Page 18 of Sinful Temptations

Reaching around, I unclipped my bra, tossing it onto the puddle of clothes on the floor. Being topless in front of a man would’ve horrified me a few weeks ago. Not anymore.

He fell to his knees and as I clutched a handful of his hair, he sucked my breast into his mouth. I was a dominatrix, demanding my lover take me to the limit.

Pierre succumbed to my wishes, licking, nipping, and sucking my breast until my nipple was a throbbing pebble.

Every nerve in my body tingled with anticipation.

He curved his hand beneath my boob, touching thatsensitive part below my mound that barely received attention. The sensation was incredible, out of this world.

I hadn’t noticed he’d undone my pants until the fabric fell to my feet. Kicking them aside, I stood wearing just panties before my French lover.

My French lover.

Wow. I had a French lover.

I had to hold back a giggle.

With one hand on my breast, and his lips around my nipple, Pierre glided his hand up my inner thigh, each time inching closer to my lacy panties.

He was a patient lover. Closer and closer he probed, teasing my flesh, sucking my nipple.

“Please.” The word tumbled from my lips.

“Pardon?” He was a tease, drawing out my pleasure.

“Please, Pierre, do it.”

“Hmmm, what exactly does my lover want?”

Oh, God, his accent was so sexy.

“I want your finger inside me. Please.” I couldn’t believe I was begging, but damn it felt good.

Pierre slid my panties down, tossed the tiny piece of lace aside, and continued his exploration up my thigh. I bent my knees, holding my breath. My nipples were rock hard. My pussy was pounding out an urgent beat. My whole body was aching for his touch.

I clutched his head, ready to squeeze the life out of him if he didn’t oblige.

He slipped his finger into my throbbing hole and whatever he touched inside me shot delicious tingles along every nerve.

My growing orgasm was huge, mammoth even.

Closing my eyes, I let my body take over. I inhaled his glorious scent. His ragged breaths were in sync with my own. He added a second finger to his first, and clutching ahandful of his hair, a groan tumbled from my throat. I was ready, oh so ready.

Pierre whipped his fingers out so fast I stumbled sideways.

He scrambled to his feet.

His eyes were wide, fear-driven wide, his erection enormous.

“Pierre.” I heard a woman’s voice. She was at the bottom of the stairs.

ChapterFour

Pierre’s blazing eyes shot to me. “Shit.” He pressed his finger to my lips, shushing me. “It’s my wife.”

I clutched my hands over my breasts. “But . . . but you’re divorced.” My throat tightened.

“Yes. Divorced four times. Married five.” He said it like he was counting his toes.

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