Page 37 of The Rancher's Amnesia Bride

He had meant to take his time making love to her, but as always, his wife's terrible accent proved irresistible, and Philippe grabbed her hips from behind before shoving his cock into her pussy in one forceful thrust.

"Philippe!"

Hearing his wife cry his name out had Philippe involuntarily tightening his grip on her hips as he pounded into her harder and faster. He could feel her pussy already tightening with each thrust of his cock, and the sensation made his entire body clench and ache at the same time. He tried to make it last, but when he heard his wife pant out in French—-

"Je t'aime, mon Dieu, je t'aime—-"

A shudder rocked his powerful frame, and he heard Charlee-Mae gasp just as both of them started to cum. It was a feeling like no other, a feeling he knew he could never experience with anyone else, and as his wife's body continued to tremble under him, her pussy doing its best to take in all of his cum—-

"I love you, Mrs. DeRose."

Charlee-Mae burst into tears, which had her husband laughing softly even as he gently lifted her off her feet. With their bodies still intimately joined, he carried her to their bedroom, but instead of going straight to bed, Philippe positioned them in front of the full-length mirror in the en-suite.

Oh my Lord!

It almost felt sinful to stare at how her pussy had swallowed the entire length of his cock, with her legs splayed so widely open in front of the mirror.

"Ready for Round 2, mon ceour?"

Charlee-Mae couldn't answer, with her husband already using his strength to have her bouncing up and down his engorged cock, and oh God, oh Lord, oh Jesus, this feeling of being repeatedly impaled by Philippe's enormous member was just too, too much—-

She came with a cry, and she came even harder when she felt Philippe's mouth latch to the side of her neck and suck hungrily as he exploded inside of her.

Charlee-Mae had always imagined that once she became a married woman, she would want to have sex endlessly because she had over three decades to make up for. Philippe, however, taught her otherwise, and by the end of "Round 4", she was forced to beg for respite and was already asleep even before her head had hit the pillow.

It was a few minutes past seven in the evening when Charlee-Mae woke, and on the bedside table was a little package (the word had Charlee-Mae snickering), along with another handwritten note from her husband.

Call me when you wake. Je t'aime.

~ P

Charlee-Mae's face broke into a smile. She was right, after all. Philippe had just been a little reserved the first time, not wanting to make her feel pressured into expressing her own feelings. But because he now knew how much she loved him, this in turn allowed her husband to finally say those three little words.

The package contained what turned out to be her replacement phone, and she was surprised but pleased to see all of her data restored as well. All of the names in her contact list, the photos and videos she had taken - everything was there...and then some.

Her lips curved as she found Philippe's name listed as 'Mon Mari', which of course translated to 'my husband'. She was about to hit Call when a new email came in, and her brows shot up when she saw that it was from the sister-in-law she had yet to meet.

The email only contained an attachment, an audio file that she did not hesitate to play.

'Bonjour, Greta.'

She had no trouble recognizing her husband's voice, which she privately considered was the most beautiful voice in the world.

'Bonjour, mon chéri.'

By the time the recording ended, Charlee-Mae was pale and unsmiling, and her fingers shook as she made a call...to Charlotte.

Chapter Ten

Greta could not believe when an hour had already passed, and she had yet to hear from Philippe's American wife. Was it possible that the other woman was so desperate to stay with the French billionaire, she would rather turn a blind eye to the fact that Philippe was having an affair with his own sister-in-law?

The thought made Greta furious and disgusted, and with her temper once again getting the best of her, Greta's plans for making a splashy grand entrance in tomorrow's launch were all but forgotten.

She had tried to play nice, but it was now time to unsheathe her claws and teach the other woman her place.

The drive up to Foxtown took over an hour, and since the establishment also operated as a Regency-themed park, there were horse-drawn carriages waiting alongside expensive sports cars and chauffeur-driven limousines like the one she was in. A valet came up to open her door, and Greta took her time as she stepped out of the backseat, wanting to make sure that the people around her were able to have an eyeful of her long bare legs - Merde!

Greta's teeth started to chatter as soon as she was out, and her cheeks turned red with rage at the way some of the guests were silently laughing at her sparkling silver gown with thigh-high side-splits. Why the hell had no one told her that the stupid weather in Foxtown was a lot colder than the rest of Jackson Hole?

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