Page List


Font:  

They began to undress each other, each trying hard to move slowly, tamping down their haste and hunger. But that got old really fast, and the last few items, their underwear, were flung over the side of the bed like they were jettisoning cargo on a sinking boat.

Then they were both naked, and Dustin’s arousal was painfully evident, both to him and to her. She stared at it with a hunger in her eyes that left him both flattered and excited.

He reached out to her tummy, now not as flat as before, admiring the gentle bump that was beginning to swell there. “Cover your eyes and ears,” he advised. “Mommy needs some alone time.”

“Dustin!” she slapped him on the arm, hard. “Are you talking to—”

“Shhh.” He put his finger over his lips.

She laughed again, squeezing her eyes shut in delight, and they fell into each other’s arms, kissing, touching, holding.

He thought once more about the knowledge she’d shared with him the last time they’d made love. That he’d been the first man to bring her to orgasm. It was a source of great pride for him and a challenge he was willing to take on in an effort to duplicate the feat.

He slid down between her legs, slipping his hands under her sweetly rounded ass cheeks, to grip her and hold her steady. She recognized his intent, and he felt her stiffen as if she was about to resist, but he commanded her softly, “Don’t.”

She relaxed, knees falling to her sides, revealing to him a world of wonder between her thighs, a light sprinkling of dark hair surrounding eager flesh that was the deepest shade of rose, sprinkled with dew like an early morning blossom.

He wanted to devour her, consume her, but paced himself, starting slowly, delicately licking and tasting, waiting for her reaction to tell him how to proceed. He felt the muscles in her butt and thighs tense and relax, tense and relax as he delved deeper, probing with his tongue, inhaling her. Reading her signals.

When her thighs clamped around his ears, and her ankles crossed over his back, he took that as her signal to go harder and speed up.

He did, his tongue transforming into a blade, swishing, attacking, then pulling back until she cried out and cursed him. He pressed on, triumphant, as the tremors wracked her. Even then, he didn’t give her a break, not a moment to catch her breath, until another orgasm came for her, one stronger than the last. Only when she pleaded and sobbed did he show her any mercy.

But not for long.

He slid up and over her until he covered her with his body. Her thighs were already parted for him, and she was wet and ready, but he waited a second, because he wanted to look into her eyes as he slid into her.

But Chantelle held back, squeezing them shut, as if afraid to reveal herself to him in that moment.

“Open your eyes,” he urged.

Cautiously, she did so, to his combined triumph and delight. Only did he slide his way in, feeling her clamp around him in welcome.

Now, it was his turn to close his eyes, because he was sure that if he left them open, looked deep inside her, it would all be over. She must have understood, because she gave a small, mocking chuckle.

And then, together, they began to move.

In a rhythm that was theirs and theirs alone, rising and falling like the tides. But the tension grew and grew to a point where neither of them was willing to stand it anymore. She signaled as much to him with her heels digging into his haunches, as if he was a thoroughbred she needed to speed up as it approached the finish line.

It never crossed his mind to deny her what she asked for. He gave her everything, and she, in turn, took it all, sighing into his ear until her body went limp beneath his, and he finally accepted his own release.

He wanted to whisper words to her, of sweetness and connection, but a part of him was afraid of her response. The frustration made him cringe. Why was he always required to keep his peace, hold his tongue?

He felt more and more for this beautiful woman every day, but could say nothing.

She sighed, nuzzled his throat, and began to drowse, making Dustin think.Just one more night, here, in her bed. And then I’ll return to mine.

Then the sound of buzzing interrupted his thoughts. He sat up to realize that it was coming from the pocket of his jeans.

He didn’t move, but when it stopped and started again, Chantelle grunted in irritation, so he decided he’d better silence it. Reluctantly, he got out of bed and rummaged in his pockets until he found it.

One look at the screen made his chest go cold. He recognized the name, all right. He was just shocked to be receiving a call from that number ever again. And just like that, his contentment was gone. That warm fuzzy feeling evaporated.

Under Chantelle’s quizzical gaze, he got dressed, gathering up whatever flotsam and jetsam he’d left behind. “Maybe I should sleep in my room tonight,” he said, knowing just how lame he sounded.

She didn’t say anything, but rolled over and drew the covers up over her shoulders.

Dustin slunk out, feeling like an asshole, but also bewildered. He gave the phone another look, wondering if he’d imagined it all. But he hadn’t.


Tags: Niomie Roland French Conquests Billionaire Romance