Page 27 of Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass

His tongue slid into her mouth, filling her, then pulled back, slowly. Teasing.

She drew on his tongue, to halt his withdrawal. Teasing.

He made a low guttural sound in his throat

She smiled, even though their lips were still molded together. A smile kiss.

Sensing her silent laughter, he pinched her buttock.

She arched her head back and laughed.

He looked at her with a lazy smile. Then he came in again, this time with serious intent. His kisses hardened, demanding a response, insisting on her surrender but with an inventive, consummate skill that had her not only opening to him, but making her own demands.

He was obviously a man who loved kissing, not just as foreplay to better things, but as a goal itself. What woman could resist a man like that?

She was also a connoisseur of fine kissing, as taught by Phillipe. Not that she was thinking about Phillipe now. In truth, she wasn’t thinking at all. Just feeling.

While his kisses went on and on, changing patterns, alternating between coaxing and ravishing, his hands were busy as well, caressing her back, cupping her bottom. Then he began slow thrusts and retreats of his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth, emulating the undulation of his hips against her center.

She combed her hands into his hair, trying to hold him in place. She was being hit by so many sensations, above and below. Heat unfurled, and she didn’t want to think or reason. She wanted all this and more.

His head shot up abruptly and through ragged breaths he gasped out, “Bed?”

She pointed to the hallway, and he walked them both, her still hugging his hips with her legs, to the open doorway. Once inside the small room with its single bed up against one wall and not much else, he pushed the door shut with his foot. Moonlight shone through the single window, but it was hard to see clearly. Not that she needed light. She knew her way around in the dark.

Justin stilled for a minute while they both listened for Adèle. Luckily, she didn’t wake up. Which prompted Justin to toss her onto the bed and come down on top of her. More noise, but again, luckily, Adèle slept on.

He reached over and turned on the lamp on the bedside table, giving the room a soft glow. “I like to see what I’m doing,” he said with a grin, kissed her quickly, then stood, staring down at her. There was lust in his eyes, and a bulge in his pants. Both pleased Louise, but she had a concern. “Justin? I can’t take a chance that…”

“Shh!” He understood immediately and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, from which he took a flat metal tin marked Ramses which he tossed onto the bed beside her.

Protection. Good!

She opened her arms to him, but he shook his head. “Let me.” He leaned down, and with her help lifting her body, he removed her nightgown. She was naked underneath.

“Oh, boy!” he murmured, then added with a rueful grin, glancing downward, “Down, boy!”

She felt kind of shy being bare naked while he was fully clothed. “Your turn,” she urged, waving a hand from his neck to his knees.

“Your wish is my command, sugar.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and shucked down to his skivvies in no time flat, and then they were gone, too. He stood, hands on hips, legs spraddled, and asked, “Well?”

She stared, a bit bemused by his lack of shyness, and thought about repeating his comment of “Oh, boy!” but assessing the size of his erection, she smiled instead and said, “Oh, man!”

“I take that as a compliment,” he said.

Under his continued scrutiny, she began to grow insecure. She had no idea what kind of women Justin was accustomed to, or even if he had a lot of experience, though his readiness with those prophylactics might be a clue. The bottom line, though, was that she knew her own shortcomings. She was not a voluptuous woman, and she wasn’t tall and leggy—far from the Hollywood ideal of the perfect female body. Like that new actress Sophia Loren in Quo Vadis, who had legs up to her armpits and a bust that turned men into drooling baboons. Now that was va va voom! On the other hand, Phillipe had always said she had a hot-cha-cha hiney, the perfect shape and size to fill a man’s hands. She’d forgotten about that supposed asset.

It was crazy how she had to continually remind herself that Cajun Sass was not about physical appearance, or not totally; so, instead of reaching for a sheet to cover herself, she extended her arms above her head, and raised one knee. A perfect pin-up pose, not unlike the one she’d done for a photo she had made for Phillipe one time. A going-away Christmas gift. Of course, she hadn’t been nude then. Instead, she’d worn a red silk robe, but with a neckline so low you could see to the promised land, if a person were so inclined. Phillipe had been. And he’d made her recreate the pose in person. Several times.

Justin gasped and his you-know-what grew a little bit longer and wider, which she took for a sign of appreciation.

This is fun, Louise thought, liking the feeling of power she had. No, power wasn’t quite the right word. More like control, like steering a car. You could go as fast or as slow as you wanted, or slam on the brakes, or press the accelerator to the floor and go all out wild and free.

“Why are you smiling like the cat that swallowed the cream? Are you hiding something?” Justin asked as he eased himself down onto the narrow bed, shoving her with his hip so that she was against the wall. Then he rolled on top of her and braced his elbows on either side of her head to ease his weight. He used his knees to spread her legs and settled himself dead center with his rigid penis aligned with her moist channel.

She was the one who gasped then, or swallowed a gasp, not wanting him to know how turned on she was so quickly. “Me?” she inquired then, in answer to his question, fluttering her eyelashes. “What would I have to hide, and where, with all my secrets exposed?”

He waggled his eyebrows back at her. “Not all your secrets, darlin’. I’m lookin’ forward to discovering every single one of them, including the ones you don’t know about your sweet self.”