Hot Sexy Desire

by Nadia Lee

  He groans. It’s gratifying to see pleasure twisting his handsome face, the flush in his cheeks. He pushes at my bra straps and unhooks the clasp in the back. The underwear falls, and my breasts spill into his open palms. My whole body lights up with want. His hands are hot on me as he teases and drives me crazy. I always knew my nipples were supersensitive. I just didn’t know how much until now.

  I twist, needing more, desperate for it. My knees fall apart, and I rock my slick flesh against his cock, spreading my wetness all over him. The head of his penis bumps against my clit with each motion, sending white-hot streaks through me.

  His mouth finally closes around my nipple, giving it a lavish treatment designed to drive me wild. I let out a strangled cry, going insane with lust for this man I’ve adored for so long. He shows my other nipple the same attention. I arch my back. How can I feel such intense pleasure and such achy desperation at the same time? My inner muscles spasm; I need him to fill me. Antoine slips a hand between my legs, pushing away my thong. I part my thighs, totally shameless. I want him to feel what he’s doing to me—how much I need him right now.

  “Ah, darling, you’re so wet,” he says, his thumb sliding from my opening to my clit in one smooth stroke.

  “Please… Please…” I say, then pull his mouth down over mine with all the desperation, desire and love I feel.

  He kisses me like I’m the only woman in the world. Then his hand is moving, over my clit, inside me, sliding in slowly—one finger…then two. God, it feels amazing. I clench around them hard as pleasure cascades over me—each wave stronger and more intense than the one before.

  Growling deep in his throat, Antoine plunges his fingers in and out, then adds the third one, stretching me. The fullness is too much, and I cover my mouth as I come so hard, I’m dizzy.

  As my breathing settles, I realize Antoine’s been kissing me softly all over. I stroke his cheeks, then say, “I want you.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I don’t have a condom.”

  I shoot him an impish grin. “That’s okay. I’m on the pill.”

  “Kristen—”

  “I’m clean, are you?”

  He nods and studies my face intensely. “Are you sure?”

  “Couldn’t be more sure.” I smile, letting my knees fall. He removes the thong and looks at the flesh between my legs. My cheeks heat, but I’m past embarrassment. I want him to feel good, share the pleasure of my body.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Prettier than I imagined.”

  “Now you can see if it feels better than your fantasy.” A fresh wave of anticipation ripples through me. “And you can watch, too.”

  He groans. “Ah… Kristen… All the things I can do to you…” He’s still holding on to his control. But barely. And I want him wild. Hungry.

  “I want to watch, too.”

  His eyes blaze so hot, I feel scorched. He positions me so we can both watch him bury his stiff cock into me in one smooth thrust…and we do. It feels so huge and hot against my wet, swollen vagina. And I love the sweet friction as he begins to move in and out, looking at my slickness on his cock as he makes both of us feel amazing.

  Sweat mists on both of our bodies and pleasure swells larger and larger.

  “Let me hear you, Kristen,” he says. “Let me hear how good it is for you.”

  His face flushed, breathing shallow and fast, he moves harder and faster, his balls slapping against me. He’s close, and so am I.

  As another orgasm shimmers just within my reach, I unclench my teeth. The climax slams into me like a meteor. I scream his name, my voice breaking.

  Antoine roars my name, the sound more animal than human as he comes in my depths. Then, wrapping his arms around me, he rolls us until I’m lying on top of him.

  The clock on the wall ticks softly, counting the blissful moments. Antoine and I just hit one of the most important milestones. And I feel like nothing could possibly go wrong in my life ever again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Antoine

  Kristen squirms on top of me. I open one eye and peer at her beautiful face, glowing with happiness. It’s a great look on her, and it makes me feel like a conquering hero to know I put it there. When she keeps staring at me, I open both eyes and say, “Yes?”

  “Is this when we do round two?” she says, flushing.

  I laugh. “Yeah, usually.”

  “Well…?”

