"Remy," I whined, rolling my hips instinctively, grinding my slick folds against the hard length of him trapped between us. The friction against my clit was electric—his cock sliding through my wetness, the head catching against my swollen bundle of nerves on every pass—but it wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough. "Please, I need you inside?—"
"Not yet," he said, his voice strained but his grin widening, that damned dimple appearing even now. His hands slid up from my hips to cup my breasts, thumbs rolling over my nipples in slow circles that made me gasp and arch into his touch. "Want to play with you first. Want to make you crazy before I let you have my cock."
I whimpered in protest, but he was already lifting his head, mouth closing over one nipple while his hand continued to tease the other. His tongue was hot and wet, circling the tight peak before flicking across it with devastating precision. The sensation shot straight to my core, making me clench around nothing.
"Remy, please—" I tried to lift my hips, tried to position myself over him, but his hands clamped down on my waist, holding me in place.
"Patience," he murmured against my breast, the vibration making me shiver, his amber eyes flicking up to meet mine with a wicked gleam. He switched to my other nipple, giving it the same attention—tongue circling, teeth grazing, lips sucking until I was writhing above him, desperate for friction. "I want to taste every inch of you. Want to memorize you. Been dreaming about this, chere. Every night. Let me have my fun."
His mouth trailed down my stomach, his stubble scraping against my sensitized skin, and I realized with a jolt what he intended to do. But I was straddling his chest now, and the logistics?—
"Up," he commanded, his hands guiding my hips forward, his voice dropping to something low and hungry that made my stomach flip. "Come up here. Sit on my face."
The words made my brain short-circuit. "I— What?"
"You heard me." His amber eyes were dark, hungry, fixed on the slick mess between my thighs with an intensity that made me squirm. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. "Want to eat you out while you ride my tongue. Want to feel you drip all over me. Come on, chere. Give it to me."
I moved forward on trembling thighs, positioning myself over his face. The vulnerability of the position made me hesitate—I was completely exposed, completely at his mercy, my most intimate place hovering inches above his mouth.
Then his hands gripped my thighs and pulled me down, and I stopped thinking entirely. The first touch of his tongue was devastating—a broad, flat stroke from my entrance to my clit that made my whole body jolt. He groaned against me, the sound vibrating through my sensitive flesh, and I heard him mutter something in French that sounded reverent.
"Fuck, you taste good," he gasped, pulling back just enough to speak, his chin already glistening with my slick, his eyes glazed with want. Then his mouth sealed over my clit and he sucked.
I screamed.
My hands flew to the headboard, gripping the wood so hard my knuckles went white, my thighs clamping around his head as pleasure exploded through me. He didn't let up—his tongue circled and flicked, his lips sucked and released, his fingers dug into my thighs hard enough to bruise as he held me against his mouth.
"Remy—" I gasped, trying to pull away because it was too much, but his grip was iron. "I can't—it's too?—"
He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my swollen flesh, his lips shiny and swollen. "You can. You will. Give me another one, chere. Come on my tongue."
Then his mouth was back, and he slid two fingers inside me without warning.
The stretch was exactly what I needed—finally something to clench around, something to fill the aching emptiness. He curled his fingers forward, pressing against that spot on my front wall, and rubbed in firm circles while his tongue worked my clit. The dual assault was too much—I shattered within seconds, my orgasm crashing over me in waves that made my thighs shake and my voice break on his name.
He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks faded, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs. When I could finally think again, I realized I was slumped forward, forehead pressed against the headboard, panting like I'd run a marathon.
"That's one," Remy said, and I could hear the smug satisfaction in his voice, could picture the self-satisfied grin even without seeing it. His hands stroked soothingly up and down my thighs, his touch gentler now. "Now come back here and ride me properly."
I slid back down his body on shaking legs, positioning myself over his hips again. His cock stood rigid between us, flushed and leaking, and the sight of it made my mouth water and my core clench with renewed need.
"Take what you need, chere," he said, his voice rough and strained, his amber eyes burning up at me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His jaw was tight, a vein pulsing in his neck, his whole body vibrating with the effort of holding still when every instinct was screaming at him to thrust up into me. His hands found my hips again, fingers trembling against my skin. "Use me. Ride me. I want to feel you take every inch."
I reached down and gripped him—hot and hard and throbbing in my palm—and positioned him at my entrance. For a moment I just held him there, feeling the blunt head press against my opening, feeling the anticipation build.
Then I sank down.
The stretch was different from Harper—not as thick, but longer, the angle hitting new places inside me as gravity pulled me down onto him inch by inch. I could feel every ridge of his cock parting my inner walls, could feel the way my body opened around him, welcoming him in. My head fell back, a moan tearing from my throat as I felt him sink deeper and deeper.
"Fuck," Remy gasped beneath me, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave bruises that would bloom purple by morning. His back arched off the bed, his whole body going taut as a bowstring as my inner walls clenched around him, his eyes squeezing shut like the sensation was too much to bear, his mouth falling open on a ragged groan. "Chere, you're— Mon Dieu, you're so tight. So wet. Feel like heaven."
I kept sinking, taking him deeper, feeling the stretch intensify as the thickest part of his shaft spread me wide. Slick eased the way, making obscene wet sounds that filled the quiet of the nest, and I could hear both of us panting—harsh breaths that matched the frantic pounding of my heart.
When I finally bottomed out—when I felt my ass meet his thighs and his cock pressed deep within me, nudging against that barrier in a way that made stars burst behind my eyes—we both groaned. The sound he made was broken, wrecked, his hands spasming on my hips. I could feel him throbbing inside me, could feel the way his hips twitched with the need to move, the way his whole body trembled with restraint. But he held still, letting me adjust, letting me set the pace. Patient even when patience must have been killing him.
"Move," he encouraged, his amber eyes snapping open to lock onto mine, his dimple flashing even now despite the strain in his expression. His hands gentled on my hips, thumbs stroking soothing circles against my skin, though I could feel the tremor in his fingers. "Show me what you need. Take your pleasure from me."
I moved.
