Wicked Desires (Wicked Affairs, Book One) (10 page)

Her limbs shook. Everything about the situation suggested that Michael would have her. She’d wanted this for so long. Waited. Hungered.

She climbed onto the bed and reclined on her back. She crooked her knees, allowing her legs to fall open, exposing the secret, wet place between.

Michael stood over her, his hands working at the fall of his trousers. When he brought his cock into view, Clarissa licked at her lips.

She disobeyed the first rule of whoring—what the client wants. Tonight, it was what Clarissa wanted. She twisted and slid toward him. She slipped her hands to his hips and nudged the trousers downward. Leaning forward, she watched as his cock surged, straining toward her face.

“No,
chérie
.”

He held her shoulders but she reached for him, her mouth opening in anticipation. She licked the bulbous crest and his hips bucked uncontrollably. Her mouth slid down, sucking him inside. Her tongue searched along the capped ridge.

He tasted like he always had, soap and musk, some scent that belonged to Michael and no one else.

“Oh, damn. Not yet,” he said in English and then quickly switched back to French. “No,
chérie
. I’m not ready.”

His cock slipped from her mouth.

He pushed Clarissa to her back and lifted her legs. With a quick pull, he hauled her bottom to the edge of the bed, secured her legs over his shoulders and bent forward.

The weight of his cock seemed so new and exciting. Clarissa moaned. She closed her eyes and then felt the thick tip poised at the entrance of her needy, throbbing sheath.

The thick bulge of his erection pushed inside her, stretching and filling her. She arched, wanting as much of him as she could take. The slow entry, the missed sensation, had Clarissa moaning and sighing. Had her forgetting that she was his whore, instead of his wife.

When he’d filled every inch and his cock was buried to the root, Michael leaned forward, steadying himself on one arm. She peeked at him through lowered lids. His expression was tight and controlled, his jaw clenched and body unmoving.

She could feel him shake and it was a moment before he moved. She enjoyed the momentary opportunity to slide her hands along his arms, but wished he’d removed his shirt. He was large and strong, his body still hard in spite of his oft-expressed worries of aging.

Women still admired him. It was one of her driving fears, that he’d grown bored with her.

Naked, in a whorehouse, relearning what excited her husband was the least she could do in an effort to prevent his straying. Him being here was partly her failure.

As he tamed his need, Michael withdrew as slowly as he had entered. His gasp of pleasure was followed by quick reentry. Then he opened his eyes and started meticulous, timed thrusting. He gazed at her breasts until he bent his head and laved one with such exquisite care, Clarissa lay in utter contentment. She braced one foot against his shoulder and moved with him, lifting her hips to meet his deep thrusts.

She squeezed as he pulled out and Michael bit her nipple as he shoved deep again.

In one smooth slide, he dismounted and rolled her over.

She tensed now that she couldn’t see him.

“Relax,
chérie
. I’ll be gentle. I need you to take all of me.”

He rubbed her buttocks and lower back, then urged her to her knees, her forearms on the bed and her head hanging down. Her bottom in the air. She felt the weight of his cock caress along the exposed crevice. She knew what would happen and couldn’t help but tighten.

“It won’t feel like last night. It will be much, much better. Do you trust me?”

She nodded her head and waited for the hurtful intrusion of the dildo.

Michael used both hands to separate the two halves of her rounded flesh. “Oh,
chérie
, you’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

She prepared for the cold bluntness, instead she felt the hard warmth of Michael’s cock probing at the tight sphincter. She pinched in surprise.

He spread her a little wider. She felt her face warm at the thought of what he viewed, her cheeks open, spread in readiness.

“Relax. You’ll feel me now. I’m wet. It will be much easier for you this time.”

The push shocked her and she gasped. He felt bigger and more intrusive than the unfeeling phallus he’d used last night.

“Ah. Ah.” The gasps came from him as he pushed farther.

The pressure and burning escalated. The nub at the apex of her thighs started to throb and pulse.

“
Mon dieu,
” she whispered. “
Mon dieu!
”

With a final gentle thrust, Michael grabbed her hips and pulled her back against his groin. “C
hérie
, I beg you, don’t move.”

* * * * *

Michael strained for control. He breathed through his open mouth and thought of Queen and Country.

The fleshy checks of her ass pressed against his thighs. Her slim back arched in a fine line toward her neck. The messy, black hair lay everywhere, covering much of her upper body.

He closed his eyes tightly, fearing that if he glanced down to see his cock impaled inside her tight little ass, he’d explode without getting to enjoy the next fiery pleasure as he gently thrust and then climaxed inside her.

He tried a subtle movement that had her ass gripping his cock with urgent, shallow contractions. He reached forward and pinched at her nipple, trying to keep her distracted and nowhere near orgasm. If she came, he’d have no choice. Her clenching would ruin everything.

Another hard contraction and she’d nearly pushed him out of her body. He shoved back into her deep and gripped her thighs to keep her close.

Finally, he allowed himself the opportunity to gaze at the ultimate pleasure. The root of his cock was thick and wide and he could just see the root as it protruded from her ass while the fleshy globes were closed around him.

His balls tightened dangerously, but he had to see everything. He dared to use his fingers and separated the flesh, seeing her tight anus pulse and grip the thick root. He gritted his teeth as a sudden, sharp spike of pleasure ripped through his nerves.

He started slow, gentle thrusting that made his head spin, his heart gallop and his cock buck.

