The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) (5 page)

“I want to crush them in my hands until you moan,” he told me. “I want to rub your nipples with my thumbs until they’re so hard they ache. I want to bite you just enough to make you catch your breath, just enough that you’re held on the edge of coming.”

I could actually feel my nipples getting hard from his words. In the mirror, I saw his head tilt as he looked further down my body. “I love your stomach,” he said. I tensed at the mention of one of my most-hated areas. “I love how soft your skin looks. I haven’t touched you there yet, but I long to. I want to touch you and nuzzle you there and lick you until you tremble. I love your navel, so dark and innocent-looking. I bet you’re ticklish there.”

His head tilted down again. “I love your hips. You have gorgeous, wide hips, just like a woman should have. I love the way they flare and the curve as they flow down. I love your thighs. I love your pale skin, so beautifully soft and pure. I want to caress it, want to rub it with my thumbs as I sink my head right between your thighs to lick you. I love your pussy. I love the little bit of hair you’ve kept, because it’s such a contrast to your pale skin. I love that your clit is hidden away, because I can have fun teasing it out. I love the shape of your lips and how light pink they are. I want to trace every fold with my tongue.”

I wasn’t aware that I was breathing anymore. I was floating, my whole body suffused with a warmth I’d never felt.

He gently turned me so that I was facing away from the mirror and made me look back at myself over my shoulder. “I love your ass,” he said. “I want to run my hands over it and over it, following its lines. I want to squeeze it and stroke it and hold it in my hands when I fuck you.”

He turned me to face the mirror again. “If I was a sculptor,” he said, “I would make a statue of the perfect woman out of clay, running my hands over its form again and again, smoothing every curve with my palms. And she would look exactly. Like. You.”

I stared at the mirror. A different woman was standing there: one I didn’t hate. The heat was raging inside me now, an inferno. I was trembling with it, almost panting. And then I felt something else, as he pressed against me. His cock was hot and hard along my thigh. He wanted her, the woman in the mirror. He wanted
me.

He stepped around in front of me and looked long and deep into my eyes, checking that I was okay. I nodded to him, and the implications of that resonated through me. I
was
okay. For the first time, maybe, in a long time.

He leaned forward and kissed me. This time my mouth flowered open and it was slow and sensual, the kiss moving and changing as his hand buried itself in my hair and drew me to him. When the kiss finished, I opened my eyes and was again staring at the woman in the mirror. Only now, the gorgeous man who stood between us was sinking, kneeling down.

Oh God. Is he going to—

I groaned at the first touch of his mouth on me, my hands clutching at his shoulders. The sight of him there, still fully clothed, with me naked and standing, was electrifying. The whole situation was too much, too fast…I think that if I’d looked down at that second and seen him licking at me, I would have fainted. Seeing it happen in the mirror distanced me just enough for my addled mind to cope.

He moved his head closer in and his tongue licked slowly up the length of my lips, so delicately that they didn’t quite part. My thighs were still almost together, my whole body quivering as I felt the heat of his breath on my super-sensitive flesh.

He licked again, all the way up, and this time he went a little higher. The tip of his tongue played with the hood of my clit and I caught my breath, my hands bunching into fists.

He pressed a little more insistently between my legs, shuffling forward on his knees, and my thighs parted for him almost without me willing it. I felt my moist lips open just a little and his growl of satisfaction as he saw it. Then his head was pushing between my thighs again and—Oh God—his tongue was licking again, this time gliding between the folds, the tip of it inside me, tasting my moisture. I could feel how wet I was, the slickness rolling down inside me as the heat raged higher and higher. I stared fixedly at the mirror, my mind rebelling against what I saw. But as he started to lap at me, as his tongue played over my hidden nub again and again, as I felt it swell and poke from its hood, I finally accepted it.
That’s me. That’s me, and this is really happening.
And my hands finally lifted from my sides and clasped his head, knitting into his dark hair and urging him on.

