Oh, God.
“So soft. So warm. He leans over and breathes hot air against you as you strain your hips toward his mouth. Wanting touch. Wanting that mouth to suck on you. Lick you. Penetrate you.”
Holy...fuck. She lifted her hips toward this imaginary lover. Needing...
“But you are his captive. His prisoner to torture and tease. He nudges your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before moving on, enjoying the sound of your muffled cries of frustration.”
Jasmine grunted.
“He drags his fingers up from your hips, past your belly, clutching your sides so he can lean down and play inside the sweet indent of your navel. Your hips strain beneath him, your pussy jealous of the way he licks your belly and of the attention he gives to your breasts, pinching your pretty nipples, preparing them for his mouth.”
Oh, God, oh, God...
“Slowly he continues in an upward direction, kissing and licking your sides, your rib cage beneath your breasts, circling round and round until he finds a nipple made taut by his fingers.”
Her breasts ached as if they had been fondled, but not hard enough...
“No touching. Put your hands back up over your head, Jasmine, or I won’t finish.”
Dammit. She hadn’t even noticed she’d done that, but her breasts were so sensitive, so needy.
“He sucks on one nipple and then the other. He sucks hard and you cry out. While he does that, he places a knee between your parted thighs and grinds back and forth across your swollen cunt.”
That word. No one had ever used that word with her before. She hadn’t thought she liked it, but...now? Now her pussy wept at the carnal image the word painted.
“You’re so fucking wet, you’re staining the knee of his jeans with your arousal.”
Jasmine gasped; her pussy throbbed.
“The man slides to the side so that he is propped beside you, gazing down at your perfect body, caressing you with his gaze before giving in to the need to touch, following the cords down your neck to your collarbones and your breasts, barely skimming his fingers over your skin, leaving gooseflesh in his wake.
“He plays with you, draws circles and patterns across your breasts and abdomen before finally hovering just above your mound. You lift your head, as if to see. Needing to watch when he finally buries his fingers inside of you. But the blindfold prohibits it and you moan with frustration.”
With her eyes closed, Jasmine enacted his words, lifting her head off the bed as if unable to see her lover lying between her legs.
“He needs to taste you. He’s longed to suck the sweet honey from your pretty pussy lips, so swollen and rosy with desire.”
A soft whine formed at the back of her throat as a tingling sensation that simultaneously started at the tips of her fingers and toes rushed through her limbs to coalesce low in her belly.
“He spreads you even wider, holding you open with his thumbs and then leans in for a taste. Lapping along your slit, sucking on you and fucking you with his tongue...”
Oh, shit...oh, shit...
The tingling, throbbing mass swirling in her abdomen exploded, tugging on all her parts until Jasmine swore she’d disintegrate. Crying out, she clutched at her throbbing crotch with both hands in an unsuccessful attempt to quell the orgasm raging through her.
“That’s it, Jasmine. Come for me.”
Her eyes popped open.
She was lying on the bed, legs splayed, still wearing her bra and panties. Luca stood over her, his cock in his hand, stroking.
“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes,” she managed, keeping one hand clamped between her legs and reaching for him with her other hand.
He stepped closer and let her cover his hand with hers.
“I’m going to come on your belly. Is that okay?”
“Oh, fuck, yes.”
He grunted. Placed a knee on the edge of the bed and pumped his cock like a piston. Jasmine could barely keep up with the pace. But she knew he was close by the sounds he was making and by the pained expression that flicked over his features.
“Jesus,” he muttered darkly. Then he leaned over her, gripped his cock and spewed come into a hot pool across her stomach and rib cage. He remained poised above her for a few breaths before zipping himself up and telling her to stay where she was.
He returned moments later with a warm, damp cloth to wipe her clean. When he was done, he left her once again.
“Wait,” Jasmine called before he shut the door behind him. “Where are you going?”
“To sleep in the other room.”
“Why?”
He stood in the open doorway, just a dark shadow. Finally he said, “I can’t sleep beside you without fucking you.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He simply closed the door and left her to her own thoughts.
Aftershocks continued to quiver through her already trembling body. She’d just had an orgasm. An amazing, body-shattering, mind-blowing orgasm. But more than that, she’d had it without any physical stimulation whatsoever, not from him and not from herself.
He’d made her come with words.
Maybe people did this all the time. With phone sex and stuff. But Jasmine had never had phone sex. In fact, she’d never had an orgasm with a man present.
Period.
God, Jazz...if you came that hard just by him talking to you...imagine what it would be like to really be with him. To do all the crazy things you’ve fantasized about.
“I don’t think my imagination is even capable,” she whispered to herself in the dark. Shedding her bra and panties, Jasmine crawled naked between the sheets. She lay on her back staring at the dark ceiling. She should have felt elated at the notion of being with Luca, but she’d realized something very important. Luca was clearly an expert in bed.
