Page 33 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
“Yes.”
“Let me get a condom.”
“You have ten seconds.” I shut my eyes. “Nine. Eight…”
By the time I got to one, he was centering himself at my core, and my entire body shivered with anticipation. I couldn’t remember ever having two orgasms in one night, but I believed if anyone could take me there, Lucas could.
“Mia.” Bracing his hands near my shoulders, he pushed slowly inside, and I gasped at the way he stretched and filled me, at the way his unhurried pace allowed me to feel every sensation so fully. It felt so different, so good to have someone willing to take his time. Someone to care about fulfilling my needs, someone who wanted to please me.
Someone who whispered my name in awe as he held himself deep within me.
Actually, I think I did die. Because this feels like heaven.
I turned my face to the side, fighting the urge to climax three seconds after he started circling his hips, grinding his pelvic bone on the spot that had me buzzing and twitching like a live wire.
I’d never been with a musician before, but Jesus Christ…Lucas’s rhythm and timing were fucking phenomenal. Not to mention the way he moved, with perfect control and a muscular, predatory grace.
“Oh my God.” Panting, I ran my hands all over his body, his arms and neck and back, his perfect ass, digging my fingernails into his flesh, my body on fire. “I’m trying so hard not to scream in your ear.”
“I’ll be insulted if you don’t.”
I laughed, and then cried out as he began to thrust harder and faster. A strangled moan sounded at the back of his throat, and I brought my knees up to take him deeper.
“Oh yes,” I whimpered. “Yes, Lucas. Yes. Yes!” With each word, my volume rose, the storm within me raging stronger. “Oh my God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
And then, the most incredible thing in the world—Lucas’s ragged breaths became pants and then primal sounds and then loud, uncontrollable shouts every time he rocked into me, and I realized it was possible we were going to come together, like at the same time. Like in a fucking book or a movie!
Suspended just before the peak of my orgasm, I willed my body to wait for him, and the few seconds I lingered there were equal parts agony and rapture, such that I nearly wept with the effort. Finally, I could bear it no longer and sailed over the top, screaming his name as I pulled him into me, my face buried in his neck, my body tightening around his.
And it happened. It fucking happened.
Just as the rhythmic contractions of my body subsided, Lucas buried himself deep inside me and I felt his cock begin to throb. He moaned long and hard, his movement reduced to tiny little thrusts that redoubled the strength of my climax. Wave after wave after wave of unspeakable pleasure coursed through my body, and I imagined it coursing through his too, as if we were sharing the same current of sexual electricity. My mouth hung open in utter shock, and stars—no, entire fucking galaxies—exploded in front of my eyes.
Eventually our bodies stilled and our hearts stopped threatening to burst right out of our chests, but I still couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.
Not only had I just had the best sex of my entire life, including two name-screaming, hair-pulling, sheet-clawing orgasms, but I’d learned something.
The simultaneous O.
Was not. A myth.
#
“Again,” I demanded.
“Again? I’ve done it twice already.”
“Again. I can’t get enough.”
Lucas rolled his eyes but strummed the opening chords to La Vie En Rose once more on his guitar, and I gleefully clapped my hands. We were sitting on the floor in the living room sharing a plate of grapes—they’re called raisins in French, how weird is that?—and tearing off pieces of a baguette that Lucas said was from yesterday so it was too old to eat, but it tasted fine to me. Better than fine. In fact, I declared it Best. Baguette. Ever.
I was experiencing a bit of Post Second Orgasm Euphoria.
“I want to know what the lyrics mean.” I popped another grape in my mouth. “I think you should sing it for me too this time.”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t really know the lyrics by heart or I would, although I’m not a very good singer.”
I smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t be critical. You have plenty of other talents.”
