by Lula Baxter
I giggle as I realize how silly such a comparison is. This isn’t a children’s story, at least it better not be. I want it to be dirty, filthy, all kinds of obscene. This is me taking control of my life, doing something I desperately want to do.
Already, I can feel the heat run through me, remembering the way his mouth felt on my body. Will he do that again? I certainly hope so.
Alexandre opens the door to his suite and I practically have an instantaneous orgasm when I see what awaits.
“Oh my god!” I gasp, completely ignoring him, as I walk in to take in the panoramic view before me.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Who wouldn’t?” I say, before frowning when I realize he was being rhetorical.
I head toward the windows. Somehow this view has managed to capture the very essence of Monte Carlo. On one side, is the dazzling view of the lively marina filled with yachts below us. It spans all the way to the towering hills etched with zig-zagging roads and pastel mansions lit up at night.
“Beautiful,” I hear him mutter as he comes up behind me.
I know he isn’t referring to the view and I go dizzy from the sound of his voice alone. My hands smudge the crystal clear perfection of the floor to ceiling windows as I press my palms into them to hold myself up.
His hand comes up to brush my hair away to one side of my neck. I shiver as I feel his finger graze across the exposed nape. My body instinctively stiffens as his lips come down to kiss the side of my neck, then shiver with pleasure as I melt into the feel of it.
“Alexandre,” I sigh.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against my neck, kissing his way around to the back of it.
“I want this.”
The hand holding the side of my neck suddenly twists to entangle his fingers in my hair. He gently pulls it so my face is turned to him. I stare back at him, breathing heavily, waiting for his instruction.
“Tell me exactly what you want, Astrid,” he orders in a seductively dark voice. He stares at me, reading my face with those brilliantly green eyes. Those eyes that drew me in the first moment they met mine.
“I…” I exhale a heavy breath. I wasn’t expecting him to be this direct. But I’m an adult, I shouldn’t be ashamed to tell him explicitly what I want. “I want you to make love to me.”
His response is a fierce kiss, his lips dominating mine the same way I hope his body will. I close my eyes and moan against his mouth, twisting my body so it’s pressed into his. He comes forward until my back is flush against the glass. I feel his desire, raw and hard against my abdomen. It only turns my pathetic mewling into a determined groan of desire.
I feel his hands slide between my back and the glass, traversing their way to the top of my zipper. Still pressing my body firmly against the glass, he works it down, leaving a sliver of exposed skin. My back arches as much as it can against the solid resistance of his chest when I feel the cool glass on my bare back.
Alexandre pulls away, breaking the kiss. My eyes fly open, wondering what titillating experience awaits me next. He just hitches one side of his mouth up in a smile and his right hand comes up to cup my face. I smile against his palm with eager anticipation. He slides the hand down my jaw, letting his fingers graze across the hollows and curves of neck and clavicle. Then, in one quick move, he slides the shoulder of my dress down my arm.
My eyes go wide when I realize what his intentions are.
“Are you shy all of a sudden?” he asks with an amused quirk of his eyebrow.
“Um…no,” I say, feeling a sudden wave of recklessness hit me. I shove the other shoulder down just to prove the point.
“Good girl,” he urges.
That spurs me to shimmy the whole thing down until it’s lying in a puddle at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my bra and panties and heels.
Although I’m playing at being self-assured, the sudden realization that my body will soon be exposed to all of Monte Carlo has me leaning against the glass for support. That does nothing to calm my nerves as my butt cheeks press against the windows, offering any voyeurs a more salacious view.
“Now your bra,” Alexandre orders.
As though hypnotized by his commanding voice, I obey, reaching up behind my back to unhook the strap. My movements are quick, as though going too slowly will weaken my resolve. I let the lacy piece fall down my arms. Even though the room is cooled just enough to defeat the lingering warmth outside, my nipples harden painfully against the rush of air that hits them.
“Perfection,” he murmurs, letting his eyes wander over my nearly naked body.
Although this is the second time today he’s seen me in such a state, this feels completely different. Mostly, because I know where it’s all leading.
I reach my hands up to the waistband of my underwear, ready to remove them for his visual pleasure as well.
“No,” he says, stopping me.
I pause, my brow wrinkling slightly with confusion. Alexandre just falls to his knees before me. That very act sends a rush of wild desire through me. I look down past my naked breasts at his perfect face as he comes in close to kiss my stomach.
“Alexandre,” I sigh, for what feels like the hundredth time today.
He just gurgles an animalistic growl and snatches at the lacy edges of my underwear, dragging them past my thighs and down to my feet. Following his lead, I step out of them and welcome the resulting naked state it leaves me in.
I no longer care who is watching behind me. Let the entire world indulge their voyeurism. I just want to feel his face pressed into me once again, wrecking my body with orgasm after orgasm.
“Lean back,” he says.
I’ve already met him halfway, arching my back into the glass. This time the instant sting of cool surprise barely registers.
He pushes my legs apart, then grabs the right one, throwing it over his broad shoulder and I can feel the cool air hit the sticky wetness that’s been flowing since I stepped into this room.
