Page 114 of Sinful Escape

It was the first time I’d ever experienced an after-sex embrace, and the pure joy of it made my insides glow.

All too soon, Pierre pushed up onto his hands and when his cock popped out, he gazed into my eyes. “Mes excuses. I was not a very delicate lover.”

“Oh, ummm . . .”

“I wanted to take my time with you, but . . .” He trailed his finger around my nipple, teasing it to attention. “You drive me crazy.”

“Oh.” I had no idea what to say. It was impossible to comprehend that Pierre found me attractive with my helmet hair. I must look frightful.

He glided his finger over my lips, down my neck and between my breasts. “Next time, I will take my pleasure with you.”

“Oh.” That was my third oh in twenty seconds.

What the hell does he mean by next time? As in, next time I’m in Paris?

I was still recovering from this time.

He pushed off the bed. “But first, we must have wine.”

Holy firecrackers. His next time is tonight!

He drew my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my palm ever so lightly. I couldn’t breathe, scared that at any movement the delightful bubble I’d somehow slipped into would burst.

Pierre turned, and mesmerized by the bulge and flex of his butt cheeks, I eased up onto my elbow for a better view. He strode to the restroom and disappeared inside.

I flopped backward on the crumpled sheets and stared up at the sheer fabric draped across the four-poster bed above me. All the delightful butterflies in my stomach were now eagles, soaring on a wonderful after-sex high. My body glowed like a morning sunrise.

I was seeing a whole new world. I was alive. Free.

The toilet flushed, and Pierre reappeared, and with his cock flopping between his legs, he strolled to his kitchen. It was impossible to resist ogling the manly display of confidence. At the fridge, he opened the door, and when he bent over, I had a full view of his dangling balls.

Holy wow. I snapped my eyes away, trying not to giggle.

I rolled off the bed, tugged the sheet free, wrapped it around my body, and waddled to the bathroom.

My reflection in the mirror was horrifying. Not only was my hair worse than I’d envisioned but my flushed cheeks made it look like my freckles had gone all rabid on me and hit colony proportions.

Dragging my eyes away, I turned my attention to the dampness between my legs. I had no idea sex could be so messy. I glanced at the shower and then poked my head out the door. “May I use your shower?”

“Of course, take your time.”

I turned on the faucet and once the temperature was right, I stepped over the edge of the tub and entered the cascade. Deciding that wetting my hair would tame it slightly, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

My insides purred with post-sex glory and my whole body sang in blissful harmony. I felt like I’d run a marathon yet at the same time I felt complete and utter bliss. I was totally relaxed and couldn’t recall ever feeling so content.

A hand cupped my breast, and I snapped my eyes open. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Pierre stepped into the shower and fell to his knees.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Pierre placed his hands on my hips, and before I could even think, his hot tongue glided up my pussy. I gasped at the glory, and as I drove my fingers into his damp hair, Pierre drove his tongue into my throbbing hole, lapping up the sex juices that I’d yet to wash away.

The water tumbling over me was hot, but his tongue inside me was even hotter.

He squeezed my breasts. As he licked my pussy, I scrunched my fingers in his hair, holding him in place and savoring the glorious sensations pulsing through me. Pierre’s tongue took me to another world. I no longer felt the tumbling water. I no longer smelled the lemon-scented soap. I closed my eyes and my whole world condensed to his movements and the fresh climax building inside me.

He added his finger to his tongue, and as he drove that digit inside me, he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked. It was sensory overload, and I couldn’t hold back a second longer. I screamed as my orgasm ripped through me.

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