Page 19 of Up in a Blaze
“You give me so much, mon amour. I truly love you.”
My dick thickened. “You’ll always have my fuckin’ love, Henri. You’re mine forever.”
“Oui, forever.” He rolled his crotch against me. “But it will be best if you show me too.”
A sound dropped from my mouth as I pushed his back against the wall, kissing him, claiming him, making sure he knew he was mine.
As I trailed my wet lips down his neck, he worked his hand and fingers into my shoulders and neck.
“Blaze, mon amour. Bedroom, please.”
Latching my mouth to his neck, I sucked, needing to mark him as I straightened with him in my arms. At his moan and the roll of his hips, I quickly walked down the hall while I kissed and licked over the bruise I’d made.
Not everyone craved a person as much as I did Henri.
I wanted to hear every breath, touch every inch, and taste every inch of him. He used to be squeamish about having sex before he’d prepped, but now, thank fuck, he understood I wanted every part of him. I’d grown addicted to his smells, even his sweat. And every time I buried my face into his ass as I devoured his hole, I drank in his scent and taste. Each time I did it drew me closer to my own release because I got off on his reactions, his noises, his movements. Him.
I craved and loved the man to the point it was definitely an obsession.
Utterly besotted by my French firecracker.
Kicking the bedroom door wider, I stepped in and stalked to the bed, then bent to gently laid Henri down. He got to his elbows and smiled up at me.
My damn heart lurched at the sight of him, knowing he was actually mine.
With his legs still hanging off the bed, I crouched to remove his shoes and socks. His fingers went to work on the button and zipper of his jeans as I trailed my hands up along the outside of his legs, stopping when I gripped the waistband of his denim. He lifted his ass, and I slid his jeans down along with his boxers. His hard cock called to me.
When I threw the material to the floor, I yanked my tee up and off, then dropped it too.
Starting at his inner knee, I licked and nipped up the inside of his thigh before I pressed my nose against his neatly trimmed pubes and inhaled. A rumble dropped from my lips as I closed my eyes.
Christ, his scent had my dick throbbing.
His cock twitched. “Mon amour, please.”
I wound my hand around his erection and slowly ran it up and down. My little French firecracker spewed some threats my way.
Chuckling, I sucked him down until the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat, and when I swallowed around him, he hissed out a breath. As I bobbed over him, he lifted to yank his shirt up and off, running his hands down over his chest as he rested back down with a moan. Fingers threaded through my hair and tightened.
“I want to come with your cock buried in my ass, mon amour. Make that happen before I spill into your mouth.”
With a low groan, I popped off his cock and picked up his legs, baring his hole for me to eat. I kissed, licked, and toyed with his hole, flicking my tongue over and around and in.
The sounds he made were a high that drilled adrenaline into me. I made him needy, wanting more from me.
I spat on two fingers and ran them over his pink hole before pushing one in.
Henri arched, planting his feet to the bed edge, and pushed his body up the mattress so he didn’t slip off. I followed, dribbling saliva over his hole and my digits. I curled my finger, pressing, rubbing.
“Mon amour,” he cried. “More.”
Demanding little creature.
But I would give him anything he asked.
With more spit, I added another finger, pushing them in and out, playing with his prostate. When his cock leaked onto his stomach, I leaned down and licked it up to dribble it over my fingers and his hole.
“Baiser, mon amour. Give me your cock,” he demanded.
