Frenched (16 page)

As if that wasn’t enough, he’d let me fuss with his hair after he got out of the shower. I’d put some product in and sort of neatened the curls while he stood there with a towel around his hips.

It was too tempting. I’d yanked it off and dropped to my knees.

We were late for dinner.

I only hoped Lucas found me as enticing as I found him tonight.

I was finally wearing my new shoes, which he’d watched me put on with an incredulous look on his face. “God, Mia. Your legs in that dress…and those shoes…” He swallowed. “I know we’re late already, but damn. Let me just look at you.”

I’d stood in from of him, blushing like crazy. My hair was pinned up in a twist to complement the flirty strapless dress I’d worn my first night in Paris. I was happy to give it a much nicer memory than wandering the streets of the Latin Quarter alone. Had that really been just four nights ago? It didn’t seem possible.

Not when Lucas would slip his hand onto my lap and gently rub my leg. Not when he’d lean over and brush his lips across my bare shoulder. Not when he’d put his mouth to my ear and say, “You look so beautiful tonight, princess. Too beautiful. It’s making me so crazy, I can hardly sit still. My dick has been hard for hours. You’ll have to pay for that.”

Once, I leaned over to him and whispered back, “If I was wearing panties, they’d be soaked right now.”

The look he gave me could have seared flesh.

God, what a relief it was to fall back into this easy pattern of sex and teasing. As long as the vibe between us crackled with this kind of sexual energy, I couldn’t think about anything other than our physical attraction.

After dessert, the younger crowd went to the pool deck for more music and drinks, but Lucas shook his head when I asked if we’d join them. “I have other plans for us,” he said, taking my hand.

I was a little tipsy from the wine and pastis, but I said nothing when Lucas took me into the living room and grabbed a bottle of scotch off a bar cart. From there he led me into the kitchen and asked one of the waiters for a bucket of ice. While we waited for it, he kept one hand pressed to my upper back, fingers spread. It was possessive in a way that ratcheted the tension between us one notch higher. The word
appetites
kept running through my mind.

Upstairs in our room, Lucas shut the door behind us and locked it without turning on the light. I drifted toward the open window, stopping just short of where moonlight pooled on the floor, and stood listening to the sounds from the party below.

“We can hear them. They could hear us.” Lucas set the bucket down and came up behind me, standing so close my entire body was on edge. I could feel his breath on my neck, his chest on my back, his erection on my ass. “So you can’t make any noise.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

He kissed the back of my neck. “If you want me to stop at any time tonight, just tell me. OK?”

My belly flipped—what was he planning to do to me?

A moment later, I gasped when I felt an ice cube sweep across my shoulder blades.

A hand covered my mouth. “Shhhh. I said quiet.”

My heart started to pound.

He unzipped my dress and it fell to the floor. Chills swept down my arms and legs, doubling when I felt the ice cube at the back of my neck. Slowly, he dragged the ice down my spine, over each vertebra, beyond my tailbone and lightly between my buttocks. I shivered.

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.

Reaching between my thighs, he brushed the ice against my tingling folds, slipping the tip of the crescent shape inside me. I whimpered against the hand clamped over my mouth.

Fuck, this is hot.

I couldn’t even believe the cube was still solid—my body was on fire.

“Don’t move.”

He released me, and a few seconds later I heard the clink of an ice cube hitting the bottom of a glass, and then the sounds of him pouring the scotch.

“I want to taste you all the time, Mia. I want the flavor of you on my tongue every fucking minute of the day. And you know it. You shouldn’t tease me by telling me you’re not wearing panties when I can’t have my mouth on you.” It was a tone I’d never heard from him before—hot and angry.

I liked it.

He came up behind me again, pressing his lips to the back of one shoulder and dragging them up the arc of my neck. My legs trembled with apprehension, with excitement, with need.

God, I’m so wet.

I didn’t dare say it.

He slid a hand around to my stomach and down between my thighs. I sucked in my breath at the easy glide of his finger inside me, and fought the moan trapped in my throat. But when his other hand stole up to one breast, I couldn’t help the sound of pleasure that escaped my lips.

He pinched my nipple. Hard.

I gasped at the zing of pain, but at the same time, I delighted in his nimble fingers sliding in and out of me, his palm pressing on my clit. I was dying to turn around, shove him down on the bed, tear off his pants, and ride his cock until he begged for mercy.

But I knew he wouldn’t let me.

