At home.There are those two damn wordsagain.
His house is not my home so stop saying that as though it is, EmmaLia.
“This is amazing,Tristan.”
“I thought you might likeit.”
“Have you stayed herebefore?”
“Manytimes.”
I go to the floor-to-ceiling windows and look out over the strip. Seeing the strip of casinos just does something to me. “I love thisview.”
“Good. You can admire it while I fuck you from behind.” I turn and look over my shoulder, and Tristan is advancing toward me, tugging at his necktie. “I’m going to fuck you right now, against the window, completely naked, so anyone who’s looking can watchus.”
Ohhhfuck.
“I’m taking off your clothes,Mrs.Broussard.”
I’m so stunned by his words that I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’tthink.
He reaches me, grips the top of my sheath dress’s zipper, and pulls it down slowly. His mouth covers my ear, his warm breath sending chills down my body. “The heels stay on, Mrs.Broussard.”
“Should I call you Master? Or Mr.Broussard?”
“I like Mr. Broussard for thisscene.”
He pushes my dress down my body and it falls into a puddle on the floor. I lift one foot and then another, kicking it away. My bra goes next and he drags my G-string down my legs. I’m left only in my heels andjewelry.
“Hands on the window and spread your feet apart.” I do as he says and he strikes my right cheek with his palm. Hard. It’s definitely going to leave a reddened handprint. “Farther apart, Mrs. Broussard. I’ll never be able to fit my enormous cock inside you likethat.”
The urge to smile is overwhelming, and it winsout.
“Yes, Mr.Broussard.”
He strikes my left cheek. “Is something funny, Mrs.Broussard?”
The sting is enough to wipe away any trace of my grin. “No, Mr. Broussard. Nothing isfunny.”
His body pushes against mine, forcing my upper forehead and chest to press against the window’s glass. And motherfucker… it’s cold. My nipples painfully harden to points that could possibly cut through the glass likediamonds.
My jaw clenches and I suck air through my gnashed teeth. “Ooh… ooh…ooh.”
His chuckle is low and throaty. Bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s enjoying the fuck out ofit.
He nibbles my earlobe and then his mouth hovers over the shell of my ear. “Does Mrs. Broussard want her pussy to belicked?”
A completely different kind of chill spreads over my body. “Yes.”
“Beg forit.”
I’ve figured out this game. Plead a little and then plead a little more until I’m downright begging. Let him know that he’s the one in charge and that I’m at his mercy. My orgasm is completely and utterly at his discretion, and I will only come with hispermission.
“Please lick my pussy, Mr.Broussard.”
“Tsk… tsk, Mrs. Broussard. Not goodenough.”
“Pleeease. I want your mouth on my pussy sooobaaad.”