His tongue slid deeper inside me as his hands came up to cup my ass. His shoulders nudged my thighs wider. His upper lip caressed my clit, hot and achingly swollen now, as his tongue glided over me, lashing my wet folds again and again before plunging deep to taste me. I started to grind helplessly against him, my hips swirling, wanting him to take all of me in his mouth. I would have had him swallow me whole, if that were possible. The heat was slamming back and forth inside me like a heartbeat now, demanding release. The idea of what he was doing, the sight of what he was doing, the
feel
of what he was doing—it all reflected and amplified in my mind until—

He took my clit in his mouth and squeezed it between his lips, sucking on it—

I careered over the edge. It wasn’t like I’d never had an orgasm before, but this was different. This was something I felt with my entire body. It radiated through me, lighting me up, crackling along every nerve until I was shuddering from toes to scalp, my head thrown right back and my groin thrust hard against his face. It brightened, brightened, and then exploded, destroying every conscious thought until all I felt was raw pleasure for long, glorious seconds. When it finally faded, all the strength had been sucked from my limbs. If his hands hadn’t been around my ass, holding me up, I think I would have fallen.

He got to his feet, grinning at me, and slipped his arms around my waist. I collapsed against his chest, feeling my breasts pillow against the hard wall of his pecs. When I finally felt able to lift my head and look him in the eye, his expression asked,
Better?

I nodded. Then again, more firmly.

He kissed me. “Now,” he told me, stroking my cheek with his thumb, “I really need to fuck you. So if you don’t want that, if you’re not ready, tell me now so I can go and stand under a cold shower. Because once I start, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

I didn’t even hesitate. Not for a split-second. I just pressed up against him, feeling his hardness against my softness, and it felt good.

He pulled me by the hand and led me to the bed, lying me down on my back. Then he stood there staring down at me as he slowly undressed. His jacket first, tossed on the floor to reveal his wonderfully broad shoulders and his narrow waist. Then the tie and shirt, and I could finally see the pecs I’d been visualizing all day, thick slabs of muscle with dime-sized dark pink nipples. His abs were hard and defined, with ridges I longed to run my hands over and a deep center line bisecting them. He’d said he wanted to lick my breasts. I wanted to lick my way down that line, all the way from his chest to his navel, while my hands slid down his body.

He unfastened his belt. Pulled his pants and shorts down in one move and—

I drew in my breath. His cock was standing hard and ready and it was
big.
T
he head was purple-pink, glossily smooth. The shaft was the same even, sun-kissed tan as the rest of him, thick and long and throbbing with need. Throbbing for
me.
The thought of that made me swallow hard.

He climbed onto the bed, the size of him making it creak. His hands gripped my ankles and he laid kisses up the length of one calf. Then he eased them apart and pushed my feet up the bed. I let my knees rise and my legs open, feeling my slickened lips spread. I looked down at that cock again. It was bigger by a good few inches than those of the two men I’d had before—thicker, too. I imagined it sliding into me, stretching me, and heat inside me raged even harder.

He lowered himself atop me, planting his hands either side of my head, his knees nudging mine farther apart. His cock brushed my thigh and I gasped at its heat. He moved lower, and I marveled at how the muscles in his arms bunched and flexed. His mouth found my neck, laying a trail of kisses that led down to my breasts.

“I’ve been waiting to do this since I first saw you,” he told me. And before I could respond, he had his hot, sucking mouth on the flesh of my breast, his tongue hard and insistent, kneading me with his mouth. My hands clutched for the bedsheets. His mouth began to move around the edge of my left breast, refusing to go any closer towards the nipple. Ripples of pleasure went straight to my core, making me gasp and writhe beneath him. Supporting himself on the bed with one huge hand, he started to use the other to stroke my other breast, trailing his fingers back and forth over it. Both nipples were hard as rock in just seconds and I had to turn my head to the side, closing my eyes as I panted.

