“Damn right.” She let her fingers trail from his cheek down over his collarbone to his heart, then pressed her palm there. “I’m yours. No one else’s, only yours. Body, heart and soul.”
His hand covered hers, pressing it harder to his shirt, his chest rumbling as he made a noise low in his throat, possessive and primal. It was the only warning she had.
He bent, caught her mouth with his, and the kiss was fierce, almost punishing. She clutched at his shirt, answering him with her own whimper of need, and the fabric tore beneath her grip.
“You forget your strength,ma chérie.” His fingers slid between the buttons of her blouse, ripping until the cloth fell away in tatters, and she gasped at the suddenness of it. Her bra was next, snapped open, and his palm found her breast.
She lifted her chin for another kiss as heat rushed through her, and he paused only long enough to pull the tattered remains ofhis shirt away, before cupping her face in both hands. She moaned at the feel of his lips and tongue, running her fingers down across his chest, over the ridges of his stomach, then tucking them into the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer.
Some sixth sense must’ve warned him, because he pulled back, expression serious. “Not the belt,” he admonished. “It’s a favorite—”
It stretched taut at her pull, then parted with a snap, the buckle swinging loose. Buttons pinged off as his jeans surrendered, ripping half down one thigh, and he wasn’t wearing underwear. Her eyes gleamed, her smile widening.
“J’y crois pas!” He took a pace back, collecting the frayed ends in each hand, and stared at her in astonishment.
“What was that?” She raised an eyebrow in challenge, slipping her arms free of the remnants of her bra, and let it fall to join the rest of their ruined clothing.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, the tone too flat to be an exclamation; he was translating for her.
“Buy another one.”
“It’s been out of stock for nine years.”
“Shut up, Antoine. Right now, I don’t care.” She grasped both sides of his jeans in her hands, and pulled with all her strength. The denim ripped like paper, leaving him naked and her laughing with delight.
He set his hands on his hips. “I would have taken them off if you’d asked.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Au contraire,that is precisely where the fun lies.” He knelt before her, placing a kiss on her stomach as his fingers flicked open the button of her jeans. Her breath caught at his tenderness, and she slipped a hand into his hair. He tugged them over her hips and pulled them down, and she shifted her weight to free one foot, then the other.
He leaned forward and placed more kisses over the first, and her panties joined the jeans on the floor. “See?” he said with a wicked smile. “Revealing you will never not be fun.”
He rose to his feet, so close that she had to look up to see his face. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he cupped her cheeks, wiping away the stains of her tears with the balls of his thumbs. “On the bed,ma chérie.Face down, if you will.”
She moved before the words fully registered, one knee on the mattress, then she looked back at him over her shoulder. “Face down?”
“Oui.” He was beside her in an instant, pushing her forward, pinning her with his bodyweight and a hand on the back of her neck, like a predator with his prey. “You broke my belt,” he said, his free hand trailing down her back to cup one buttock.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized how vulnerable she was. Surely he wouldn’t—
The first slap resounded through their room, a sharp impact that was more shocking than painful. Then the warmth began. “Antoine—”
The second was on her other cheek, but at least he held back his strength, for it only stung.
“Don’t you dare—” She tried again, but the force of the third slap drove the breath from her. Then his palm smoothed over her cheek, and that was a whole different sensation that almost made it worthwhile. “It was only a belt.”
But her excuses died as his fingers delved lower between her legs, the words fading into a moan of pleasure. He pinned her, utterly helpless, gripping her neck, the weight of his upper body warm against her back as his other hand roamed free, leaving her no choice but to accept.
“This is your punishment.” He slid a finger inside her.
She cried out into the mattress, lifting her hips to give him better access, her body flushed with heat—hers, his; it didn’t matter.
“You drive me mad,ma chérie,” he said, his breath caressing her ear. “I can’t hold back with you.”
She barely had time to register the words, to wonder what they might mean, to form her protest against further spanks, before his hand slipped from her neck and the weight of his body disappeared. He’d moved with his startling vampiric speed, andfor half a second, she didn’t know where he was. Then his arms slid beneath her legs from behind, lifting her and spreading her, and his mouth and tongue replaced his finger.
He licked through her folds, found her clit, and circled it with a rhythm that stole her ability to breathe, to think, to do anything but feel. He was merciless, relentless, and his arms held her immobile, as he wanted her. She cried out at the intensity of it, thighs trembling as his tongue delved within, his face pressed so firmly against her that she could feel his coarse beard against the delicate skin of her inner thighs.
