I wriggle closer to him. “Yes, it was worth it.”
He leans forward, and I’m captivated as he sucks my nipple between his lips. Arching toward him, I marvel at the gentleness that is pouring from him as he caresses my back, pulling me closer. Something’s different. He seems calm, like he’s almost at peace for the first time. He seems content to be sitting here with me on his lap as he torments my aching tip.
I take joy in this moment of solace he’s finding with me in his arms. I feel like I’m finally touching the man I ache to own.
“Phillipe, will you tell me where we are going?” I asked.
He pulled the car to a stop, and I waited patiently as he came around to open my door.
“Come on,” he told me. He was almost as enthusiastic as a child.
My head was spinning with ideas. This night was so crazy and so full of different emotions. He took my hand and guided me out of the car. I followed across the pavement, wanting to know what had him so excited, then heard an electricding-dong, signaling that we had arrived.
“Phillipe?” I said in a hushed whisper, pulling on his hand. “Where are we?”
That was when I heard the insistent buzzing in the background. The noise was foreign. It was nothing I had ever heard before.
“Ah, Phillipe,” a deep voice greeted us.
“Marcus, hi.”
“Is this she?” The smooth French accent floated across the air.
“Yes, this is Chantel.”
I remained still, knowing I was being inspected, and I hated it.
“Phillipe?” I asked again.
He took both my hands in his. “I’m sorry. This is Marcus. I met him at the gallery a couple of days ago. He is a tattoo artist.”
Pulling my hands back, I raised an eyebrow. Phillipe clearly saw the questions all over my face, because he chuckled. He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Trust me. He is going to tattoo me, not you.”
I thought about that for a moment, and before I knew what I was saying, I told him softly, “I want one.”
Phillipe laughed. He thought I was joking.
“I’m not kidding. I want one.”
“I didn’t bring you here to mark you. I wantyourmark onme.”
Rising on my tiptoes, I kissed his mouth. “You’re already on my heart, and you’re already in my soul. Now, I want you on my body.”
His lips curved against mine. “Do you even know what you want?”
Surprisingly, I did. It was amazingly obvious.
“F-holes.”
Phillipe looks up at Gemma as she straddles his thighs, running her fingers through his hair. Her eyes are focused on him as she moves slowly. Rocking her hips gently against him, she presses her belly and mound against his impatient cock.
She is simply breathtaking. He hasn’t let himself see it before. He doesn’t want to admit it, but as she sits there open to him, vulnerable in her emotions, he trulyseesher for the first time. Bringing his hands up from her waist, he cups the sides of her breasts. She arches into his palms and pushes her hips forward.
Her eyes never leave his as he plays with her plump, aching flesh. When her mouth parts, he expects a sigh, but as he is coming to find with Gemma, nothing is ever what he expects.
“What about you?” she asks quietly.
Closing his eyes, he lowers his right hand between her thighs and touches her wet pussy. He feels her thighs tighten around his as she rises, allowing his fingers between her folds. She grips his hair as she moves gently against both of his hands.
