin on fire. "Almost," he breathed, then pulled down on her ankles so her arms were fully stretched, elbows locked.

Something that had always entranced Natalie about Etienne was how he moved. His body was thin and toned, smaller boned with sharp corners. He had the ability to move like a dancer, and as he crawled to align himself above her--his knees between her legs, hovering over her body--it was done like a ballet, the motions liquid, never clumsy, and somehow in the same motion he had removed his boxer-briefs.

"J'adore la forme de ton corps," he told her, his eyes studying every inch of her as he praised the shape of her body, and seemingly purposefully not meeting her eyes. "How it looks stretched out like this." He ran his hand over her breast, which in this position laid nearly flat on her chest, though her nipples were pointed to the ceiling and hard as diamonds. "How you are mine to devour," he continued, taking the nipple between his teeth as his hand grasped what there was to hold. He blew some air where his saliva had wet, sending shivers down Natalie's spine.

His hands ran her length, from hips to wrist and back down as he kissed her neck, her chest, her stomach. He pulled on her hips again, eliciting a gasp, done as though reenforcing how elongated she was and completely beholden to anything he may do with her hands bound to the bedframe. And the way his hands delicately trailed over her skin sent goosebumps all over her body against the cold of the AC.

The anticipation was killing her--perhaps another one of Etienne's greatest strengths. They had flirted and barely touched the entire first week together; he knew how to make her need him. How to truly test any patience, just as he was now.

"Tell me you want me," he said, his tone low and like liquid.

His hand rested on her lower stomach, his thumb running slow circles in a way that teased her, like maybe on the next pass it would go low enough to touch her, but it never did. She hoped for it each time and found her back arching a few inches, trying to coax it where she wanted it. "I want you," she gasped, and his thumb finally made its way between her legs, parting her lips. "Ahhh, oh my god, I need you."

With his other hand, he hiked up her right leg in a way that lined it up the length of his body, her knee near his shoulder. She was actively gyrating herself against his thumb now with the very little wiggle room she had.

"Now tell me you want me to fuck you," Etienne ordered her quietly, rubbing the head of his cock against her entrance.

"Oh, fuck!" Natalie cried out, then bit her lip, feeling out of control in her need for exactly that. She held his eyes, her eyebrows knit together in the agony of her need to be taken by him like this. "I want you to fuck me, Etienne," she pleaded. "Tu peux me baiser comme tu veux."

Etienne's eyes widened in what she read as surprise as he groaned, "Oh, putain!" and sunk himself inside of her, which immediately altered his features once more into pleasure before narrowing his gaze again. Natalie had let out a long moan, physically holding the bedframe now to keep her arms as straight as could be--an attempt to push back at him, to take every inch she could get.

The way he placed his hands on either side of her body bent her knee over his shoulder and he wasted no time, each pump of his hips faster than the last. He was so good at the seductive love making that Natalie had half expected him to not be as great when it came to taking this sort of control. She had severely underestimated him, she now realized. As he took her this way, she was shocked at how even in this, his skill was unmatched.

He rose briefly, picking up her other leg and pulling them together at the knees over the same shoulder her right leg had rested upon, which tightened her around his cock and she moaned at how much pressure it added. Holding her legs in place like this, he fucked her, and still--still! Still she pushed against the headboard with her palms to push her whole body back against his thrusts. Her cries were a mix between long pronounced nnn's and ahh's, largely cried out a volume that would have surprised her, had she been able to focus long enough to consider it. "Ahhgnnnn, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" she screamed against some particularly powerful thrusts, and just as she thought she would either come or have to let go as she couldn't take it anymore, Etienne pulled out of her and she was in motion, flipped onto her stomach so quickly she hardly knew it had happened.

Etienne shoved her knees under her body with his hands on the back of them, then raised her ass with his hands on her hips. Natalie tried to get on her elbows, but to no avail, she was still stretched down too far and Etienne's grip on her hips didn't allow her to pull her torso closer to the head of the bed. He slid inside with her arms fully stretched out, her back arched in such a low angle that her chest was on the bed, and the best she could do was grip the post she was tied to and place her cheek on the comforter while Etienne took her from behind.

He alternated between very fast thrusts that had her again moaning long consonants against the assault, and the magic of him again was on her exact same wave length, because the moment she thought she couldn't take the pace, he changed it up; long, slow retreats culminating in a full muscled thrust, each one of these eliciting actual words from her, alternating in no particular order between, "Oh fuck!" and "Oh my god!" and "I can't!" which went immediately followed up with her attempts at looking over her shoulder, seeing his insanely sexy body in her peripheral and saying, "God, I love how you fuck me!"

This between teeth in an animalistic way, and she knew it. She felt like an animal. She loved it like this. Not all the time, but this scratched an itch she had for being controlled. For relinquishing power. And Etienne had her fully. "I love fucking you," he said, and another one of his long strings of French poured from him that she may have understood but he picked up the pace again and her own voice drowned him out, though she picked up a few key phrases: That she had the hottest body he'd ever seen, that he wanted to take her until the sun came up. And of course:

"Tu es à moi."

You are mine.

She felt like his, and it all began to crescendo then into her orgasm. "I need to come," she warned him. He needed to know because she wanted him to come with her. They had to come together. "Oh fuck, I'm so close, please help me!"

Real, solid stimulation began on her clit and she felt herself sink from her body, the pressure reaching its pinnacle before finally... finally it released in an explosion.

As the electric current shot through her body--as she convulsed against the wave of it, she felt the distinct thrust that held deep inside of her and, knowing he was filling her, she pushed her ass back against his hips to give him the fullest depth she could, which only enhanced her orgasm, adding a few more waves. The world was spinning, and the second he was out of her, she collapsed onto her side, pulling herself further up the bed so she could finally bend her elbows.

Etienne was beside her in the next moment, breathing rapidly as he ran his hand along the side of her body. He leaned in for a kiss, a hand on her bicep as his head weaved between her arms to kiss her harder; still tied as she was. She couldn't get close enough, a pattern that was beginning to feel like insanity, and she wrapped her leg around him to try and get closer, allow their bodies to intertwine.

"Natalie," he cooed, again with the French pronunciation and not just the French accent. "There is no one in the world like you."

She felt the same about him. She didn't dare allow the thoughts to form--the comparisons that tried to sneak into her brain. If she did, she might learn things she was not ready to decide. "I can't get enough of you," she admitted, pulling at him with her leg, which was all she really had to work with.

"Ah," Etienne noticed, running his hand up her arm to her wrists. "And what if I leave you tied to my bed for the rest of the week?" he asked, running his hands around the belt, tugging at it before lacing his hand into hers. "If I do, you cannot leave me."

"Then keep me tied," she responded with a little laugh, feeling playful and reckless. She kissed him. "Then at least I'll have the excuse I need to stay with you."

Etienne chuckled. "I think that would not go over so well," he told her as he fumbled around with the belt above their heads, though his gaze still locked in hers. "I do not believe telling people you are absent because you are my naked prisoner would be met with understanding."

"Maybe to a few," Natalie conceded, grinning. She didn't dare say the names of who. "But to most here at this resort? I think they'd totally get it. This place is so detached from reality, they'd probably think that's pretty normal!" The belt released from the bed frame, and Natalie brought her elbows down between them to his chest. "I liked this though," she told him. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she was tied up; believed it to have been back in her college days. "You can tie me up anytime you wish."

Bringing her palms to his face, he kissed each one, though left the belt wrapped around her wrists. "I'll remember that," he told her, then worked her arms over his head until they wrapped around his neck and kissed her.