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With a primal instinct, I obey, thrusting into her with a force that leaves us both breathless. Our rhythm is instinctive, fueled by our shared passion and the relentless pursuit of pleasure. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, intensifying our connection.
"God, Lisette... so fucking tight," I pant, beads of sweat forming on my brow. "I can't hold on much longer."
"Then don't," she urges, her nails digging into my back as she meets every thrust. "Give in to it, Bastien. Let go with me."
"Fuck..." I swear, my eyes never leaving hers as I piston into her, our coupling reaching a fever pitch.
And just as I sense she's about to unravel, I lean down and capture her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her cries as we teeter on the edge of ecstasy. Our climax is powerful, a cataclysmic release, a testament to the undeniable chemistry that binds us.
We collapse into each other's arms, our bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding in unison. As the intensity fades, she traces her fingers over the intricate tattoos adorning my chest, each one holding its own significance.
"Your ink is beautiful," she murmurs, her eyes following the patterns that wind across my skin. "Tell me about them."
"Perhaps another time," I reply, a hint of wistfulness tainting my voice. "For now, let's cherish this moment... for as long as it lasts."
"Agreed," she whispers, nestling in tight, finding solace in the turbulence of our lives.
Chapter Nine
Lisette
The bell above the bakery door chimes, announcing Etienne's arrival. I watch him enter, his tall frame filling the doorway, tension radiating from every muscle. The air grows heavy, as if the room itself is aware of the storm brewing between us.
"Etienne," I call out, forcing a smile. "It's been too long."
"Bonjour, Lisette," he replies, his voice a low rumble. His gaze meets mine, and the electric charge between us makes my heart race.
"Come upstairs," I suggest, trying to sound casual. "We can talk privately there."
He nods, turns the ‘closed’ sign and locks the door as we ascend the narrow staircase. Inside my cluttered office, I close the door behind us, and the silence that follows feels suffocating.
"Look, I know you're angry," I begin, meeting his piercing eyes. "But—"
"Angry?" he interrupts, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "Try furious! You slept with Bastien."
His jealousy surges through his words, and I'm taken aback by the intensity of it. But beneath that fury, I sense something else: longing, need, a hunger only I can satisfy.
