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before bisecting them, and as he did she moaned- and he ran up the length of her, the slit, with light, priming strokes. As her body shuddered under the trespasses of his mouth, he let himself delve more fully into her, yet kept a slow, languid rhythm, dragging his tongue caressingly upward, over her clit, time after time. She was responding to him now, her hips revolving against his attentions, his studied licking. Blaise regarded her, his gaze intense, his manner absorbed. If she had opened her eyes at that moment, she might have been afraid of him. Violetta shuddered and sobbed, as her fingers found his hair and slid slowly into it, grasping thick handfuls and pulling his face to her. An appreciative purr rolled from his throat. She looked both sultry and sullen in the heat of her desire, her arched eyebrows contracted into ardent gull-wings, her lips pushed forward, ever so slightly, into a cloven pout. At the sight of it Blaise nearly gave in, nearly gave her what she wanted. He let his hand stray, and his fingers crept over her pussy, seeking, pulsing, then pushing, gliding up into her. What he wanted, for the barest second, was not crystal clear to him. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted nothing more than to finish her off, then and there- and he began to push and withdraw his fingers with merciless intent, eating her, wanting to feel her come, knowing she would- Soon. He felt her writhe, gasp- and withdrew. "Not yet," he said, quietly. Violetta lay, silent, breathing, than gave him an unexpected smile. "Youre surprising," she said. She rose slowly up to sit before him, the crumpled Balenciaga settling around her lap like a crisp black pool of tumultuous frozen water. "Am I?" Blaise replied, with a lift of his eyebrows, running a hand smoothly over his forehead. "Yes." She reached out and held his jaw in her hand, still chasing her breath. Blaise turned his head and bit lightly at her fingers. Then he took hold of her and pulled her upward, back against the glass once more, causing her to cry out, startled, but oh, her eyes were alive when she looked at him- alive and willing. Blaise leaned in, bent his head and kissed her, for the first time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he felt her arching into him, pressing his hand to the small of her back. It was heady like scotch and cigars, kissing her- this strange chick- an experience he would never have imagined, let alone contemplated. Blaise let himself descend deeper into the kiss, winding his hands into her hair at the temples, immersing himself in the heady melange of Coco and Paul Mitchell, of sweet carnality. It was almost sweet, for a moment. Too sweet. Tout suite. His hands found her fashionable jersey, seizing the slashed neck and ripping it open, so that her breasts were revealed, heaving, cradled alluringly by their red demi-bra. A rhinestone pendant lay between them, at the end of a long thin chain that dripped down the


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front of her chest. It sparkled mockingly in the half-light. Blaise whirled her around so that she faced the window, pressed up against it, her palms against the glass. He caught a glimpse of her open-mouthed smile as he did. "Hows the view?" he whispered in her ear. He smoothed her two-toned hair back from her face with his hand, feeling the rise and fall of her respiration against his chest. A wicked, transient smile grazed his lips and faded. "Youre not afraid of heights, are you?" He paused. "Dont answer that." Violetta gazed through the glass. The street below was only a dark glimmering suggestion; the sky above was an endless field of night. Lights from the city poured and filtered narrowly through the space between, blue-amber neon just below them and sodium from above. The buildings loomed like Gotham, and her perspective seemed limitless from every side, as if she could step out onto the night itself and veer, like her eyes, among the jagged monoliths- a high-rise neo-Stonehenge of infinite magnitude. Robotic dusk, liquid sky, a mechanical sunset horizon. She lay pressed up against the electric night- only this one, invisible barrier between her and the sky. Glass? Tangible yes, but hard to believe in. Easier to believe in was Blaises hard cock, pressing into her back. He pushed clouds of skirt up over her hips, pausing to run his hand over her ass, which he more than approved of. The arch of her back rendered it up-thrust and inviting, the straps of her garter skimming either side, accentuating the roundness of it. Blaise slid his hand around the curve of her waist, down to her pussy, stroking it firmly as he readied his cock, bracing his other hand on her hip. Then he was inside her, before she expected him, ramming into her from behind, driving her against the glass. She reached upward, forearms resting on the window above her head, spreading her thighs and lifting her ass, wanting him to penetrate her more, and more deeply. Her gasps were choked, muffled, snarling, breathless- and he fucked her with relentless abandon, burying himself deep with each thrust. Violetta felt his cock working savagely inside her, as his fingers slapped and massaged her clit, and she bared her teeth, feeling the ravaging onset of orgasm brewing within her loins. "What was that noise?" he intoned, his breathing softly jagged. "Are you close?" She nodded. "Yes?" he asked. "How close?" Violetta turned her head to look over her shoulder and he saw her narrowed, smoldering eyes, the barest sheen to her face. She began to push against him, furious, slamming back onto his cock. Blaise caught his breath, taken aback by the unbearable rush of pleasure that struck him. No- he thought, ruthlessly. You first. I insist. He leaned forward, covering her with his body, pinning her wrists to the glass with his free hand. Her hips rolled and bucked beneath him as he fucked her harder- battering her between his cock and his merciless fingers, working her pussy viciously as he thrust, the muscles of his forearm stiff and corded with