Page 160 of The Stranger

I want her mouth on me, yes. But now isn’t that moment. Not when I can’t get my brain to move on from wanting to fucking annihilate every man who ever failed her.

“I watched you dance,” I purr dangerously. It isn’t a confession but the start of a challenge. A dare as I swipe my lips under the weight of her hair. She gives a tiny gasp as I press my teeth under her ear. “I was so angry watching you grind this ass against anyone but me.”

“Zoe?” The name is half groan as I squeeze the shape of my fingerprints into her. Her own fingers flex between us, but I don’t allow them to wander. Not right now.

“It wasn’t Zoe who made me want to fuck my fist.”

A shiver runs through her at the hard fricatives, her breath like a lick to my balls. “That is something I’d pay to see.”

“Oh, the ways I would make you pay.” I pull her hands to her sides as our lips meet again. I keep the contact soft and light as she struggles to get closer, the hard tips of her breasts deliberately brushing my chest. “Two weeks. So much to do… so little time.” With the low rumble, I slide one tie of her dress over her shoulder oh-so slowly. “Well, look at that,” I whisper moving to the other side. “It’s like magic.” Grasping the sides of her summery dress, I yank it lower.

Cleavage. Cream lace. A balconette bra? No.

Putain—holy fuck. A half corset.

Her dress snags at her hips. I put my hands to it and pull it the rest of the way. As it pools at her feet, all I can think is, I’m having mirrors installed in my bedroom because… look at her. No, touch her. I shake myself out of my stupor and put my hands to the gentle flare of her hips. Her breath holds as my touch slides higher over the sheer cobwebs.

“Do you like?”

I cup her full, soft breast, and I give thanks—blessings—the words falling in a haze of French. She is… fucking abundant. I can’t wait to taste her again. She’s like an obsession in the making. Crack cocaine might be safer.

I put my mouth to her, sucking her nipple over the lace. Her body reacts like a thing of beauty.

“Harder,” she whispers. Her hands slip into my hair.

“Did you choose this for me?” I dip lower and swipe my tongue over the delicate ruffle barely covering her nipple. Not enough, she pushes into my hands. “Tell me.”

“You have no idea,” she whimpers as her spine arches. “I thought about your eyes on me. Your hands. The marks you’d leave on my skin.”

Possession. This I understand as I slip my fingers into the cups, her breasts spilling free. Round, full, and creamy, her nipples a rose pink. Her mouth a once red pout to match the flush on her chest. “Like a rose,” I whisper, sucking one hardened bud between my lips.

She gives a soft moan as I lavish her nipples until they’re taut and wet and glistening in the low light.

“Ma belle, I’m going to fuck these very soon.” My tone turns rabid as I suck harder, drawing a louder sound from her. “There isn’t a spot on your body I don’t want to defile.”

She gives a laugh that’s almost as soft as her skin. “Sounds like we’re going to be busy.”

“I’m going to chain you to my bed.”

“I see a wrinkle in your plan,” she begins. “And one of those wrinkles likes llamas.”

“Amélie has taken the children to the mainland.”

I make to suck again when she pulls back a little, leaving me mouthing the air. “What?”

“We have a week.” My hands move over the cheeks of her ass as I stare at its reflection. I seriously can’t get enough of her. Tough enough. Taste enough. Smell as I tip my nose to the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

“What will people think?”

“People?” The words pull at my attention as I lave the spot with my tongue.

“Yes, people.”

“They’ll think the children are with their aunt.”

“And me—shouldn’t I have gone with them?”

“Amélie might like that plan,” I grumble.