Dark eyes narrowing, he raised his chin and spoke in a deep voice, “Je veux t’enculer.”
“I want to fuck you,” I echoed his words, feeling that melting, Klondike-bar, action all over again.
“Oui!”
Sweet bi-gay-a-licious.
Princess Lolly
The Eden Castle
A low whimper escaped the back of my throat.
Done talking, he nipped at my clit.
My legs were tossed up over his shoulders. He growled in French. I held onto the edge of my seat as if the chair might set sail for Bermuda. Who needs Air Carribea when you had Fabian Henry’s tongue lapping at your flesh?
Him, me, this, everything was happening at light speed.
Fabian’s hands slid under my buttocks pulling me into him, close and tight. With a slight tap, Fabian spanked me, and I liked it. The pad of his thumb poked at my anus.
“Nooo.” I squirmed. My front door had just been opened, and here he was trying to bust into the back. Not gonna happen.
With a lick of his finger he replied, “Oui, Tabby. I will have your mouth, your pussy, and this tight, little derrière.” Seeming possessed, Fabian wasn’t the soft spoken, tuberose smelling, flirtatious man I thought he’d be when it came to foreplay.
Nope. Unlike Leon, they were both so different. I tried not to make a comparison. But how couldn’t I? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and here I was already in another man’s arms.
French-fuck-orama!
If I kept this up, I’d be labeled a whore by my nineteenth birthday. The very thing I wanted to avoid.
From between my legs, his adorable face peered up at me, “Stop!”
“What?”
“Such an American. You are thinking.”
I leaned forward. “I can’t help but think. I’ve never had a man, ummm—”
“Give you oral pleasure?” He asked, as a single line ran across his forehead in surprise.
“No, monsieur,” I mocked his French accent.
“Allow me this pleasure. S'il vous plait.”
I was shaky at the revelation that he wanted me. It was a powerful thing, arousing him. Or should I say my vajayjay did. This man was putty in my hands. “Keep speaking French and say my name over and over again.” Getting my confidence, I grabbed onto his black, wavy curls, the ones I’d dreamt about fingering on the plane ride.
He returned his focus to between my legs.
I knuckled a death grip on his hairline. Every time I’d get close to climax, I’d open my eyes and realize what the flip was going on. I couldn’t sum it up for any sane person to understand. A hum here, and a hum there, and my body hummed all over.
Toes curled.
He spoke to me in French between tongue lashings. Fabian’s hands ran up my inner thighs, and then his short nails raked me on the way down. First, gentle. The second time, not so much. He increased pressure, causing everything all over my body to become extra sensitive.
“Come on my face,” he said. His words sent a shiver racing down my spine.
Did I hear you correctly? Drunk in ecstasy, I gazed at him. “Say what?”
In French Fabian repeated his orgasm-on-demand command. Determined, he lifted me off the chair and onto the floor.
On top of him, I knelt over his striking face.
“Relax.” His grip on my ass was firm. That long freaky tongue, all of it, probed me.
Leaning forward, I owned my vajayjay power. So close. Every part of me was on fire. All of a sudden, I felt his wet tongue, licking where his thumb had been moments before.
WTF!
I tried to get up.
He snarled, “Mademoiselle, as I said, your derrière is mine.”
Sweet booty-licious. My hands on his shoulder, I gyrated my hips.
He moaned, pushing his tongue past the ring of muscle.
Forbidden excitement pinged through me. I wanted to make this feeling last as if time stood still but the pressure built up faster than I realized. Frantic, I flicked my clit and arched my back.
“Come, woman. I want to drink you,” he begged.
With a slight bounce, I held onto his shoulders, feeling the wave of my orgasm washing over me, “Yes! Fabian.” Eyes shut tight, explosions of color pulsed behind my eyelids, enough to where I let go and fell beside him.
On our backs, we lay there for a minute, speechless, panting.
“You are—”
There was a loud, rapping thud at the door.
It took us both by surprise.
I got to my feet and reached for my robe, cinching it around my waist.
Fabian, who was still fully clothed, sat up and said, “Enter.”
Gustave. From the look on his face, he wasn’t pleased.
“Red, nice to see you decided to show up for work.” With a cold glare at Fabian, he continued, “You know the rules, Monsieur Henry. Consider yourself fired from Claire La Femme. Pack your things and go.” He turned and left the bathroom.
“Hey!” I ran after him into the main living area.
Blake, Lex, and Vive sat on the sofa with Hedda. Speechless, their mouths hung open.
“Gustave, you can’t fire Fabian. He wasn’t breaking your silly rule.” I gave him a look letting him know I knew about their policies. “I’m not one of your models. This morning, I quit. So technically, I’m an Eden guest who bumped into a friend.”
Fabian came up behind me.
“Is that so?” Gustave got in my face. Eyes intent, he was pissed.
Squaring my shoulders, I wasn’t afraid of him. “You have no model, and now no stylist. Maybe you can take pictures of the beach.”
Out of nowhere, Vive cackled, then snorted and said, “Sorry.”
Anger streaked Gustave’s cheeks. He forced a smiled and stepped to the side of the room with Fabian.
Man to man, he and Fabian cussed one another out. Their shouts turned to a conversation and then, a few minutes later, ended with a chuckle.
I didn’t like the sound of that.
Lex raised her hands up in the air and mouthed, “What’s going on?”
I shrugged.
Together they approached me in one uniform stride. “We have a proposal for you, Mademoiselle.”
There is one thing I hate more than an itt-bitty airplane I can’t stand up in, flip-flops, the Caribbean and the French, and that was a proposal. “What?”
Gustave slung his arm around Fabian’s shoulder. “Tomorrow we do one last shoot with you. Your new lover will get to keep his job, and I’ll double your rate.”