Chapter 30
Gustave
Tara’s cheeks are flushed, lips kiss-swollen, when she breathlessly says, “We can’t do this here. Papi will kill us if we defile his kitchen.”
I sigh dramatically. “Then what do you suggest, mon amour?”
She bites her lip, eyes darting toward the street. “My parents’ house.”
I blink. “Your parents’ house?”
“Yes.” She unties her apron. “They’re asleep. We’ll sneak in.”
I stare at her, utterly appalled. “Tara, I’m a grown man. I do not sneak.”
She laughs. “You do tonight.”
“We can go to the hotel,” I suggest.
“Aubert is there,” she whines.
Fuck me! My choices were to have sex with Tara, either with my son listening in or her parents. How did my life become this?
Well, Gustave, your life is this because you flew across the ocean to get Tara back.
Best decision of my life!
Tara grabs my hand and drags me outside. I hurriedly lock up the restaurant.
It’s well past midnight when she leads me down the quiet street, whispering over her shoulder, “We have to be quiet.”
At her parents’ front door, she fishes a key from her purse. “If we get caught, you’re explaining this.”
“Oui, naturally. In flawless Spanish.”
She stifles a giggle as she eases the door open. The hallway glows faintly from the nightlight near the Virgin Mary statue, and somewhere deeper inside, the low hum of a ceiling fan fills the silence.
We tiptoe like teenagers. She holds my hand behind her, leading me down the narrow corridor, past family photos.
My shoulder bumps a wall, and a framed picture rattles.
“Gustave!” she hisses.
“Pardon. Your hallway is too narrow.”
“Maybe you’re too big.”
“Merci.”
Her glare is instant, but her lips twitch. “Not a compliment.”
“The lady doth protest too much.”
We make it to her room.
Small. Cozy. Full of books, candles, and a half-finished painting leaning against the wall.
I close the door softly behind us. “See? Not a sound.”
“Except for that loud French ego.”
I step closer. “Would you like me to quit it?”
“No.” She smiles wide. “I like it.”
The words barely leave her mouth before I kiss her—slow, deep, tasting laughter and longing.
She melts against me, fingers sliding into my hair as if she’s been waiting all this time to pull me closer.
When we finally break apart, her forehead rests against mine, both of us catching our breath.
“You realize,” she warns, “if my father finds you here, you’re a dead man.”
“Then I’ll die happy.” I kiss her again, softer this time.
We fall onto her bed, stifling laughter, tangled in sheets, and her half-whispered apologies to the saints on her dresser.
“I’ve never been with anyone in my room,” she tells me. “It’s sacred.”
“I’m happy to desecrate your childhood bed, mon amour.”
She snickers, biting her plump lower lip.
Then she quiets. “Make love to me, Gustave.” Her voice is breathy, her pupils blown wide with lust.
“I intend to, mon amour.” I grab her by the hips, yanking her against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me. My cock throbs against her stomach.
I raise her skirt to run my hand up her thighs.
I cup her. She’s so wet. I take her panties and skirt off.
I reach beyond her and turn on her bedside lamp.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see you.”
She flushes as I spread her thighs. She’s already glistening, her pink lips swollen, her clit hard and begging for attention. I drag my fingers through her slit, making her moan.
“So tight,” I groan, shoving two fingers inside her without warning. She clenches around me, her walls pulsing, her back arching off the bed. “You been thinking about this? Thinking about my cock stretching you open?”
“Yes.” Her nails dig into my shoulders.
I pull my fingers out, slick with her juices. I taste her as she watches.
“How do I taste?” she asks, breathless.
“Like you’re mine.” I crawl up over her body.
I remove her T-shirt and pin her wrists above her head.
She arches her back. I know what she wants. I take a nipple into my mouth and suck gently.
“Yes,” she breathes, her hips bucking, grinding her soaked pussy against me. “Gustave, now. Come inside.”
It’s been months since I’ve had her, and my control is thin.
I shuck my clothes, and when I’m naked, I stroke my cock.
“Now,” she pleads, her eyes on my erection that is aching for her.
I lean over her and slap my penis against her clit, making her cry out. Then I drag the head through her soaked folds.
“Say it,” I growl. “Say you love me.”
She stills for a moment and then smiles at me. “I love you.”
“Now tell me you want me,” I urge, nipping at her chin.
“I want you.”
“How much?”
“Gustave, get the fuck inside me,” she orders.
I am laughing as I slide into her.
Almost immediately, her pussy grips me like a vice. She muffles her scream against my shoulder as she explodes.
Putain! It’s as good as I remember.