Instead I moved my hips, rocking against his hand, hoping to get him so worked up he’d have to fuck me.

“You want something from me?”

I nodded.

“Good girl. You have to stay quiet if you want it.” He shoved his fingers deeper into me. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I whispered, aching to scream but terrified he wouldn’t give me what I wanted if I did.

“Good.” He took his hands off me, and I nearly wept with frustration. “Now turn around.”

I turned around to see him backing up to the bed, fully dressed, his white shirt glowing in the shadows. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He sat on the side of the bed, picked up his scotch from the table and took a drink. “Here are the rules. You speak only when I tell you to. You only do as I say. Understand?”

My Jimmy Choos teetered as I nodded.

“Good. Come here.”

I stepped out of my dress and stood in front of him, naked but for my skyscraper heels.

“Take your hair down.”

With trembling hands, I pulled out my hairpins, letting them fall to the floor. My hair fell to my shoulders.

“Now lie across my lap. On your stomach.”

Moving to the foot of the bed, I crawled up the length of it and over his thighs. On my knees and elbows, I looked over my shoulder to see him removing his tie. I nearly climaxed at the sight of it.

Oh, God. He’s really going to do it.

“Put your hands up here.”

Holding my breath, I reached out and took hold of a bar on the headboard slightly above my head, one hand on top of the other.

And he tied me to the bed.

He fucking tied. Me. Up.

And as he wrapped and knotted and pulled the silk tight around my wrists, he spoke to me in a low, even tone. “This is what happens when you tease me, Mia. When you make me feel helpless to resist you. I have to make you feel helpless too.”

I do! I do!
I wanted to scream. But I bit my tongue, frightened to do anything that would make him deny me. I had no fucking idea how much being treated this way would turn me on—I was feverish and panting and shaking. And Lucas—I’d never seen him this way. Far from the lighthearted, generous lover he’d been in Paris, this Lucas was demanding and unapologetic and slightly frightening.

God
damn
it was hot. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything, ever.

Do it now
, I begged him silently.
Fuck me now.

But he wasn’t finished with me.

First, he ran his hands all over my body, avoiding every spot I wanted him to touch. I bit my lip and hung my head beneath my bound hands, desperately wanting him to make me come and unashamed to act like it.

But he stayed away from any body part he knew would set me off, although that list was shrinking rapidly. He slid one palm from my shoulder down my back; the other, from my ankle up my calf. He touched my tailbone, my belly, my neck, the back of my knees. My skin rippled with gooseflesh, puckering my nipples, and I tried to arch my back and drop lower so they’d rub against the pillow. But my hands were tied to the headboard in a way that prevented me from being able to move them up or down.

A tiny, strangled sound escaped my throat, although I wanted to scream and curse and thrash.

“Frustrated, princess? I know just how you feel.” He put a hand on my ass and rubbed in slow circles. “But you were a bad girl today. And bad girls need to be punished a little.”

For a second I was nervous—what did he mean by punished? Was he actually going to—

The sound of Lucas’s hand smacking my bare ass was as much a shock as the sting, and I threw my head back. Immediately he held his palm over the tender spot, giving me a few seconds to adjust to the idea and feel of being spanked.

Fucking
spanked
.

Like a naughty little girl.

Was it wrong to love it?

He did it on the other cheek, again holding his hand over my burning skin while pleasure and pain zipped along my nerve endings like Fourth of July sparklers.

I wasn’t sure what turned me on more—the physical sensation of his hand smacking my skin or the idea of Lucas punishing me for being too beautiful, for tempting him too much. My mouth hung wide open, my breaths coming so fast and hard I thought he might scold me for being noisy again.

The third spank was harder, hard enough to make me cry out involuntarily, and I slammed my eyes shut, biting my lip. “Sorry,” I whimpered as he held his palm over my blistering hot skin.

“Shhhhh. I think you’ve been spanked enough.” He dropped a kiss on my tailbone before somehow maneuvering beneath me so that my knees rested on either side of his head. “And I’ve been wanting to lick your pussy all day. I’m done waiting.”

Looping his hands around my thighs, he pulled me down so I was straddling his face.

Straddling. His. Face.

Oh my God and I can’t even scream are you kidding me…

“You don’t move. Understand?” he said, his breath nearly causing me to explode.

I nodded, wanting to scream every curse I knew out loud. In French and English, and maybe some other languages too.

It was the worst punishment and also the most sublime pleasure I’d ever felt.

