Page 67 of Bought for Blood

“Tu es envoûtante,” he says against my skin. “You are spellbinding.” His lips move to my ear. “Tu es renversante.” He nips my earlobe. “You are stunning.” His mouth finds my jawline. “Tu es éblouissante.” He slides his cheek against my throat until his lips graze my shoulder. “You are dazzling.”

“Okay,” I choke. “Okay, that’s…that’s convincing.” I’m trembling. No…I’m shaking. When I lift my hand to twine it into his hair, I can see the shudder in it.

He works down my body, in no hurry at all, and when his teeth graze over my nipple, a moan gets out of me before I can catch it. His hand slides down my stomach and stops with his fingers just above where I want them. He leaves them there.

“Bastien.” I don’t recognize my voice.

“Ask me.”

“Please.” Definitely not my voice.

He goes down on his knees. His hands open my thighs. His mouth settles onto my pussy, cool and wet, and what breaks out of me is closer to a sob than a word. His tongue works, slow and patient, steady circles over my clit while my hand closes on the back of his neck.

I’m sure he can feel my pulse through his mouth. He finds the rhythm of it and matches it, and then he goes faster than it, and my knees quit.

He catches my hip with one hand, holds me up, and keeps going.

“Oh… Oh!” My eyes roll back as the sensations build.

His tongue drags over my clit. Two fingers push into me. My hips work against his face without asking my permission, and he lets them; he takes whatever I do, and the heat goes up my spine into the back of my skull. I clutch at his shoulders to stay standing. It’s not working.

“Bastien, I can’t—”

He lifts me. One moment, I’m teetering over him, the next, I’m off the floor, and then he gets me to the bed. I sit, and he pushes me back, hooks my knees over his shoulders, and puts his mouth on me again. He stays there until I unravel, both hands twisted in the sheet, my thighs shaking, everything in me pulling tight and then letting go all at once.

“Yes…Yes… Ohhhhh…fuck!” I’ve never been this loud with anyone, but the man has a talent with his tongue that he’s clearly had plenty of practice at.

He straightens up. His mouth is wet with me. He wipes it with the back of his wrist.

“Get your pants off,” I say. Shameless. I’m past caring.

“Is that how it is now?” He’s teasing me.

“Yes,” I say. “You told me I’m the one who decides. I’m deciding.”

He gets his belt open. I’m up on my elbows watching. When his cock comes free, it’s thick and hard and smooth, and I get my hand around it before he’s got the trousers off his ankles.

A rough sound breaks out of him, right at the edge of a groan. His hand grips the bedpost.

“Lie down,” I tell him.

He doesn’t respond straight away.

Then he lies down. He lies down on his own bed because I told him to. Long and lean and toned in all the right places. I’d spend more time admiring him if I wasn’t so impatient to have him inside me. I put one knee on either side of his hips and hold his cock steady and lower myself onto him.

“Ooooohhhh…” I moan. The stretch is enormous. I go slow with it, an inch, then more, my hands on his chest, working him into me while my body figures out how to take that much. He’s cool inside me. I’m slick and hot around him.

His hands come to my hips. They don’t push.

“Serenity.”

“I’ve got it.” I say it through gritted teeth.

I take the rest of him. Then I sit there with him all the way in and don’t move, breathing, my thighs burning, and I look down at his face.

His jaw is locked. There’s a shake running through both his arms. All that experience in him, and he’s trembling under me in his own bed.

“You decide.” His eyes are on me.