Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“Jean-Pierre.”

Her pussy hugged my cock, milking the tip and sucking me in.

I groaned.

And yet, I couldn’t get deep enough.

I couldn’t fill her like I needed.

I shoved.

I thrust. Pulling back when I could. Taking that cock out in painful protest, but it was all part of the process—the road to our destiny—our bodies colliding. Crashing. Exploding. Stars and fireworks ringing in our heads. Our union. The togetherness that only intimacy brought through passion.

I pumped so hard.

A little sweat trickled down my back.

“Oh!” she moaned.

I grabbed her wrists, and lifted her arms over her head, as if she could escape me or my cock. She never could. Even if she tried, even if a massive army helped her.

Mine!

That pussy throbbed and gripped me as her groans rose in the room, probably startling all of the guards outside the bedroom.

Did her moans make them crazy as much as it did me? For their sakes, I hoped not.

Already, I was close to detonation. Bits of me had already begun to crumble. Disassemble. This was the only way I could let go. Inside of her. Only our breathing and moans rising in the air. Only the fragrance of our sex grooving in sweet unison.

This was the only way I knew there was a God—a power—a force around me.

Nothing had ever affected me this way. No other woman. Not any other pussy. No amount of money or power.

“I battled the Lion for you.” I slipped my cock out a little and then slide back, triggering more of her moans. “And I’d battle the sun, if it burns you.”

She tried to speak, but I let my cock tell her more, maintaining a steady rhythm. Somehow. Even though I was close to busting. Spilling. Filling her with my sperm. Shooting all inside of that wet pussy. In and out. In and out. My balls hung heavy, slapping against her fat softness.

“Oh, Jean-Pierre, I’m so close.”

“Yes, reine, come for me.”

Her body trembled against mine, as I slowed my rhythm, making sure she felt every inch of my length, my thickness in the stroke. Thrusting in the right angle. Deeper and harder. Slipping my cock against her sweet spot.

“Ah!” She cried in pleasure.

The sound of her passion destroyed me in the most beautiful ways. All the little control I had left me. I let go. Went wild. Close to coming with her. My body shifted to a wild animal. A beast in heat. Possessive. Hungry.

I whispered to her in French and couldn’t remember what I said, just that it was my cock’s last will and testament.

“So close.”

I groaned.

“Oh!” She straddled her legs around my waist, rocking into my cock.

“Yes, baby, yes.” I lifted her up. That pussy clamped around my length. She wrapped her arms around my neck. I raised us up more, bouncing her small frame on my cock. Her curls fell messy around her face and shoulders. Her breasts bounced against my chest, killing me more and more. Twisting my senses.

“You’re mine forever.” I cupped her ass as it jiggled against my fingers.

“Yes.”

“Take it, reine,” I whispered.

And then she came. Her body spasming in pleasure. I held her close, still thrusting, still gripping that fat ass in my palms. Still pumping balls deep as her arousal dripped around my throbbing cock.

“Jean-Pierre!” She slumped into me. Her pussy continued to hug my cock, as she moaned so loud and pushed me to my own orgasm.

I mumbled French, not knowing what the hell I was saying this time either. Just that something needed to be said about this pussy. Something needed to be done. How could it be so good? How could she be so perfect?

I came so hard, my vision distorted. My body seized for a few seconds. Muscles clenching, as I pushed in more.

“Oh, reine!” I buried my head into those breasts, grasping at bouncing nipples. Losing control. Loading her with me. Spilling and making a mess of that lovely pussy. Painting her. Smearing her with my scent. Falling. Drowning in pure pleasure. My body drummed in ecstasy.

I gripped her hard, not sure if I could keep us from falling down on the bed.

All mine.

A minute later, I lowered us to the bed. The aftershocks of our orgasms still rocked us. I held her in my arms. Her body shivering against mine. Her chest rose and fell like she’d been running.

“That was amazing,” she whispered.

My phone buzzed.

I let out a long breath. “I’m ignoring that.”

“Should you?”

“No.” Letting her go, I grabbed the phone from the nightstand. “Yes?”

Louis’s voice came on. “Kazimir delivered a message for you? It was a card on kid’s stationary, with a cartoon lion smiling at the viewer. Something a mother would use for a kid’s birthday party.”

My chest stiffened. “What did the damn invitation say?”

“It says.” Paper crumpled on his end and then Louis spoke, “Jean-Pierre, if you want the Devil, come and get him.”