Page 20

She heard and felt him groan against her breast, and then he was suddenly straightening up and cupping her face between his hands.

Jade-green eyes captured hers, and the lust in it was now feral, and Charlee-Mae's breath caught.

"How do you do this?" he demanded savagely.

Charlee-Mae had no idea what this was, but before she could even open her mouth to ask, he had already swooped in, and her lips parted the moment their mouths touched.

Aaaah!

Her hands instantly reached up to his chest, Charlee-Mae blindly roaming his muscled form until she found something to grip: the woolen vest that was worn between his buttoned-up shirt and trench coat, and her fingers involuntarily tightened its hold when she felt his tongue dive into her mouth.

Oooooh God.

His kiss was as divine as ever, and she could only kiss him back just as desperately, with every cell in her body starting to tingle and ache. They kissed and kissed and kissed, but just as she was about to run out of breath, it was suddenly over—-

"Philippe!"

The outraged little cry his wife released had him laughing. He had never been tempted to laugh while fucking, and he had never had a woman make such a sound at the abrupt end of a kiss. And when he looked down, and he saw the way Charlee-Mae was staring up at him with a mixture of confusion, outrage, and appeal—-

Ah fuck, but this look of hers, this look that told him she wanted him to kiss her again—-

It was too fucking hot, and Philippe instinctively reached up to run his thumb over her lips in soothing apology.

"I only want to be fair, ma femme," he murmured. "There is your other breast that requires my attention..."

Charlee-Mae could only moan. So that was what he meant to be fair!

"And after that, there is your sweet little pussy, too..."

Oh Lord.

She had always imagined that men who were detailed-oriented and methodical were too boring for her taste, but with Philippe's plan to lavish attention on every part of her body, she was obviously mistaken, and oh my, oh God, oh, oh...oh!

Charlee-Mae couldn't help but gasp as Philippe suddenly bit her nipple, not enough to make her bleed (or at least she didn't think so?), but enough to make her see stars, and whimper after whimper slipped past her trembling lips as her husband suckled away. It was just so good, so, so good that she once again found herself holding his head to her chest as tightly as she could.

She didn't want this to end either.

But it did.

Because this time, oh God, this time—-

Charlee-Mae fell back against the pillows as Philippe gently parted her thighs open, and fire blazed through her body as she watched him stare at her womanhood like it was a feast for his eyes.

"I can see every inch of your flesh glistening with need..."

The words were uttered in the sexiest purr, and the sound had her moaning helplessly.

"And the scent of your desire is intoxicating..."

Oh God. Charlee-Mae could not stop herself from writhing at the erotic beauty of her husband's words. Were all Frenchmen like this? It didn't seem so in Emily in Paris, and—-

"I want to taste your pussy, ma femme."

Desire consumed her, and all she could do was choke out—-

"Yes, my God, yes!"

She saw her husband smirk at the way she had answered him, but she couldn't make herself care when already he was kneeling down on the floor, and oh God, oh Lord, oh Jeeeesus—-