19. Chapter Nineteen #3
“Un instant,” Claude said, gently extricating himself from me to dig into his pocket for some cash.
After tipping Kabir generously, we both waved goodbye as my driver left us to get reacquainted.
With no damn cameras or nosy designers or sound crews.
Just Claude and me. A yipping Chihuahua appeared at our feet, prancing on his hind legs.
Amend that to Claude, me, and Pamplemousse.
“By the damns he is so slippery!” Jon shouted as he arrived on the stoop. The dog darted out into the manicured grounds with Jon in hot pursuit.
Amend that to Claude, me, Pamplemousse, and Jon.
“Is there anyone else here?” I asked just as Claude took me by the wrist to pull me inside. The interior of the home was as luxe as I assumed it would be. Cottage my ass.
“Not at the moment. Gods I have missed the sound of your voice,” he whispered, yanking me back to him for a kiss that lingered and deepened until we were both breathless and hard as stone. “I have missed you. Pulling away was torture but—”
“Nope, not now. We’re not talking about the show or anything to do with it now. All I want to do now is get naked, fall into the biggest bed you have in this mansion, and make love to you until we pass out from pleasure.”
His eyes grew dark with passion. “My room.” He led me up a grand staircase without my bag. I glanced back at it. “Jon will get it.”
I nodded, my body humming, my heart skipping joyous beats as we ascended the stairs to the second floor where two halls peeled off in differing directions. “This way, at the end of the left hall are my quarters.”
“Soline called this a cottage,” I told him as we hurried down the carpeted hall like two kids sneaking out of school, giddy with what kind of fun we’d get into.
“A country cottage, perhaps?” He pushed through a door that opened into an airy sitting room slash workspace.
A desk with drawings sat before some French doors leading to a balcony, the doors closed against the fall chill.
A small fire burned in a large stone hearth.
Chairs and chaises filled the space, thick rugs, walls painted a soft white with oils of small French villages.
Gorgeous. Luxurious without being gaudy.
Stunning. Just like the man who was grasping my hand tightly.
“Not in my world,” I replied allowing him to guide me through a door where his bed sat majestically under four posters and a canopy of sheer gauzy white.
The bedding was taupe, brown and ivory as were the curtains on the windows.
A modern chandelier hung over yet another seating area, the globes small white feathers which cast the room in warm ambient light. “God this is so beautiful.”
“It is nothing in comparison to you,” he said as he moved into my arms once more, eagerly capturing my mouth. I licked deeply, savoring the taste of coffee on his tongue, then swept him from his feet to carry him to the bed. “I pined for you, Kinder. Leaving was horrid.”
“Shh.” I kissed him softly now, lying him on the rich tan bedspread as if he were a garment crafted from sea silk, the most delicate and rare textile in the world. “No more talk of the separation. From now on we only talk about here and now, being together, and what the future holds.”
“Yes, the future. Let us focus on our futures.”
I’d never undressed a man before. It was a pretty easy process when the man was as eager to be freed from his clothes as you were to free him from them.
Thankfully Claude wasn’t in one of his trademark suits.
Peeling his lithe form from the confines of a pair of silky lounge pants, an oversized blouse, and his skimpy briefs was done in a matter of seconds.
Once he was bare I ran my sight over him, desire spiking as I took in the sprigs of silver among the curls on his chest.
Something white on his bicep caught my attention. “Is that…”
“Yes, a nicotine patch.” He rolled his pretty eyes. “You so disliked the smell and my doctor has been advising me to quit for ages so I think now is the time.”
“You’re amazing,” I whispered as my eyes fell lower. His cock stood out stiffly. He was uncut. My mouth watered at the sight.
His hands went to cover his groin. I glanced up with confusion.
“My balls are saggy,” he whispered in shame. “Surely now that you have seen my old man body you’re—”
“I’m hungrier for you than I’ve ever been for anyone else I’ve ever seen,” I told him as I gently eased his hands from his crotch before falling to my knees.
“I love the gray amid the dark hair.” I rubbed my cheek against his pubes.
He gasped aloud, hips rocking slightly. Your cock is beautiful, your balls are so plump, and I want to taste them.