  My stomach growls loudly in response. She arches an eyebrow. “I haven’t had lunch yet,” I explain.

  “Why not?”

  “I was busy trying to save you from Nicolas’s clutches.” The thought of my asshole cousin deflates my good mood. My family, the party poopers. “You should stay away from him.”

  “Don’t worry. There won’t be a second date. Or any date with anyone.” After playfully flicking the tip of my nose, she gets up. “Let’s get you fed. I could eat, too. I didn’t finish lunch.”

  Despite my hunger, I’m feeling too lazy to get up. Instead, I stretch while admiring her nude body and feeling my dick stir again. “You shouldn’t have tossed that sandwich. Even if you were pissed off.”

  “I’d agree, but it was a special case.” She gives me a rueful smile. “I was so mad at you.”

  I get off my ass. “What if I promise to make it up to you…again?” I shoot her a salacious smile.

  “Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow, looking down at my hardening cock. “I was going to shower before eating…”

  “It’s important to conserve time. And water.”

  “Drought is a problem this year.” Throwing me a sexy smile, she vanishes into the bathroom. I follow her in, wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. God, I can never get used to the feel of having her flush against my body.

  She laughs breathlessly as we move into the glass stall. She flips the handle, and perfectly warm water sprays us—one of many modern luxuries at the penthouse. Her soft hands run down my body.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the freedom of being able to touch your body like this,” she murmurs softly.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having you touch me like this,” I whisper, between kisses.

  She moves her lips along my jaw, down my neck and my chest. She stamps every inch of my bare body with her mouth like she’s reaffirming ownership. And, to my vague surprise, I like it. Usually when a woman gets possessive, my skin starts to crawl. But with Kristen, it’s a turn-on.

  When she reaches my hips, she lowers herself, her hands cupping my ass.

  “The second you told me about all the things you wondered about, I wanted to do this,” she says.

  “Kristen—”

  “I told you, you shouldn’t wonder. And I don’t want to wonder either.”

  “About…?”

  “How it feels to have your cock in my mouth.”

  I’m so turned on, I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. She looks up at me, her eyes dark and shining. Her desire for me is humbling and fuels my need for her.

  With a hand, she measures my length, her fingers wrapping around my shaft. It’s better than my imagination. Her hold is soft and oh so feminine. She cups my balls and runs her tongue along my shaft all the way to the tip of my head. Holy shit. She hasn’t even put me in her mouth yet, but I swear I’m about to come.

  “I’m probably not going to be very good at this,” she says, almost shyly. “So don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t measure up to your fantasy.”

  I stroke her cheeks. “There’s no way it won’t measure up. I know it’s going to be amazing.”

  “How?”

  “Because it’s you. The mechanics and technique of sex are pretty basic. What makes the act special is the other person.”

  She gifts me with a radiant smile and starts putting hundreds of sweet, fluttering kisses all over, her tongue flickering out to lick me. I cling to control, refusing to embarrass myself.

  Very slowly, she wraps her mouth arou
nd my cock head. The feel of her wet, warm mouth hardens my dick until it’s almost painful. She pulls more of me slowly in. I look down, watching her, watching myself go deeper between her lips. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and I can see dark pools of desire in their gorgeous blue depths.

  I hold back, letting her set the pace. She moves slowly at first, gazing up at me to gauge my reaction.

  I hide none of my responses, wanting her to see how much she pleases me, how much I love what she’s doing. As she gains more confidence, she moves her hand faster, her tongue swirling over the slit at the end of my dick each time I’m almost out of her mouth.

  I feel tension building in my balls. Part of me—okay, a lot of me—wants to come in her mouth, but another part wants to come in her pussy, and watch an orgasm break over her.

  Unable to hold on much longer, I pull her up to her feet and kiss her. She tastes like herself and me—and I revel in the flavor. I part her legs and slip my thumb in. She’s soaked.

  “You love sucking my dick,” I say.

