Page 97 of Hot for His Girl
[Insert video of Liam in bath seat, kicking his feet, Mom on the floor with a constant eye, Dad making a cameo saying dinner is ready. He’s shirtless and wearing an apron.]
Liam smells delish after a bath, and his dry skin immediately cleared up. Johnson’s is gentle enough for everyday use and all that ... and it’s affordable.
Bottom line: I love it, and it gets an UnAbashed Seal of Approval.
Comment below for a chance to win a gift basket complete with receiving blanket from Johnson’s.
What else is new?
We’re off to Disney tomorrow. My husband and I are presenting as a power couple in social media. Yep, we’re taking Leona to watch the kids. You know her from her regular cameos on the blog. Yes, we did get matching shirts—look for the upcoming post.
LOVE to all,
The UnAbashed Blogger
Last August
Although my back was pressed against the door, my entire body surged forward, seeking him. If I’d been in a dream orhaving an out-of-body experience, I would have seen my long limbs and lean torso straining to get closer to the man in front of me. My heart was beating to the most vibrant pace I’d ever experienced. I felt like I was practically coming out of my skin to get closer to the horny, hot-blooded man caging me against the door.
Mon dieu, he was like a god. His hands were splayed against the wall on either side of my head, and my legs were wrapped around his waist. I was in heaven,and it had only been a few hours since I’d last visited this paradise.
My pelvis rocked back and forth, searching for his erection and my salvation. They were one and the same, the only balm I needed for the yearning that centered between my legs, but burned everywhere else.
I wanted his hand down there, or maybe his mouth. Or both.
“Pierre.” I moaned his name as I moved, trying to connect my sensitive spot with his cock. Desperate, I craved friction like I imagined a habitual smoker longs for a cigarette.
“S’il vous plaît,” I begged,please, then sucked in a breath to indulge in a long inhale of his cologne into my lungs. It was something fancy and French, of course, and another in the long list of reasons why I was head over heels for my Frenchman.My older Frenchman.
He shifted his hips away, teasing me, and I whimpered with need, making a noise that unfortunately sounded like a dying guinea pig. I was so desperate for him. He was my world, my universe. I wanted to spend the rest of my life lost among the planets circling his orbit. He was the moon and I was a lowly stalk of wheat bowing to him in the middle of the night, and I didn’t care what that said about me. I was that weak and pathetic when it came to him.
I’d never lived a moment until Pierre was buried inside me. We didn’t need to profess our love for each other or send each other cute texts. When he claimed me with those slow, languid strokes in and out of me, I knew he was the one to make everything else go away. Far away. He was the man of my dreams, and I wanted him inside me right that second, that very millisecond. I was an extremely demanding girl.
Finally, he ran his hand inside my panties and separated my folds with his slim fingers. He dove in with one finger, then two, and my body bucked into his strong, yet well-manicured hand.
My head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. “Oh, baby, more,” I managed to wrench out.
And then he lost control as I’d been hoping and praying he would. When I heard my panties tear and drop to the floor, I moved my hand to his zipper and opened his khakis, firmly grasping what I wanted. He was conveniently commando, hard and ready. I rubbed my hand up and down his length, pumping him. Before I knew it, my hand was pushed away and he was deep inside me, riding me fast and recklessly.
“Faster!” I demanded. “I love it when you’re rough.” I squeezed his ass, tilting my pelvis to allow him to slide in even deeper.
“Easy,Tigger,” he panted, calling me by his nickname for me in that sexy French drawl, but not bothering to slow his pace. He was always in control, even if I thought I held the power.
I was kneading the shit out of his ass with my hands as he ran his tongue over my neck. He nipped and sucked before biting a bit harder, causing my orgasm to build in preparation to barrel through me. I didn’t want it to start or end because it always finished the same—with me wanting more.
“Monsieur, I’m coming,” I semi-yelled or gurgled, I wasn’t even sure because I was unraveling, tightening my thighs around his waist like a vice.
“Tigger,ma chérie.” He growled the sweet words, pumping faster, his release vibrating through my bones. A drop of sweat fell off his brow into my cleavage, and he leaned in to kiss me.
My entire body trembled; I was shaking with release and need all at the same time. I never wanted that feeling to end.
At that moment the door from the hallway into Pierre’s office banged open, apparently not locked as securely as we’d thought. The fancy diploma hanging on the wall above my head—the one that readDR. PIERRE DUBOIS—rattled from the impact, nearly falling. It didn’t really matter if it had because within a matter of days, the gilded frame was gone. And so was Pierre.
It all ended, and I felt like my life was over.