He teased me with his tongue like he was tying a knot in a cherry stem.

A double knot.

He licked me like a double scoop of French vanilla on a hot summer day.

At the equator.

He savored me like I could melt in his mouth but he didn’t want me to.

That
was a losing battle.

I didn’t last longer than a minute, maybe not even thirty seconds—hell, maybe not even ten. I had no sense of time anymore. The moment he touched me with his tongue, it was like he threw gasoline onto a fire that was already burning. I fought every instinct my body had, which was to rock and writhe and smother his mouth with my pussy. I wanted to ride his tongue. I leaned forward and banged my head against my wrists, dying to cry out, to combust, to collapse.

I knew he was trying to prolong it because every time I neared the edge and stiffened up, he’d back off my clit and bite my thigh or just breathe warm air on my skin. When I’d relax slightly, he’d flutter his tongue over me again, taking me back to the brink, until finally I thought I’d go insane.

“Lucas,” I begged, on the verge of tears. “Please.”

Finally, he pulled me tighter to his mouth with one hand, shoved his fingers inside me with the other, and devoured me hard and fast.

I fucking
detonated
.

I have no idea how long it actually lasted, how Lucas managed to breathe, or how I didn’t break the skin on my upper arm, because I bit myself
hard
. My entire body was paralyzed by the force of this orgasm, which turned the world white and set off a siren in my head, racking my body with undulating surges of ecstasy so powerful I couldn’t even breathe. By the time it subsided, I was gasping for air and my left shoulder bore the indentations of my teeth.

Top and bottom.

Before I had regained the ability to form a sentence, Lucas slid out from between my legs and knelt behind me. “I’m not done with you yet, princess. Don’t even think about moving.”

He needn’t have worried about my thinking
anything
except wanting to feel his cock inside me. I heard him tear open a condom packet, and I was tempted to tell him not to wear it, but more than anything I just wanted him to fuck me and he might make me wait longer if I disobeyed the no-talking rule.

A moment later I felt his erection rubbing my ass, hard and thick. He reached up and took my hair in one fist, pulling my head back hard enough to make my scalp sting.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I whispered without hesitation. “Hard. Now.”

“Yeah? You want to get fucked hard?” He pulled my hair tighter, and I winced.

“Yes,”
I said through clenched teeth. God, if my hands were free I’d force him to do it, grab him, pull him into me.

But Lucas had all the control, and
holy hell
, did he have patience.

He teased me with the head of his cock between my legs, rubbing it on my wet, swollen folds and slipping it in just an inch before pulling back out. He slid it between my buttocks, murmuring words of praise for my hot, tight ass. He held onto my hair with one hand and reached around to one breast with the other, pinching my nipple and rolling it between his fingers. He whispered dirty things to me, telling me what a good girl I was being, how hard I made his cock, how he could still taste my pussy on his lips, how badly he’d wanted to fuck me like this all day.

When I was near tears again, he finally pushed inside me, and the relief was so magnificent I actually looked to heaven and thanked God.

“Talk to me.” Lucas breathed hard, moving one hand to my hip and keeping the other wrapped around my hair. “Tell me what you like.”

“Oh, God.” I wasn’t sure I could talk—my body was spiraling out of control again.

He yanked my hair. “God’s not here.”

“Lucas.”
I licked my lips and arched my back, my arms stretched over my head. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. I love your cock inside me. I love the way you fill me and stretch me and pound me. You’re so big and hard and fucking perfect.”

He groaned, thrusting into me deeper and faster.

“I love the way you move,” I went on, struggling to keep my voice to a whisper. “It makes me so wet. I love the sound your body makes against mine when you fuck me like that. It makes me want to scream.”

He dropped my hair and took me by both hips, digging his fingers into my flesh and jerking me back onto him with a ferocious, savage rhythm. I couldn’t see him but I imagined what we looked like—Lucas still dressed, his white shirt undone at the neck, pants around his knees; me tied to the headboard, naked but for my high heels. It was so hot and he was fucking me so hard and I was so wet and everything inside me began to tighten and pull and as Lucas’s fervor reached its breaking point, I widened my knees and dropped as far forward as I could to take him even deeper.

It pushed him over the edge and he held himself deep inside me as he came, gasping and growling as he throbbed. My mouth hung open in disbelief as he reached around me with one hand and rubbed hard, fast circles on my clit, making my insides clench and spasm around him.

Un. Fucking. Believable.

