Tim pulled his fingers out of her and put them to his lips, as she lay on her back, panting for breath. Pushing them into his mouth, he sat up and opened his eyes.
“You really are crazy…” She whispered, her chest pumping up and down.
“I am…” He said with an intent smile on his face as he leaned forward. “I’m crazy about you.” He added, lying on top of her. Josephine cupped his face in both of her hands, as their lips locked in a long, fiery kiss. His big, stiff cock slipped between the wet folds of her womanhood, as she raised her legs in the air. Putting his hands on her upper outer thighs, Tim pushed his manhood all the way into her, getting lost in the magic of her kiss. Her muffled moan in his mouth sent him to heaven. Josephine’s right hand slid down the side of his neck, as he squeezed the supple flesh of her legs. Feeling her hard nipples against his chest, he thrust into her with long, deep strokes, as she caressed his shoulder blade. She ran her other hand up his face and slipped it into his hair, fastening her legs around his waist.
“God, you’re so deep…” She moaned, tilting her head back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his manhood in her depths. Josephine dug her long fingernails into the firm flesh of his upper back, as his sensual penetration sent wave after wave of pleasure coursing up and down her body. Her heat and her moisture overwhelmed him; Tim was struggling to maintain a slow pace. Kissing his way down her neck, he let his hands wander over her thighs, as she slid her hand up his back. She grabbed and held on to his shoulder, licking her upper lip, his deep, manly groans audible over hers. His hands traveled up her body. Stopping them over her hips, he squeezed them first and then quickened his pace. Josephine let go of his hair and wrapped her arm around his back, writhing under him, as Tim planted passionate kisses all over her chest. Loving the sensation of her juices, mixed with his precum flowing down his large, throbbing cock, he took her right breast in his mouth. Licking her nipple in a circular motion, he felt a slight amount of pain, as she once again sank her fingernails into the flesh of his back. Still, he could not worship her properly in that position and he had been dying to touch her all over. Therefore, Tim held her tightly by the hips and rolled them over, farther from the fireplace.
She let out a gasp of surprise, finding herself on top of him. His manhood slipped out of her; she reached behind her back and led it to her entrance. Tim’s hands slid up her sides. In a quick move, he pulled her closer, bringing her mouth over his.
“Awww, baby…” Josephine moaned, biting her lower lip, holding on to his shoulders as he penetrated her again. Her hot kiss drove him crazy with lust, as he ran his hands down her back. Filling his palms with the hot flesh of her big, round ass, Tim started driving into her hard and fast, quenching her desire. By now, her juices had reached the base of his shaft. Her loud, lustful groans aroused him even further. Spreading her butt cheeks, he squeezed them hard as he pounded her pussy faster and harder by the second. She tilted her head up, unable to continue her kiss, as the slurping sound of his penetration filled their ears. Her breasts bounced up and down and jiggled, as his big, heavy balls slapped against her ass. Tim tilted his face up, just enough to pull her left nipple into his mouth.
“That’s it!” She screamed, tightening her grip on his shoulders. Gently biting her nipple, he dug his nails into the flesh of her butt cheeks, as she quivered in his arms. Their moans were bouncing off the walls of the suite. His deep, strong thrusts and his worship on her breasts were sending pleasure swirling through her. Taken over by lust, Josephine was rocking her hips against his. Her body shuddered with each stroke. Waves of ecstasy slammed through her, as an enormous, earth-shattering orgasm shook her to her core, drenching his manhood with her warm juices. Unable to hold back his own climax any longer, Tim pulled out, squirting semen all over her lower back and her ass. She tumbled into his embrace, exhausted and out of breath…
35
Laying her head on his chest, Josephine snuggled close and slid her fingers in between his, purring like a contented cat, as he ran his hands up her body.
“Your heart is beating so fast…” She whispered.
“Because I’m here with you…” He smiled.
“You’re so sweet.” Josephine rewarded him with a quick kiss on his chest. “Speaking of which, how did you afford this place?” She wondered, slowly looking up at him.
“Well…” Tim gave a short laugh. “Let’s just say I didn’t give all my money to the feds.”
“Oh…” She smiled. “I had almost forgotten about that.”
“You should, Joey.” He advised. “We both should. Hey, can you answer me one question?”
“Sure.” She chirped.
“Why would your parents call you ‘Josephine’?” Tim’s raspy voice was filled with curiosity. “It’s French, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Josephine confirmed. “Josephine de Beauharnais was Napoleon’s mistress; she then became his wife. My parents liked French names. It was one of the very few things they had in common.”
“I hope we don’t end up like them.” Tim sighed. “Divorced and hundreds of miles away from each other.”
“Why would we do that?” Her voice became high-pitched.
“Doc…” He snorted. “Let’s face it: We have nothing in common. You’re an unemployed biologist and I’m just a brute who’s trying to become a firefighter.”
“Au contraire mon ami.” Josephine said, her voice husky. “We have a lot in common. It’s just our education that’s different.”
“Ok.” Tim laughed, his eyes glinting with amusement, as he caressed her back. “Name one.”
