His tongue slid deeper inside me as his hands came up to cup my ass. His shoulders nudged my thighs wider. His upper lip caressed my clit, hot and achingly swollen now, as his tongue glided over me, lashing my wet folds again and again before plunging deep to taste me. I started to grind helplessly against him, my hips swirling, wanting him to take all of me in his mouth. I would have had him swallow me whole, if that were possible. The heat was slamming back and forth inside me like a heartbeat now, demanding release. The idea of what he was doing, the sight of what he was doing, the feel of what he was doing—it all reflected and amplified in my mind until—
He took my clit in his mouth and squeezed it between his lips, sucking on it—
I careered over the edge. It wasn’t like I’d never had an orgasm before, but this was different. This was something I felt with my entire body. It radiated through me, lighting me up, crackling along every nerve until I was shuddering from toes to scalp, my head thrown right back and my groin thrust hard against his face. It brightened, brightened, and then exploded, destroying every conscious thought until all I felt was raw pleasure for long, glorious seconds. When it finally faded, all the strength had been sucked from my limbs. If his hands hadn’t been around my ass, holding me up, I think I would have fallen.
He got to his feet, grinning at me, and slipped his arms around my waist. I collapsed against his chest, feeling my breasts pillow against the hard wall of his pecs. When I finally felt able to lift my head and look him in the eye, his expression asked, Better?
I nodded. Then again, more firmly.
He kissed me. “Now,” he told me, stroking my cheek with his thumb, “I really need to fuck you. So if you don’t want that, if you’re not ready, tell me now so I can go and stand under a cold shower. Because once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop.”
I didn’t even hesitate. Not for a split-second. I just pressed up against him, feeling his hardness against my softness, and it felt good.
He pulled me by the hand and led me to the bed, lying me down on my back. Then he stood there staring down at me as he slowly undressed. His jacket first, tossed on the floor to reveal his wonderfully broad shoulders and his narrow waist. Then the tie and shirt, and I could finally see the pecs I’d been visualizing all day, thick slabs of muscle with dime-sized dark pink nipples. His abs were hard and defined, with ridges I longed to run my hands over and a deep center line bisecting them. He’d said he wanted to lick my breasts. I wanted to lick my way down that line, all the way from his chest to his navel, while my hands slid down his body.
He unfastened his belt. Pulled his pants and shorts down in one move and—
I drew in my breath. His cock was standing hard and ready and it was big. The head was purple-pink, glossily smooth. The shaft was the same even, sun-kissed tan as the rest of him, thick and long and throbbing with need. Throbbing for me. The thought of that made me swallow hard.
He climbed onto the bed, the size of him making it creak. His hands gripped my ankles and he laid kisses up the length of one calf. Then he eased them apart and pushed my feet up the bed. I let my knees rise and my legs open, feeling my slickened lips spread. I looked down at that cock again. It was bigger by a good few inches than those of the two men I’d had before—thicker, too. I imagined it sliding into me, stretching me, and heat inside me raged even harder.
He lowered himself atop me, planting his hands either side of my head, his knees nudging mine farther apart. His cock brushed my thigh and I gasped at its heat. He moved lower, and I marveled at how the muscles in his arms bunched and flexed. His mouth found my neck, laying a trail of kisses that led down to my breasts.
“I’ve been waiting to do this since I first saw you,” he told me. And before I could respond, he had his hot, sucking mouth on the flesh of my breast, his tongue hard and insistent, kneading me with his mouth. My hands clutched for the bedsheets. His mouth began to move around the edge of my left breast, refusing to go any closer towards the nipple. Ripples of pleasure went straight to my core, making me gasp and writhe beneath him. Supporting himself on the bed with one huge hand, he started to use the other to stroke my other breast, trailing his fingers back and forth over it. Both nipples were hard as rock in just seconds and I had to turn my head to the side, closing my eyes as I panted.
His mouth spiraled in, but still refused to touch the nipple itself. I started to arch my back towards him, thrusting my breasts towards his face, but he just smiled. My breasts were exquisitely sensitive, throbbing under his touch, all but that one spot on fire. “Please,” I gasped at last.
“Please what?” he asked.
I wasn’t at my most lucid, by now, and it took me a few seconds to remember the French for “kiss,” baiser, and “nipple,” mamelon. “Please,” I begged, “kiss my nipple.”
He grinned and did exactly that, and I let out a deep, throaty groan. Then he started to suck on it, his tongue working the areola, and the heat was throbbing through me hard and fast, unstoppable. When he eventually lifted his mouth, I lay there limp, staring up at him.
He lifted himself again, moving his head right up to mine, and kissed me long and deep. Then he started to make his way down my body, starting at my ear, laying a line of kisses that twisted back and forth across my body, criss-crossing my breasts, across my stomach, around my thighs, down my legs, right down to my feet. There was not a single inch he didn’t kiss and with every brush of his lips the heat inside me surged harder.
“Gorgeous,” he said as he worked his way down. “Enchanting and perfect. Don’t ever change.”
