Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

He showed me around the massive property. Tons and tons of empty rooms to fill with stuff. Decorating the place would definitely keep me busy.

Good. Busy keeps me out of my head.

The whole time he showed me around, he caressed my skin, and stole a touch here and there.

We ended in the bedroom.

As he’d said, a massive bed lay in the center, covered in white silk.

“I figured you were tired of all the red and black.”

“I love it.” I smiled. “But, I would let you fuck me in any bed with any color.”

Groaning, he drew me to him, consuming my mouth and taking over my senses as he always did. When he pulled away, I caught my breath.

Seducing me with that gorgeous face, he brought his mouth near mine, but didn’t kiss me. “Do you like our new home?”

“Yes.”

An electric heat rose between our lips. He began to speak. I stopped him, ready to lose myself in that mouth. I closed the space and kissed him.

Grunting, he lifted me. I straddled his waist. My dress rose up to my hips. Surprisingly, he didn’t take me over to our new bed. Instead he carried me to the wall. My back pressed against the cool surface.

He slipped his hand between my thighs and grinned. “Naughty reine. No panties?”

“Not with you.”

He groaned, “Not with me.”

Jean-Pierre toyed with my soaked pussy, casting a spell. Brushing his fingers against my clit. Working his dark magic on my body. Stroking those fingers. Setting my skin on fire. Hitting hot spots, that I didn’t know I had.

He pushed his fingers deep. “Forever.”

“Forever.” I let out a cry that he swallowed in seconds.

Jean-Pierre.

And then those skilled fingers left.

“No,” I whimpered. “Come back.”

“Soon, reine.” He tore the top part of the dress for no reason, pulling one of the bra’s cups to the side and freeing my breasts.

“You like tearing my clothes.”

“I do.” He tore it some more and freed the other breasts. My nipples bobbled in front of him. And he took each one.

So greedy for him, I pushed my hands down between us, wrestling with his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

“Yes, reine, take this cock out.” He lapped at my nipples, delivering hot pulses through me.

I moaned, as I freed his fat cock, slipping my fingers up to the tip and down to his heavy balls. It was so long. Thick, veiny and all mine. Wildly beautiful.

I looked into his eyes as he filled me. And then he was fully inside of me. Reshaping my pussy. Stroking and thrusting. Shoving and pumping. I closed my eyes, drowning in a heightened level of pleasureful sensations.

In between his groans and mine, he whispered, “Look at me.”

The heat of his gaze was too much. That expression alone made me close to coming.

He whispered in French, “I’m going to make you my wife.”

And then I came.

Was it his words? Was it his cock? Was it the passion, hot and rising between us? Was it all that had happened? Or all that could happen in the future?

I came hard. My cries shattered the air. Rising throughout the castle. Did these walls understand what they would witness for the next decades?

We were love. We were forever. Nothing could stop that. Not a lion. Not a devil. Not even a crazy aunt.

My body spasmed in pleasure.

Watching me come, he grunted and moved in and out of me. Harder. Faster.

“Oh!”

“Damn you, Eden.” And then he came, bouncing me hard against him. I held on to his shoulders, relishing in the view before me. Jean Pierre’s hard body. Hot and gorgeous. Sweaty and covered in sex.

“Mine,” I whispered. “All mine.”

Chapter 30

Unchained Melody

Rafael

Whenever we came to Nice, I stayed in a small cottage near the beach. It was a two-bedroom spot, with a pain room in the back of the house. The pain room could only be entered by a code pressed on the pad next to the door.

On this visit to Nice, Shalimar and I stayed at my cottage.

I wish I’d gotten to show you this place when you were alive.

The Nice cottage was a necessity. Jean-Pierre’s aunts were from his mother’s side. They didn’t get Laurent men, although they loved us. They were too strict and were always nagging. It didn’t matter that we were grown men that caused fear in others, his aunts always had us on a goddamn curfew, and were always popping in our rooms throughout the day.

And none of his aunts were ever scared by my gun.

In order to get some sleep, fuck a female or two, without a bunch of bitching about marriage and kids, I spent my time in the cottage.

There were also times, when Jean-Pierre, needed me to handle rough situations in Nice.

That was what the cottage’s pain room was for. All steel soundproof walls. The floor was steel too. An easy cleanup for any blood. I had a heavy case of metal drawers on the left side similar to any small town’s morgue. There I kept bodies, if I needed to.