Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Nineteen
Je t’aime
Melanie
He sat in the center of the couch in his office, his bottoms snug around his ankles with his bare feet planted to the floor. My panties were somewhere on the rug. His thumbs were pressed against my hips, and his fingers kneaded my ass as I rose up and down, my tits dragging against his chest.
His eyes were always on mine, always watching every reaction I made, every breath I took. His strong hands guided the pace, making sure I kept it nice and slow as he preferred. Whenever I was on top, he never wanted it hard and aggressive. He wanted it to stretch it out forever, for us to breathe as one person, to make the moment last forever.
My arms hooked around his neck, and I kept my head close to his, moaning in his face, my bent knees on his thighs while I arched my back as best as I could. I’d come into his office to read and feel his presence, but he marched over, dropped onto the couch, and before I knew it, I was on top of him, riding him like he’d just come home after being gone for weeks.
I clung to him as I started to rock hard and fast, driving myself into another climax that made my eyes burn with tears, made my perfect makeup run.
He watched me come, his eyes gaining in intensity as I came and clenched his dick. “Je t’aime, chérie.” His fingers dug into my ass harder, and he brought me down with force, releasing inside me with a clenched jaw, the cords in his neck bulging with tension. He gave a masculine grunt when he finished, his dick throbbing inside me before he gave my ass a hard smack with his big hand. “Fuck, chérie.”
I was comfortable on top of him, even though I knew we were finished because his dick finally began to soften. My arms remained around his neck, and I rested my forehead against his as I caught my breath, my nipples softening when the heat was over. The office smelled like a wood-burning fire, sweat, and sex.
His eyes maintained their intensity, like everything I’d given him wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. His arms wrapped around my back and tugged me harder into him, locking me in place like he didn’t want me to leave. He probably had a million things to do, but he’d rather be naked and wrapped up with me, still buried inside me like a car in a garage.
Moments like these made me forget the truth. I wasn’t a prisoner in a labor camp who caught the eye of the kingpin. I was at a bar with my friends. He walked over and bought me a drink, and after weeks of hot sex and midnight secrets, he asked me to move in to his mansion so we could be together always.
I wished that were the truth.
His arms loosened around me like the opening to a cage—so I could fly away. His hands glided to my hips, where his fingers gently caressed me underneath my hiked-up dress. His dark eyes looked me over, examining the beauty that had stolen his attention and religiously kept it.
My arms dropped from his shoulders, and my hands moved to grip his shoulders so I could use his mass as an anchor when I got up. But I stayed. I looked into his dark eyes and stayed. I looked into his hard face and realized I didn’t know the man who had given me intimacy so deep, it changed my perspective on my situation every single day. “Can I ask you something?”
His eyes turned guarded, deflecting the question I’d yet to ask.
“You said I could ask you anything.”
“You know how I meant that, chérie. You can ask me about my lovers. You can ask where I’ve slept. You can ask me anything a woman would want to know about her man. Everything else…off the table.”
“Why?”
His eyes turned hard like stones.
“Is it because you don’t trust me?”
His eyes remained rigid and in place, but slowly, they eased up a little.
“You said you don’t trust anybody, but how can someone live that way?”
“It’s easier than you think.” He broke eye contact and shifted his gaze away, looking at the fire that smoldered down to hot coals. Flames reflected on the surface of his eyes, the brightness making a sun appear in the darkness of space that surrounded it.
“There has to be somebody…”
Seconds trickled past before he spoke. “My brother.”
“It doesn’t seem like you’re close. He’s never come to the house.”
“Trust is an elemental connection between two people that isn’t affected by companionship or conversation. It’s unconditional. Regardless of what happens in this unpredictable life, that remains predictable.” His eyes shifted back to me. “We’re very different men. We believe in very different things. But those virtues and ideologies are irrelevant when it comes to us. There are times when I want to break that trust, but I never would. And I’m sure the temptation has happened for him as well. But it never happens. It will never happen.” He stared me down for a while. “That’s what trust is.”