Every part of me was dancing, my skin alive. Heat was washing up and down my body—I wanted to grind myself against him, wanted to hook him with my heels and draw him into me. I was panting, aching. God, I was going to go crazy if he didn’t—
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he told me. And he moved into position to do just that, his strong thighs between mine.
I panted in relief. And then something occurred to me. “Wait,” I said. “Condom.”
He shook his head. “I can’t wait,” he said simply, and the idea that he was so consumed with lust that he really couldn’t went off like a bomb in my head.
I only hesitated for a split second. Then I nodded.
He knelt back—I think so that I could watch, and he could, too. He planted his hands on my spread thighs and aimed the head of that gorgeous cock right at me. There was already a gleaming jewel of pre-cum shining there and, as I saw it approaching my pussy, a little quiver of uncertainty went through me. It’ll be fine, I told myself. He can pull out.
He touched me, and oh God, the feel of that silken head, throbbing with heat, gliding up and down my wet folds. He looked down at me, checking that I was okay, and I loved him for that. Then he was pushing forward, the head spreading me—
Stretching me.
I drew in a long breath as the head pressed my lips wide. He really was big. I swallowed quickly as I felt him sink deeper, the head entering me up to its widest point. His inward progress slowed, I was so tight around him, and he grinned. And then he pushed again and—Ah!—I felt him slide into me, my body hungrily closing around the shaft. His momentum sank him deep into me, almost half of him sliding right up into my slickened tunnel on that first thrust, and I moaned as I felt him gliding past a thousand nerve endings, hard and throbbing and huge.
He fell forward onto his arms, his hands thumping into the bed either side of me. We locked eyes, him staring down hungrily at me, me gazing desperately up at him, eyes wide and mouth open and panting. He began to drive into me, just slow movements of his hips at first. The push of his body against mine made my breasts bounce and jump, the sight of his strong chest above me making me heady. Then the strokes became longer and I gasped as he threatened to fill me all the way. He was longer than any man or toy I’d ever taken, and he was touching places I’d never felt before.
“Go…slow,” I said breathlessly. But he just grinned and lowered himself a
little more atop me. Now his pecs were grazing my nipples in a way that made me clutch his forearms, knuckles white. He was deep…and he was going to go deeper. He did go slow, giving me time to adjust to him, though, and there was no pain…just a glorious sensation of being filled.
He entwined his fingers with mine and stretched our arms out wide to our sides. Lowering himself completely onto me, he started to lick and nibble at the base of my neck as he began to thrust in earnest. On each stroke I could feel the head of his cock pushing deeper, deeper…and then I gasped as I felt him push gently up against my very limits. I stared up at him, wordless, my eyes wide.
“I can feel you,” he said. “I can feel every part of you.” The French twisted in my mind, turning hot and dark, flooding down my body to my groin. I felt my thighs unconsciously open a little wider for him.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, now,” he told me softly, and his hands pressed mine a little harder into the bed, his hips pinning my lower body in place.
My breath caught in my throat, but I nodded wordlessly up at him. I wanted it. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in the world.
He began to pump at me, pulling out almost all the way each time and then rooting himself in me. He started slow but sped up quickly, until he was slamming into me, our bodies connecting with a wet slap. The bed was rocking, my breath coming in hot little pants in time with his thrusts. We were both glistening with sweat, my breasts damp beneath the hardness of his chest. I found myself wrapping my ankles around his lower legs, locking him into place.
He gave a low growl as he felt that and began to move faster, until the sensation of his hard cock sliding back and forth past my slickened walls became one long blur of pleasure, until I was swirling my groin around and around and flexing myself up to meet him. I could feel my climax building in me, swelling to fill every part of my body, ready to burst free…. I locked eyes with him and suddenly he leaned down and kissed me, hard and savage on the lips, and the orgasm detonated at my core, making me arch my back right off the bed. My fingers clutched his, my head thrashing on the sheets. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I was aware of my sex clamping around him, again and again, and heard him groan in pleasure.
I flopped back onto the sheets, locks of my hair sticking to my forehead.
I felt him withdraw from me, still hard. I closed my eyes and heard him moving the pillows on the bed around. Then he was moving me, gently rolling me over onto my stomach, and there was something underneath me. I opened my eyes and looked down. Two pillows were under my hips, lifting them off the bed. That put my ass up in the air and, as I heard him move around behind me, I was suddenly worried.
“Um,” I said uncertainly. “I’ve never done it…there.”
He came around to my side and brushed the hair off my face. “Shh,” he said. “We’re not doing that. Not today. Today I just want to feel your marvelous ass against me.” And he climbed on the bed, nudging my legs apart. I let my head sink down to the pillows, trusting him.
I felt his cock probe at the moist lips of my sex, teasing me, and I ground back against him. I’d never done it face-down before. On all fours, yes—once—but not like this. It was totally different. I didn’t have to support myself, which meant—my stomach flipped over—he can fuck me like this for hours.
He slid into my pussy in one long, firm stroke and I sucked in my breath as I was stretched again. I could feel him staring at my upraised ass cheeks. The part of my body I’d always hated most…but then I felt his hands smooth over them, stroking them as he penetrated me. “Wonderful,” he said. “So round…delicious.” And then his hard thighs were pressing against them and he was rooted in me, making my eyes go wide in wonder.