“Oh god!” I gasp as soon as I feel his lips touch mine. Then his tongue darts out, searching for that one perfect spot.
“Yes, Alexandre!” I scream as he sucks it out of hiding and flicks his tongue over it like he did earlier today.
I hear him growling against my slit, hungrily lapping up the result of the pleasure he’s giving me. My body moves in waves, following the motion of his mouth. His fingers dig into my ass, gripping it painfully. It adds that touch of spice to an otherwise saccharine abundance of sweet ecstasy.
“Oh yes, yes, yes,” I moan, feeling the orgasmic sensations roll through my body. I hold out, wanting the final wave that rocks me to be a fucking tsunami. Alex does his part, increasing his speed and gripping me harder. I grab onto his head, my fingers curling into his hair.
When it comes, it comes fiercely, causing my body to arch so hard I have the briefly insane fear that I’ll crash right through the window and send both our bodies flying into the night. Instead, the crash happens inside of me, pushing the air out of my lungs in a feral scream that I’m positive can be heard throughout the entire hotel.
When the ebb comes, my body is so weak it sags against him. He gently lowers my leg to the ground. I feel like I’m going to teeter over in my heels, which I never bothered to take off.
Alexandre rises and presses his body into mine once again, leaning his head down toward my left ear. “That was just the beginning, Astrid.”
Chapter Eighteen
Alexandre
Virgins have never really appealed to me. Perhaps it’s because the prey is too easy, like plucking a lamb from the herd. There is also something to be said for a woman who has the experience to know what she wants and also how to return the pleasure.
However, Astrid has a daring intrigue about her that's filled with promise. The taste and smell of her that lingers on my face is like the ultimate aphrodisiac.
"Come," I say, taking her hand.
She obeys without comment, following me into the
bedroom of the suite. I like that she’s left her heels on. The clacking against the marble floor, then the soft pats on the lush carpeting set my senses on fire.
The bedroom is just as lavish as the living room, with floor to ceiling windows and an abnormally large bed. It’s the kind of room meant for a king…or a queen.
I sit Astrid on the edge of the bed and stare down at her. I’m still wearing every article of clothing and something about the juxtaposition of her being naked completes my erection. Astrid can’t help but stare at it as it strains the zipper of my pants.
“You know what to do,” I say.
She blinks up at me and the expected flush hits her face. I just raise one eyebrow down at her. Now is no time to start playing coy. Even if she hasn’t done this with that boy of hers back in Boston, she knows the basics. I’m perfectly willing to teach her the rest.
Astrid’s hands come up to my waistband and she goes to work on the button, then the zipper. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth as she concentrates. There’s a definite gasp when she finally releases my dick, which I won’t deny is a tiny little stroke to the ego.
The slow, gingerly pace at which she lowers her head is enough to test the patience of Job, but makes the eventual feel of her lips cause a shock to run through my body.
“That’s it,” I say as she eases down. Her hands wrap around the shaft, probably to help guide it. It’s a light, delicate grip, the kind reserved for babies and crystal glasses.
“Harder,” I urge.
She gurgles something around the head but her hands squeeze firmer, forcing a hard breath past my lips. When her mouth is lowered far enough for the head of my dick to reach the back of her throat, I steady my breathing. It’s obvious she’s a novice, but it’s still enjoyable.
“Just do what comes naturally, don’t worry, it won’t break,” I say, smiling down at the top of her head.
She works herself up enough, exploring, tasting, touching, licking, all with complete enthusiasm. It’s fucking amazing to see a woman who is into pleasuring someone to the point of enjoying it herself. At this rate, she’s going to make me finish before I can actually complete what she came here for.
“Okay, okay,” I say easily, placing a hand on top of her head to stop her.
She pulls away and looks up with wide eyes. “I thought you were supposed to—”
“If I do, you’ll have to wait a bit to lose that precious virginity of yours.”
Her face wrinkles in confusion, and I laugh. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Astrid. I can only perform so often in a twenty-four hour period, but you,” I scan her body as she sits there, “might just be the fountain of youth.”
She giggles nervously, but the confusion doesn’t entirely disappear from her face. It certainly does when I start removing my clothes, the confusion transitioning to trepidation with each article I remove. When I’m finally completely naked, I stare down at her.
Astrid looks like she’s about to have live surgery performed on her. Her body is rigid with fear as she grips the edge of the bed like she’s hanging on for dear life. Her eyes are so wide I’m afraid they’re going to pop out of their sockets.
“Your body is in no condition to be made love to.”
“What?” she says, blinking up at me now with nothing but irritation.
“Lie back,” I say.
She stares angrily for a moment, but lies back, kicking off her heels as she does. I slide in next to her, lying on my side as I scan her face with an amused smile on mine.
“What?” she finally says, sighing and turning to look at me.
I laugh. “This isn’t torture, Astrid. It should be fun. What are you worried about?”
“The first time is supposed to be special. I just…I just want it to be perfect.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?” she asks, anger and surprise blazing in her eyes.
“The first time is supposed to be awful. It should be awkward and painful and perfectly terrible. Something to look back on and cringe.”
“How do you figure that?” she asks, sitting up on her elbows, getting even more irritated with me.