At last.

When he’d failed so miserably with Clarissa, he’d had only his wild imaginings and the coarse references and jests of the men from his club to occupy his sexual appetites. Once he’d started to wonder, he couldn’t control his need, until it had become all-consuming. That need had led to Madame DuPuis. Then he fixated on one aspect of his newly formed perversions.

He wanted to fuck Clarissa’s ass.

Three quick clenches made his body jerk. His whore was climaxing under his assault.

As the orgasm built, he shoved into her, as deep as he could get, reached around and plucked at both breasts until his palms overflowed. He gripped her. His back arched, he groaned loud and long as the first rush of semen shot through his cock and deep into her ass.

She screamed, her face buried in the bunched-up blankets.

He jerked into her as each spike of pleasure tore through him.

Long seconds, minutes, hours passed, he didn’t know. His cock slid out of her in a final spasm, as if she were done with him.

He stumbled back, collapsing into the chair. He rested his head on the tufted back and took several deep breaths while his body and mind savored the intense, forbidden reward. When he felt his legs could support him once again, he stood and went directly to the washbasin, cleansing the sensitive length of his shrinking, satiated cock.

Instead of Clarissa, he’d turned his desires to voyeurism and that had worked until recently.

He wanted Clarissa to give him what he wanted. Not some drooping hothouse flower that had probably been used five times already that evening.

But he had no clue how to ask for it. And if he had, he had no clue if he’d ever be able to respond if she agreed.

While they’d been moderately adventurous when they’d first married, their passions had settled into a very pleasant sexual relationship over the years. Truly, he had not one complaint, aside from her virginal whites—he relentlessly pursued, she strategically resisted and in the end, he’d lift her to a thorough climax, which paved the way for the next night of delights.

Now he hid what he’d become from her. He did not want to soil her goodness or lose her respect.

“Do you care to wash,
chérie
?”

He heard the muffled answer and returned to his chair and his drink. Once again, he closed his eyes and relived the fresh, vivid images of taking Clarissa, forgetting all about the woman he’d used to satisfy his base need.

Then he glanced at the ormolu clock, already thinking about what else he could do with the French whore now that he’d broken his vows.

* * * * *

The whore finally slipped from the bed and retrieved her gown. It did little to cover her.

She stood, waiting for him to speak, he thought.

“Would you like a drink?” he offered.

“No,
monsieur
.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.” She fidgeted. “Do you need me any longer?”

“I paid to have you for the whole night. And the next five weeks,
chérie
. Make yourself comfortable.” He’d made the mistake of appearing eager and Madame DuPuis had charged accordingly. One hundred pounds a week, but in the negotiations, he got her exclusively.

As long as he continued to escort Clarissa around town until a reasonably late hour, slipped away after returning her to the safety of their house and then got home before dawn, his life would be much the same as it had always been. Except he had a whore.

Her shoulders drooped, but she sat down on the end of the bed anyhow.

“Since we’ll get to know each other well, perhaps you’d take the mask off?”

“Oh, no,
monsieur
.”

“Why not?” He sipped at his drink, watching her, the curve of her luscious breast prominent against the sheer fabric.

“Well, Madame DuPuis, she…”

“She?”

“She says it allows us to be anonymous in our day-to-day life.”

“I thought this was your life.”

She smiled, her lips a thin curved line. He knew her lips were plump and soft and lusciously red. Her tongue adventurous and quick. She didn’t answer.

“How many men have you been with this week?”

“Oh, no. Just you.” Michael was satisfied with her response. It came quickly and without artifice. He had worried that the madam would find a way to renege on her bargain without him knowing.

Michael stood and began to remove his shirt, all the while gazing at her. “Do you have a name?”

“
Oui
, but
chérie
is fine,” she said.

“You can get back in bed. And take that thing off.”

The filmy robe came off and she stood, strolling toward him and around the bed. Her breasts swayed along with the swing of her hips.

Michael stepped in front of her and ran a finger across her collarbone. “Is there any kind of play you don’t like?”

Since he couldn’t see her face, he watched her body language. She bit at her ruby-red lips. “I don’t know,
monsieur
. This is very new to me,
oui
.”

“I see. So you wouldn’t be averse to trying something new?”

“As long as you don’t hurt me, no.”

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“
Bon.
”

He rubbed his hands over her ass and pulled her to his body. “Are you tender here?”

“A little.”

“Then I’ll wait until tomorrow. I particularly enjoy that and want you prepared to service me in that manner. What do you enjoy?”

“Kissing.”

He laughed a little. Even whores…

He lowered his mouth and brushed his lips across hers. She twined her arms about his neck. He responded by tracing his finger along her inner thigh. The pad of his finger brushed against the hard little nub that brought her such pleasure.

She moaned into his mouth and undulated against his body, her breasts brushing his skin. He set his hands to her waist and lifted. Her sleek legs twined about him, her arms latched on to him and her mouth eagerly met the thrusts of his tongue.

He took the few steps to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress. He stripped from his trousers. Gazing at her, he knew what he could do and even demand of her, but he felt an unusual craving for closeness. With one knee on the bed, he lowered his body to hers, surged into her in one hard stroke, and with single-minded determination, fucked her until his cock gave out.

In between, he started planning tomorrow night’s delights, already anxious for a morning to refortify and the sun to set.

As he lay on his back, trying to catch his breath, he chided himself for failing to withdraw before his ejaculation. He did not need any more problems.