Here’s a Christmas snippet that I wrote for the ‘All For the <3 <3 <3’ blog team in December 2014. Marie Mason asked me nicely for a bit of festive Rouge Passion. Of course, I was only too happy to oblige …
Fairytale of Rouge Passion …
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His voice was seductively soft and effortlessly enigmatic.
Isla knew he was either feeling horny or he was up to something. If she were a betting woman, she’d say both. “But it’s Christmas Eve, darling. The start of our first Christmas together. I thought we’d curl up together in front of the fire and you could show me just how much you love me.”
“Oh, I’ll show you that and more. Start getting ready now. Don’t keep me waiting.” His tone conveyed the finality of the discussion, as far as he was concerned.
“Don’t you dare hang up on-”
“Damn you, Xander Rhodes,” she muttered as she tossed her mobile on to the bed. “You’re definitely up to something.”
She turned to her wardrobe, knowing that to disobey the instructions he had given her when he was in such a bullish mood would provoke consequences of some sort. She pulled a face. Such consequences usually involved a withholding of pleasure and yet another opportunity for him to attempt to make her beg. Sulkily, she took down the black garment bag that he’d told her she’d find there and tossed it carelessly onto the bed before heading to the shower. Trust him to have sneaked it in, under her nose. Cocky fucker!
A few minutes later, as she was shampooing her hair, she froze under the powerful jets of water as the extent of his nefariousness hit her.
“Oh my god. He’s been planning this for quite a while … that’s why we had to change our holiday plans. And, for that to happen, he’s planning something big – there’s no way he’d blow off staying with my parents tonight for just anything. He loves spending time with them too much. Too busy with work, my arse!”
She continued to wash and then dry herself, all the time trying to work out what Xander had planned. She styled her hair as he’d instructed; left long and slightly wavy with a long, waved fringe over one eye. She felt like a vintage starlet by the time she’d finished wrestling with her ghd styler, almost constantly cursing her wilful hair. She spritzed it with glossing spray and then set to work on her make-up, again following his detailed instructions.
As she expertly applied a thick coating of mascara to her heavily kohl-lined eyes, she refused to get excited as she normally would when he began to play his games. She huffed in exasperation – it was Christmas Eve for goodness sake.
But, as she touched up her glossy, scarlet red dyed lips, and caught sight of her reflection, she couldn’t stop the wave of excitement that bubbled up inside her. She looked like …
“Oh my god!”
She recalled a fantasy that Xander had thought up one night as he toyed with her long, red hair. She’d thought he was joking but now, she knew exactly what she’d find inside the garment bag and what type of shoes would be sitting in a box in his wardrobe. They’d be red and stupidly high and …
Isla shrieked, ran across the room and flung open his wardrobe door making the concealed lighting spring to life, illuminating the golden box bearing the words ‘Christian Louboutin, Paris’. With shaking hands, she grasped the box and held it to her chest possessively.
“Oh my god. Loubies. Oh my god. Oh my precious ones.”
She set the box down on the bed and whispered a quick prayer to the Shoe God that a pair of the shoes that she’d been desperate to own but could never afford would be waiting inside. Then she began to berate herself for being so ungrateful. A pair of Loubies is a pair of Loubies – did it matter which pair lay inside? She told herself that it did not.
The shriek that followed a few moments later would lay bare that lie. “Oh my god. So Kate. So fucking Kates! Please let them fit my feet. I’ll cry if they don’t. No, I’ll cram my feet in and hobble … I’m wearing these beauties even if they cripple me.”
She need not have worried. Within moments of taking the bright red shoes out of the box, she could smell the tell-tale aroma of shoe stretching spray and she could see tiny creases in the leather across the front of the shoes – then she noticed that he’d bought a size larger than usual. That was no accident – every shoe loving woman knew that Louboutins came up a little on the small side and Xander had obviously taken every precaution to make sure they fit her feet. He’d foreseen the pitfall and had negotiated it like a pro.
“He’s had them stretched. Oh my fucking god. Xander Rhodes, I don’t care what you have planned – I’m game,” she muttered as she pushed her feet into what had quickly become her most prized possessions.
They were a little tight but, as long as she didn’t have to walk far, she’d be fine until they stretched a little more over time. Feeling like a ten year old in a Clarks shoe shop all over again, she proceeded to walk up and down the bedroom, pausing frequently to admire them in the mirror or to flash the trademark red soles.
And then her phone rang. She walked over to the bed as though she were on a catwalk.
She’d noticed it was Xander calling. And, worse than that … she’d realised that she only had five minutes to get dressed and get downstairs. She clicked to accept the call, wedged the phone under her chin and grasped the garment cover.
“Are you ready yet, Red?” She knew his slightly mocking tone was a warning. He’d know she’d be distracted by those beautiful shoes.
Isla rolled her eyes. “There’s nobody here by that name, sorry.”
She heard him exhale through his nostrils as she struggled to unfasten the long zip without dropping the phone.
“Then, may I ask with whom I am speaking?”
Isla grinned as she pulled the long, scarlet, sequined dress out of the bag. As she retrieved the purple, elbow length gloves, she replied in her most seductive tone, “You’re speaking with Ms Rabbit. Ms Jessica Rabbit.”
“You’ve got three minutes to get that curvaceous arse downstairs, Ms Rabbit,” he growled and then cut the call.