  “It turns me on to watch you enjoy yourself. I love knowing that I’m giving you that kind of pleasure.”

  My heart races, so full of something I can’t identify…or want to identify.

  Not wanting to dwell on it, I brace myself so that neither of us will slip in the tub, hook one of her knees up with my elbow and thrust into her, reclaiming her mouth in a raw kiss. She begins to shudder around me, her inner muscles clamping tightly. I groan against her lips, shifting our bodies so I’m angled to maximize her pleasure.

  She clutches at me, her breath coming out in pants. She shudders over and over again, her face flushed, nothing to do with the shower.

  “Oh my God… Oh my God…” Her nails dig hard into my back as she screams my name.

  The spasming of her muscles around my dick is all it takes. I groan, my lungs heaving.

  When I can finally catch my breath, I kiss her on the forehead, on the tip of her nose and her mouth. “Kristen, this is the best I’ve ever had—far better than my fantasy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Antoine

  It’s over half an hour before we make it to the kitchen. Me in a robe from the guest room I’ve been using, and Kristen in a long, gauzy shirt that looks crazy hot, especially since she isn’t wearing anything underneath. Still, I’m not going for round three. We both need to eat.

  “What do you want to have?” I ask, reaching for the drawer with takeout menus.

  “Put those back. I’m going to make us omelets,” Kristen says.

  “Now?”

  “Uh-huh. Omelets are great anytime. Besides, I want to use up the smoked duck and white truffle I bought.” She wrinkles her nose. “If I don’t, I’m going to cry.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you know how much white truffles cost?”

  I shake my head. “That’s what pushed our grocery bill so high on Monday?”

  She nods, pulling out eggs, some vacuum-sealed thing and another item wrapped in a plastic bag. “I had a grand plan.”

  “Which was?”

  “Make a smoked duck and white truffle omelet and impress the hell out of you.”

  I laugh. “By cooking?” I’m not really a picky eater.

  “A man’s stomach is the quickest path to…” She smiles and shrugs. “Who would’ve thought I could’ve just gone on a lunch date with some guy?” Her head tilts as she cracks the eggs and starts whipping them up in a bowl. “Were you jealous or was it something else?”

  “Something else?”

  “I heard enough of you and your mom’s conversation to know you need to marry to inherit.”

  “Pffft. That nonsense?” I wave it away. “Need any help?”

  “Nope.” She chops stuff up on a cutting board. “Just how much money were you talking that you’re calling it nonsense?”

  I suppress a sigh. She isn’t going to let it go…and I do owe her an explanation for the shit-fest I created. “One point two billion.”

  Kristen makes a choking sound and spins toward me. “Billion? Like with a B?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t see how that kind of money is ‘nonsense.’”

  “It is if you don’t want it, and people are trying to make you do things you don’t want to do for it.”

  “You mean marry someone.” She checks the pan and stirs some butter around in it with a spatula.

  “Uh-huh. As part of a competition. Among other things.”

  Kristen pours the eggs into the pan and then rapidly adds the other ingredients. She adjusts the temperature and watches everything firm up. “You know, some people do that. You know about Liza and her brothers and the paintings, right? All of them needed to marry and stay married for a year to inherit priceless paintings by their grandfather.”

  “Sure. But she didn’t have to get hitched to get hers. And even though her brothers got their paintings, they’re still married.”

  “So?”

  “So they didn’t marry to inherit the paintings. They did it because that’s what they wanted to do.”

  Kristen expertly folds the eggs, cuts them in half with the spatula and loads the omelets onto two plates. I take them to the table while she brings utensils and a pitcher of orange juice. We sit and dig in.

  Damn. “This is amazing.”

  “Everyone should have at least one secret weapon. This is mine.” Kristen smiles. “Would’ve been better if I’d made it on Tuesday. Fresher ingredients.”

  “I don’t know… I think Dominic bought the ‘nothing ever spoils’ model.” I glance over at the space-age fridge.

