Page 161 of My French Love Affair

He continues to push his fingers in and out of my dripping pussy, his rhythm relentless and ruthless, his touch designed toruin me.

"That’s my good girl."

His lips brush over my temple, the tenderness of the gesture a sharp contrast to the way that his thumb draws tight, brutal circles over my clit, and the pressure combined with his praise is too much.

I can’t fight it anymore.

And as a result, my entire world shatters.

A strangled moan spills from my lips as my head tips back, my body convulsing against his, waves of pleasure rolling through me in sharp, dizzying bursts.

I clutch at him, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing - nothing except him and his lovely, wonderful hands.

My pussy clenches and tightens around his fingers, my sensitive clit pulsing even as he slowly removes his thumb. His fingers aresoaked,and I can feel my own wetness against the tops of my thighs as my body continues to throb around him.

Every single nerve is alight, and my mind is completely empty save for the feeling of him guiding me through the aftershocks, his touch gentler, now - softer, like he’s savouring every second.

His lips graze my ear.

"You were fuckingmade for me."

A full-body shudder wracks through me, and I can’t tell if it’sfrom the pleasure still flickering through my veins or from the way he says it so calmly, so simply.

Like it’s a fact.

I have no idea how long passes before his fingers finally leave my pussy, sliding back down to grip my thigh. Time blurs into something meaningless as my breaths still come out in shaky gasps.

I try to recover, try to compose myself with long, deep inhales of air.

He, on the other hand, is completely composed.

Of course he is.

The bastard.

My eyelids flutter open, and as I drink in the sight of his handsome face, a familiar smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. My brain is still a little slow as the last waves of my orgasm roll through my body, and I watch carefully as he lifts his fingers, running them slowly and deliberately over my bare thigh before bringing them to his lips.

They glisten in the light, and my stomach tightens as I watch him intently. I’m totally breathless and completely helpless, frozen in place as I continue to straddle his lap, my pulse practically roaring in my ears.

He licks his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving mine -

And I swear to god, I almost implode right there in the middle of this fucking restaurant.

Smugdoesn’t even begin to cover it.

I swallow, my body still trembling, my brain still not caught up.

And then - the worst part.

His voice, smooth as silk and laced with pure fucking arrogance.

"Délicieux."

Oh.

Oh, Ihatehim.

But fuck, do I want him again.

---