Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Aaaah.
Another whimper escapes me, the sound explicitly coated in desire, even to my ears.
"Tu es si sensible, ma petite." Lazy pleasure unfurls from every word he murmurs. "So responsive."
I don't speak. Can't. Not when he's finally tugged my dress down to my waist, and my entire body burns under his devouring gaze. My heart thunders against my chest as his fingers find the front clasp of my bra.
Click.
The cups fall to the side, my breasts spilling free, and I can only bite back a cry.
It's my first time to have a man stare at me like this. And the way he makes me feel with just his eyes alone...
Dark blue eyes suddenly glitter down at me.
"Tell me what you're thinking," my husband growls.
W-what? W-why? Where did that come from?
"Dites-moi." Tell me.
A command this time, and one that has me nervously wetting my lips because those two words come with a threat, a promise of repercussions that even I have no courage to face.
"I was just wondering..."
Oh please, please don't make me say it out loud.
"Wondering what?"
"If it w-were possible..."
It's my first time to hear myself stammer like this.
"For another man to make me feel the way you're—aaah!"
The last thing I see on his handsome face is the fury that flashes in his gaze.
And then I'm crying out, with his mouth closing over my breast while he starts tugging its pouting twin. And oh, the way he torments my flesh...
It's exactly what he's known for. Every flick of his tongue calculated to drive me insane. Every scrape of his teeth, a mix of tender violence and excruciating pleasure. My fingers climb their way into his hair, and I'm ashamed to find myself actually gripping my husband's head as I grind myself against his hungry mouth.
This is not me, this is not me, this is not me.
But the words feel like a lie, with how my world has narrowed to nothing but the pleasure he gives.
This is real. This is now me. The new me.
A creature that Monsieur Le Dernier controls through my helpless desire.
And when his mouth moves to my other breast, and another cycle of tortuous pleasure starts anew—
"P-Please..."
I'm sobbing for something I don't even know.
His head lifts, a temporary reprieve that my body despises and needs at the same time.
Oh, comme c'est fou.
How crazy he makes me feel!
"Already begging, ma petite?" My husband is purring again, and this sound, oh this sound, it will one day kill me for sure. "When we've barely begun?"
"P-Please, m-monsieur..."
"But since you ask so nicely..."
He bends his head, his lips once again closing over a still-sensitive nipple. And then he starts to suckle. So, so hard. While pinching the other pouting tip, and hard enough for pain and pleasure to blur.
Aaaaaah.
It happens all of a sudden, and all I can do is gasp in shock as the first wave of release crashes over me. But even though my body is still shuddering, and my mind is still a mess—
"We are not yet finished, ma petite."
His hands are on the move once more, a whimper escaping my lips as his fingers slide under my dress. He strokes the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and I'm both horrified and delighted, terrified and aroused. My first orgasm hasn't even ended, and yet already...
"Regarde-moi," he commands. "Look at me."
Dark blue eyes take mine captive as his fingers find the slick folds between my legs, and my lips part in a silent moan as his thumb circles my most sensitive point.
"Do you really think..."
Oh no.
"Just any other man—"
The sudden savageness of his tone makes me burn and tremble all at the same time.
"Can make you feel like this?"
His fingers slide inside of me as he speaks, and my entire world starts to shatter.
Non.
The answer is absolutely and painstakingly clear in the way my hips start rising on their own, my body helplessly responding to every thrust of his long and elegant fingers.
C'est impossible.
The way I'm now losing myself in the possessive heat of his gaze, and the way my folds have become so wet and swollen as his fingers push deeper and deeper into my core—
It's just plain impossible.
Even though it's only his touch that I have ever experienced, and I know this early on that no other man will even be able to come this close to me—there's no hiding from the truth.
Lui seul. Only him and no one else.
My husband alone can make me feel...
This full.
This helpless.
This...insane.
His thumb presses hard on that nub of flesh I myself have never touched, and my world finally shatters. I'm holding onto his shoulders for dear life, my nails digging into the panes of his back, but this second rush of pleasure is still too, too much for me to bear.
I think I may have screamed. Begged. I'm not quite sure, with darkness overcoming my vision.