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“All night,” she echoed, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Look at me, Lorraine.”
She opened her eyes and stared into his ocean blue depths.
“Watch me fuck you, chérie. I want to see your face when you come for me.”
Raine focused on his gaze as his eyes seared into her.
He moved his face closer but stopped short of taking her lips. “Your body holds me like no other.”
His breath tickled her chin, his beautiful hair her cheeks and shoulders.
“Like no other.”
As Blaise pumped into her, Raine never took her eyes from his. She stared into him, into his soul, relishing the passion of his body filling hers. She soared, higher and higher, and just when she thought she could see her own soul reflected in his, she reached the summit with a pleasure so intense it was almost pain.
Beautiful, blinding, euphoric pain.
“Ah, yes.” His thrusts became more urgent. “Come for me.”
“Blaise. Blaise! I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”
“I feel it, chérie. I feel it.” He pumped harder, faster.
The ripples of her orgasm continued to pulse through her. He pushed and pushed, his cock stretching her clenching walls until he grunted and fell into her, taking her lips with his as he released. His kiss was hard as he finished his climax, and then became softer, a lingering exploration of each other’s tongues and mouths.
When he pulled away, she whimpered.
“Chérie?”
“I don’t want to stop kissing you.”
He rolled onto his back. “Nor do I. But I need to breathe.”
“Oh.” She turned on her side and eyed her young lover.
A sheen of sweat covered his body. Drops trickled down his face.
Wisps of golden hair were pasted to his cheeks. She smoothed them away and ran her finger down his cheek, his neck, to his chest where tiny rivers of moisture meandered through his thicket of hair. She fingered a nipple, pleased at how quickly it hardened under her touch. She continued to explore the hardness of his chest, tracing each line of his ripped muscles, easing downward to the hair that descended from his navel to his bush of dark blond curls. His sex hung flaccid between his legs. She touched it. It was warm. She felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t touched it when it was hard.
“It will be ready for you in a few minutes,” Blaise said, a lazy half-grin edging his lips upward.
Raine warmed as she snatched her hand away. “I’m sorry.” Embarrassment flooded her. “It’s not like I need sex every five minutes or anything.”
“That’s too bad.” He reached for her cheek. “Because I do. With you.”
“You do, huh?” She snuggled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Oui, chérie. Je t’adore.”
Raine’s French wasn’t great, but she could get by. Je t’adore. “You adore me?”
“Of course. Do you think I rescue damsels from the Tour Eiffel all the time?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“Non.”
“Because you live here. And you don’t go to the tower very often, I imagine.”