I just laugh again, which makes her heat level rise another notch. “There’s a reason you chose me for this tonight. The same reason you got on that boat today. Not because you wanted it to be special and magical and momentous, but because you just wanted to experience it, purely for the enjoyment and excitement of it.”
“You’re really terrible at this, you know.” She sits up fully and twists around to look down at me. “If you don’t think you can handle it, Alexandre then maybe—”
“Relax, Astrid,” I interrupt, pulling her back down. “Are you angry?”
“Yes,” she says, crossing her arms and staring up at the ceiling.
I lean over and take her chin in my hands, forcing her to look at me. She stubbornly allows it. “Good, anger makes the best foreplay.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she snaps.
“We had to loosen you up somehow. How does your body feel now? Heated? Ready to scratch my eyes out?”
“Yes,” she snaps.
I laugh again. “Good. Slap me.”
“What?” she asks, at this point sounding like a damn parrot.
“Slap me.”
“No,” she says, looking at me with disbelief.
“Do it,” I urge.
She stares at me for a moment, then uncrosses her arms from her chest and reaches one of them out to half-heartedly slap my cheek.
“Oh, come on, you can do better than that,” I tease, which just makes her angrier.
“Fine,” she hisses, giving me a good, hard slap.
“Well, that one,” I say, touching my sore cheek, “was definitely a slap.”
She laughs. “This is weird.”
“At least you’ve taken your first time off that ridiculous pedestal. Now, we can have fun.”
“I still think you’re terrible at this,” she says with a grudging smile.
“Hmmm, I’ve been told otherwise.”
“Oh,” she says, giving me a slight frown of jealousy, as though suddenly realizing that I have indeed had other lovers.
I place one palm on her stomach and enjoy the sudden quiver in it. It only intensifies as I slide it down between her legs. Her thighs instinctively press together before I force my finger between them. They only relax when I slip it between her lips, still slippery with wetness.
“Does this feel so terrible?”
“No,” she breathes, gasping when my finger circles her clit.
“Yes, your first time should be special, Astrid, but it should be enjoyable too. Every time should be special and enjoyable. You should feel like absolute royalty every time and with any man.”
Now her eyes are on me, glazed with pleasure, as I toy with the tiny bundle of nerves between her thighs.
“Every woman deserves to feel like a queen when she’s with a man,” I say softly, watching her body respond to my touch.
Her only response is to moan and arch her back as the orgasm hits her. “Alexandre!” she moans, her hands clenching the bedspread underneath her.
“There,” I lean down to whisper in her ear. “Now your body is ready.”
Chapter Nineteen
Astrid
I don’t know what he did, but it worked. Was it his making me mad? The slap? His magical fingers. Whatever it was, it worked. When I first fell onto the bed I was terrified, now I’m actually enjoying myself.
He slips one finger inside of me and I instinctively tense up. The one finger doesn’t hurt, especially considering how wet I am, but it’s a reminder that there’s more to come. My eyes roll down to what lies between his legs, still rock hard.
Much more to come.
“Just relax,” he soothes, as though reading my mind. “Not perfect, just fun, remember?”
“Okay,” I reply, swallowing hard.
He slips another finger in, stretching me wider. I tense up agai
n, before feeling silly. I try to relax again.
“You can always slap me again if you want.”
I laugh and feel the tension leave my body.
“Do it,” he urges, then curls his fingers inside of me, making me gasp with pain and pleasure.
I slap him, then laugh. “This is ridiculous.”
“As every first time should be,” he responds with a chuckle. “Yes, you’re definitely ready.”
“Mmm, hmm,” I say, nodding vigorously. His fingers certainly help, stretching me, and touching some weird part of me that feels so, so good. My legs instinctively part for him.
The bed shifts as he rolls over to get something from the bedside table. I frown in confusion before seeing him twist back my way with a condom in his hand. I roll my eyes, thinking how stupid I am. At least one of us has their head on straight.
I watch him open it then, slide the condom down that same shaft that was in my mouth a moment ago. It makes my opening tingle with anticipation. It feels like pure electricity between my legs when he maneuvers himself to settle down between my thighs. It’s terrifying and strange and momentous and amazing all at the same time. Then his large head brushes across my opening and I freeze.
“Slap me if you need to,” he says, with a smile in both his voice and those green eyes as they stare down at me.
I giggle enough to relax. He was right. There’s nothing perfect about this, but the way he knows just what to say to help me relax makes it wonderful. Despite the absurdity of it, or maybe because of it, I do feel special.
I do feel like a queen.
Then he pierces me. The pain is so many different things I couldn’t describe it if I tried.
“Are you okay?” he asks, staring hard at me.
“Yes,” I gasp.
He slides further in, those greens eyes still focused on me. Something about those clear circles, the color of sea-glass, calms me, allowing me to get lost in them as I absorb all this amazing newness.
He slides in deeper and I feel so completely and utterly…full. Even though it’s just one part of him—one amazingly large part—I feel like every part of him is invading my body. My legs come up around his waist to pull him in closer. My arms go around his back, my fingers digging into the hard muscles flexing beneath them.
