Chapter 8 Elle
Elle
Iyield to Josh Lander, willingly. I let him take my hand.
I let my dress fall straight to the floor and side-step out of it.
And I let myself enjoy the priceless look of awe on his face as he sees me in my underwear for the first time.
I also inwardly send thanks to the gods for Mara, my dastardly enabler, who snuck to the La Perla boutique further along La Croissette earlier and found me this push-up strapless bra and knickers, both in gossamer-thin, palest blue lace.
She may also have made a condom pit-stop at the pharmacie.
‘Holy shit.’ His jaw is on the floor; he passes a hand over his face. ‘Oh, my Christ. Baby, you are a fucking stunner.’
‘Thank you.’ He seems shellshocked, so I shyly take a step towards him and close the gap between us, making a start on his shirt.
I am unbuttoning Josh Lander’s shirt.
Yes, yes, yes!
He trails his fingertips so lightly across my collarbones and down my arms that they leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
Skims his hands down the sides of my bra and over the curves of my waist and hips.
And halts my progress with his buttons by cupping my bum cheeks, which are only half-covered by a teasing scrap of lace, and grabbing them, hard.
He pulls me in for a kiss that’s hot. Hungry. Hurried.
I free my hands from where they’re trapped between us and plaster them to his back, pulling him in as close to me as I possibly can and mentally high-fiving myself at his decisive erection between us.
I’ve been thinking about that—this—since our decadent kissing in the sea this morning.
It was a glorious taster, and this is the real deal.
From this point, things heat up quickly. Josh’s fingers slip under the lace of my pants before heading north to unclasp my bra. He chucks it away without breaking the kiss and pulls me more closely to him, my bare breasts crushing against his shirt.
I need to get his shirt off. I need skin on skin.
I fumble with the remaining buttons while our mouths stay attached and our tongues continue their wet, heavenly dance.
Josh impatiently tugs open his final button and pulls off the shirt before getting his first good view of my breasts.
His look of appreciation and pain brings a huge smile to my face.
‘Oh, man.’ He reverently cups them, weighing them in his hands.
‘Oh, Jesus, baby. You’re beautiful. You’re—fuck.
You’re incredible.’ And he slides a thumb over each nipple, flicking them lightly.
Oh, God. Oh, God. My mouth is watering; the heat from his touch shoots straight between my legs.
I cling to his now bare and bloody gorgeous upper arms as he acquaints himself with my breasts. I’m burning up already.
He looks me in the eye, his own eyes dark and molten under hooded lids. ‘How does that feel? Does that feel good, baby?’
‘So good.’ I’m arching into him, desperate for his touch. ‘Don’t stop.’
A little laugh and a shake of his head. ‘Believe me, I am not fucking stopping. I couldn’t if I tried.’
He releases my breasts reluctantly and grabs at his belt buckle, and I help him shove his jeans down.
He kicks them off and I have the unearthly pleasure of a private audience with an almost-naked Josh Lander.
He’s just willingly imprisoned himself with his biggest, perviest fan.
He’s in Calvin Klein tighty-whities, and I swear the brand should make him a poster-boy, because holy cow, he is gorgeous.
Apart from the erection. I mean, the erection is definitely a big (operative word) part of the gorgeousness in front of me, but it may not be billboard-friendly.
Anyway, Calvin Klein is missing a trick here.
But back to the ridiculous specimen of manhood standing in front of me, giving me his best brown bedroom eyes.
My mouth-watering situation is getting worse. I swallow, and lick my lips, and put my palms flat on his golden, lightly haired pecs. Hard. Sublime. I brush them over his nipples and he shivers. I look up at him in delight.
‘Do you have sensitive nipples?’
He laugh-groans. ‘Yeah.’
‘Really? That is fascinating. I’ve never been with a guy who has sensitive nipples before.’ He doesn’t need to know it’s been a sum total of two. Third time lucky.
