Page 24 of Sinful Escape

Not anymore. Every nerve-ending had burst into life. Quivering. Trembling. Needing more. Much, much more.

I scrambled for the buttons on my shirt, undid two, then whipped it up over my head and tossed it aside. I nearly died when I looked down. My lingerie was hideous. Built for comfort not admiration. But if Pierre was horrified, he didn’t show it. Instead, he reached behind my back and did something William had never done. . . he unclipped my bra.

I released the shoulder straps, and when I flung the bra away, I searched Pierre’s eyes, nervous about his reaction to my giant melons.

William had always been reluctant, almost repulsed by my boobs.

Pierre was the exact opposite.

His eyes widened, taking all of me in and my fears washed away in a tsunami of delight. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but was so mesmerized, he couldn’t. With each heady breath, his chest rose and fell. His tongue slicked his bottom lip.

My heart thundered, and my insides fluttered as I absorbed the most delightful reaction to my breasts I’d ever witnessed.

His hands glided over my mounds, caressing, teasing my nipples. His palms curled beneath my breasts, touching that tender flesh that never saw daylight. He repeated the move: over, under, across. Each time my nipples peaked just that little bit more, rising to attention until they were so hard, they hurt. Hurt and ached in such a way that I wanted it more.

It was the most erotic moment of my life.

Pierre’s eyes followed his hands, transfixed, producing sensations in me I’d never felt before. I was not just a plank with mammoth ugly breasts. For the first time in my life, I felt sexy.

I was a sensuous woman who could turn a man on.

Glorious tingles shimmered through me, starting at the tips of my fingers and ending with a delicious beat in my clitoris.

Pierre cupped my right breast; the massive quantity of flesh spilled from his hand, yet his expression was one of awe like he was holding the holy grail. Delicately pinching my nipple between his thumb and finger, he was holding his breath as if breathing would break the spell the two of us had somehow fallen into. Each touch of his hands drove tremors through my body.

I couldn’t hold back a moment more. Grabbing a handful of his hair, I captured his mouth with mine, my probing tongue lost on a glorious adventure.

I was out of control. It felt so fucking good. My hand nudged the bulge in his pants.

Holy mighty erection.

Knowing I’d created that was like injecting an aphrodisiac into my veins. Pierre’s rod was thick and hard, and the look on his face was the biggest turn-on of my life.

His hand glided up my thigh and wedged between my legs. He rubbed his fingers over my denim shorts and a groan tumbled from my throat. “Oh, Pierre.”

Hooking my Del Rey sneakers into the footrest of the stool, I eased back, offering Pierre my bosom. He didn’t need an invitation. He wrapped his lips around my nipple. Sucking. Licking. Squeezing.

Raw shivers coursed through my body. My sex throbbed and it flitted through my brain that not one of my book boyfriends had me feeling like this.

I wanted to slap myself again for making that ridiculous comparison.

My breasts were loving the attention, but it was my rarely touched pussy that was begging for more.

Pierre must’ve read my mind because while his tongue lashed my nipple, his hand glided up my inner thigh. His probing finger weaved beneath the leg of my shorts into my panties and thumbed my sensitive zone.

His first touch shot rockets through me. I gasped in delight.

Yes, please. I clutched handfuls of his hair and hung on as I willed him to do it again.

He did.

I quivered with want, silently begging him to slide his finger into me.

A sliver of shame seized my chest. This wasn’t me. I didn’t beg for sex. I didn’t do things like this at all. Ever.

Maybe Pierre sensed my hesitation because he deepened his kiss.

He touched me again, right there, on that sensitive button between my legs that was a high-voltage trigger. Oh my god.

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