Henri kissed my forehead, gentle and reassuring.“Yeah,” he agreed.“We really are.”
He kissed me again, slower now, all that restraint from earlier evaporating.He didn’t try to take control—not at first.His hands were everywhere they were supposed to be, but he waited for me to make every next move.I pushed him back toward the bed, letting him fall onto the plush duvet.His eyes were hungry as he watched me, and I loved every moment of it.Loved how his eyes darkened.
Loved him.
It was as if he knew what I was thinking.Henri pulled me down on top of him, kissing me again.Hungrier this time.When we parted, he looked at me, his hazel eyes boring into mine.
“Je t’aime, Blackwood,” he whispered softly.
“I love you too, Dubois.”
There was nothing gentle about the way I eagerly undid his belt.My hands shook a little, but Henri’s didn’t.He let them fall to his sides, palms up, as if to say,Go on, surprise me.I’m all yours.
Kneeling between his thighs, I looked up at him, daring him to look away first.He didn’t—not even when I yanked the zipper open and tugged his trousers down.The way he watched me, eyes wide but glassy, mouth barely open, was better than getting pole position.I wanted him to know what I meant; that what we’d just said to each other meant something to me.
He meant something to me.
I dragged my tongue along his hip bone, barely grazing, slow enough to torture.Henri shuddered but didn’t make a sound.He was stubborn—almost as stubborn as me.I could have made a bet that he’d try not to break first.
Finally, I reached his hard, throbbing cock.
I didn’t take him in my mouth at first, instead licking the tip, long and slow.Looking up, I caught him watching, his pupils now completely blown with desire.My tongue drew a lazy circle around him as my ears enjoyed every moan and grunt he let out.
His breathing began to quicken, and I pressed my lips harder around the tip, sucking and letting him slide free, slow enough to make him twitch.After a few more teases, I swallowed him.He gasped, one knee jerking, and I let my hands brace his thighs so he couldn’t thrust, which only made his groans louder.
“Fuck, Lil, I can’t,” he panted.
He grabbed my shoulders, pulling me off him, and before I knew it, I was being thrown onto the bed, my pants and shirt now discarded.
He was faster than I’d ever seen him, rolling me onto my back and pinning my wrists above my head with one hand, the other tracing my ribs, my hip, the hem of my underwear.I almost laughed.He was the desperate one now, trembling as he hooked his fingers into the fabric and yanked them down my legs.He kissed everywhere but where I wanted, teasing me, the slide of his mouth up my thigh, across my hipbone, lingering just a breath away from where I was wet and aching.
“Oh, Henri, fuck, more,” I gasped, squirming.
He smiled against my skin, and then, finally, his tongue was on me, slow and confident, unhurried, as if we had all night.As if we didn’t have a race weekend to get back to.
His fingers left my wrists to cup my thighs, spreading me wider, holding me steady as he devoured me.And that was the only word for it.Henri Dubois, F1’s golden boy, was tongue-deep in me with every moan and curse I gave him lapped up one by one.
My head thudded back against the pillow, body arching to meet him.And then he stopped, and I heard a crinkling noise form.He pulled out a condom, sliding it on, his face desperate for me.
“I need you, please.”
I nodded, as hungry as he was, and pulled him back down on top of me.
He didn’t hesitate.Not even for a second.He lined himself up with a single, hungry thrust, and I yelped out of shock at the intensity of it, at how good it felt, how much I needed this—needed him.Henri groaned, the sound vibrating into my neck where his lips had found my skin again.He started slow, like he needed to get used to the way we fit, but it wasn’t long before he was thrusting hard enough to rattle the headboard.
“Fuck, Lily.”His voice was ragged, each word digging right into me.“God, you feel so good.”
I could barely answer, too busy rocking up to meet him, sucking in gulps of air, feeling that pressure build too fast in my core.He was so deep, every inch of him making me feel owned, and I loved every moment of it.
I bit his shoulder, hard, and he only groaned louder, thrusting harder and faster.The headboard banged against the thin hotel wall.Henri’s hand found my jaw, the pad of his thumb stroking my cheek with a reverence that didn’t match his movements.
“I love you, Lily,” he said again, and I believed it with every ounce of my heart.
“I love you, too,” I managed, and then his hand was on my nub, working it in tight, rapid circles while he thrust into me.
When I came, I bit his shoulder again to stifle the scream, clenching around him so hard his rhythm stuttered, and for a moment I thought he’d come right then—but after another few thrusts, he was joining me in absolute ecstasy.
He collapsed on top of me, body heaving for air.We lay tangled for a while, catching our breath.His hands roamed lazily over my body, tracing my wrists, my hip, the curve of my thigh.For the first time in weeks, my brain was silent, and I just soaked in the warmth of him.
