Yet, she wanted to feel him, wanted to know if there was more sexual pleasure to be had beyond all the toys and tricks they’d tried so far. When he said he couldn’t get enough of her, she knew what he meant. He craved her body, and that hunger of his had been healing her. That desire of his had been restoring her sense of sexiness as he turned her into a wanted woman. The more she took of him, the more she’d felt rebuilt. Ready to conquer the world as a remade woman.
She was choosing to exist in the moment of their arrangement. To let herself live in this sensuality, and this feeling of not ever getting enough. To be happy with what she had, and for a little bit longer, she had him.
He came at her like a ravenous man. His jaw was hard, his eyes were blazing, and his hands were strong as he spread her legs further. In a blur, he was between her thighs, kissing the drenched lace of her panties. She moaned and was tempted to close her eyes, but instead she pushed up further on her elbows, wanting to watch him as he flicked his tongue against the panel, then moved lower, pressing his lips against the jewel. She could barely feel his mouth, but the image of what he was doing was so erotic that more heat pooled between her legs. She’d be gushing soon, and she was sure he would lap up every ounce of her.
She exhaled deeply, unsure of how they were getting from Point A to Point B. But the wine had worked its way through her body, softening her muscles, relaxing her mind, so she let go of the need to know what was coming.
Anticipation was its own elixir.
“Sit up and raise your arms,” he told her, and she obeyed. He reached for her dress straps. She lifted the skirt and he tugged the material the rest of the way over her head. His breath hissed when he looked at her breasts. As if he couldn’t control himself, he dived in, drawing one pink bud into his mouth and sucking so hard she heard a loud, wet pop when he let go, replacing his mouth with his big hand.
“Perfect tits,” he said, then returned his attention to the other breast, licking and sucking her voraciously. She curled her hands around his head, tugging him closer, thrusting her breasts into his face. His soft hair brushed against her chest, and a fresh wave of pleasure tore through her body.
The steady beat of drums and flutes filled the room, the sensual music matching her desire. A build, a tease, a long, kama-sutric piece of music that suited the way Jack loved her body.
“Turn over,” he told her.
“Already?”
She’d been expecting a little more foreplay, to be honest.
He laughed as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m going to massage you,” he said with a smile, and turned her on her stomach, flat on the bed.
She closed her eyes, and with that sense turned off for the moment, her ears trained on the music, and the sound of him pouring massage oil into his palms. His hands came down on her shoulders, and he began kneading. She moaned appreciatively. She hadn’t even realized she was sore.
“I’m going to make every single second feel good for you,” he whispered, as his thumbs worked the muscles of her shoulders.
“Everything you do to me feels good,” she said, and he traveled down her back, the vanilla scent of the massage oil adding to the headiness of the scene that was unfolding here in their Paris hotel room. He rubbed down her back, working his thumbs and fingers along her spine, then out to her sides, then down to her lower back.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and his voice sounded different this time. Gone was the commanding, confident tone he usually saved for the bedroom. His voice was full of reverence and something else. Something deeper; something that felt lasting. She tried not to read too much into it. If she did, she’d be lost to him.
She directed her thoughts to her body and the way she felt as he touched her, his hands sending goose bumps across her flesh. His breath ghosted along her spine, as if he were leaving a trail of the faintest kisses down her back all the way to the top of her panties. Then she felt a flick from his tongue along the waistband, and he lowered them perhaps an inch, licking softly across the top of her cheeks.
She wriggled into him as sparks shot through her, straight to her core. “God, I love the way you respond to me,” he said, kissing her cheeks more as he continued to rub her back.
“Because you know what to do to me,” she said, her breathing growing heavier as his tongue dipped lower, teasing between her cheeks, but never quite dipping down to the jewel that was still safely inside her.
“It’s not that I know what to do to you. It’s that I love touching you. I love your skin, and your smell, and everything about you,” he said, as he dug his fingers into her hipbones. She tensed at the free and easy way he said love in relation to her body and her sexuality. But he hadn’t breathed it in relation to her.
Now was not the time to linger on the matters of the heart. That was child’s play. This was an adult moment. One she wanted to relish.
“I love everything about you, Michelle,” he echoed, and she hated that she wished he were saying those words in a different order. She tried desperately to push her emotions out of the bedroom, to kick them hard into the hallway, and just let herself take his words at face value. At body value. She begged her mind to go blank as best it could; to let her body lead the way back to him. “You are the most sensuous woman I’ve ever known.”
She heard a low growl from his throat, a deep primal sound of approval as he flicked his fingertip against the jewel in her ass. That did the trick. Oh, holy hell, did that do a number on her. Goodbye brain, hello body.
Flipping her over, he tugged off her panties in one fast move, leaving a glistening trail of wetness down the side of her leg. “I need your pussy in my face right now,” he said, returning to his rougher ways.
She arched her hips up, ready, so damn ready for him to touch her. But before he did, he tugged gently at the jewel, twisting it once, and then pulling it out, and dropping it onto the towel. The absence of it hit her hard, and even though it had been a low source of pressure, it had kept her humming. Now it was gone, and she found herself wanting to be filled again.
But that was probably the point.
Then, she found herself wanting nothing at all but this very moment as he buried his face between her thighs, and lapped her up. All thought faded, everything in her head disappeared. There was only the exquisiteness of this hungry man devouring her. Licking her pussy, sliding his tongue inside her, flicking the tip against her swollen clit. Heat scorched her veins. She was an inferno, and she was writhing and grinding into his relentless mouth, his hungry lips. She wasn’t sure who was louder, him or her, but they were both matching the music as she panted and moaned, and he made the sexiest sounds, as if he’d never been more turned on than he was right now.