Jesus Christ. This body will be mine for how many days? And I get how much money? What did I do to deserve this?
Adrenaline blazed through my veins. I was so pumped to finally have him. All this time I’d worried and feared what this would be like, and I never had anything to fear.
I raised my hands up to his head and ran my fingers through his silky hair. I moved to those broad shoulders. Huge. Powerful. Strong.
He devoured my mouth and took my breath away.
Oh my God. Help me.
My fingers raked down his huge back, rippled in muscle.
Shivering against me, he left my lips and sucked on the curve of my neck.
I slid my hands along him. My fingertips were eager to touch his cock. When I found his soft boxer briefs, I dove inside, pushed them down, and grabbed that fat cock.
“Oh,” I moaned at the size.
He pushed his cock forward, signaling for me to guide him to me. As soon as the mushroomed tip pressed against my sex, I stopped him.
He raised himself as if he was doing a push up. The muscles on his arm flexed.
“What’s wrong, mon amour?”
I panted. “We…need…a condom.”
“Fuck.” He moved away in a rush, so fast it was pretty much a blur. He was off the bed in seconds, pass the bed, and in the bathroom. Knocking and bumping sounds came next. Then he was back in the room, on the bed, and over me.
I swallowed.
“Condom.” He tore open the wrapping with his hands.
With this view, the light shined all over him. His body was everything I dreamed and more. There were small scars too. Maybe a bullet or a stab wound. Two near his heart. One on his thigh. And a long line near his stomach.
I touched the puffed flesh on his sculpted abs and trailed my fingers along the line of it.
He slipped the condom on that big cock, and then he was back on me. The tip touched my sex but didn’t move further.
“Please,” I begged.
“You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to hear that.” He kissed me. First slow and then deeper, twirling his tongue around mine and drinking every bit of my essence. My vision flickered. I closed my eyes. With every kiss, my sex throbbed.
He leaned away. “Youtube™ is a good way to brush up on French, but I can teach you too.”
He’s definitely watching me.
My breath shifted to hurried pants.
He pushed his cock an inch inside of me. “For example, when you want me to go harder, say plus fort.”
Shivering, I whispered, “plus fort.”
He entered another inch, and my body trembled. “When you want me to go faster, then you say, plus vite.”
“Plus vite,” I moaned.
“Bien.” His cock pushed further, spreading me apart and filling my insides.
“Plus fort.” I moaned in ecstasy. “Plus vite.”
And then his gentleness left.
Jean-Pierre pounded into me with wild abandon. I grabbed onto his shoulders hanging on to his hard body. “Oh.”
I drowned. Completely intoxicated with pure, animalistic lust. I teetered on the edge of orgasm, craving release. The room spun around me.
And Jean-Pierre hammered into me.
“Oh,” I moaned. “I’m coming.”
Jean-Pierre growled, “Ton orgasme ne sera que pour moi.”
All I could make out was my orgasm. Pleasure captured me like a hurricane and paralyzed me. It took my breath away. My sex clamped around his cock.
“Oh putain, mon amour.” Jean-Pierre pumped as his body trembled over me.
Coming hard, I pretty much shrieked.
And he groaned with me.
We rocked together. Slick bodies riding the waves of erotic pleasure.
And when the sex ended?
I knew that we’d just begun.
Chapter 20
Divine Damnation
Eden
I woke up to his finger slipping down the tattooed violin strings on my back. A soft moan escaped.
“Bonjour.” He moved the hair away from the back of my neck and landed kisses down my spine. Each time his soft mouth caressed my skin, my body woke up. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did.”
“When did you get this tattoo?”
“Last year. My roommate Leo tattooed my back.”
“He made your body into a violin. It’s unique.” Jean-Pierre trailed his fingertips along both f-holes on my lower back. “I love it. Had I known about this, I would’ve extended the thirty days.”
I smiled. “Too bad.”
“Hmmm.” His fingers painted delicious shiver-inducing strokes along my skin.
“Do you have a tattoo?”
“Yes. It’s on my back.”
I turned around and faced him. “Can I see it?”
“Yes. It’s a violin, but not as nice as yours.” He showed me his back.
I gasped. “Whoa.”
The artist had drawn a large violin onto his back. Skulls covered the instrument’s front. They glared out with anger. Black and gray emphasized the edgy, dark details. The realism blew my mind. It was a violin that Death played before he took a person’s life.
I touched one of the skulls near the violin’s bridge, sure that I could feel its wicked edge. “This is breathtaking. It looks like it was created out of oil paints.”