Page 75 of The Substitute Fiancée

“You like that, I see,” he says with a smile, before penetrating me again with his tongue.

My body is shaken by violent spasms when I finally come. Waves of pleasure overwhelm me, my body relaxes, exhausted.

I’ve barely come down from my orgasm when he moves up and positions himself between my legs. He kisses me tenderly, his eyes dive into mine, as he penetrates me gently. His shaft stretching me is almost too much for my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm.

The movements of his hips, at first controlled, become frantic. His thrusts gain intensity, my body tenses again, ready to succumb to new pleasure.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he tells me before accelerating the pace.

I comply, watching him as pleasure rises on his face and he lets out a moan. His thrusts are so powerful, so intense, that my muscles contract, my nerves stretch to their maximum.

He’s so beautiful right now, eyes locked on mine, mouth half-open, muscles taut, his body vibrating with pleasure.

His hips move faster and faster, harder and harder, and I feel my pleasure rising, rising, until… everything explodes. A cry escapes me, as my body is shaken by violent spasms, as my orgasm crashes over me like a wave that submerges me.

I feel his body contract, his muscles tense, and his pleasure mingle with mine, creating a resonance effect that amplifies our climax. Pleasure seizes us, carries us away, without restraint, without shame.

The world around us disappears, and there’s only us left, lost in ecstasy, in pleasure, in love. And in this moment, I know I’m his and he’s mine, forever.

25. Parentheses

Samantha

Sunday morning, Alexander wakes me by making love to me, then takes me to a lavish brunch at the Peninsula Paris.

The scenery is striking. The architecture is sumptuous. Tall, high-backed chairs upholstered in gold brocade, heavy red drapes cascading from the ceiling, and at the center of it all, a gargantuan buffet that seems endless.

It’s too much. Really too much.

I smile anyway, because I don’t want to be the one who breaks the spell.

I turn to Alexander, touched but slightly overwhelmed.

“You don’t need all this to impress me, you know.”

He bursts out laughing.

“Touché. But,” he adds with a small shrug, “I also wanted you to experience new things.”

That’s what moves me. Not the luxury. Not the spectacle. But the intention behind it.

He isn’t trying to dazzle me—he’s opening a door. Letting me glimpse his world, inviting me into it, one step at a time. So we savor this suspended moment, a brief parenthesis stolen from our respective worries.

After brunch, we head back to the apartment. We both get back to work.

Me, out of necessity—and also to manage my stress while waiting to find out what the school will decide at the start of the semester regarding my degree.

Alexander, because he doesn’t know how to disconnect.

I think work is almost a reflex for him. A refuge.

We’re side by side, yet each of us is absorbed in our own universe.

Around four o’clock, I take a break and watch him. He’s intensely focused, his brow slightly furrowed, fingers flying across the keyboard with near-nervous precision. Does he ever stop? Does he actually know how to rest?

I get up and walk over to him. He gives me a distracted smile, but his mind is still elsewhere, captive to numbers and charts.

I sit down on his lap.