Isla couldn’t recall ever seeing him so outwardly shocked when his eyes landed on her a few minutes later. She’d managed to wedge her plentiful breasts into the curved, strapless bodice – but only just. The slinky, sequined dress was cut to the top of her thigh, revealing her leg and one of those amazing shoes. He blinked several times and swallowed hard before mouthing the words, “You look incredible,” as if he was incapable of speech.
Two minutes later, they were speeding along in the Holden. They almost hadn’t been … Xander had been forced to summon all of his willpower in order to resist taking her straight back upstairs. He would not be drawn on where they were headed.
It was her turn to be speechless when he pulled up outside a familiar building then helped her out of her seat, carelessly abandoning the car on double yellows. She gripped his hand and tottered behind him, her head reeling with shock and suspense – so much so that she didn’t notice the bemused and appreciative glances she received as she followed him through the large hall.
He knocked confidently on a door at the rear of the building and then opened it to reveal … nothing. Just darkness. He ushered Isla inside and then closed the door, leaving her alone – or so she thought.
“Hello again, Isla.”
Isla recognised the voice at once. It was that voice … aside from Xander’s, the only one that could instantly seduce her into a hormone fuelled mess.
A dim bulb flickered to life, illuminating the most beautiful example of the feminine form that Isla had ever seen. La Veuve Noire was reclined on an oversized sofa, wearing a red leather corset and thigh-length, red, killer-heeled boots. She patted the sofa next to her. An act so innocent, and yet so veiled with suggestive possibilities that Isla gulped before she duly crossed the room and perched on the edge of the seat.
La Veuve Noir laid a hand on her bare leg. “What’s the matter? Has the pussy got your tongue?” She laughed softly as she slowly trailed her fingers upward. “Silly me … that’s not until later.”
Heart hammering wildly as those fingers scorched a trail that was rapidly running out of thigh, Isla stammered, “Wh … where’s Xan … der?”
“He’s not far away. Anytime you like, I can call him and have him join in but I think we’d all rather that didn’t happen just yet.”
Isla nodded as though she understood, although in reality, her mind was reeling.
“Drink? A gin and tonic, I believe,” the other woman asked, taking her hand from Isla’s thigh and pointing to a side table next to the sofa. “Could you pass mine too?”
Glad for the distraction, Isla reached across and picked up the cut glass tumblers. Hers was obviously the one containing a clear liquid, LVN’s the darker one.
“What’s your poison?” she asked, scrabbling for any innocent conversation starter as she passed over the glass.
“Jack Daniels and Coke. But I like anything dark,” LVN replied with a suggestive smile. “In fact, the darker it is, the more I’ll enjoy it.”
Isla didn’t doubt her words but she almost kicked herself for not seeing such a reply coming – and for responding to it like a virgin teen – by knocking back half her drink. She was getting used to such confident, cocky innuendo, but from a male mouth. The unnerving exhilaration generated by LVN was something else.
“Careful,” purred LNV. “I don’t want your man accusing me of taking advantage you … and believe me, when I touch you, you’re going to want to be sober. And I want to experience your body when it’s fully responsive. And, from what I hear, it has to be experienced to be believed.”
Isla’s throat constricted, just as she was swallowing, making her cough and splutter. A trickle of G and T ran down her chin and dripped onto her semi-exposed breast. In a flash, LVN bent her head and licked from Isla’s cleavage, all the way up her neck to her chin. Isla froze – as a whole array of foreign and familiar sensations assaulted her. She tasted Jack Daniels before her brain registered that LVN’s tongue was moving oh so slowly across her bottom lip.
When she felt cool fingers sliding inside the bodice of her dress, soft lips pressed against hers and she had an epiphany. The lips were slightly softer, there was no stubble and the heady fragrance was more feminine but apart from that, her body responded exactly the way it did when it was Xander’s mouth and hands on her skin. That realisation freed her mind and her hands from the debilitating nervous state she’d experienced since setting foot inside the room.
Winding her hands into LVN’s hair and returning her kiss, she signalled her acceptance of LVN’s silent proposal. The other woman responded immediately; one hand pulling down the bodice of Isla’s dress and tormenting the engorged nipple beneath as the other slid inside the slit of her dress and onto the scrap of lace she wore underneath, pushing Isla down onto the sofa.
As the other woman’s fingers teased and caressed, Isla could bear it no longer. She yanked down the front of the corset, spilling free LVN’s soft, pendulous breasts and closed her mouth around a temptingly puckered areola. It was a new experience for her but one that she relished. She instinctively replicated Xander’s techniques with her own mouth until she felt the other woman moving, pulling the breast from her disappointed mouth.
She barely felt the thin strip of lace being pushed to one side but she definitely felt the soft, wet mouth close around her clit before it sucked. Hard. Her mind reeled as her pussy clenched and squirmed … that was a woman’s mouth … down there … and it feels so fucking amazing! Then it reeled some more when she heard a deep, velvet voice announce his presence.
“Ladies, I couldn’t stand by and watch any longer … do you mind if I join in?”
The knowledge that Xander had been secretly observing them, thrilled Isla as much as the efforts of LVN’s tongue on her pussy. Before she could reply, she heard the sound of his zipper.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” he whispered, before rewarding her eager mouth.