Page 86 of The Stranger

He pulls me upright, and I slide my arms around his neck. Quite suddenly, I can feel him pressed quite solidly between my legs.

And I did that to him. Me.

Gosh, is he really that big?

He gives a sandpapery sigh as his arms wrap around my back, my breasts pressed to his very solid chest. Heat flickers through me as he holds me there. I grab his T-shirt between his shoulder blades and pull, and he chuckles as I struggle to drag it over his head. He isn’t laughing as I slide my hand down the hard plains of his stomach, or when I tug on the waistband of his shorts.

“Primevère.” He captures my questing fingers. “I don’t have condoms here.”

“I just want to”—I can’t believe I’m about to admit this—“see.”

Oh, the cringe.

“Then come to bed with me,” he whispers oh-so temptingly. His teeth graze the lobe of my ear, and I give a little sigh, but I already have the button open. It would be a shame not to⁠—

“Oh!” My gaze jolts upward to his. Shock, I think. Disbelief? “You don’t have any underwear on.” Good save, I think.

“I’m aware.” His dark taunt curls around me like smoke, his smile pressed into my hair.

“And you’re—” I clamp my lips together.

“I’m what?”

“Nothing.” And by nothing, I mean hung like a fucking horse!

“Come to bed with me,” he whispers again. “Come upstairs, and I’ll let you tell me all the things I’m not.”

“Like modest and humble?”

“Immune to you.”

My heart goes pitter-pat, even though I wasn’t supposed to understand.

“Chicken,” I taunt, dipping my head so he can’t see the width of my smile. Everyone wants to be wanted, but to be craved? It’s something else. Something I’ve never experienced.

“You don’t like it when I speak French?”

“How is that even a question?”

And he doesn’t supply an answer. Not as I drag my fingers down the hard planes of his stomach, muscles contracting under my fingertips, taut and warm.

I take him in my hand, and his shuddering groan is everything. Satin over steel, his isn’t the first penis I’ve ever touched, but it is the first I’ve ached to feel inside me.

No, not his penis, my mind whispers. His cock. Nothing so real and so huge and so rude should be referred to as anything else.

His cock. I give an experimental tug, and he groans, his eyes shuttering as I lightly graze my fingertips over the silky head.

“Fuck.” His throat works with a deep swallow. “Yeah. Harder. Tighten your grip.”

“Say please.” Wow, where did that come from?

The flash of his eyes might be mildly concerning but for the quirk of his lips. “Please.” He presses his palm to my cheek, his words a soft burst against my lips. “Tighten your hot little hand around my cock.”

Good Lord.

“Yeah, that’s it. A little faster now.” He gives a grunt as I do just that. “Good, that’s such a good… ungh… girl.”

In a moment of genius, I bring him closer, swiping his crown where I’m wet. The curses that fall from his mouth are very inventive.