Page 18 of Eat Slay Love

My breath caught as she slid one palm over my belt, quickly working it open with a sensual ease that made my entire body go tight.

Oh my sweet American girl.

Fast, her fingers unzipped my slacks, slipping inside, finding the rigid, throbbing length of my cock.

And then—skin to skin.

I groaned, my forehead dropping against her breast, my body going tight with need.

God, I love the way she takes control.

Her palm wrapped around my cock, warm, soft, her fingers stroking slow, teasing.

I was supposed to unravel Rae some more, but she is destroying me. . .

More pre-cum spilled immediately, thick and hot, smearing across her fingers.

Rae moaned. “I love how big you are.”

I growled. “You’re teetering on the edge of danger, chérie .”

“Am I?”

“Fuck.” Playing with her nipples, I thrust my cock into her hand, unable to help myself, desperate for more, desperate for her.

Rae stroked again, her grip firmer, dragging her palm down the length of me, spreading my slick arousal over my shaft.

“Fuck yes.” I hissed, my lips returning to her breasts, my mouth working her nipples as I thrust into her grip.

Soft moans slipped from her lips, her fingers tightening, her strokes becoming sensually slow.

Groaning, I latched onto her nipple again, sucking harder this time, my tongue flicking wildly as I groaned into her skin.

She moaned, her hips shifting, rubbing against me, teasing me with her heat, with the promise of where I needed to be.

I pulled back, breath ragged, my cock twitching violently in her hand.

I could feel it.

That tight, aching pull.

That desperate, uncontrollable need to cum all over her.

And she fucking knew it.

She looked at me, her lips parted, her hand still stroking my swollen cock, still teasing. Her breasts, wet and glistening from my mouth, rose and fell with every heavy breath.

I was so close to losing it.

So close to spilling for her.

But not yet.

Not before I was buried inside her.

Not before I fucked her senseless.

Not before I made her mine.

I lowered my head, taking one of her stiff, aching nipples into my mouth, sucking hard, groaning at the way she gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair.

Then, I stepped back and growled, “Turn around.”

She blinked up at me, dazed, still lost in the pleasure I had just given her. “What?”

“Turn around,” I growled again. “Then, put your hands on the wall.”

A dark, lusty chuckle left Rae. “Am I getting arrested?”

“Fuck yes. You have violated several French laws. You’ll have to come back to Paris for a life sentence of my cock.”

“Mmmm. Then, take me, officer.” Rae obeyed, pressing her palms flat against the surface, her ass perfectly presented to me, her body still trembling.

I yanked that shimmering gown up.

She shrieked.

I exhaled sharply, my hands tightening on her hips as I took in the sight before me.

Mon dieu!! She has been wearing a pink lace thong this whole time?

And not just any thong.

It was delicate, barely there, sinful against the rich expanse of her dark brown skin, cutting low over the lush curve of her hips and disappearing between the full swell of her big, juicy ass.

I ran a hand down the smooth expanse of her back, watching as her muscles tensed beneath my touch.

Her skin, warm and soft, shivered under my palm.

Her ass was divine. Full, round, thick in a way that made my mouth water, my cock twitch, my little bit of control shatter.

I’d always had a weakness for beautiful things—fine art, rare sculptures, the kind of luxury that took years of meticulous craftsmanship to create.

But this?

This was the kind of perfection that was entirely natural. The kind that no artist could ever replicate, no sculptor could ever mold, no painter could ever do justice.

And she was mine to worship.

My fingers traced the dimples on her lower back, lingering over the small, shadowed indentations that made her ass even more hypnotizing.

“Look at you, chérie ,” I murmured, dragging my thumb along the dip where her back met her ass. “How did I get so fucking lucky?”

She squirmed slightly, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Rae.”

“Yes?”

"You need to cancel that flight.”

She chuckled.

I frowned. “I’m not laughing.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I have a sexy scene in my film to prepare for—”

“You have all of my sexy scenes to be the leading lady in for the rest of this year.”

She blinked in horror. “Year?”

“What do you think this is? A fling? You’re mine now. I’m taking you to Paris.”

She chuckled.

Completely serious, I stared at her. “I’m not joking.”

And as much as I wanted to just forget about the conversating and stuff my aching cock into her, I knew that we needed to get this settled, because when I slipped into her pussy. . .I knew I would be completely hers.

Damn it. We must. . .talk. . .

A sudden surge of unknown darkness pierced my chest like a blade, slicing through the very core of my being. The rawness and intensity of fear consumed me, twisting and contorting every nerve in my body until I was almost paralyzed with terror.

It was the sort of horror that rushed in when a man realized he was standing at the edge of something dangerous, something he could not control.

I was already falling, already sinking too deep into her, and if she wasn’t serious about me —if this was nothing more than a fling to her—then I was walking straight into devastation.

Because the moment we sat down in Alchemy and began talking, I had seen it all too clearly in my mind, the way our lives would unfold.

A slow, inevitable path from dating to engagement to marriage.

A future that I had never cared to imagine before, not with any woman, not until now.

And if she weren’t serious, if I were the only one seeing it—then I would have to find a way to pull myself back before she ruined me completely.

Before she became the first and only woman to ever break me truly.

I stepped back. “Rae. . .we should talk.”