‘I don’t wanna think about the guys you’ve been with right now.’
‘It’s a far shorter list than your ex conquests, mate.’
His hands smooth over my bum again and squeeze. ‘You’re a handful. I really, really love your ass.’
‘I really, really love this.’ I trail my hands further down his stomach, which is so tanned and nicely hairy and hard I just want to lick my way down it.
So I do. I bend, and I kiss the dusting of hair between his pecs, and I alternate licks and kisses as I make my way down towards his tummy button.
As I squat, I steady myself by sliding my hands around his bum, and bloody hell.
I take a leaf out of his book and grab it, hard. It. Is. Delicious. I dig my fingers in.
I’m level with the waistband of his briefs now, except the waistband is under severe strain from the tip of his penis, which is making a break for freedom. I brush my lips over it. Wet. Salty. Also delicious. Mmm. Josh Lander has many delicious body parts.
Either my action or my moan of appreciation makes him jolt, and he grabs me by the upper arms and hauls me up. He’s breathing hard.
‘Oh my fucking Christ, Elle—I’m gonna go off like a rocket if you do that. Bed.’
He kisses me hungrily, his hand a vice at the back of my neck, his tongue thrusting deep inside my mouth.
I want that tongue on me. I want all Josh Lander’s body parts in me and on me, weighing me down and filling me up.
He walks me backwards and I drop down on the bed when the backs of my legs hit it.
I’m at the perfect height to grab him and make another attempt at his—but no, he gestures at me to scoot back.
Oh my goodness. Josh Lander is on his hands and knees on the bed, crawling towards me in a predator-meets-Patrick-Swayze manner, and the fact that he’s crawling between my legs means I have to spread them to make room for him.
I watch him from up on my elbows. My breath is hitching. So, it would seem, is his.
I let myself flop back on the bed and he kisses me, deep and slow.
‘You’re a temptress.’ He tells me. ‘You are driving me crazy. So I’m gonna drive you crazy. Got it?’
I think my attempt at a reply is more like a shameless moan into his mouth, to be honest.
He pulls back and crouches over me, and I let my eyes fall closed as his perfect mouth moves to my nipple, those lips sucking and pulling at it and God. I wriggle on the bed, widening my legs. Desperate for him to free me of my knickers and put me out of my misery.
He moves to the other nipple, which immediately begins straining for his attention, and he lavishes it with hot swirls of his tongue and deep pulls with his lips.
I throw my arms over my head and moan with abandon as he works me to just the right side of pain.
His fingers find my first nipple, still bathed in his saliva and turning cold in the air-con, and roll it around.
My noises get louder. I’m desperate for more from him.
Then he’s back at my mouth, kissing me, his hand kneading harder at my breast. He pushes his erection right against my core, rubbing against the soaking lace of my thong.
This is what I need. This pressure, from his penis, or his tongue, or his fingers—I’ll take anything right now.
I push against him and take his tongue fully into my mouth.
‘You’re such a good girl, Elle,’ he growls against my mouth.
He tweaks my nipple, hard. ‘Such a good girl, I can tell, and that makes me wanna fuck you so bad. I bet you don’t let go much, do you?
Unless you’re shaking that fucking amazing ass on the dance floor, or in bed. I wanna give it to you so bad, Elle.’
My head is literally spinning with desire. I feel as though I’m going to black out. ‘I want it so much,’ I tell him. ‘I need you. Please, Josh. I’m dying.’
‘That makes two of us,’ he says, and his hand moves down between my legs. Thank God. ‘You deserve everything.’ He grunts the words out. ‘I wanna give you everything.’
His fingers tease me through the lace. Oh my goodness.
Oh my goodness. I can barely hang on. And then he jumps up and tugs my knickers off and settles back between my legs.
His tongue finds the place where I need it the most, and it licks and slides and flicks.
Whew. Whew. I’ve broken out in a sweat at the effort to hang on, hold back, prolong this blessed torture and not shove myself in his face.
