Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

He stalked forward, closing the space. “You don’t need to learn my body. You have it under your complete control.”

Pushing the boldness further, I fell into my own desire and raised my hands to his chest. The thick robe blocked what I yearned to caress. I slipped the robe away a little, revealing tanned skin over rippled muscle.

Swallowing, I rested my hands on his chest. My fingers met with smooth skin and hard-packed muscle. His pecs twitched as my hands brushed over them.

Dear God. Fallen Angel is right.

He licked his lips. “Any other questions?”

“How do I have you under my control?”

His gaze moved to my hands as they traveled down his chest. “The ways you make me hard are shocking. Half the time you’re fully clothed.”

I blushed.

His robe opened. The belt dropped.

Still, I explored, lowering to his belly button.

He hissed.

I caressed some more and felt those scars I’d seen before. I drew musical notes over them, as if I could lure them to tell me their story.

Silent, he trembled under my fingertips. I probed some more with a feather-light touch, tracing his washboard stomach. Sketching thick obliques.

I raised my view to him.

Heat filled his gaze.

“It’s like you fell right from Heaven.” I stepped away from him.

“Or more like I was thrown out.”

“You do at least admit that you look like an angel?”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s not how I’m usually described.”

I whispered fallen angel to him in French. “Ange déchu.”

He must think I’m crazy.

I walked off.

Jean-Pierre caught me by my waist and spun me around. I gasped. He wrapped those muscular arms tight around me. Before I could think, he pressed his mouth against mine.

I melted.

This was nothing like the other kisses. In comparison, those were soft and sweet. Tame. This kiss claimed me. Branded. Dominated. Arousal blazed through my body. Moaning, I clung to him, unable to balance on my feet. But there was no need to worry. Those strong hands held me against his hard body.

Jean-Pierre.

I no longer wanted to go to the pool, or anywhere else that didn’t involve a bed, or at least his cock slipping and sliding inside of me.

He made me dizzy. Devouring my mouth. Nipping at my lips. His mouth tasted of champagne and strawberries. His tongue dove deep. Twisting. Skating. Tantalizing. A masculine scent radiated from him, spicy and sensual.

I moaned, “Ange déchu.”

Grunting, he tore off my robe and his.

Please.

His warm, muscled body crashed against mine.

Fuck.

Lifting me up and pressing me against the balcony’s glass door, Jean-Pierre poured through my senses. My very DNA soaked up his body heat. I went dark and needy. A lusty fire flooded me.

I arched up, pressing more to him.

That thick cock pushed against my stomach.

I moaned, “Please.”

In the next second, he was inside me.

Pumping.

Owning.

We were on day three. And I very much wished it was day one.

He slowed his strokes to a teasing pace. “Back to our French lesson. How do you say, fuck me?”

“Baise-moi.”

“Finger me.”

“Doigte-moi.”

“Now.”

His voice grew deeper now, laden with the promise of sex. “A présent.”

“A présent.”

He bounced me on his cock. The muscles on my legs tensed as I tried to hold on. My whole body felt like it was being caressed.

I moaned, “Jean-Pierre.”

His body moved with sexual expertise. His abs applied subtle pressure to my clit. His cock stroked up and down in a rhythmic pattern that sent wave after wave of warm pleasure rolling through me. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Wild and naked on the balcony, I couldn’t think of anything more than him.

“And when you want me to do something again, moan, encore.” He drove that cock deep. His balls smacked against me.

Moaning, I gripped his back to hold on.

I thought I was the one that was supposed to be performing. Here, I was supposed to be on a job. But this was no act. I was close to coming with him for the third time. And my body loved everything he had to offer. The ache built.

I moaned, “Encore.”

He groaned and dove hard into me again, making our bodies rock against the balcony door.

We both came.

Our orgasms collided. I almost feared the pleasure would swallow us. Loudly, we both moaned and groaned. Humping each other like wild animals. Desperate for more. One, if only in this moment. As I continued to ride the delicious orgasm, he took my mouth with his. Kissing me. Owning me again. Branding my lips. My soul. Dizzying me with desire.

Still rocking his cock slowly into me, he kissed my neck and brushed his lips against my ear. “Je ne te laisserai jamais partir.”

I blinked, finally having a full translation.

“I’ll never let you go.”

Dizzy with him, I tried not to hold on to those words for too long. They warmed my heart. They made my desire rise. My mind twisted with the possibilities of those words.