Page 56 of It Happened In Paris

After helping him lower his sweatpants and settling him comfortably, I dropped to my knees to adore this incredible, selfless man who loved us.

Our eyes met as I caressed his muscular thighs, taken aback by the hitch in his breath and how much sway I seemed to have over him. His manhood—thick, veiny, long, and satisfying—pulsed with eagerness and twitched before me.

“One of the things I loved about our first time in Paris was discovering just how well-endowed you are. Is that a Buchanan trait?” I teased as my hands roamed over his velvety skin, marveling at how he grew even thicker.

With a twinkle in his eye, he replied, “Could be a family legend.” His gaze then sharpened, focusing intently on every move I made.

I wrapped my fingers around him, and his hips instinctively thrust into my grasp.

“Ouch. Ah.”

I stopped immediately. “No thrusting, Mr. B. By order of Nurse Vivian.” I cast him a stern look.

“Fuck woman, I’m going to have to buy you a nurse’s uniform for putting that fantasy of you in my head.” He leaned back and let out a shaky breath.

“Shall I continue? Or if it’s too much…?”

“Please, don’t stop,” he moaned.

From base to tip, I moved rhythmically, my tongue following my hands.

“Faster?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” he urged, gently tugging at my hair and drawing my mouth closer.

I licked and sucked along his head, swirling my tongue around his crown, and then relaxed my throat to take him deep.

“So good. Every inch, like a good girl sucking my cock,” he moaned, his body tensing and trembling.

I drove him wild with my mouth, bobbing my head until his breathing turned into grunts or cries of pain. Couldn’t tell.

“I’m close, baby,” he warned.

I let him go, then began stroking him with my hand as he guided my movements with his own.

I pushed his hand aside and took him deep again, his entire length disappearing down my throat. I repeated until his final grunt emerged through gritted teeth, his body convulsing with release and pain.

After swallowing, I released him, kissing and licking until he calmed. With lazy, half-closed eyes, he appreciated me as I carefully tucked him back into his sweatpants.

“Thank you. Come here—but be gentle,” he beckoned in a low, husky voice, leaving me worried he was hurting.

I straddled him carefully and hugged his neck. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much for the first try?”

“Worth it. And I’m sure it’ll get easier with time.”

“I’m just glad Paris hasn’t had to go through as much pain as you have.” I sat back up so as not to risk hurting him.

“She’s young. I’m practically an old man. There’s no comparison.”

“You’re not that old,” I teased.

“Old enough that I don’t want to wait much longer to have another child with you.”

“Huh?” My jaw dropped. “That’s quite the bombshell, Richard.”

“You’ve never thought about it? Can you have another?”

I shrugged. “I should be able to. And no, I haven’t given it much thought. My situation wasn’t ideal for having another child, so I put it out of my mind.”

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