**Sigh… still M-ish**

Part 5 of 5

He takes her by the shoulders and lies back onto the pillows and it is very good. He has her caterwauling within moments and totally spent within minutes. She has to stop him.

He comes back to himself very slowly, "Was it good? It sounded painful."

"Yes, it was good. And you'll know very soon whether it's painful or not… as soon as I can manage it." She buys herself some time by caressing him, teasing him, although he did not let her anywhere near her original target. He's learned his lesson for the day. When her body cools down and her nerves are no longer screaming, she begins to make love to him in earnest. She begins kissing him again. Deep slow kisses that take up all his attention. When his second hand joins his first and both are buried in her hair, holding her just so, she slowly slides her hips onto his, having to make quite the concession to accommodate a rather large obstruction.

He moans into her mouth as she settles on top of him. He is trying to say something but all she can feel is his heat, his insistent urgency. She breaks the kiss to give him a chance to speak. He gasps deeply and hides his face against her shoulder, shuddering anew.

He is just so inexplicably desirable! She couldn't stop now if a gun were held to her head. She takes a steadying breath, "Are you all right?"

"Please don't kill me," is all he can manage.

She kisses his trembling lips, "I won't, chéri. Not for a long long time."

She holds his gaze, watches his eyes darken and lose focus as she slides herself relentlessly down his entire length… and there is a lot of it, "This may be the longest night of your life…"

His eyes slip shut, a look of utter bliss washing over his face. His lips barely move as he whispers, "… the longest and the best. Don't stop for anything. Show me everything."

She watches him fade. He is lost. She doubts he could stop if a gun was held to HIS head. It is good. Better than good. The best. The absolute best she's ever felt… not that she's slept with many men… but this is hands-down to absolute best rush of pure pleasure she's ever experienced and she's sure she knows why.

Because it's HIM… finally. Him.

"Richard!" she yowls as her hips pick up the pace. Her head drops to his shoulder and she grovels atop him… writhing in pain… in pleasure… in abandonment. She feels a rush of heat and fire circling the bed… circling… drawing closer… closer… then it roars through her and she is calling his name over and over.

He arches his back, almost throwing her off. It goes on for a long long time. Finally, his hips lower back onto the bed. She is totally spent but rides him with joy. You only ever get one 'first time' and this is something she will never forget.

When it is over, tears spring to her eyes unbidden. She buries her face against his shoulder. It is several moments before he notices and ducks his head to brush his cheek against hers, "Don't cry! Please don't cry! I'm sorry if it was no good. I'll do better next time… I promise."

She cries harder but begins laughing too, "No good? You call that no good? My god, Richard, you almost killed me! And you're still doing it." It's true. His hips are still moving in a slow dance that sends slow rolls of bliss shivering through her.

"Does this hurt? Should I stop?" he whispers. She squeezes her eyes shut, hitching in quick breathes, not answering. He studies her briefly then rolls them onto their sides, staying inside somehow. He cups her upper-most breast and lifts it to his mouth. She groans, "Oh, Richard, don't… don't…" then she is just groaning. He smiles, feeling her shivers and tiny contractions all around him. It prolongs his pleasure no end. He likes it. The trick seems to be staying gentle. Well, he is a gentle man by nature. He is sure he will get the knack of it quickly. She is twisting in his arms, not really making any sense but making the most wonderful little sounds. He decides that he likes this too. So many different sounds. He will have to learn them all. Words don't really come into play during sex, it seems.

She is pushing him away now. She means it. It's time to stop. He's slipped out of her anyway. He feels cold, exposed, unguarded. He wants back inside as soon as possible. Who knew, he thinks? A man's home is not his castle. His woman is his castle. Fine! Pull up the drawbridge and slam the portcullis... we're staying in!

He is chuckling to himself as she slowly comes around and murmurs, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just lost my mind, that's all."

"Well, good, maybe it will find mine and they can both come back together."

He gathers her into his arms, buries his face in her hair, breaths her scents and feels her soft skin from shoulder to knee, "God, you were wonderful. Was I…?"

"You were a shocking, amazing, GLORIOUS surprise! What else have you got in your bag of tricks?"

"God knows. Guess we'll find out together." He pauses, gives her a haunted look, "Please…" he licks his lips and stammers, "… please tell me this isn't the only time."

She gives him a long baffled stare, "The… only… time? The only time! Are you kidding me? If you think I'm letting you go now then you are… are… totally…" Now it is her turn to stutter.

Relief washes over him and he can't help but laugh at the look on her face, "Hopeless? Clueless? Helpless against feminine wiles? Yep, that's me, all right!"

"Humph. It might have been feminine wiles that started this show but it was masculine wiles that carried the day." She sees his eager look, "Oh… my… What monster have I uncovered here?"

He kisses her nose, "No monster… just me."

"Oh, I think you will be quite enough. Thank god, I'm French, I should be able to keep up."

He rolls onto his back, laughs, "Oh, the French… a very unreasonable people. Can I rest in peace for a little bit?"

"Absolutely," she says most sincerely, crossing her fingers behind her back.

"Um hum," he muses, his eyes slipping closed, "Whew, it's almost like a drug, isn't it?" He opens one eye, "What are you doing?"

She whips her hands behind her back, "Me? Nothing."

"Is that my tie you're hiding?"

"What? No! Tsk, the very idea!"

"I see. Well, fortunately, I'm used to dealing with the French." He produces his handcuffs.

"And where did you have those hidden?!" she roars as he binds her to the headboard by one hand, his tie falling to the floor during the melee.

"I'm the magic man, remember?"

"Well, I hope you can sleep with a clear conscience, you beast."

He takes her in his arms and snuggles himself down to some well-deserved rest, "Oh, I will, thanks. And when I recover from my shag-coma…"

"Yes?" she grumps.

"I'll relinquish the cuffs."

"You will? Promise?"

"Promise… as long as I get to hold the key."

"The key to the cuffs or the key to my heart?"

"Both. I think I've earned the right."

She snuggles down against him, spending a few moments finding just the right place, "Yes, I believe you have..." but he is already drowsing.

She watches him for a long time, memorizing every line, every curve, every sweet bit of him. "Hmmm," she hums as she closes her eyes, "you have earned the right to everything I have, dear heart." She opens one eye and glances down his body to his prime real estate, "As I have earned everything of yours." She suddenly heaves an enormous yawn, catching herself by surprise. He was right… it IS like a drug. She closes her eyes again and sighs, "No rest for the weary…" she kisses him "… and none for the wicked!"

He shifts slightly, pulling her closer.

She grins into the failing light feeling a bit like Christmas Eve… and holding a winning lottery ticket… and the unimaginable vista of summer vacations stretching out in every direction…

She falls asleep listening to his heartbeat with a very expectant smile on her lips.

END