“Drink it in one gulp,” she replied, kneeling before him, eager for him to finish so she could touch his skin.
He gave her a wary look but complied. “Yuck,” he said. “That’s more painful than the cut.” He set the bowl down and smiled at her. “I do appreciate it, though, how you take care of me,” he said. He let his eyes run over her. Then he cleared his throat and looked away.
“I’m happy it pleases you,” she said, scooting up between his legs. She leaned up until they were nearly eye to eye, with Michel just a bit taller in this position, pressing herself into his chest. He breathed in through his nose at their closeness. Part of her wanted to just give herself over, to see what it was that Michel would do to her, to experience the things that she had heard other women whisper. She had never had these signals from her body, these urges to touch and to please. The new sensations shook her. She didn’t like not being in control of her body. So she would take control of his.
She took the towel and dipped it in the basin. She ran her fingers through his hair and then washed the warm water over his forehead and his cheeks. His lips parted, and she knew his desire to have her, the smolder in his eyes casting spells in her belly.
“Eve,” he ground out. He gripped her biceps, letting his thumbs run over her naked skin. “It’s difficult to be this close to you without trying to kiss you.”
Her body responded, arching against him. She wanted to let him devour her and to use her in whatever way he wanted. All she did was lean forward and whisper back, “Not yet,” against his lips.
Michel held her a moment longer, then sank back with a growl.
In that moment, she realized that she loved to tease this man. She unhooked the buttons of his shirt and pushed it back over his shoulders, drawing it off and holding it before her. She watched him as she brought it to her nose, inhaling his scent deeply, like an incense, an intoxicant. Taking those traces of him into her body—deep and raw—caused her to close her eyes and do it again. She could suffocate in his smell, she thought, breathing him into her. When she opened her eyes again, Michel was gripping the stool, every muscle straining as he tried to hold himself back. Eve bit her lip.
“I didn’t know,” she said, suddenly overcome.
“Know what?”
She met his eyes. “You are a warrior, Michel.”
Still gripping the seat of his chair, he leaned closer. She felt the heat from him. “Did you really think that I’m just a pretty Frenchman with a title and nothing more?”
She nodded, solemn. “Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”
Michel laughed. “And now?” he asked, smiling, shifting his body, closer still, not touching.
“Remove your pants,” she said.
Michel blinked, her words sobering him. Then he stood and obeyed, undoing the belting and snapping out of the hooks. He dropped them and stepped out, leaving just his undergarments. She took his pants and folded them, placing them along with his shirt off to the side. As he sat down, Michel reached for another towel to cover himself. Eve stopped him.
“No,” she said.
“No?” he asked, as Eve took the towel away from him. His want was very evident in the thin fabric of his undergarments. Eve looked up at him, a thrill inside her.
She took the moistened cloth again and ran it up each leg, outside first, then inside. She ran the rag up his body again and pressed into him as she did. She felt his throbbing want between them, pressed into her belly. Michel leaned over her, breathing quickly, as she looked up at him. The intensity in his eyes was different. She used her tongue to wet her lips. Then she leaned forward to wet his lips with her own.
Now Michel’s hand was in her hair, while his other arm, strong and demanding, was around her. He arched over her, into her, crushing her to him as the kiss came furiously. Eve let him control her. She felt his body desperate, but his kisses were focused, breaking sensations free like firecrackers all over her body. She threw her arms around his neck and sank into him, wanting to indulge in all the feelings he could give her.
She let the kiss continue for just a moment, but it wasn’t enough. She pushed him away with a devilish grin, letting desire billow through her in a way she had never experienced before.
Michel groaned but let himself fall back in the chair, “Eve,mon dieu, I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Shhhh,” she said, touching her finger to his lips, cutting him off.
She moved down to put her lips to the center of his chest. She placed a kiss and then continued, tracing the depression between his stomach muscles with her tongue. She kissed again at his navel and tucked her fingers into the waistband of his undergarment. She felt him, hard, and she continued to move her kisses, hearing him suck in a breath as she did.
She felt the tension in his body. He moved, roiled beneath her. She continued to trail down lower.
Then she ran her tongue along his skin, across the line of fabric until she reached the center. She dipped her tongue just below to taste the tip of his length tucked in his waistband.
“Siren,” he hissed, a strained growl inside of him. His hands gripped the stool below him as his hips jerked up toward her.
The taste of him was magical. Salty sweet desire. She’d been diving into his scent, but histastewas a whole new discovery. In an instant, Eve had his undergarments unlaced, and he was completely exposed to her, open, vulnerable. Michel had frozen in place as she pulled the fabric away, her curiosity for this muscle coming through. It strained, hard and proud, certainly bigger than she expected. She placed the tip of her finger at the head and drew it down across satin skin until she reached the base, which caused Michel to shudder and pulse. She looked up at him, knowing the door she’d be opening. Michel let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, his muscles twitching as he did. “Holy shit,” was all he said.
Loving his reactions, she let her hands explore. She ran her palm up the length again and wrapped her hand around it as best she could, her other hand reaching below to feel the softer weights. She had never touched a man like this, but she had heard little stories here and there, things men said, things women whispered. Michel continued to grip the chair and groan, and she knew this strong, throbbing muscle was a man’s weakness. At one point, she had thought to exploit him, to exploitthis, but the sight of him, his abdominal muscles crunched as he struggled to keep himself down, his furrowed brow, the strain in his jaw muscles, the low growling in his throat, everything, caused electric sensations to run through her. She didn’t know for sure if she was still doing this just to express her gratitude or if it was her own desire she needed to soothe.Herdesire, which she felt throbbing on the inside, swirled down her thighs, bled across her skin, and tickled over her breasts. This wasn’t just about giving. Eve wanted more of him. And, she knew, if she had ever wanted to control this man before, she was his god now.
Holding his thick length with one hand, she leaned in and ran her tongue from the bottom to the top, pausing to taste the bead of liquid at the tip. She wet her lips with her tongue, dragging his taste across them. She pressed her lips back over his skin, now slick with his want. Then, just as she opened to take the broad head into her mouth, Michel released his grip on the chair and grabbed her by the nape of her neck, pulling her head back by her hair. “Eve,” he choked out. He swallowed. “You wouldn’t hurt me…please don’t…”
