Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“Maybe, I’ll have you on your knees.”

He grabbed the cushion of my ass and groaned. “I will definitely be on my knees this evening too.”

My nipples hardened at the thought. His tongue on my pussy was heaven. Once we both got into the limo, I knew we wouldn’t make it to our destination.

Jean-Pierre gave me an intense gaze that seared deep within me. “I love spending time with you.”

“Me too.”

“You make me wild. Unchained. Completely free.”

“Everything you say is beautiful.”

“Only because the object of my words is even gorgeous.”

I slid closer to him. “When you speak French, my pussy gets so wet.”

He groaned in French. “Should I speak more in French?”

I bit my lip.

He whispered some more in French, “This new flame. This love between us. It’s burning me, and I love the way it burns.”

My heart warmed so much; I touched my chest. His gaze followed my fingers and then he lifted his hands up and slipped them along my cleavage. Every time his fingertips brushed my skin, a shiver came.

He leaned over and kissed me. “How hungry are you?”

“Not as hungry for food, as I am for your cock.”

He groaned, “Reine.”

Desire lathered that word. I loved the hunger. Relished in the fact that he craved me so bad. And so, I gave him what he wanted. I slipped down to the floor and got on my knees.

He followed me with his gaze.

Damn, Jean-Pierre.

Now eye-level with his crotch, I studied how his cock jerked under those expensive pants. I leaned down and rubbed my face against that bulge, feeling the thickness jump under me. “I’m so lucky.”

“No. I’m the one that’s lucky.” He reached down. “I need you. Come here.”

I moved his hands away and opened his pants myself. “No. I’m in control.”

“Are you now?”

“Let’s see.” I pulled his cock out. It fell heavy in my hands. Hot arousal poured over me. All I could think about was his cock in my mouth. My sex. My ass. Rubbing all over my flesh. Spilling all over me. My breasts. My pussy. My face.

He moved his hands.

I paused. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to get something out of my pocket.”

I gripped his cock and dangled it close to my mouth. “Now?”

“Definitely now.” He dove into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “Open it.”

I let go of his cock, not wanting to, but intrigued by where he was going with this. When I lifted the box, I saw two diamond earrings—the kind that people wore if they didn’t have pierced ears. I took them out and placed them next to my ear. “Thank you. These are nice.”

Not really the time to interrupt me, while I’m putting your cock in my mouth, but I love the earrings anyway.

He laughed. “Those aren’t earrings, my love. Those are nipple clamps.”

“Oh.” I moved them away from my ears.

Moron. No one will ever say I was the genius of our time.

He leaned over and reached his hands behind my back. Soon I heard a snap and my gown was released. The dress spilled down, falling over the corset.

“Hmmm.” Jean-Pierre drank in the sheer corset underneath for few seconds, dove into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed.

“Who are you calling?”

He grunted. Seconds later, he spoke into the phone. “Giorgio cancel the reservations this evening. Tell the chef to send everything to the penthouse.”

Oh. I’m fine with that.

I gave him a wicked grin and finished taking off the gown’s red whale bone corset.

Still on the phone, he watched with intensity, studying the lingerie some more. “I don’t care, Giorgio. The sauce will still be delicious, if reheated. Are we done? No? What? Not this again.”

Giggling and still on the floor, I wiggled off the gown and slung it in the corner. The poor design had only gotten a good ten minutes of use, before Jean-Pierre was ready to take it off. And there my lover directed his focus to the lace tops of my stockings, unbuttoned his jacket, and pulled it off.

“No. That’s up to Rafael.” He put the phone on his other ear as he yanked his shirt open. Buttons fell all around him. I had no idea what we would be wearing when we returned home and left the limo.

“Rafael is fine.” Jean-Pierre frowned as he undid the top of his pants. “Giorgio, stalking isn’t a crime, if we do it, and Shalimar is not the type to call the police.”

I took off more. The limo’s floor vibrated under my bare ass. I began to take off my shoes.

“Keep the heels on!” Jean-Pierre seared me with his gaze and then growled, “No, Giorgio. I’m not talking to you. In fact, why am I still talking to you.”

Enjoying the moment, I decided to tease him. I turned over and got on all fours, shaking my ass a little