I point my chin at the console table near us. “What a pretty thing! Is it sturdy enough, though? Or we could do it in a more civilized manner, on your bed…”
“You talk too much.”
I grin in response.
He tears open the packet and rolls the condom on.
I’m no longer grinning—I’m panting. Jonas steps closer and thrusts a long finger into my soaked vagina, even as he cups me with his palm, rubbing my clit with its heel. With a moan, I press down and gyrate my hips against his hand.
For a few moments, we caress each other with our hands, lips, tongues, chests and limbs. Instead of satiating me, it only makes me hungrier.
His big hands slide to my butt and he kneads the cheeks, his touch impatient and rough, before adjusting his grip to lift me off the floor. Clutching his neck, I wrap my legs around his waist. The tip of him prods my entrance as he pushes me harder against the wall. I whimper and roll my hips to facilitate his entry. When he slams into me and buries himself inside, I cry out at the exquisite rapture of that moment.
Jonas penetrates me deeper and deeper until I’m filled to the hilt.
His heartbeat quickens against me. I forget to breathe as he pulls out, holding me firmly in place, and then slams back into me. He does that again, and again, and again. Pressed firmly against the wall and enclosed between his arms and his body, I am impaled with force and precision. He pumps his hips, thrusting into me so deep I feel him all the way at the door of my womb. His every stroke harder than the previous one; he drives me wild with lust, with pleasure.
This kind of unapologetic shagging, as confident as it’s competent, is what I’ve always wanted, needed, longed for—and never had.
I’m flying to my climax, and there is no stopping me. On a particularly deep plunge, he pushes his tongue into my mouth, and my tipping point jumps forward, hitting me right there and then. I come so hard I scream.
As I tremble in the wake of my peak, still spasming around him, his pounding grows more frantic. His cock is engorged, swollen. Even with the condom on, I know exactly when he ejaculates. Grimacing in pleasure-pain, he throws his head back as he throbs inside me.
His orgasm is a joy to watch.
We remain still for a few moments before Jonas pulls out of me and lowers me to my feet.
“Now,” he says, peeling off the condom, “we can do it on the bed… like civilized people.”
CHAPTER23
JONAS
While Margot giggles at my inside joke, I toss the condom in the trash and grab a couple more from the drawer of my desk. Meanwhile, she pads to the king-size bed and climbs under the covers.
“Water?” I ask her.
“Yes, please.”
I grab the Pellegrino on my desk. “Sparkling, opened an hour ago and drunk from? Or still, fresh from the tap?”
“Pellegrino, please, unless you have a cold.”
“Considering the amounts of saliva we exchanged over the past twenty minutes…”
She clamps a hand on her forehead. “Duh! Then, definitely, Pellegrino!”
I join her under the duvet, and we drink, taking turns.
She’s sitting up with the duvet pulled over her breasts. Our bodies don’t touch. But her scent, her flushed face and swollen lips, her very presence in my bed is enough to make my cock semihard.
Interlacing my fingers behind my head, I lean back on the cushioned headboard and slant Margot a look. “Was the hors d’oeuvre to your taste, Madam?”
“Indeed, it was most pleasing,” she mimics my flowery Georgian speak.
I can’t help but grin. The orgasm that rocked her was hard to miss, but hearing Margot acknowledge the fact in such a candid and unequivocal manner is very—ismost—gratifying.
She surveys my face. “If I may be so bold, my lord, your solicitousness in this matter amazes me.”
