Page 110 of My French Love Affair

His fingers curl deep inside me, brushing over that devastatingly perfect spot as his thumb swipes maddening circles over my clit. My abdomen clenches, white-hot heat coiling low in my stomach, my entire body tightening as the pressure builds, builds,builds-

And then I shatter.

A strangled moan rips from my throat as waves of pleasure pulse through me, my body bowing beneath the intensity. My walls clench tight around his fingers, drawing him deeper,and he watches me fall apart with unrestrained hunger, his gaze so dark, so fuckingpossessivethat the aftershocks only make me burn hotter.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, pressing a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to my throat, his fingers still stroking me, wringing every last drop of pleasure from my body. "I should make you do that again."

"Or," I gasp, dragging my nails down his back, delighting in the way his muscles tense beneath my touch, "you could stop talking and finally fuck me."

His entire body stiffens against mine.

And then, in one swift, fluid motion, he pulls back just enough to grab the waistband of my panties, yanking them down my legs with no ceremony, no hesitation.

Just pure determination.

A strangled gasp catches in my throat as the cool air kisses my newly exposed skin. Frederic doesn’t break eye contact as he slides the lace down, but he doesn’t just toss them aside. No, he flicks them away lazily, like they’re nothing but a trivial inconvenience, barely worthy of his attention.

My skin burns under the weight of his stare as his blue eyes drag over every inch of my body, lingering between my thighs and drinking me in.

I should feel exposed. I should feel vulnerable.

Instead, I feelpowerful.

Because I can see it. The hunger tightening his jaw, the tension lining his shoulders, the way his fists clench like it’s taking every ounce of restraint not to devour me whole.

Andfuck, do I want him to lose that restraint.

Frederic sits back on his heels, his hands sliding down mythighs before he moves away completely, leaving my skin flushed and burning from his absence.

For a split second, I almost protest, almost reach for him; but then I see the way he’s looking at me - dark, ravenous, and utterly in control as he reaches for the waistband of his shorts.

He pops the button open with maddening ease, his fingers moving with unhurried precision. He takes his time, like he’s putting on a show just for me; his smirk widening as he notices the way my gaze refuses to stray.

Oh, Ihatehim.

Butoh, Iwanthim.

He leans back slightly, the muscles in his defined abdomen and strong biceps flexing, and I swear my mouth goes dry as he drags the fabric of his shorts and underwear down in one motion, revealing the seemingly endless expanse of golden, sculpted skin and the sharp cut of his hips.

The slow, deliberate way he undresses is almost unbearable. It’s almost like he’s daring me to break first.

I don’t.

But I also don’t blink.

My hungry gaze follows every single movement, every exposed inch of tanned, toned muscle, every shadow and dip that only makes my stomach tighten further with pure, unfiltered need. The sight of his cock - long and thick and heavy - causes my mouth to dry as my pussy clenches around nothing.

He kicks the clothing off, tossing the fabric aside with the same careless ease he did my panties. He looks down at me - completely bare except for the wicked smirk curving his lip - but I can’t find it within me to look away.

“Like what you see?”

He doesn’t wait for a response.

Instead, he lowers himself over me again, and as his hard,nakedlength brushes against the wet outline of my pussy, I swear the world tilts beneath us.

"Poppy," he murmurs, “are you going to be good for me now?"

My pulseroars.

---