Page 73 of Her Inconvenient Groom (French Conquests 4)

“That’s not your fault!” he said hotly.

She shook her head. “He’s still lost. And I don’t know if I can have another.”

“You will, I promise. And if that doesn’t turn out to be God’s purpose for us, we’ll adopt. I don’t care. All I know is that I love you and want to be with you. I want to raise a family with you. Share a bed with you and your bossy cat.”

That made her chuckle. “At least you’re pre-approved. She doesn’t give the okay to just anyone, you know.”

“The tuna bribes worked.” He laughed and then got serious again. “We don’t have to conform to the contract and get that divorce, you know. We can tear it up. Though for your peace of mind and mine, I want the prenup to remain as is. I’m willing to marry you again before our family and friends. With a gown and a band and lots of drunken uncles acting inappropriately by the bar.”

She hugged him back, lifting her face to press her lips against his. They hadn’t kissed more than her forehead or cheek while she was in the hospital. It felt so perfect she wondered why they took so long to kiss each other. “I don’t want another wedding. What I want is a real marriage. You and me, doing this for real this time.”

“I can do that,” he said with immense sincerity. “I want to stay here in France with you. I’ve fallen in love with the place, with Aix, the fields of flowers, the house. You.”

“You already said that.”

“I’m saying it again.” He began kissing her earnestly, hungrily.

She pressed her hands against his bare chest, feeling his warm skin under her fingers. Noticing that she wanted to feel more against her than just his chest. She took the initiative, standing just long enough to peel down her jeans and kick them away, then add her panties to the heap. He watched her as if there was nothing else in the world worth looking at.

“Now you,” she said. She began to unbuckle his belt and pull on the button fly of his jeans, almost groaning in frustration at how hard they were to open. In the growing darkness, exacerbated by the black storm outside, it was hard to work with such small fastenings. “Oh, I hate these!” she groaned in frustration.

Dustin gently moved her hands away and undid the fly himself, stepping out of his clothes, his arousal blatant. Then he gathered as many of the food items as he could in his arms and dumped them unceremoniously on a small, rough-hewn wooden table, cleaning the bed. In doing so, he knocked over the bottle of red wine that had been left to breathe, spilling at least a glassful before he had the time to straighten it.

“Criminal,” she said.

He brought the bottle to her lips and offered her a sip, then had a mouthful himself. After carefully placing it upright on the table, thus avoiding her further ire, he returned to the bed. Instead of joining her in it, he got to his knees before her as she sat on the edge, bowing his head like a congregant at worship.

He took one light brown nipple between his lips and began his slow, methodical torture. He used his teeth, and then he didn’t. After making sure she was halfway out of her mind, he switched to the other nipple, thereby finishing the job.

She wrapped her hands around his head, panting, pressing him against her so hard he had to tap her on the arm to allow him to breathe.

He slid his lips lower, down her rib cage, which was still way too visible after all the weight she’d lost, and lingered at her navel. Swirling his tongue around it, dipping its tip inside.

All the while, his right hand slid lower, to the patch of soft fuzz below her tummy, discovering that, like his, her arousal was evident. He grunted in satisfaction.

One brave finger ventured past her lips, sliding into wetness, into slickness. Chantelle widened her knees and tilted her hips forward in a clear request for more. More fingers, more touching, more speed. Justmore.

She told him so in no uncertain terms, and he complied with delight. When he was finished paying homage to her belly button, his mouth joined his probing fingers. The stab of his tongue was unexpected, even though she had watched in hungry anticipation as he had slid into position. She gave a sharp yip, and he chuckled. He seemed to enjoy the fact that she was helpless and in his control. She almost hated him for it.

But those cobwebs of hate were brushed away when Dustin began licking and sucking at her, working his fingers in and out of her even as he did so. Because there was no time for any such useless emotion when she was there, fully preoccupied with losing her mind.

As his fingers twisted and curled, she pressed back and up, rocking her hips to teach him the rhythm she wanted and needed. She lifted one leg and threw it around his shoulders, ensuring his entrapment until she had her satisfaction.

That satisfaction came fast, descending upon her as quickly as the storm had arrived earlier. She tilted her head back and panted out his name, feeling his hands grasping her butt cheeks as he pressed her against his mouth. Even when the pleasure became tinged with pain, he didn’t stop. He cruelly kept on. Wrecking her sanity and making her entire body shake.

It was only whenhehad enough that he rose to take in air, his slick mouth stretched wide in a grin.

“Salaud,”she gasped. “Bastard!”

Undaunted by her epithets, he had more in store for her. He positioned her higher up on the bed and loomed over her. Under her curious hands, she could tell that he was even more excited than before, but made no move to plunge into her, as she so desperately desired.

“What the hell?” she protested, growing angry now. Why was he leaving her hanging like this? “What are you waiting for?”

“Just admiring you, beauty. The woman I love.”

“Admire me later!” she gasped, reaching up to grab his muscular rear end and pull him down to her. Chantelle wanted to make contact with his hardness.

“As you wish.”

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