The Boss (Chateau 3)

The sound of the fire drowned out the sounds of our kisses and breaths, but soon it faded into the background as our passion cupped our ears like headphones, throbbing like the bass from a loud concert.

He lowered me to the bed as he moved on top of me, pressing me into the thin mattress with his immense weight, dwarfing me with his size. He pulled his mouth from mine and looked down at me. His eyes quickly shifted back and forth between mine, his gaze dark once again, with a burning intensity that almost made him appear angry. With a single arm, he scooped me up by the waist and repositioned me on the bed, so my head hit the pillow at the top.

The world faded away, and it was just the two of us. I watched him stare at me in a way a man had never stared at me before. It made me feel transparent, like he could see completely through me, see my heart, my flaws, my shortcomings, and didn’t care about the information he found. Whatever I lacked, he would provide.

I didn’t think about anything except the two of us.

In this moment.

Man and woman.

His hand slid underneath my top and lifted it as he planted his face against my belly, kissing my soft stomach, dragging his tongue over it as he moved farther up, to my chest and then the area between my tits. His hand spanned my entire stomach, could crush me if he decided to squeeze.

My eyes naturally closed at his touch because I’d never been worshiped by a man like this, as if every part of my body deserved to be kissed, as if there was more to my body than the area between my legs.

The bed dipped farther and farther as he positioned his weight directly on top of me, his hand pushing my top higher until it rose above my breasts and revealed my large tits. My nipples were hard, my skin sensitive, and I sucked in a loud breath as I felt him drag his tongue in the little valley between my nearly nonexistent cleavage.

He kissed me like I was perfect.

He dipped his head as he kissed one nipple, flicking it with his tongue before he gave a harsh suck, making me wince in both pleasure and pain. He lifted his head, brushed his nose against mine before he kissed me, his eyes open and deep with desire, and then he moved to the other tit that required his attention.

I hadn’t even had him yet, and he was the best I’d ever had.

His kisses became more aggressive, treating my second tit far more harshly than the first, his hand cupping my rib cage like it was my waist. His thumb pressed into my sternum, testing my petiteness, memorizing the measurements of my body.

My hands explored his body as I arched my back to give him more of me in his mouth, my unclipped nails dragging into the searing skin of hot muscle, of the beast that pinned me to the mattress and devoured me like his dinner of steak and potatoes.

When he held his head over mine again, he pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes on my lips, and his fingers unbuttoned my pants and got the zipper down, breathing hard with me, his arousal growing.

His lips returned to mine and kissed me as he gripped the material over my hip and yanked it down. My hips lifted off the bed automatically, and he moaned as he got the pants loose over my ass and down to my thighs. My cooperation turned him on, made him moan again when I helped him kick the material away and leave my ankles.

His hand gripped the inside of my thigh with his big fingers and slowly positioned it. His kiss ended so he could look at me, stare at my face in the firelight, his fingers trailing to the area between my legs, over my underwear, and then down the front.

When his fingertips reached my clit, I released a loud moan, and that was when I realized how much I’d been waiting for that touch. My hands automatically held on to his arms for balance even though I lay completely still, and the increased desire in his eyes only made my desire increase more.

He rubbed my clit with the perfect pressure, with the perfect touch, like he knew exactly what my body wanted.

I breathed deeply as the sensations made my hips rock automatically, letting out quiet moans because every time he touched me, it felt so good. My nails started to claw, and I looked into his eyes and felt his pleasure as I felt mine.

His features hardened the longer he touched me, his jawline turning sharp like the edge of a knife, his eyes turning into black abysses that knew infinite depth. His fingers shifted farther back to my entrance, and he moaned as his fingers became coated with my flooding arousal.