"Because I started pretty early," Philippe felt obliged to explain, "and in those years, fucking was my means to rebel. So I tried to fuck as many girls as I could. At least a different one each night."
Charlee-Mae was stunned speechless. A different one each night...at least? She had done a few wild things in her life as well, but...obviously, considering the fact that she was still a virgin at her age, she wasn't really that wild.
Even if she looked the part.
While Philippe, on the other hand—-
He might look like a fairytale prince come to life, but obviously his past was more PornHub than Disney, and yet, somehow...
"I know I'm not supposed to force myself to remember," Charlee-Mae heard herself say, "but is it okay if I take a guess?"
"On what?"
"How we fell in love?"
Philippe's gaze turned hooded. "If you wish."
"I'm thinking...we might have met somewhere we're mutually invited."
"We have a mutual acquaintance, yes."
"And then you seduced me, didn't you? Because I usually steer clear of Casanovas like you, but since we ended up married..."
He thought about how Charlee-Mae had asked for a photo of his abs via Charlotte, and his lips twitched. "I believe I was your type, yes."
"I knew it!" Charlee-Mae was feeling a little proud of herself. "So, let's see. We met, you seduced me, and while you were thinking I'm just another girl to add a notch to your bedpost, you didn't realize I was already getting under your skin, and before you knew what was happening..."
The prospect of voicing out her feelings and hearing him say 'I love you' back thrilled her so much that Charlee-Mae found herself quickly sitting up, and as the sheets fell away from her body, and cool air brushed against her breasts and teased her nipples into life—-
She had forgotten she was still naked!
Charlee-Mae's gaze flew up to her husband's, and she could only gulp at the way he was staring at her breasts.
Oh my.
And Charlee-Mae then heard herself say, "I haven't told you yet..."
"About what?"
The thickness of his voice made her head spin, and her own voice turned husky as she answered, "The s-second thing," Charlee-Mae stammered, "that a man should do to make a woman happy..."
"Je vois." Philippe was still staring at her breasts, and oh Lord, the hunger in his gaze was almost...savage.
"A-Aren't you going to ask me what it is?"
Philippe finally managed to wrench his gaze off his wife's breasts, which were the sweetest and plumpest pair of pink-tipped melons he had ever fucking seen. He looked at her, asking, "What is it?"
A rare, shy smile touched his wife's lips, and he couldn't recall seeing anything more enchanting.
"You make her cum."
FUCK.
He closed his eyes for control, but then he heard Charlee-Mae whisper, "Will you make me cum, mon Philippe?"
His eyes flew open, just in time to see his wife cup her tits—-
Putain de bordel de merde.
Charlee-Mae moaned as her husband fell on her breasts like a starving beast, with his big, strong hands cupping each bountiful globe while his mouth nuzzled the valley of flesh between them. In the past, she had been attracted enough to a few men that they were able to make it to second base...but that was as far as they had made it. Their hands on her breasts, nothing else, and none of them—-
None of them, oh God—-
None of them made her go crazy and wild with desire the way Philippe was doing now, with just his fingers squeezing and kneading her already-swollen flesh, and oh my Lord—-
He had finally plumped one breast to take her sensitive nipple into his mouth, and Charlee-Mae could no longer resist the temptation of driving her fingers through his hair. She had been dying to do this the "first" time she had seen him, with the way his thick, silky blond locks just seemed to be begging to be messed with by a woman's touch.
Make that her touch, Charlee-Mae was quick to correct herself in her mind, because even as out of her mind as she was with need, she realized that she was still very much possessive towards him, and the mere thought of any other woman pawing her Philippe was enough to make her see red.
Philippe was her husband, and only she had the right to touch him, just like he alone had to do what he was doing now to her nipple, with the way he was suckling on it so, so hard, pain and pleasure blended into each other, and she was left panting as she clutched his head—-
"Mon Philippe..."
She heard and felt him groan against her breast, and then he was suddenly straightening up and cupping her face between his hands.
Jade-green eyes captured hers, and the lust in it was now feral, and Charlee-Mae's breath caught.
"How do you do this?" he demanded savagely.