Page 120 of Royally Drawn

“Correct,” I said. “That may have been responsible for getting me through most of that tour. So, your service isgreatlyappreciated.”

“You really kept it? And wanted to listen to it?”

“The sound of you cumming is like music, Ingrid. It is thebestsound. Be loud. Please don’t hold back.”

She nodded, fighting the urge to say more as I slid my fingers inside her. I returned, my face pressed against her pussy and my tongue doing most of the work. She tightened around my fingers and moaned louder. I wanted her to cum so hard that she was beyond words. I needed her to scream my name to prove she was real, not just a post-flight delusion I’d dreamed up.

“Oh, Keir, fuck,” she gasped.

By now, her wetness ran down my chin.

“Oh, God, Keir, I love you!” She screamed. “Fuck!”

I felt her clench, then pulse around my fingers. She shuddered and pulled on my hair. It was perfection. It was everything. We both needed it. I pulled back, taking in the sight of her breathing heavily there. Her breasts bobbed, and her nostrils flared. She was mine. She was all mine.

“What are you waiting for?” Ingrid asked. “Just fuck me.”

“I would,” I said. “But I wasn’t expecting this to happen. I wasn’t prepared.”

“Have you been with anyone else?” Ingrid asked.

“No,” I said. “That would have felt like cheating.”

“I can say the same. Just fuck me. I want to cum inside me. I want us both to leave her satisfied. I need that,” Ingrid moaned. “I have to compete tomorrow. Give me a goodsend-off.”

Who was I to refuse? I pulled her towards me by the hips. Ingrid stared with defiance as if daring me to do it. I slipped inside her, slowly at first. It felt incredible, as if I’d never left this ride. She gasped, shuddered, and moaned. With each pump, I brought her closer and closer. Fighting the urge to give over to my pleasure, I focused on giving her everything she deserved. I kissed her neck, feeling her moans grow louder and louder as they vibrated in my ear.

“Oh fuck, please, Keir. Let me cum,” Ingrid pleaded.

“Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum.” If she didn’t cum soon, I would disappoint us both.

She dug her nails into my back and screamed, “Je t’aime! Fuck! Keir! Oh my God!”

I laughed, “You want to throw more languages in there, or was it good enough.”

“It… was… good,” Ingrid panted. “Cum… I want you to.”

I wanted to as well.

“Does my pussy feel good?”

“It feels amazing, Ingrid. I couldn’t want more.”

I gave in to the sight of her there for my taking. She was so beautiful. I pumped one last time, ploughing my hips into hers, then panting as I stared down. It felt terrific to cum inside her. I hoped it wasn’t the last time I got to.

Still inside her, I stopped to appreciate this woman fully. Brushing her hair off her face, I said, “I love you, Ingrid Deschamps. I’d go to the moon and back and say a million I-love-yous if you’d be mine.”

“I love you, too,” Ingrid murmured. “Don’t leave me again. Keep it up like this, and I will be yours forever.”

We lay together in the aftermath, slowly drifting off to sleep. I hoped I’d wake to her in my arms, cuddled with me—warm, soft, sweet. Instead, I awoke alone. I panicked, sitting up. I felt a piece of paper next to me. I unfolded it and stared at it.

It was a picture of me—the one she’d drawn in Wales. How had she kept it all this time?

Inside was a note, as well, on hotel stationery.

Mon cher,

Sorry, I rushed out. I knew you needed sleep. I wanted you to have this after all this time. I’ve been carrying it in my boot bag since I finished the sketch. So, I was never really over you.

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