“We believe in people.” This time, her tone was much firmer. “We want to believe. And we do. That’s why we gave each other a chance in the first place, isn’t it? You told me you thought I was some…” She faltered. “Cold, snobby scientist, but you changed your mind rather quickly. I thought you were some kind of a ruthless criminal, but you were not. Shall I go on?”
“Actually, I was a ruthless criminal.” He corrected her. “Just not the kind of criminal you thought. I was a burglar, not a killer. I’ve never fired a gun in my life; I never liked them. But, you’re right. We did believe in each other.”
“And here we are.” She whispered, intensifying her stare. Tim did not speak. He preferred to gaze deep into her eyes, as they reflected off the leaping flames. But he could not resist the urge to kiss her again. Placing his hands under her armpits, he pulled her body upwards, bringing her face closer to his. He closed his eyes, just before he felt her sweet lips on his mouth, as they got lost in the softest kiss of their lives. Fastening his arms around her back, he let her scent flow through him, as her long hair tickled his face. He was ecstatic; he was not having a dream. Josephine was back in his arms and this time, he was not going to let her slip from his grasp.
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King Me: A Secret Mountain Man Romance
1
“Live life to the fullest…”
King Eric’s last words had sunk into in his son’s mind and became his personal creed for years. Ever since losing his beloved father, Dominic Redfield had done nothing but follow those words. He filled his life with everything a young man could want: flying around the world; driving fast cars, dating dozens of beautiful, rich women; and partying all night long. It was his way of honoring his father’s dying wish. Still, deep down, the elusive, 30-year old king knew that he still had not found what he had been looking for: the one woman who would sweep him off his feet. Dominic’s girlfriends were stunningly beautiful, but they all felt somewhat alike. They were spoiled, self-centered and extremely greedy. Frustrated and angry, he often wished he had never been born into royalty. In an attempt to find peace, Dominic would go to his attic and devote long hours to his art, gazing outside the window, on the slope of Mont Blanc. Drawing clouds, sunsets, sunrises or doing portraits of his loved ones served as
an escape from his reality.
Nevertheless, Dominic had yet another passion, one much more dangerous than painting: Supercars. The rush he would get from driving an insanely fast car felt like no other. Of course, the narrow roads of the highest western mountain in Europe were not suitable for driving fast; most of those cars were a little too wide, but that would not deter him. In fact, in all truth, Dominic preferred those roads, simply because they tested his driving skills much more than the French highways. He already owned more than ten, high-end cars and yet, his lust for them seemed insatiable. On one clear, mid-March afternoon, his latest purchase had just been delivered to him: a black, brand-new, Lamborghini Aventador. Dominic was so eager for it that he had been waiting outside his castle, accompanied by his good friend and confidant, Jean Abidal. And, when the truck finally unloaded its precious cargo, he couldn’t help but smile to himself, watching as the sunlight reflected off the gorgeous supercar.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” as he looked in wonder, pointing at the Lamborghini. “She embodies meticulous attention to detail, a luxurious interior, and seven hundred forty rampaging horsepower.”
“You know what I just heard?” Jean groaned, annoyed by his friend’s remark. “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah… You are boring me, Dominic. You have said those things for every other car you’ve bought.”
“Each and every one of those cars has a soul.” Dominic put a little force in his deep, manly voice. “They want to be driven to the edge.”
“All it takes is one mistake.” Jean raised his index finger to his chest, turning to his friend. “I like those cars, too. They’re everything you said, but you seem to be forgetting something very crucial.”
“What’s that?”
“How unforgiving they can be.” Jean attempted an emphatic tone. “I can’t help but wonder.” He paused. “What can I do to take your mind off them?”
“Nothing,” Dominic shook his head sideways. “I will always love those cars.”
“I beg to differ.” A calculating smile formed on Jean’s face. “There are a lot of things I can do to make you reconsider. First of all, you need to stop living in the shadows, which is why I took the liberty of inviting a reporter here.”
“A reporter?” Dominic squinted at his friend. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You know I don’t get along with them.”
“Juliet Arnot was five years ago, my friend.” Jean smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “Not every reporter would pose as a maid, just to sneak into your house. Despite what you may think, there are some good professionals, like this one.” He added, pulling his cell phone out of his coat pocket. There was a young, smiling blonde on the screen, with a book in her hands, titled:
“Hold on to your dream”
“Marianne Brewster? She’s…”
“… American.” Jean finished his sentence. “Twenty seven years old, works at the ‘New York Express’. Melanie discovered her about two years ago, when she published that book. It has only sold 687 copies, but she loves it. She and Marianne have become very close. They talk on Facebook every day and spend hours on the phone. Melanie thinks she’s ideal. Judging by the things she says about her, she’s right. She is polite; she knows when to insist and when to stop.”
“I don’t need the attention.” Dominic grumbled. “There are plenty of local vultures. I don’t need any more from overseas.”
“Do you like it when local tabloids say all kinds of nasty things about you?” Jean’s firm tone and his question put him in a difficult position. He did have a point. Quite often, there was false news about him in the French online media. They seemed to love to make up stories about him.
