Page 4 of Traveling with Gentlemen
"I've missed your bites," I said, reaching up and thrusting my fingers into his inky curls, holding his face to my neck. His mouth opened, but he only lapped at me with long, wet strokes of his tongue.
"Sometimes I can't tell which part of you I am most eager to have inside of me – your fangs, or your cock," I whimpered, rubbing myself against him and trying to arch my throat directly into the point of his fangs.
Auguste let out a low growl, stiffening against me. "Mon dieu, Esther, do youknowthe power of what you say?" he rasped.
I didn't, but I was eager to be shown, and I opened my mouth to say so but was interrupted by the rushing movement of being thrown to the bed. Auguste stood at the foot, his skin rosy in the dawn light that bled through the shuttered windows, and he wrestled himself quickly out of his clothing, his eyes a beautiful black and his cock bobbing as it was freed.
I sat up on the bed, pulling my skirts up and reaching back to my buttons, doing my best to undress myself as Auguste stroked his length and studied me.
"Do you know what my favorite part of this trip is?" Auguste asked.
"The sunrises?"
He shook his head.
"Having a room with me."
"A bit, but no."
I hummed and tried to think, but it was useless as Auguste rounded the bed, prowling closer. My tongue flicked out to lick my lips as I stared at his eager staff.
He reached out and took my chin, lifting it up so I could stare back at him.
"Ezra getting all the best gossip from the wait staff?" I teased.
Auguste's lips twitched and he bent over me. "It's calling youwife."
My breath caught in my throat and then Auguste's hands were on my dress, yanking it down to expose my breasts. He pushed me flat on the bed, spreading my thighs and settling easily between them. His back bowed and I sighed as his mouth grazed over the rise of my breasts in a light, stroking kiss.
"I love that part too," I said, smiling and arching into his mouth.
"I hope you don't intend to make it to breakfast today, mon coeur," Auguste growled, his hands sliding up the backs of my thighs, head lifting to stare up at me.
"Ezra will sneak me something. I needyou," I said, wiggling in the trap of my dress as it pinned my arms to my side.
"And I need you," Auguste answered, stroking his cock against my sex, black eyelashes fluttering and head falling again, lips eagerly latching onto my right nipple.
I moaned, managing to grasp the back of his neck, stroking my thumbs behind his ears. I squirmed and gasped at the scratch of August's fangs. I loved when he bit my breast, it was like he was pulling a rope of pleasure straight from my—
"Oh, god, yes!" I cried out as Auguste worked the head of his length against my clit and then moved it down to tease at my opening.
"My pretty wife," Auguste murmured, kissing between my breasts, moving to lap at my left nipple. "My needy, slick, desperate wife."
I panted and wrapped my legs around Auguste's waist, tried to pull him into me, but he only went back to rubbing himself against my clit, stirring up more arousal.
"My wicked, teasing, patient husband," I answered with a whine. "Ple—"
But the wordhusbandhad struck Auguste like a lightning bolt, a shudder racing through him, and I found my breath stolen from me as he shifted and plunged suddenly inside of me. His hands braced on either side of my shoulders and he pushed himself up, glaring down at me with those vast dark pupils, breath rushing out of his parted lips as he watched me arch and gasp and adjust to his entry.
"Do you like this dress?" Auguste growled.
"I don't care about dresses, Auguste,please,move! More!" I cried out.
I did like the dress, as a matter of fact, but Auguste was the one who’d purchased it for me, and if he was fine with the sudden tear running down the middle, so was I. I hurried to pull my arms free of the tight sleeves, but ignored the tangle of the skirt bunched around my waist. I pulled Auguste to my chest, breasts just pressed over the edge of my corset, and started to ride him from below. His snarl was warm and sweet in my ear, and he nipped at my jaw as I writhed and worked myself into a frenzy.
"Bite me," I gasped, my movements becoming jerky, desperate. "Please, Auguste, fuck me. Bite me."
His hands slid between us, grasped roughly at my breasts, and then found the hooks that held the corset closed. He only had the patience to unfasten three and then I winced at the sudden popping and ripping of seams and stitches and boning. Auguste pulled out of me and I let out a garbled note of protest before I found myself swallowed in fabric, wriggling to get free.
