Page 169 of My French Love Affair

A whimper slips past my lips, and he drinks it down, kissing me deeper. His tongue slides against mine with the same aching slowness that his digits tease me with, and it’s maddening and it’sperfect-

And I am completely at his mercy.

He traces lazy, torturous circles over my clit, just enough to make my thighs shake, but not nearly enough to satisfy the ache pooling in my stomach. My hips cant against him, my body chasing more, and he chuckles as he keeps me pinned against the glass.

“Look at you,” he murmurs as he dips lower, teasing my entrance and pressing inside me just barely.

I writhe against him, my moan a desperate plea.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Tell me,mon ange," he purrs, his fingers sliding in deeper, his thumb circling my swollen clit with devastating accuracy. "Who’s making you feel this good?"

His voice is pure sin, smooth as silk and wrapping around me like a spell.

"You," I tell him, barely coherent, my thighs shaking and myabdomen clenching as pleasure bubbles within.

His smirk brushes against my throat from where my head tips back against the glass.

"Say it properly."

I let out a shaky, needy breath.

"You, Frederic."

His responding groan is low andfilthy, and he thrusts deeper, a silent reward for my submission.

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers fuck in and out, pressing deep inside and sending shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve in my body. He curls them just right and my breathingstutters, my legs trembling as I grip him tightly in an attempt to keep myself upright against the glass.

But Frederic doesn’t make it easy for me. In fact, he makes itimpossible.

"That’s it," he praises, his lips brushing my heated skin. "You take my fingers so well.”

My thighs threaten to snap shut, my entire body betraying me, but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, his knee wedges itself between my legs, keeping my legs spread wide, keeping me open for him -

Keeping mehelpless.

My hands claw at his arms, desperate to anchor myself, desperate to hold onto something as he drives me higher. His fingers continue to thrust in and out, curling just right as his thumb swipes almost cruelly over my clit.

"You feel so good like this," he says, his voice strained as though he’s just barely hanging onto his own control. "Sofuckingperfect. Remind me: you were made just for me, weren’t you, Poppy?"

His voice sends heat pooling between my legs, his possessive tone making my head spin.

"Tell me,"he demands, his fingers curling inside me again, pressing right against my most sensitive spot and dragging another strangled moan from my lips.

My head lolls back against the glass, my nails digging deeply into his forearms.

"Say. It," he rasps, increasing the pressure while thrusting deeper in a way that has my vision blurring at the edges.

I can’t fight it. I don’twantto fight it.

"I w-was made," I gasp, barely coherent, “for you.”

"What was that? I can’t hear you, Poppy. Speaklouder.”

I whimper, my head tipping forward as his fingers work me over with expert precision.

"I wasmade for you, Frederic," I breathe. “My - my pleasure, my pussy, myeverything.It’s all for you.”

---