What would he do when he found out she wasn’t?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS WEDNESDAY MORNING. Luca rose early and the first thing he did was drive to the nearby village of La Charité-sur-Loire to pick up a few things that Monsieur Gauthier had missed. Namely, toiletries and condoms.
Merde.
It had taken him a while to fall asleep last night, knowing Jasmine lay sleeping just down the hall. Her responsive body primed and ready for him.
She was probably still soaking wet.
Now, ten hours later, the thought of her wet pussy made Luca’s dick instantly hard. Yet he still wanted to take things slow. It was so rare to find a woman his age who was both ready and willing to engage in exploratory sex but was still relatively innocent—for whatever reason.
It was a mystery. Jasmine was a gorgeous, sophisticated woman who obviously enjoyed sex. So why was she so fucking innocent?
Do you really care?
He shouldn’t care, but strangely, Luca did.
He parked his bike at the pharmacy, debating about whether to leave his helmet on or not. He didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him. It had been many years since he’d been here, and with his beard and grown-out hair, he didn’t look like the Luca Legrand in all the promotional pictures and from the tabloids. Still, he couldn’t take the chance. He simply raised his visor, went inside and picked up the items he needed.
There was an elderly man behind the counter, and when he glanced at Luca there was no sign of recognition. Thank God.
A few more stops and Luca was on his way back to the villa. When he got back, he smelled freshly brewed coffee and something being fried in butter.
“Morning,” Jasmine said over her shoulder. “Where have you been?”
In different circumstances, he might have felt annoyed by the question. Who was she to question his whereabouts? But he didn’t feel annoyed. He only felt one thing.
Aroused.
He came right up behind her,
wrapped his arm around her waist—she was wearing a skirt and tank top—lifted her mane of hair and kissed her neck. “I was buying some necessities.” He plopped the paper sack on the counter in front of her.
Jasmine reached inside, squealing with thanks over the shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush and soap.
“Oh...” she said, dragging out the vowel. “What’s this?” She held up a box of condoms. “Twenty-four?”
Luca didn’t make any excuses; he just smiled, pulled her close and slid his hand up the inside of her thigh. That was all it took for her to melt against him, her body molded to his, her hands on his forearms. “Luca?”
“Mmm.” He nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder.
“I need to tell you something.”
Her voice was flat and serious. He released her and backed up a step to regard her but she avoided eye contact.
“What is it?”
“Can we talk while we eat?”
“Of course.”
She poured him the coffee—nice and strong, which was a pleasant surprise—then slid eggs onto a plate with a slab of toasted bread and sliced tomatoes.
Sitting across from him at the kitchen table, she fiddled with her utensils. Shit. She was about to confess something.
What?
“I’m not who you think I am.”
Okay, that wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. He took a bite of egg, pretending not to be surprised, and then washed it down with a gulp of coffee. “You mean, you’re not American?”
She chuckled softly. “That’s not what I mean.” She took a small bite of bread that took an overly long time to chew. “I mean, I’m not as experienced as you.”
Luca hid his smile. Did she think he didn’t already know that? “Really?” He drank more coffee, watching her. She kept her gaze averted and suddenly Luca had a flash of what she was going to confess.
“Jesus,” he said, putting his coffee cup down. “You’re a virgin.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not.” But the little lines between her arched brows told a different story.
Fuck. How did he feel about that? It was a shock, that was for sure. Yet...his cock twitched at the notion, as if excited by the prospect. Not good. As much as some primal part of him celebrated the idea of being the first man to claim this incredible woman, his logical side kicked in. This was supposed to be a meaningless tryst—just a bit of fucking—only for a couple of days. It wasn’t supposed to be an initiation.
That was too...meaningful.
She slid her hand across the table and covered his. Her fingers trembled and now he understood those tremors. “Jasmine, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we continue—”
“Wait. Don’t say it.” She finally met his gaze, her large brown eyes pleading with him. “I’m not a virgin, but...” She pulled her hand away and made a harsh sound at the back of her throat. “God, it’s so...”
“What?”
“The last man I was with, actually, he was the only man I’ve ever been with. And...”
“And?”
“Well, he...” She paused, and her face contorted in pain.
Oh, fuck. Some shithead had hurt her? This was worse and he should be packing her up and driving her to the train station. Right now. But, instead, he took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. For some odd reason, his gut clenched and his other hand grasped his knife as if he meant to use it as a weapon. “Tell me,” he growled.
“He used me.” She shrugged and tried to turn away.
Luca didn’t let her. “What does that mean?”
“God, Luca. Do I have to say it?”
“Yes.” He ground his teeth.
Jasmine stood up and moved to the sink, turning her back to him. He pushed his chair away and followed her, going to stand right behind her, though he didn’t touch her.
“He pretended to be something he wasn’t. He used me to keep up his facade.”
“And what facade was that?”
She leaned against the counter. “That he was straight.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. Then, with hands placed gently on her shoulders, Luca turned Jasmine to face him. “Are you telling me that the only man you’ve ever been with was gay?”
