“I can make it up to you,” he pledged. “Make you feel so fucking good.”
“Yes.” My eyes closed. “I think you should.”
He lifted my boots over his shoulders as he hinged forward, pressing a heated kiss through the fabric. I sighed. This was what the night was supposed to be. Wicked closeness. Carnal pleasure we could give each other. Waves of drowning. Avalanches of euphoria.
He hooked the delicate strings at my hips with his fingers, and I lifted up from the couch as he pulled them over my thighs and untangled them from my boots.
“I can take them off.” I reach for the zipper at my knee, but Vaughn pushed me gently back in position.
“No. Those stay on. I have every intention of fucking you with the boots on.” His eyes were dark with the intensity of his mission. I knew he wouldn’t back down—not now.
Oh shit.
Now he had full access to my heat. His fingers pried the sensitive center until I was fully exposed to him. Bare. Quivering. Throbbing. He growled hungrily, tracing the velvety edges of my folds with his tongue. I whimpered as he lashed back and forth, all the way to my clit and down again.
He had me on the brink. He was pulling me to the cliff. Leading me with pulses of electricity. My hips rocked to his rhythm. I was searching for it. Desperate for the wash of release.
It built inside me, layering intense need on top of hunger.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. I was lost to him.
I pushed back into the couch with the tops of my shoulders, propelling my hips upward. He pushed a finger inside me, pumping in and out, daring me to crest before he was done. I panted, reeling in the eroticism of thrusting my sex, while Vaughn lapped and licked. I had shed my insecurities. I had shed the shyness. I wasn’t scared—I knew what felt good to my body and so did Vaughn. He sucked my clit while his fingers fucked me over and over until I was riding higher, desperate for more. Hungry for more sensation. Before I could cry out for what I wanted, the first wave hit me.
It shattered through me. Tore through my veins. Tossed me on the couch like a wrecked sailboat lost at sea. My heels dug into Vaughn’s back as the orgasm exploded through every curve I owned. I couldn’t stop my hands from moving, pinching my breasts through lacy lingerie, tugging his hair.
But it wasn’t over. My body was wrapped in warmth and fired with lust.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” He breathed, rising from the floor.
Vaughn lifted me with a single spin, pressing my knees into the expensive French cushions. I faced the back of the couch. I could see Paris from the windows. The Eiffel Tower raced with sparkling lights.
He quickly undressed. I heard his belt buckle hit the floor and the zipper on his expensive pants lower. I knew his naked body would press against me any second. I’d feel how hard and ready his cock was. We’d touch and singe this couch into the carpet.
“That’s how I feel,” I moaned, leaning my head backward as I took another glance out the window.
“Like what?” Vaughn’s teeth took my ear as he climbed behind me.
“The tower.” I breathed. “It’s like I’m racing with lights when you make me come.”
He chuckled. “You know we could get very dirty with Eiffel Tower jokes right now, but I’d rather be inside you.” He squeezed my ass roughly and I whimpered.
I nodded. “Make me feel it again,” I begged. “I want the lights. I want all of it.” I was breathless and wild.
“I want it too, Em.”
“Your own sparkly orgasm or a tower?” I teased. I was dizzy from the orgasm and ravenous for what was coming next. I couldn’t think or talk straight.
“No, I’ll have that as many times as I want tonight. I want you to be mine. Only mine.”
I shivered, knowing he had every intention of proving his words. I exhaled as he threaded his fingers through mine. I could feel the foreignness of our rings as they slid on top of each other. They were a strange symbol of the mixture of truth and lies that held us together. I looked at the glittery diamond, poking out under his strong hands. Vaughn’s chest slid along my back.
“I want to fuck my wife,” he growled in my ear.
I nodded, my hair falling in my face. I lost sight of the Eiffel Tower. I didn’t care about the lights or the city anymore. He spread my knees wide enough to fit his cock at my entrance. I wiggled back, jutting upward. His palms rounded over my ass, gently urging my legs wider.
I sighed. I wanted it so badly. To feel more. To be more for him. To be even closer. I didn’t know I could want anything else. I could blame the diamond on my hand. Being a fake wife. Living a secret life. Carrying out desires I hadn’t explored.
“Em?”