Lucas, breathing as heavy as I was, tipped forward and dropped his forehead to my back. His hair tickled my skin and I shivered.

“Uh.” His voice was weak.

“Yeah. That’s about all I’ve got too.”

He kissed my spine. “You’re amazing.”

“Hey, that was all you. I was tied up the whole time.”

And loving every minute of it.

Laughing, he pulled out of me and stood up. “And as tempting as it is to leave you there because you look so fucking good, give me one second and I’ll untie you.”

He went into the bathroom for a moment, then appeared at my side with his pants fastened and his shirt off. After untying me, he rubbed my wrists before bringing them to his lips and closing his eyes. The gesture was so sweet, it made my throat squeeze up.

“They don’t hurt.” I didn’t want him to think it was anything less than incredible for me.

Jessica. You silly bitch.

He opened his eyes but didn’t take his lips off my skin.

I smiled. “Promise.”

Just then we heard a squeal and a huge splash out the window.

“Someone get thrown in the pool?” I guessed.

“Sounds like it. Do you want to go down and join them?” Never had a question been asked with less enthusiasm.

“Are you kidding?” I reached up and played with a lock of curly hair that had overpowered my product and sprung forward. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than in here with you.” I glanced over my shoulder at my feet. “Although I would like to take these shoes off.”

He smiled. “Take them off. Punishment’s over.”

I got off the bed and slipped my heels from my feet. “Lucas, can you still call it punishment if the person enjoys it? Because I did.”

His eyebrows went up. “Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll have to get the whip out next time.”

I froze. “You don’t really have a whip, do you?” Although frankly, I’d let Lucas do just about anything he wanted to me. I trusted him.

He grinned and picked up his scotch. “No. But I’d get one if you wanted me to. Maybe you’d like to whip
me
. You’d look awesome in one of those dominatrix getups.”

I smiled slyly. “I’ll add that to the outfit calendar.”

#

We spent the next morning visiting with Lucas’s family and the afternoon by the pool again. Later, when we’d had enough sun and chlorine, he found a blanket and we took a little picnic of fruit, bread, and cheese into the olive grove. After we ate, we drank wine and I read the love letters of Abelard and Heloise aloud to Lucas, who lay with his head in my lap while I leaned back against an olive tree.

It was pretty fucking perfect.

So perfect that I began to feel uneasy about the peace I’d made with the fact that this thing with Lucas, whatever it was, had to end soon. So perfect that every time he opened his mouth to speak I held my breath, hoping he’d mention something about seeing me again. So perfect that when I noticed Lucas had drifted off to sleep, I set the book down and studied his face, feeling the need to memorize every feature. The way one eyebrow arced higher than the other. The way his scruff covered the dimples that appeared when he smiled. The plump lips and square jaw. The dark lashes fanning down toward chiseled cheekbones.

Oh shit.

Five Inappropriate Thoughts I Had In The Olive Grove

1) His face is so goddamn beautiful, and I fucking straddled it last night!

2) Wonder when I can do that again.

3) Would it be rude to wake him up for sex?

4) What the hell am I going to do when I have to go home to my real life?

5) I’m going to miss him so fucking much.

A warm breeze blew his curls over his forehead, and I brushed them back again and again, finally admitting to myself what I’d been trying so hard to deny.

I’m going to miss him because I’m in love with him. It’s crazy and stupid and not practical and totally too fast and bound to end badly—but it’s real.

It didn’t matter what I called it—friends-with-benefits, fuck fling, rebound thing... What mattered was the way I felt when I was with him. The way he made me feel like I could do anything, say anything in my head, have anything I wanted. He was teaching me things about my body and desires I’d never known. He was teaching me about the beauty of living for the moment. He was teaching me not to worry so much about what things looked like, what other people thought, what
I
thought I should be.

I loved who I was when I was with him. And I loved him.

An ache rooted in my chest began to grow, and I imagined it like a seed from which black vines sprouted in every direction, constricting my stomach, suffocating my heart, squeezing my throat. The ache spread throughout my entire body, making my limbs heavy with its weight. Before I could stop it, a tear escaped and slid down my cheek, followed by several more, one of which plopped onto Lucas’s forehead.

I sniffed, and Lucas stirred.

He opened his eyes and looked up at me. “Sorry, I fell asleep. Your voice is so soothing. Did you get to a sad part?”

I nodded. Wiping at my eyes, I forced myself to brighten up. “Sorry, I’m just a little emotional.”