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The tears stream down her face, and she covers it with her hands. Sobs shake her shoulders.
I jump from my chair and pull hers out, then fall to my knees in front of her. My hands wrap around her waist as I pull her body flush to mine, burying my face in her neck. Tears prick my eyes as my heart swells at her reaction.
Words of love tumble from between my lips as a hand strokes her head and down her back. I rock her as her body trembles. When she composes herself, I sit on my haunches and dab her face with my handkerchief.
She clears her throat and smiles. Her beauty radiates with an internal glow.
“I love you, too, Luc. I always have, my love.”
My breath hitches, and it’s my turn to duck my head.
She giggles and cups my face in her hands.
“Oh, no. You cannot hide from me either.”
I join in her laughter, kiss her lips, and rise to my feet.
“Ready to eat?”
“Yes! I’m famished!”
I ring for Hubert, and he enters with our first course prepared by my chef, Christophe Desjardins.
Over dinner, I share the history of my family, the mansion, the château, and of Blois. Blair listens intently, absorbing each word and asking questions. It fills my heart with gladness she’s interested. We sip Rémy Martin Louis XIII Grande Champagne Cognac as I give her a tour.
When we return to the second level, I place our empty glasses on a side table and take her hand.
“Come, Ma Chérie. I want to make love to you now.”
She gasps as her pupils dilate, changing her blue eyes to obsidian with desire. I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles as I watch her lips part on a low moan. Not wanting to waste a second, I scoop her into my arms and stride to the end of the hallway for my bedroom suite.
Inside the bedroom, I give her no time to appreciate the decor of light wood furniture and floors with a soft palette of gray, cream, and pale blue accents. Another wall of glass faces the rear garden with French doors to access the balcony. A spa-like quartz bathroom nearly the size of the bedroom has a shower large enough for four people, a sizable sunken tub, two vanities, and a water closet. Another window frames the garden behind the tub adds to the bathroom’s allure.
Ma Chérie can revel in the suite’s sumptuousness when I bathe her after hours of lovemaking.
Which starts now…
I place her on the bed and disrobe. She wears a dress with a bow in the belt. I tug it loose, and my much-anticipated gift unwraps before me.
She shrugs out of her dress. The tops of her tits jiggle above her demi-cup bra. Pebbled rosy nipples poke at the black lace.
My mouth waters. I lower my face to her tits and inhale her fragrance. It mixes with her natural scent and her pheromones heightened by her proximity to me.
I trail my lips along the top curves, up to the side of her head, to the shell of her ear.
“Tell me, Ma Chérie, when I slip my fingers inside your pussy, will they come away dripping with your sweet juices?” I rumble.
She rubs her thighs together and mewls.
A nip to her bare shoulder makes her squeak an affirmative verbal response.
I chuckle wickedly.
My hands skim her hips, outer thighs, and calves as I crouch to gather the hem of her dress. It rises over her head as I stand, kissing every inch of exposed skin before I toss the dress to the floor behind me. The bra and thong follow. The sight of her glistening pink pussy confirms my suspicions: Ma Chérie is aroused. I close my eyes and inhale her musky scent deeply.
She shivers not from her nakedness, rather in anticipation when I press kisses from her ankle up her leg to the apex of her thighs. She yelps when I nip the delicate flesh of her upper inner thigh. It changes to a guttural moan when I lap at her slick pussy lips.
Her fingers grasp at my hair when I lower to my belly and eat her pussy like a starved man. Amorous sighs fall from her parted lips like music from a well-played violin. She strums in time with my tongue, teeth, and fingers.
