Page 21 of All Mixed Up

With a sudden jerk, Lucien rose up and away. I almost took a figurative gun and shot myself, but he was back with his gorgeous body and his satyr-dark eyes and his steamy lust before I could remember where the trigger was. He reached in, gripping my hips with force that bulged his biceps and my eyes. I yelped again. He snarled again. Then in one tidal wave of motion, he flipped me over.

“Oh!”

“Ssshhh.”

I bit my lip to stay my scream as he enforced that with two stinging slaps to my buttocks. Oh damn, it hurt. Oh damn, it was good. And even better as the pain mellowed into flames, licking out and then in, spreading into the apex where so much of my desire was waiting to be ignited…

He leaned over me with his muscled chest along my spine. With sexy-as-hell grunts, he tugged at my hands and then my knees. When he was done, I wasn’t just facing the modular-style headboard. I was gripping it, my body in the most wanton of poses. My thighs were spread, my ass was jutting, and my sex was dripping.

“Dieu. I can smell you on the air, Juliet.” Lucien pressed closer over me. “Your wet little pussy is invading all the air in this room. I will have to hire good cleaners to scrub your dirty, naughty scent from every surface.”

“So take it out of my paycheck.” How I smashed together my two remaining brain cells to form that sauciness, I’d never know.

“I would prefer taking it out of you in other ways.”

He dipped in, trailing his lips down my spine. Then he pressed in…teasing his naked cock at my quivering entrance.

“Tell me.” His words were no louder than a breath at my ear…stirring me more than any moan or growl or grunt ever could. In reply, I couldn’t speak. Simply dipped my head once, hoping it would suffice as acquiescence. His answering shudder conveyed his disapproval.

“Tell. Me.”

“Yes,” I finally sighed.

“Yes…what?”

“Take it out of me.”

“By doing what?”

“By…by fucking me.”

I waited, certain I’d lose my mind by the time he tore the condom free and then slid it on. But I was wrong. My mind was here all along, and he filled it with wonder as he slid fully inside me. Not just my mind either. My senses, my spirit, and my body coalesced like melted glass, fusing into one just as our bodies did. The heat flowed and grew, twisted and molded, until everything his cock touched was white-hot and blinding bright…before dissolving back into sparkling sand.

It tore me apart. Blasted me. Burst me. Consumed me with such perfection, my scream was one of exquisite, soundless surrender. “Oui,” Lucien rasped into my ear. “Oui. Donnez le moi, ma belle. C’est bon. C’est serré. Oui. Dieu…je jouis…”

I stopped trying to translate. Simply let his filthy tone carry me over again. I tumbled into a silken darkness filled with nothing but him, so swollen and searing and rough inside me. I was stabbed, stretched, and used, and I accepted it all with hot gasps of gratitude.

“Such a good girl.” English from him this time, and hell was I happy for it. “My good little girl, so wet from your come, and loving this hard fuck. Yes? Tell me, Juliet.” He stressed his point by twisting his free hand around one of my nipples. After I managed a strangled yes, he pumped into me even harder. Released a fulfilled groan into my ear. Swelled until my tunnel felt like it was going to rip from his cock’s invasion. But it was exactly the nudge I needed. Once more, I plunged into an abyss of screaming pleasure. My hands fell from the headboard and into the mattress, where I twisted them into the pillows in mindless ecstasy.

“Holy…shit,” I finally squeaked. It was still a good thing, since I couldn’t believe I was still breathing. My knees gave out, limp as melted marshmallow, which doubled my shock upon realizing Lucien still rocked inside me, rock-hard and ready.

“Oh…God,” I croaked. Was that really…were his fingers actually… “Oh God!”

“Relax, ma belle.” He crooned it in time to the swirls he made against my tender button, inciting tremors through my ass and thighs as shocking as they were stimulating. “Remain like this. Just like this. Your pussy…dear fuck, it is un rêve. A dream. And now, it shall milk the last of my come, yes?”

“Errrm…yes?” I swallowed on a mouth gone utterly dry. “The—the last of…”

His lips, now suckling at my neck, curled up. “I am not done, ma belle. And neither are you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

He chuckled like the damn wolf about to tear into the picnic basket. “I think I shall show you that answer, instead of telling you.”

His nuzzles became determined bites—as he slicked a finger along the most sensitive strip of my center.

“Aaahhh!”

I steeled myself for his admonishment about the outcry. But as I was rapidly beginning to learn, Lucien Paget was not a man for predictable behavior. Instead of discipline, the man brought a much more lethal force.