His mouth spiraled in, but still refused to touch the nipple itself. I started to arch my back towards him, thrusting my breasts towards his face, but he just smiled. My breasts were exquisitely sensitive, throbbing under his touch, all but that one spot on fire. “Please,” I gasped at last.

“Please what?” he asked.

I wasn’t at my most lucid, by now, and it took me a few seconds to remember the French for “kiss,”
baiser,
and “nipple,”
mamelon
. “Please,” I begged, “kiss my nipple.”

He grinned and did exactly that, and I let out a deep, throaty groan. Then he started to suck on it, his tongue working the areola, and the heat was throbbing through me hard and fast, unstoppable. When he eventually lifted his mouth, I lay there limp, staring up at him.

He lifted himself again, moving his head right up to mine, and kissed me long and deep. Then he started to make his way down my body, starting at my ear, laying a line of kisses that twisted back and forth across my body, criss-crossing my breasts, across my stomach, around my thighs, down my legs, right down to my feet. There was not a single inch he didn’t kiss and with every brush of his lips the heat inside me surged harder.

“Gorgeous,” he said as he worked his way down. “Enchanting and perfect. Don’t ever change.”

Every part of me was dancing, my skin alive. Heat was washing up and down my body—I wanted to grind myself against him, wanted to hook him with my heels and draw him into me. I was panting, aching. God, I was going to go crazy if he didn’t—

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he told me. And he moved into position to do just that, his strong thighs between mine.

I panted in relief. And then something occurred to me. “Wait,” I said. “Condom.”

He shook his head. “I can’t wait,” he said simply, and the idea that he was so consumed with lust that he really couldn’t went off like a bomb in my head.

I only hesitated for a split second. Then I nodded.

He knelt back—I think so that I could watch, and he could, too. He planted his hands on my spread thighs and aimed the head of that gorgeous cock right at me. There was already a gleaming jewel of pre-cum shining there and, as I saw it approaching my pussy, a little quiver of uncertainty went through me.
It’ll be fine,
I told myself.
He can pull out.

He touched me, and oh God, the feel of that silken head, throbbing with heat, gliding up and down my wet folds. He looked down at me, checking that I was okay, and I loved him for that. Then he was pushing forward, the head spreading me—

Stretching
me.

I drew in a long breath as the head pressed my lips wide. He really was
big
. I swallowed quickly as I felt him sink deeper, the head entering me up to its widest point. His inward progress slowed, I was so tight around him, and he grinned. And then he pushed again and—Ah!—I felt him slide into me, my body hungrily closing around the shaft. His momentum sank him deep into me, almost half of him sliding right up into my slickened tunnel on that first thrust, and I moaned as I felt him gliding past a thousand nerve endings, hard and throbbing and huge.

He fell forward onto his arms, his hands thumping into the bed either side of me. We locked eyes, him staring down hungrily at me, me gazing desperately up at him, eyes wide and mouth open and panting. He began to drive into me, just slow movements of his hips at first. The push of his body against mine made my breasts bounce and jump, the sight of his strong chest above me making me heady. Then the strokes became longer and I gasped as he threatened to fill me all the way. He was longer than any man or toy I’d ever taken, and he was touching places I’d never felt before.

“Go…slow,” I said breathlessly. But he just grinned and lowered himself a little more atop me. Now his pecs were grazing my nipples in a way that made me clutch his forearms, knuckles white. He was deep…and he was going to go deeper. He
did
go slow, giving me time to adjust to him, though, and there was no pain…just a glorious sensation of being filled.

He entwined his fingers with mine and stretched our arms out wide to our sides. Lowering himself completely onto me, he started to lick and nibble at the base of my neck as he began to thrust in earnest. On each stroke I could feel the head of his cock pushing deeper, deeper…and then I gasped as I felt him push gently up against my very limits. I stared up at him, wordless, my eyes wide.