He began to fuck me, and it was even better than before. Now I could grind my clit against the pillows, and his thick cock sinking into me felt exquisite from this new angle. He slid his hands under me and palmed my breasts, rolling them and squeezing them, and I started to feel another orgasm racing towards me. I almost didn’t want it, yet, because I wanted to savor this….
His powerful hips quickly set up a rhythm, and he began to pound me. My climax was building, moving up from my toes and fingers, speeding towards my center. God, his cock, hard and hot and unstoppable, sliding past my slippery flesh like iron wrapped in silk. I could feel my ass flexing as I ground myself against the pillows, getting the friction I need to send me over the edge. Maybe the sight of that or the feel of it was too much for him, because I heard his breathing go ragged, as if he was trying to hold himself back.
Hold himself back…
My eyes widened. “Erard!” I gasped. “Stop! I’m not on the pill! You have to pull out!”
He kept going. And then I realized that, in my panic, I’d said it in English. Oh my God! What’s the French for “pull out?!” He was getting closer and closer, I could tell, and all my vocabulary had disappeared from my head.
“I’m…going…to….” He grunted in French.
A thousand French words went through my head, none of them the right one. And then, just as my addled brain finally grabbed hold of the answer—
“AH!” grunted Erard. “Ah! AH!” I felt his hips lunge forward and then the thick, liquid squirt of it, right up against the opening to my womb. And not just once—he shot again and again, hot and powerful and potent and oh God he’s come inside me and—
I arched my back, my head lifting off the bed, and moaned as my orgasm let go, crashing through me like a wave, sending a sinuous twist all the way down my spine until my ass wriggled against him. The idea of it, the idea that a man was actually doing that forbidden thing, shooting his seed right inside my unprotected body, made it ten times better. Lights danced in front of my eyes and I collapsed onto the bed, and for a moment I didn’t care at all.
I felt him gently withdraw from me and then slide up beside me. He rolled me off the pillows and spooned me, pressing his body against my back from ankle to shoulder, nuzzling my neck. I lay there in utter bliss. I should have been terrified. Millions of determined little swimmers were at that very second rushing towards my waiting egg. And yet it didn’t seem bad, or scary. It seemed…good. In fact, there was a dark little twisting delight, somewhere deep inside me, at what we’d just done.
Erard flopped onto his back, panting. I hadn’t realized how much effort he’d put into it—and probably neither had he, until he’d stopped. Now he was barely capable of moving.
I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m going to take a shower,” I told him. And then, I figured, we needed to sit down and have a proper talk about where this was going and the future and all that stuff. But a shower first.
I searched the floor for my clothes, so that I could take them through to the bathroom with me. “Damnit,” I said to myself in English. “Where the hell are my panties?”
“They’re behind you,” said Erard from the bed. “Hanging from the lampshade.”
My world stopped.
He’d said it in English.
He saw my jaw drop and leaped off the bed, his hands outstretched towards me. “Wait! I can explain!” He was back in French again, but it was too late.
“Oh my God!” I whispered. “Oh my God! I’ve been so stupid. Of course you speak English. You’ve been conning me all along!”
“No!” he said sharply. He hesitated. “Yes, I lied, but—“
“Was Henri even your translator?” I howled. “Are you even a real count?”
“I can explain!”
But I was beyond listening. My eyes locked on the bed. “You knew!” I gasped. “You knew exactly what I was saying, didn’t you? You knew I wanted you to pull out!”
I saw the guilt flicker in his eyes. I clapped a hand over my mouth in disbelief.
“You wanted it!” he told me. “Tell me it didn’t feel great when I came inside you! If you’d really wanted me not to, you would have said something in French, and I would have stopped.”
“I—Couldn’t think of anything!” I shouted. A little voice inside me nagged that he was right. Why had I suddenly forgotten every word of French, right at that crucial moment? Why hadn’t I just tapped his arm, or yelled “Stop!” Could it be that I’d wanted him to come inside me…and I’d just wanted an excuse to let him?
I shook my head. That didn’t change anything. He’d still been lying to me all day. And that meant—
My stomach lurched. “It was all just a trick, wasn’t it? All that stuff about liking my body!”
“No!” He sounded horrified.
I grabbed my skirt and t-shirt and pulled them on, without bra or panties. “This is all a routine, isn’t it? Find some girl, tell her what she wants to hear—“
“No!”
I grabbed my shoes. “I never want to see you again,” I told him and ran for the door. He jumped forward, but I was out into the corridor before he could stop me, and I knew he’d have to stop to put clothes on. I heard him calling my name, but I was already at the elevator, viciously stabbing the button, hot tears filling my eyes. As the doors closed and I began to descend, I put my hands to my face and sobbed.
***
While we’d been in the hotel, the storm had finally broken. Rain was crashing to the ground as if the gods were emptying buckets just a few stories up. I blundered out of the hotel doors and was soaked to the skin before I’d gone six feet. Central Park was just across the street and I ran for it, dodging between the traffic. The rain was washing away my tears, but as fast as the heat left my eyes it was replaced with more.
The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) Page 4