Chapter Thirty-Three Like Thieves in the Night #2
His praise only serves to spur me on. I look up and find his eyes screwed shut, his muscles tense.
So this is what it looks like when a man is clinging to the last remnants of his sanity.
It never occurred to me just how powerful I could feel while on my knees, but now that I know, it’s an addictive sensation.
In this exact moment, I’ve forgotten all about what’s to come tomorrow.
What I need more than anything in the world is for West—this charming, handsome, wonderful man—to need me just as much.
My jaw aches. I can feel him swell against my tongue. Before I get the chance to drive him over the edge, West grasps my chin and takes a step back, leaving my mouth unbearably empty.
“Up,” he demands. My God, could he sound more ruined?
West offers me his hands. No sooner am I on my feet than he brands me with a searing kiss. It’s so intense that it knocks the air from my lungs and leaves my head spinning.
“Don’t let go,” I murmur against his lips. “Don’t stop.”
West deepens the kiss, his hands trailing down to grip either side of my waist. “Je n’en rêverais pas,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I finally manage to gather the coordination needed to pull his shirt up and over his head, then drag my hands down the front of his chest, appreciatively stroking his beautiful tattoos.
West uses my fleeting distraction to corral me up against the nearest wall, his deft hands making quick work of stripping me out of my clothes.
The cool air brushes my skin, sending a delightful shiver down my spine.
“Magnifique,” he says, voice low against my ear. “Do you need me to translate that one for you too?”
I laugh, breathless, circling my arms around his neck. “I understand that one. Though you should probably keep it simple for me.”
West lifts me up off the ground, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips. I’ve never felt closer to another person before, bare chest to bare chest. “Mon ange, ma chérie, mon amour. Me laisseras-tu te faire plaisir ce soir?”
I groan. “That’s not simple at all.”
West chuckles as he carries me to the bed, laying me down on the mattress with the utmost care. He kisses a line down my neck, trailing over my collarbone and the peaks of my breasts, teasing his way down my belly to then kneel by the bedside to press his lips to my inner thighs.
“Je veux te conna?tre.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, already writhing beneath his touch.
“I want to know you.”
“You already do.”
“No, Adelina.” West peers up at me from between my legs. The hunger in his eyes sends my heart skipping. “I want to know you in every sense of the word. Will you let me?”
My cheeks warm. It should be illegal, the way he talks. “Yes, please,” I reply.
I can feel his smile against my skin, his greedy fingers holding my hips in place as he proceeds to tease with the tip of his tongue.
Pleasure surges through my veins, crackling arcs of lightning hopping up my spine.
He is relentless in the best of ways, applying pressure one second only to ease off the next, experimenting to find what my body appreciates best but my mind has never truly understood.
My unfortunate first experience was nothing compared to this.
I think I’m well within my rights to consider this a mulligan.
Tension builds in my belly. My pleasure is a pressure cooker, building with such startling intensity that it isn’t long before everything comes to a sudden release.
My back arches as I grip the sheets for some illusion of stability, my cry of ecstasy loud enough to rattle the walls.
A euphoric haze washes over my mind, bringing with it a gratifying buzz through the tips of my fingers and toes.
West rises to his feet, leaving me for an instant to retrieve something from his suitcase in the corner of the room. It’s almost embarrassing how badly I miss him despite the fact that he’s only a few feet away. I crave his touch, need his smile, yearn for his soft whispers against my skin.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
He holds up a pack of condoms and throws me a cheeky, nearly smug wink. “Did a little shopping after the last time we fooled around. Hope I wasn’t being too presumptuous.”
I don’t bother fighting my smile. “Not at all.”
When West finally returns, I happily comb my fingers through his hair, stroking my thumbs over his jawline. His face is a bit rough with stubble, but I find that I enjoy the friction.
“Will you go slowly?” I ask sheepishly. “Only at first. It’s been—well, you know—forever.”
The next kiss he gives me is so achingly gentle that it’s almost enough to break my heart. Who gave this man the right to be so sweet, so kind? It’s a kiss that tells me everything I need to know, yet he tells me anyway.
“Je prendrai soin de toi.” West smiles and, not for the first time, I find myself staring in awe up at the sun. “I will take care of you,” he translates.
And take care of me he does.
Settling between my thighs, he aligns himself, pressing the tip of his cock against my entrance. There’s a bit of pressure, a pinch, but he spoils me with a flurry of light, apologetic kisses.
“Bear with me, love. You’re doing great.”
I circle his neck with my arms, holding him as close as I’m able. Vulnerable doesn’t even begin to capture what I feel right now. But I trust West. I trust him so much.
His movements are slow, every touch soft. If I were a painting, I would be a watercolor, all of his strokes careful and executed with undeniable lightness. Even his words of praise, secrets whispered to me in both French and English, are a tea steeped with honey.
“Tu es si belle.”
“West—”
“C’est bon, ca?”
I moan, a high and breathless sound.
He nibbles on my bottom lip. “Chante pour moi.”
All of a sudden and all at once, pleasure erupts from deep within my core.
I am drunk and high and on another plane of existence, briefly forgetting all earthly worries.
I tremble in his arms, drowning in wave after wave of ecstasy.
He kisses me through the crest and then the descent, nothing but light giggles and lazy smiles between us. Just when I think we might be done—
He flips me onto my stomach.