Page 60 of Start With A Slap

So thirsty, she said once she caught her breath, so he popped the champagne and poured it directly into her mouth, letting it foam down her chin and into her lap. Inspired, he poured it on her tits, licked it off to her adorably unconvincing protests and, holding her up by her spot, shook the bottle and filled her pussy with chilled, fizzy champagne. While she squealed and shuddered, he sucked it out with gusto.

That took less than a minute, too.

By her third climax, which was due in part to the length of his tongue and a strategically placed thumb (a place she clearly wasn’t accustomed to), she was whispering unfiltered raves likeOh my GOD you’re so good. Oh my GOD it’s not fair you’re psychic. Oh my GOD oh my god oh my god!

And that’s when he happened upon her other weakness: French nothings in her ear.

Which brought her up to four earth shatters, not counting the one under the bridge, and he wasn’t even close to letting up.

“You’re so good, kitten,” he whispered in French, extracting his fingers from her clenching pussy. “So delicious, so sweet. Taste how sweet you are.”

Eagerly, she sucked on his fingers — which, by the way, may have been the hottest thing he’d ever seen — and panted in English, “Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me.”

Right then.He’d planned to draw out the foreplay even longer, but that was a damned compelling argument to the contrary.

Kissing her lips, her cheek, he tied her shaking legs around him.

“Gonna say please,ma petite puce?”

“S’il te plaît,” she breathed, swooning beneath him in heady aftershock. “Je t’en prie.Please.”

He curled his tongue. “Avec plaisir, ma tigresse sexy.” Her pussy immediately suctioned to the tip of his cock, welcoming him in, but he eased in slowly, savoring every little sensation.

When she impatiently tried to speed things along, he stopped her, looked into her eyes and did itright.

Sheathed in her at last, he began to move—fluidly, steadily, expertly.

Ivy sank her fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Oh. My.God.”

“My sweet Ivy,” he said in French. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh, my god, you’re the Devil. Touch my spot.”

“No, no. Not yet.”

“But—”

“Shh shh. We’ll get there,tigresse.”

She relaxed, and he pulled her down the bed. Standing at the edge, he raised her thighs and entered her again, then undulated in languorous slow-motion.

“Unh...” Watching him through slitted eyes, she reached out shakily to trace his abdominal muscles.

He pushed his finger into her mouth, let her bite it.

“Yeah, Ivy.”

“Mmmn...”

She felt so good, moved so well, wanted him so desperately that he was unwilling to let the night come to a premature end. Oh yes, he made it last until purple dawnlight peeked through the curtains and the fireplace dimmed, leaving crackling embers to punctuate their moans.

When they at last broke apart, all heavy breaths and contented sighs, she said, “I’m going to Hell.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“No.”

He sat up to locate and light a cigarette. “Well, I for one am glad you’ll be there too.”

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