Page 11 of Downforce

She pulls away from me, takes my hand, and leads me into my motor home.

I yank her back to me the second the door closes behind us, my lips crushing hers, my hands tugging at her clothes. She does the same, tiny noises vibrating in the back of her throat as her tongue slides against mine. Her fingers pop the buttons of my shirt, and she smooths her hands over my skin, flicking one of my nipples with her thumb, and I groan into her mouth. She responds by raking her nails down my abs to the waistband of my jeans, releasing the button and lowering the zip of my fly.

My erection springs free, jutting out of my jeans, and she wraps her fingers around its turgid length.

A ragged groan bursts from me, and I move my lips down to the column of her throat, nipping and biting until I get to the curve of her shoulder. “I need you naked, chérie. Now.”

“I love how you call me that,” she murmurs, squeezing my cock.

“Less talk.” I nibble a path to the little dip below her ear. “More nakedness.”

She laughs, and steps backward, arching one eyebrow. “Well?”

I move. Fast. Removing her clothes, tossing them over my shoulder. She laughs, and then moans as I explore every inch of her creamy skin I reveal. Her breasts are incredible, the curve of her hips sublime. I draw one dusky nipple into my mouth, sucking on it with a hunger I can’t deny.

She fists her hands in my hair again, making low sounds of desire that turns my already hard length to a straining rod.

I can’t wait. But I have to. I’m not going to destroy what this is becoming, what it might be, by rushing her, no matter how much I ache to be inside?—

“Your turn,” she declares, and before I know it, she’s pushing me onto my back on the motor home’s bed.

She strips my jeans down my legs, laughing again when they get caught on my boots. “Oh, for the love of…” she mutters, yanking them off my feet and casting them aside. My socks follow. She lifts a playful eyebrow at me. “Are you ticklish, Laurant?”

Fingers curling around my right ankle, she lifts my foot and blows a gentle stream of cool air on my sole.

A strangled chuckle bubbles from me, and I shake my head even as my cock pulses. “Oui, oui, chérie.” I grip the bedding beneath me. If I don’t, I will grab her and pull her down onto my body and claim her completely. “I am ticklish.”

Delight and triumph fill her eyes, and she slowly traces a line from my heel to the base of my middle toe with her fingertip.

Wicked, delicious sensations flay through me, and I moan, the reaction becoming a laugh as she repeats the caress again.

“Chérie…” I plead, my erection so hard it aches. Fuck, I want her more than breath. “S'il te plait… Please…”

She pauses, a stillness falling over her. An emotion darkens her eyes, and she looks like she’s about to say something.

I think I’m falling in love with you, Anton.

I grow still, my blood hot, my head buzzing at the notion. Love? Charlotte Madigan, in love with me? If only I were to be so fortunate.

Because I think I’m falling in love with her.

My heart hammers into my throat at the realization.

I am. It’s absurd, impossible. But I am.

“Charlotte,” I say, her name a raw plea for everything I’ve never realised I wanted until now.

Her chest rises with a shaky breath and, lips parting, she climbs onto the bed, straddles my hips and aligns herself over the jutting tip of my cock. “Anton,” she says, her stare on mine. “This…” Her eyes flutter close for a heartbeat before she looks at me again.

And I am hers.

The pleasure, the passion, the raw trust and honesty in her eyes… I am hers.

Forever.

“Je suis à toi pour toujours, Charlotte Madigan,” I say, my throat thick and my heart racing as I smooth my hands to her hips.

“Forever,” she echoes in English, and slowly impales herself on my length.

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