And though he has done all kinds of things to me and we are lovers, heat rushes up my neck.
And those sinful, sinful lips that have been on every inch of my body, twist with amusement. ‘You’re blushing.’
To my horror I flush even more.
He chuckles. ‘Do you know you blushed through our entire first time?’
‘How could you tell? We did it in the pitch dark,’ I retort.
‘Snow,’ he says caressing my name like a kiss. ‘You were at least two shades darker.’
‘And you … you … panted through our entire first time,’ I lie.
‘Sometimes you make me feel so cheap,’ he says with a sexy grin.
‘I doubt any woman could make you feel cheap,’ I reply.
He moves closer to me and for a heart stopping moment he hovers over my mouth. A pulse throbs at his throat and sexual energy glimmers off him like a heatwave. His fingers seek the hem of my skirt and push it upwards.
‘You are a strange combination, Snow. Enormous, butter-wouldn’t-melt eyes and a slutty mouth built for suckin’ cock,’ he says, lust thickening his voice. ‘All I want to do is fuck you all the fucking time.’
And to my shock I actually feel like standing up, wrapping my thighs around his hips and impaling myself on his big, hard cock. Wet lust quickly flowers between my legs at the thought.
But he pulls away from me with a frown. ‘What do you want to do this afternoon, Snow? Go back into town? I could take you around the sights if you want. Or take you shopping.’
There is so little time left of our weekend together. I may never see him again. I don’t want to waste these last few hours in town and certainly not shopping. ‘I want to stay here. I want to swim with you, and then … I want to end up in your bed.’
His strong hand reaches down and curls around my wrist and he pulls me up. We run up the grand curving staircase up to his bedroom where he flings me on his bed, rips off my clothes, and thrusts into me urgently, as if he can’t wait another second.
‘Your pussy fits around my dick like a fucking glove,’ he growls.
He does not stop all afternoon until sweat runs down his curving muscles and I am so exhausted and sore I have to beg him to stop.
Eighteen
SNOW
We arrive in London at ten past nine and clear Customs as simply and easily as we had in France. We reach the car park quickly and come to a stop in front of a muscular red Camarro with white racing stripes on the bonnet. I know hardly anything about cars, but this one is one of those fire-breathers specially built for dangerous speeds.
‘Is this your car?’ I ask incredulously.
‘If it’s not, then we’re about to become car thieves,’ he says, holding open the passenger door for me.
‘Very impressive,’ I say, sliding into its plush black leather interior.
‘She’s a babe,’ he says closing my door.
Shane is very quiet in the car on the way to my house and in the tense silence I start to feel a knot of apprehension in my belly. All this while, seduced by the magic of Saumur, I had let myself totally forget Lenny, but now I am afraid that even though Shane said he had arranged it that Lenny will not call during the weekend, what if he did? I hate the thought of having to tell a whole pile of lies. But more than any of that is the sinking feeling that France was just a dream. It’s over.
This is reality. This is real life.
But I simply don’t want to go back to how it was before. I don’t want to feel Lenny’s body on top of me, using me to relieve his sexual urges. I feel sick even thinking about it. I am not the woman who left for Saumur. I’ve changed, and significantly.
We reach my apartment and I look down at my hands clenched hard in my lap. The silence is unbearable and I am dying to ask him if I will see him again, but what if this is it? If this is all our liaison is supposed to be?
‘You can turn on your phone now,’ he says, his voice empty and hard in silence.
I nod and look at him.