She bit her lip and nodded her head.
“And this man...” Luca suddenly thought of the ring that he’d tucked in his wallet. “Was he your fiancé?”
She nodded, her lip quivering. “I walked in on him. With his best man.”
Jesus.
Luca gazed down into her tortured eyes. A voice in his head—that sounded suspiciously like François—was telling him this woman was damaged and that he should stay away from her. That continuing any kind of sexual tryst was taking advantage of her vulnerability. But Luca didn’t want to stay away. Fuck, no. He wanted to enfold her in his arms and hold her. He wanted to kiss away the tears that glistened at the corners of her eyes and to tell her that this other man was a salaud, a bastard, for trying to use her. More importantly, he wanted to show her how beautiful she was, how desirable she was, and to teach her the absolute joys of making love to someone who couldn’t contain his lust for her.
So he settled on something somewhere in between those two extremes. He held both sides of her face and leaned down to kiss her softly. Then he backed away and said, “I think it’s time we explore this passion between us, don’t you?”
Her lips trembled when she smiled, and Luca experienced a bizarre combination of tenderness, desire and dread.
* * *
Jasmine wanted to be thoroughly and completely fucked by this man, but she also wanted him to know what to expect—or not to expect—from her. She had been terrified to tell Luca the truth. Had stayed up half the night trying to figure out what to say or whether she should just go on pretending to be someone she wasn’t. But when she saw that box of condoms, she’d known she had to come clean.
Now she was so glad she had. He kissed her. Sweetly. Then he grabbed the box of condoms and led her back to the bedroom.
Her legs felt wobbly as she stood there, watching him hang his leather jacket on the back of a chair. Her knees nearly gave out when he stalked back to her, his hair mussed, his gaze intent, his jaw firm. He yanked her close and threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head steady for what he was about to do, which was to devour her mouth until she couldn’t breathe. His lips were everywhere. On her lips, on her cheek, in her ear, on her neck, back on her mouth, inside her mouth. Not just kissing but biting and licking, sucking and owning.
She pulled away, not because she wanted to stop but because she needed a moment to catch her breath. After a lungful of air he moved them forward, easing her onto her back, dragging her up onto the comforter beneath him.
“You have driven me crazy from the very first, do you know that?” His words were dark and dangerous as he kneeled above her, gazing at her like he didn’t want to just devour her lips but her entire body.
Yes. Yes, please.
“Knowing you were here in this bedroom last night was torture.” He tugged the front of her top up, taking her bra with it, exposing her bare breasts and licking his lips like she was dinner. “Watching you come was my undoing.” His hands moved to her legs, pushing the skirt up and up until it was gathered at her waist, revealing her white panties.
“Jesus. Are all of your undergarments fucking virginal?” He groaned.
“I like white. And I’m not a virgin.”
He slid his hands up between her legs, parted them and then moved in between. He kneaded her upper thighs, sliding higher until his thumbs reached beneath the lace of her panties. “Do you know that first night I lay on my couch thinking about this? Thinking about the texture of your skin, the taste of your pussy. How soft and wet you’d be.”
Did he mean it? Jasmine d
idn’t know, but the way he looked at her was intoxicating and made her girl parts tremble with the need to climax.
He caressed over the white lace, slipping fingers under and grunting with pleasure as he explored between her folds.
“I can’t decide if I want to fuck you with these panties on or not.”
A fiery bolt of electricity slammed through her at his suggestion. The idea that he’d shove part of the lace aside and enter her that way was so erotic. God, she loved the way he talked dirty to her.
Her body reacted to his words and his touch, her hips meeting his hands, gyrating against his fingers. Wanting what he was doing but wanting more, too.
“Take them off. Please.”
He granted her wish, but when he revealed the bare skin beneath, it was as if it pained him because something sharp flashed across his features. After tossing the panties to the side, he spread her wide and slid two fingers into her body until his knuckles bumped against her clit. Lowering himself to her side, he observed her expression as he twisted and pulsed inside of her.
“Do you like being finger fucked?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding on the verge of a sob. “I love it.”
There was that expression again. Like this was hurting him.
With her free hand, she smoothed the wrinkle from between his brow and whispered, “Harder. Do it harder. Please.”
He made a low rumbling in his chest but he gave her want she wanted, withdrawing his hand and then slamming his fingers back inside, watching her carefully the whole time.
“Oh, yes!” Her hips flew off the bed. The pressure his fingers created, the friction, the growl he made as he did these things to her. He was enjoying this as much as she was.
“Mon Dieu.”
To Jasmine’s dismay, he pulled his hand away, though what he did next made it okay. Bringing his fingers to his nose, he inhaled deeply before licking them.
But when he pushed one of her legs wider so he could crawl back in between her thighs, she wriggled with the knowledge of what was about to happen. Her favorite thing to fantasize about. The very thing she’d never done before.
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