“I like that you said us.”
“Me too.”
I studied the swing. It was clear how he’d wanted me positioned. There were bandages to hold up my arms and legs. I stepped toward it and slid my hands along each strap. Silk coated some durable material within.
I tugged at the cords and felt no resistance. Whoever had put it up had made sure that the swing would not go down, if used. A long pad lay in the center for where the middle section of my body would lay as I hung in mid-air, open to Jean-Pierre.
“This is how you wanted me that night?” I whispered and turned to him.
“This was one of the ways I wanted you that night.”
It was a simple answer, but it made my body explode even more.
You make me crazy for you, Jean-Pierre.
I gripped his shirt more confident than I’d ever been with him. He’d fought a war and won me. I didn’t know what Aunt Celina would have to say about it or even Shalimar. All I cared about was how I felt. And in this moment, all I could do was grab hold to him and hope he never left my grip.
“Let’s try it.” I pressed my breasts against him.
He groaned. “I’ve thought about the way I would make you come in this swing.”
The space between my thighs awakened. My arousal moistened my panties. My nipples stiffened. I yanked his shirt out of his pants. “Show me.”
He unbuttoned his shirt. I roamed my hands along his muscled waist and then slipped along his wide back. My body craved him. I almost slapped myself for taking three days to see him. At this point, I felt starved.
My senses had gone hypersensitive. My body craved his touch.
He tore off his shirt and then undid his pants. The whole time he kissed me. His tongue slipped against mine. Hungry. Urgent. Claiming. My muscles melted into liquid pleasure.
With no patience, he wrenched at my dress.
I let go of him and tried to grab my zipper behind me.
He swatted my hands and took control. My gown dropped seconds later. The next moment, he had me up in the swing, lifting me up with those strong arms. His muscles flexed with the movement.
With ease, he flipped me over and had my ass in the air.
Giggling, I shrieked as he helped me up into the swing. “Oh my God. Don’t drop me.”
Hours ago, I’d been sitting in my suite, trying to ponder my life like a proper adult. Hours later, I was butt naked and being propped into a swing, so Jean-Pierre could fuck my brains out.
Great job, Eden. Those three days really meant something.
I’d been playing myself, if I thought I would walk away from him. He might’ve done things within the shadows. But every moment that I’d actually experienced with him had been amazing and full of passion and pleasure.
While it would be hard to swallow the past events in these next days, I had no regrets going back to Jean-Pierre.
Soon I dangled in the air. My ass was up, and right in a perfect position for Jean-Pierre to fill me with his cock . My body shivered at the thought. Each arm lay in a strap as my center rested on a pad under my chest and stomach.
Jean-Pierre gripped my hips and smoothed his hands over my ass. French spilled out of his lips. I couldn’t even catch one word.
“Jean-Pierre, what are you saying?”
“You don’t need to know what I’m saying.” He gave my ass a soft smack. The flesh jiggled. He groaned, “Sirène.”
He had me at his complete disposal. He could move me up and down and all around. I moaned with the image.
“What are you thinking about, Eden?” He slipped his hand along my ass and then slid them down to my pussy. “Did you think about me these past days?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He pushed his fingers inside of me.
I moaned, “Jean-Pierre.”
“Did you think of my fingers?” He dipped his skilled finger in and out, blowing my mind and delivering shivers through my frame. “Did you think of my cock?”
“God, yes.”
Lust coated his voice. “What do you want, mon amour?”
“You. Your cock. All night long.”
“Hmmm.” Jean-Pierre thrust into me so slow, I groaned and curled my toes.
I wished I could grab onto him and dig my nails in his flesh. Hold him to me. Grip his body to mine. I never wanted him away from me again.
He slipped out of my pussy, and I was close to begging for its return. And then he came back again, sliding that thick cock back into me. Owning me. Dominating me. Showing me who owned my pussy. Surely it wasn’t me. She’d come alive for him. With him, she sang. With him, she got so wet, that even I was shocked.
“Cette chatte est à moi. Ce sera toujours le mien. Juste comme ton coeur.”