FrenchQuarter.htm by Alexander Lacey (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

His hands traveled her body, too, caressing her bottom, her back, sliding from her waist up to the sides of her breasts. Ribbons of electricity snaked through her as he caressed them, kneading them just as Felicia had done, but his hands were bigger, stronger, more possessive, and she wanted to be possessed by him. His rough massage of her breasts made her unable to hold in her moans, made her yearn to somehow thrust the mounds deeper, harder into his touch.

“I can’t wait, baby,” he murmured against her ear, dragging kisses down her neck. “Office is too far away.”

He pushed one strap of her dress off her shoulder, and she leaned her head back, wanting to make her sensitive skin totally accessible to him. His kisses sprinkled across her shoulder and down onto her chest until he freed her breast from the fabric concealing it. He licked at her beaded nipple, then suckled it, making her moan. Was anyone else around, anyone watching this? She didn’t know and hardly cared. All that existed were her and Jack. All that mattered was that she wanted him inside her, deep and long. All that mattered was relieving the needy ache between her thighs. All that mattered was fucking him.

Chapter 3

Still kissing her breast, Jack’s hands dropped to her hips, lower, inching her dress up. He had to get to her, had to have her, had to thrust his hungry cock deep inside her before he died of frustration. He leaned her back against the brick wall, found her round ass with his hands, all while he nibbled on her beautiful breast. She was wearing a thong and while he squeezed her ass in one hand, he used the other to pull the elastic from the center. He dug into the panties from behind to find her deliciously wet pussy, and then pushed two fingers up inside her. God, he loved the way her warm passage took his fingers.

She cried out and he moaned. She moved on his fingers, so warm and slick he could barely stand it. From the front, he ground the hard column of his lust against her soft, hungry cunt, his body working from need rather than decision. She rubbed herself against him just as urgently, thrilling him with her aggression. She got wetter and wetter, fucking his fingers, filling him with a gratification that came with getting her hot, keeping her hot.

He shifted the hand on her ass upward, all the way up into her hair, pushing it back, so he could see her face. “You drive me fuckin’ wild,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Unh!” she cried suddenly, pumping harder against his hand, her sobs of release echoing through the alley and filling him with a supreme satisfaction until they finally faded into the night. God, he’d made her come again, that fast.

“I need you, Jack,” she breathed afterward, kissing him as she talked. “I need you in me.”

Then her hands were at his belt, his zipper, fumbling, working fast, finally freeing him. He yanked hard on her thong and it tore free. She cried out again and he knew ecstasy was just a heartbeat away.

He thrust his cock into her warm, tight little hole and found heaven. “Ca c’est bon,” he breathed. It’s so good.

It wasn’t as if Jack hadn’t been with a lot of women. He was about as far from a choir boy as you could get—he was a guy, after all, and he lived in a very hedonistic city. But he couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this desperate to have a woman, this needful, this crazy to get his cock inside her. And now that he was there, damn—it was like he’d just won the race, climbed the mountain, reached a place where he belonged.

He fucked her slowly at first, looking down into her big green eyes, whispering, “You’re so hot, chere. So wet for me.”

She looked back, her face weak with passion, seeming only able to whimper the word, “Yes.”

“I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Did you know you made me hard that day? So hard, baby.” He thrust deep into her warm pussy, to make her feel exactly how hard she made him. “You got me so stiff that day I had to get myself off, and while I did it, I imagined somethin’ just like this—me inside you, fuckin’ you so slow, so deep. But it’s even better than I was able to imagine, darlin’. So damn good.”

He tried to keep their sex slow, make it last, make her feel every inch of him sliding in and out, but his dirty talk had their desire reaching the same fever pitch as when he’d first plunged into her and before he knew it, she was crying out with each deep thrust, and he was matching her groans, and she was so warm and wet around his cock that he knew he wouldn’t last long. He pounded into her soft, slick cunt with all the strength he had, wanting to own her—thrust—wanting to make her scream—thrust—wanting to make her feel thoroughly well-fucked when they were through.

And then with a giant stroke he came—shooting off long and hard inside her and releasing a deep moan into her shoulder, where he buried his head for the length of the orgasm. Ah, merci, cher petite fille.

When he came back to himself, he lifted his head, looked down into her eyes—pretty, strangely innocent. He leaned his forehead against hers. “How ya doin’?”

Her voice was light, soft. “Good.”

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he suddenly wanted to be gentle with her. “Sorry I couldn’t make it all the way to the office.”

She shook her head. “This was … good.” She gave another head shake and laughed. “I’m usually more eloquent, but …”

He grinned. “But I just fucked your brains out so you can’t think clearly?”

She returned the smile. “Something like that.”

“Come home with me.” He ran his fingers through the strands