Page 174 of My French Love Affair

"You have no idea," he murmurs, "how hard it was to sit through dinner, watching you in this dress, knowing I couldn’t have you until later."

I bite my lip, my fingers trailing down his back. "You seemed pretty in control to me."

His jaw clenches, his hands flexing against my ribcage as he pulls the fabric down further, exposing my breasts.

"That was an act."

His lips wrap around one of my nipples, his tongue flicking over me as he palms at my other side, and my breath catches in my throat.

Frederic Moreau is always so collected, so unshakable, so infuriatingly composed, and so the thought of him holding back this whole time - the knowledge that he’s been restraining himself -

Fuck.

I rake my nails down his skin. "Then stop acting."

"Hm. You’re trembling," he murmurs, his voice low and knowing as he squeezes my breast.

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. "I wonder why."

His answering chuckle is pure arrogance, and I feel the curve of his smirk as he kisses just below my collarbone.

"Oh, I have a few ideas."

"You like hearing yourself, don’t you?" I tease.

He grins at that. "I like hearingyoumore.”

His hands slide further down my body, pulling the material of my dress with him until I’m left in nothing at all. Iwatch through hooded lids as he leans back on his knees and unbuttons his own trousers, pulling them hurriedly down his thick, muscular thighs along with his own underwear before tossing them onto the floor with my dress.

His warm, large hands are everywhere at once, pushing my thighs further apart as he settles between my legs. My breath shudders, my grip tightening in his hair as he lines himself up against me, rocking firmly but slowly against my dripping pussy.

My body is overwhelmed, totally consumed by the feel of him - his weight, his heat, his relentless control.

"You’re fucking ruining me," I whisper, my voice hoarse and breathless, my nails digging into his broad shoulders.

Frederic grips me harder, dragging me closer until there’s not a single inch of space left between us. His thick, hard cock brushes against the outline of my wet core, his head teasing my opening, and I have to fight to keep my eyes from fluttering to a close.

"That’s the idea,mon ange," he growls.

Then, before I can say anything else, before I can even prepare myself for it, he shifts back slightly, using his hand to part me effortlessly, to spread me right open -

And then, he’s inside me.

With a single, smooth thrust that pushes in deep, he enters me completely.

His mouth falls open against my throat, and all I can do is gasp, the walls of my pussy given no choice but to adjust around his rock hard length.

"Fuck," he mutters. "So fuckingtight."

I can’t form words, can’t do anything but hold onto him, mynails dragging down his back. He stays still for a beat - letting me feel every inch of him, letting me come undone from just this alone - and then his lips find my ear, his voice ragged and low, dominant and possessive.

"Tell me how good I feel, Poppy."

I can barely breathe, but I respond without hesitation.

"Perfect."

His answering growl is pure sin, and then, he moves.

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