“No.” Dominic sighed, dropping his gaze from his friend’s angry stare. “I just don’t pay attention to them.”
“It’s time you set a few things straight.” Jean lowered his voice. “It’s finally time the world knew what kind of person you are. Okay, maybe you will still attract attention to yourself, but it will be for all the right reasons.”
“Why did you choose her, Jean?” Dominic asked, casting a rapt glance at the cell phone.
“Because, you will find it easier to talk to someone from your own country,” Jean replied, as his friend gave him back his cell phone. “I’ve been planning this since January. Plus, I think a fellow artist would understand you better.”
“She’s a non-fiction writer. As far as I’m concerned, she’s not an artist.” Dominic disagreed, returning his gaze to his friend’s face. “And I don’t think she needs to understand me. She just needs to be discreet for as long as that interview lasts.”
“For the whole seven days.” Jean said with a grin.
“Seven?” Dominic opened his eyes wide in disbelief. “What kind of…?”
“This won’t be a typical interview.” Jean interrupted with a firm tone. “She will live here, study your habits. I’m sorry; I’ve been planning this with her editor for more than a month. He thinks a thorough interview would be ideal for you; I agreed. Do you mind?”
“Well, you should have asked.” Dominic stated. “But, it’s ok. Let’s hope she’s as professional as you think she is. When is she coming?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Jean’s response was quick. “Don’t worry. If she’s not, she will be out of your hair in no time. Something tells me she won’t be, though. Oh, I forgot to tell you. She’s not a non-fiction writer. Her book is about human relationships. I’d tell you more, but, seeing as she will be here shortly, why don’t you talk to her about it?”
“I will.” Dominic nodded, debating whether he should thank his friend or not. He liked Jean’s initiative, even though his plan was rather bold and ambitious. At the same time however, it sounded like an ideal way to change his everyday routine.
I don’t know who that Marianne Brewster is. I want to believe you, Jean. I really do. But, if she’s anything like that sniveling little weasel Juliet, I’ll kick her out myself. What you said about her being an artist got me curious. Her book sounds like another boring, self-help book. What dream are you referring to, Marianne?
2
Unfortunately for Dominic, the weather the next day was nothing like the sunny day before. The rain was pelting down around his castle and the thick fog had made it impossible for his pilot to take off. He had to send his limousine to pick up Marianne from “Charles De Gaulle” airport.
The massive, steel door of his castle slowly slid upward, before his black Mercedes entered the driveway. Thierry, his elderly driver got out and moved around the car. He opened Marianne’s door, as Dominic watched from the entrance of his hall. Despite the torrential rain, the young blonde took a moment to gaze at her surroundings. She looked up at the crenellations and then down at the grey, stone walls, as Thierry opened a black umbrella and held it over her. What really grabbed her attention was the extensive rose garden to her left. She even pointed at it, as a broad smile lit up her face. Unwilling to wait for her in the comfort of his hall, Dominic stepped outside, as his driver and Marianne started towards the entrance. As they came closer, he realized that she looked a lot better up close. She couldn’t have been taller than 5’6”, but he marveled at her soaking wet, curly hair, as she pushed it back from her face. Marianne smiled with her large doe-like eyes, as he sauntered towards her.
“Merci, Thierry.” Dominic said, glancing at his driver, as they stopped in front of him. Then, he reached out and took her hand in his. Bending down, he closed his eyes and kissed it. “Charmed,” He spoke in his baritone, as a polite smile spread across his face.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” Marianne said in a very sweet voice as she returned the smile.
“Why don’t you follow me inside?” He suggested. “How was your trip?”
“It was very long, but pleasant, thank you.” She maintained, as they walked into the spacious hall. Just like earlier, she looked around her, at the portrait-lined walls and up at the high ceilings. “Fine lines, vivid colors, great dep
th … brilliant work.”
“Thank you.” Dominic smirked, tossing a log into the fireplace.
“You…”
“That’s right. Those paintings are all mine.” He affirmed, seating himself on the couch, as her face loosened in utter disbelief. “Have a seat. You must be tired.”
“Thanks.” Marianne spoke in a faint voice, sitting across from him. “I have a few too many questions, sir.”
“Could you please stop calling me ‘sir’?” He politely requested. “You make me feel like an old man. You can call me ‘Dominic’.”
“Okay.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Dominic, I’m a little confused. I mean, I’d never heard of a king in the Alps, until your men knocked on my door. You can imagine my surprise, when they told me he’s actually an American.”
“My father was American.” He heaved a long, deep sigh. “He died, six years ago. It’s true, most people don’t know we exist, but my family is way older than Prince Albert’s. Our roots can be traced back to the Byzantine years.”
“Prince Albert is from Monaco.” Marianne pointed out, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “I still don’t understand why you’re living in the mountain.”
“You did notice the emblem on the gate, didn’t you?” Dominic answered her question with a question.
“Yes: two howling wolves, separated by a line fire.” She replied, “It’s very impressive.”
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 191