Page 58 of The Substitute Fiancée

Finally, she convulses. Her legs and torso jerk with each spasm. I don’t let go. I accompany her orgasm, my tongue pressed against her clit until the last wave of pleasure.

When her ecstasy fades, I lie down beside her and hold her against me. Her breathing gradually calms against my shoulder.

She sits up to kiss me. Her tongue explores my mouth, tasting her own pleasure on my lips. Our breaths mingle. Her hand descends toward my erection.

Her nimble fingers unbutton my pants. She rids me of my last garments. A moan escapes me when her fingers close around me. My eyes are riveted on her face.

Her breathing grows ragged as she discovers my erect member. Her gaze clouds with desire. I know she loves touching me.

Her lips part. She begins her strokes. I’ve never seen anything so erotic. Her other hand caresses my balls with an expert touch, never taking her eyes off me. She registers every expression that crosses my features.

I guess her intentions when she leans down slowly. Her tongue grazes my tip.

My entire body tenses with anticipation.

When she takes me in her mouth, I have to summon every ounce of control not to thrust deep into her throat. Her full lips welcoming my cock drain all the blood from my brain. The sensation of her mouth around my shaft is extraordinary. Her cheeks hollow to tighten the pressure as she slides down and up along my length. With one hand, I grip her hair, not wanting to miss a second of the show. Fuck. She’s killing me. As she works me, pleasure builds in waves. Soon my balls tighten and I try to push her back gently, but her grip closes around me and I come in her mouth in long spurts.

“Fuck,” I growl as she swallows my release, a satisfied smile on her lips.

I pull her to me and kiss her deeply.

“If this is how you define ‘taking our time and going slow,’ I’m all for it,” I breathe to her through the haze of my ecstasy.

She giggles and stretches out against me.

19. Speakeasy Paris

Samantha

Tonight, we’re having dinner with the whole group at the Speakeasy Paris, a high-end restaurant-club that blends fine dining, live music, and a dance floor, in a setting inspired by the clandestine clubs of the 1920s and 1930s.

Alexander invited us—Mara, Emelyne, and me— and, curious as ever, I can’t wait to discover the place. For the occasion, I put on my most beautiful black dress, its simple, fitted cut highlighting my curves, paired with high heels that give me a few extra inches and, above all, give my legs a stunning shape. I want to feel confident tonight. Untouchable.

Emelyne chose black shorts, a gold sequined top that sparkles with every movement, and thigh-high boots with towering heels that give her the look of a valkyrie. Mara looks just as stunning in leather pants and a tank top accented with metal eyelets at the neckline and armholes. A knockout, without question.

Alexander picks us up by car. He parks in front of our building, and we hurry to climb inside. Tonight, he’s given Gilles the evening off, wanting to come get us and drive us home himself. I get in beside him in the front passenger seat, while Mara and Emelyne settle into the back.

I still haven’t told my friends the nature of my new relationship with Alexander. We decided to stay discreet for a while, long enough to get used to this new us. I wonder how long it will take them to realize we’re no longer pretending.

“Good evening,” we say in unison to Alexander.

“Good evening,” he replies with that crooked smile that makes me melt.

And without further ceremony, he reaches out, pulls me toward him, and gives me one of the most scorching kisses of my life. His tongue finds mine immediately, his hand slides into my hair, and for a few seconds, I completely forget we’re not alone.

When he finally lets me go, breathless, I see Emelyne’s jaw drop in the rearview mirror.

“Mara, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” she asks her sister, eyes wide.

Mara smiles mockingly, arms crossed.

“Yes, I think someone here has been keeping secrets from us.”

“Spill,” Emelyne orders, leaning forward between our seats. “Tell me everything. How long have you two been together?”

I turn toward her, trying to hide my smile.

“Uh… a week.”