Page 232 of My French Love Affair

Because I don’t lose - especially not with her.

I tilt her chin up higher, forcing her to meet my gaze. I brush my thumb over her lower lip, my fingers still buried inside her, still pressing against that perfect, devastating spot.

"You don’t want to beg?" I ask, my voice low and taunting.

She swallows hard, her breath catching - but still, she doesn’t speak.

I smirk as I drag my fingers out of her, knowing that I’m leaving her achingly empty.

She gasps, her hips jerking forward, chasing the friction; but I simply grip tighter to her waist, keeping her still.

"No, Poppy," I murmur. "You wanted to be abrat, remember?"

A frustrated, desperate whimper escapes her throat, and I lean forwards in order to press a chaste kiss to the corner ofher mouth.

"Now,beg."

Her body is so hot, soneedy, but still, she’s fighting me - fightingherself.

I press another kiss just below her ear, my tongue flicking against her pulse.

"Beg me to let you come,mon ange," I whisper, my lips brushing against her skin.

She whimpers, barely able to hold on.

But still, she says nothing.

So, I step back completely.

She gasps, instantly missing my touch. Her body moves on pure instinct as her thighs press together, desperate for relief.

But I deny her.

Instead, I keep stepping away until I’m able to lean back against the table, folding my arms across my chest and tilting my head slightly.

I watch her, and I let her squirm.

"Not feeling so smug anymore, are you, sweetheart?" I muse.

She turns her head, glaring at me over her shoulder. Her breathing is ragged, her entire body coiled tight, her thighs pressing together in desperate search of relief -

But I won’t let her have it. Not yet.

Not until shebegs.

I watch her wrestle with herself, torn between stubborn defiance and pure, unfiltered need.

I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“Go on,” I taunt. “You’re almost there.”

Her fingers curl into fists against the door as if she’s trying to ground herself against its surface, as if she’s trying to cling to some kind of control.

But there’s nothing she can do to stop this. Nothing she can do to stopme.

I drag my gaze down her body, taking my time, letting my eyes linger over the way her dress is still pushed up, revealing her arse and her wet pussy to me from a delicious angle; the way her skin is still flushed and warm -

The way she’s still so fuckingreadyfor me.

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