Both of them. I want to lick every inch of you because you’re so fucking hot to me. ”
“Mon Dieu,” he sighed when I took his cock in my hand. The tip was glossy with precum I desperately needed to taste. My tongue darted out to gather a droplet as it appeared. “Kinder you are too lovely. My mind is…ah gods above.”
Whatever he was saying fell away as I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock. Salty glory exploded on my tongue. Mad for more I began to suck, hard, rabidly, my fingers biting into his thighs. He groaned softly, his gaze touching on mine.
“If I die this day this is the sight that I wish to perish to,” he whispered as he cradled my face in his hands. I moaned around his cock, swallowing more of him down until I gagged and had to pull off.
“Sorry, fuck, I…I’ve never done—”
“Shh, you are a rare delight. What you are doing is divine. Come up from the floor, please.”
I gave his cock another lick then rose. His fingers shook as he undressed me, tossing my clothes to a small dog bed exactly like his grand one sitting in the corner.
I did my best not to comment on the tiny canopy bed or poke fun.
I had other more pressing things to pay attention to at the moment.
Like the fact Claude was now grasping my dick, his hands rough but warm as I stepped out of my jeans and underwear.
“Such a fat cock. It will fill me so beautifully.” He gave me a stroke. A shudder ran through me before my balls drew up.
“Stop, stop…I…I’ll shoot.” I placed my hand over his.
“Perhaps the would be for the best.” He placed his left hand on my chest then gave me a soft shove.
Back into the bed I fell, the mattress welling up around me as the aroma of honeysuckle rose from the duvet.
“It will be more important for me to last as my stamina is nothing compared to yours I am sure.”
“I want us to come together,” I said, reaching for him like a greedy toddler asking for cookies.
He smiled then nodded as he climbed over me, sliding up over my chest like a snake before latching onto a ruddy nipple. My back bowed from the bed. He tugged gently on the tight nub then moved to the other, laving it, nipping at it as he held his body just inches above mine.
Wild with want I grabbed his hips and tugged. His lower half met mine with a slap of flesh to flesh. Cock to cock.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck I…this is…” I blinked up at him lost in the sensations of his prick gliding over mine. “I’m going to come.”
“Then come for me, Kinder. I will join you, sweetheart. I’ve not had a man in my bed since my divorce,” he confided then slid a hand between our bellies to take both of us in hand. My sight stayed on his handsome face.
“I’ve never been with anyone ever…so shit…shit that feels so good,” I panted, fingers now digging into the duvet as he started to work us with long, tight strokes. “Fuck. I…Claude that…shit so close.”
“Same for…me, ah damn it is…glorious,” he huffed, gave our cocks a squeeze, and let his head drop to rest his brow on mine.
I pumped upward. Just the once. And then I blew apart, coating his hand with spunk that mingled with his cum just a second or two later.
He cried out something in French about God but other than Dieu I had no clue.
Not that I would have deciphered it even if I spoke fluent French as my brain was leaking out my dick at the moment.
Panting like a bellows my muscles went slack.
Claude fell on top of me, his breath ragged, his body limp.
Our cocks oozed and kicked as I placed a hand to his back to lock him into place while I found his lips.
He opened for me with a sigh of contentment that warmed me to the core.
“I’m sorry I came so fast,” I whispered when the kiss ended. His gaze was lax as he stared at me then snickered.
“I came just as quickly.” He stole a soft kiss then wiggled to my side once my hand slid from his back to flop to the bedding as he wiped his hand on the corner of the duvet.
“Madame Beauchene will not be pleased about the need to freshen the bed again. She just did so yesterday,” he said then snuggled into my side, his lips trailing tiny kisses along my bicep before he buried his nose into the hair under my arm. “So manly.”
“Is that the name of your housekeeper?” I asked, rather proud I could conjugate words into an understandable sentence. I’d never come that hard.
“Mm, yes, she is the cook and the housekeeper. Lives in the village. Lovelyn woman. Very tidy, makes the best onion soup you will ever taste.”
“I’ve never had onion soup.” I traced his shoulder with the tips of my fingers as he curled into my side like a cat. “I’d like to try it.”
“Then we shall have it some night,” he vowed as his bearded cheek came to rest on my pectoral, his soft cock pressed into my hip, and his hand dancing like a skipper over a pond along my belly. “I was praying you would come to me.”
I let that sink in. “You could have come to me,” I replied, fingertips gliding over soft, moist skin.