  She laughs. “He does go a little insane sometimes.”

  We eat in silence for a moment. Peaceful, comforting…but with a hum of sensual tension underneath.

  Suddenly, Kristen says, “You know…if you ever change your mind about the money, I mean, like, decide you want it after all, I don’t mind. I mean, marrying you, so you can inherit. I’m not saying it’d be like forever or anything. It could be like a temporary marriage, or, you know. Whatever. And in case you’re wondering, I’m not saying this to make you feel uncomfortable, but it’s a lot of money. It would totally guarantee your future.”

  The words tumble out in a torrent. I stare, unsure what to make of her outburst. I know she has feelings for me. No woman puts up with the bullshit I put her through unless she has some affection… And hope for the future.

  And I have to clarify something. “No. Kristen, stop.”

  She clamps her mouth shut.

  “First, I appreciate the offer. Really. But that’s not the way I’m going to go here, and you shouldn’t either. Something as important as marriage, just to inherit money? I don’t think so. If you want to get married, you should do it with a person who loves you and makes you their first priority in life, don’t you think?. Anyone else isn’t worth it.”

  Kristen stares at me like I’ve slapped her.

  * * *

  Kristen

  Wow. That…hurts.

  Logically what Antoine is saying makes perfect sense. Anybody would say the same thing. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay. Maybe I needed to hear him say that he’s interested…or at least pretend to consider it. Maybe—even after the spectacular sex—I’m feeling a little raw about what he said to his mother. There’s a huge difference between lust and love—especially the marrying kind of love.

  Now that I slow down a little and think about it, I realize he only said sex with me was better than the fantasy. It’s probably too early for him to start tossing around the L-word, but shouldn’t he have said some sweet nothings, too? I mean, other than how amazing the sex was?

  As though he can sense my churning emotions, he adds, “Kristen, I know you mean well. And I adore you for thinking of me and worrying about my future. But I’ve seen how money can’t guarantee happiness. Just look at my family.”

  “What about them?”

  “My grandfather, who came up with this ridiculous scheme, i
s a difficult, controlling son of a bitch. He hates that all his fortune couldn’t give him a son. And he has too much pride to divorce his wife…not that he loves her. He has a certain self-image, and that image includes him being this great, faithful husband with a nice, sweet little wife, and a son who inherits it all. His two daughters, my mother and my aunt? They’re miserable. They’ve spent their entire lives competing with each other, hoping that they could somehow prove themselves worthy of their father’s affection. And the reason my grandfather is doing all this is because he’s upset. He’s upset that he can’t control fate with his money. He thinks if he flashes enough cash, at least people will cave and jump to his bidding and give him the sense of control he desperately wants.” He shrugs. “I’m not playing that game.”

  I stare at Antoine, needing a moment to process everything. I’ve always assumed his family got along well, although he rarely talks about them. “I see.”

  “Besides, I doubt he’ll honor the scheme. There isn’t any written contract, and he’ll find a loophole. This is all just to see how high some of us will jump to do his bidding.”

  I poke at the half of the omelet left on my plate, moving it around with my fork. His explanation makes sense, but now that my head isn’t completely clouded with surging hormones, I can’t help but wonder… “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Antoine says easily. Maybe too easily.

  I take a quick sip of OJ to wet my suddenly dry throat. “You always said you couldn’t date me because I’m Dominic’s baby sister.”

  He looks at me like I were a mine. Or a bomb.

  “So…what made you change your mind?”

  He sighs. “It’s complicated.”

  “Do you regret…?” I flick a finger between me and him, doing my best to be casual and carefree. From his expression, I’m doing a shittastic job of that.

  He gives me a look reserved for a drunk or a lunatic. “No. I don’t regret it. But…” He stops, considering. “There’s a reason men have a rule that says don’t date your best friend’s sister.”

  “If you ask me, it’s crap designed to deprive women of good men they could’ve had.”