Josh’s tongue then has the audacity to go on a meandering journey between my legs, and judging by the sounds he’s making, he seems to be enjoying himself as much as I am.
Improbable that that might be. I have a tiny Josh Lander’s tongue is on my most private parts wobble before I get it together.
This is just me and him. He seems to be doing this willingly, and he is good. Obscenely good, in my amateur opinion.
When he introduces his fingers into the mix, I practically fall apart. First one, then two. The pressure inside me is, I suspect, just a fraction of what it’ll be when he puts that penis in me, but it’s still perfect. Perfect.
He licks me again, and between licks he unleashes a string of anatomically detailed observations that are so dirty I practically come.
‘I’m so close,’ I tell him. ‘Josh, I’m going to—slow down. Hurry up.’
As I pant and talk absolute rubbish, he pulls away. ‘Come with me inside you,’ he tells me. ‘Hang on, baby. I’m gonna make you feel amazing. Let me get—’
At the risk of losing bodily contact with him for a second, my arm shoots out. ‘I’ve got condoms. In the drawer.’ I point at the bedside table.
That mouth that has just been on me curves into a smile. ‘Seriously? You’re full of surprises for a good girl.’
I smile at his praise despite my immense physical discomfort at being left hanging.
But it’s almost worth the discomfort to watch Josh Lander gingerly tugging down his briefs and rolling a condom on over his impressive (again, in my pathetically amateur opinion) length.
He fists himself and my jaw possibly hits my chest. I wriggle again and stretch my arms above my head.
‘Look at you. All laid out for me. I’m gonna fucking devour you, beautiful.
’ He bites his lower lip and kneels back on the bed, running the pad of his thumb between my legs.
I squeeze my eyes closed in frustration and open them when he puts his hands under my bum and lifts it, stuffing a pillow under it.
And then: oh, God. He runs a finger around to make sure I’m wet enough for him (I definitely am) and positions himself at my entrance.
And pushes forward, braced on one arm. I lock gazes with him and marvel at the intensity in those brown eyes, at the focus on his face and the effort I can tell it takes him not to ram home.
I roll my hips and accommodate him as he feeds himself into me.
‘Oh, fuck.’ He thrusts once more and bottoms out as I open as wide as I possibly can. ‘Fucking hell. You’re so tight. God, baby.’
Josh begins to move and I move with him, arching my back to give myself up to him as much as I can, to take him in as deeply as I’m able.
And then, sweet Lord, he takes his fingers and opens me up wider and uses his thumb to rub me in circles in a way that has the heat at my core building and building in waves of pleasure as he moves in me.
‘Keep looking at me, Elle,’ he orders. ‘I wanna see those beautiful eyes when you come.’
The combination of the enormous pressure of having him inside me, the heavenly friction of his focused, relentless thumb on me, and the intensity of our unbroken eye contact is too much, and I freefall in a way I’ve never, ever experienced, my hips bucking as much as they can underneath Josh.
My skin is prickling, my blood is zinging, and I go temporarily blind, the sight of his beautiful, triumphant, turned-on face replaced with a full-on firework show for a few moments.
I’m still surfing the waves of my orgasm when he stills and comes too, shuddering into me, adding to the incredible physical and emotional overwhelm I feel right now. He collapses on top of me, kissing me deeply, brushing my fringe out of my eyes, holding me and crooning to me.
‘It’s okay,’ he says, stroking the length of my back. ‘Holy shit, Elle. That was—that was fucking unreal. Jeez.’ He shudders and sucks the air in through his teeth in a happy way as I clench around him one last time and tilt my hips up to wring the last of his orgasm from him.
‘I take it back,’ he says. ‘I’m gonna tie you to my bed and I will not let you know if you win Best Actress. I’ll need you to clear your schedule for the next week because you, my little British princess, are not going anywhere.’