her again, letting the song and the words and the woman herself take him away.
He let go of his normal bullshit, all the posturing he did even in his head, and allowed himself to simply be with her. He kissed her again and again, their mouths melding even as his body longed to merge with hers.
Somewhere in the back of his head alarm bells were going off, as though that hard core of himself felt his walls shaking, but he ignored them all. It was so much nicer to ease her back in the big bed, to kick his boots off, shove his leathers down.
“You’re so beautiful, Master Ian.” Charlie was staring at him, her body taut and waiting.
She was the beautiful one. It was odd. No one had ever used that word to describe him before. He wasn’t beautiful. He was bloody and battered, and sometimes he was more tired than he ever wanted to admit. But that look on her face made him feel stupid and young and hopeful.
He grabbed the condom, managed to get it on his cock. He meant to stand at the end of the bed and spread her legs, shove his cock in and let himself fly.
But her arms were open, and he couldn’t resist the call.
He laid himself out, covering her with his body, not holding an ounce off her. She could take it. She could take him.
She wound her legs around his body, staring up at him. They were so close. He could feel her breath, her heartbeat.
“Please, Ian. I want this. I want you more than I could have imagined. Show me,” Charlie was whispering in his ear.
He could show her what it meant to want. The idea that no man before had shown this woman the extent of her sexuality, her power. He could do that for her. He could be necessary to her.
He lifted himself up slightly, hating even that small distance between them, but it was necessary because he couldn’t wait a second longer. He stared down into her eyes as he took her, slowly working his cock inside. She was tight around him, the feeling so exquisite.
“Tell me it’s too much.” He could be a lot to take.
She shook her head. “It feels so good, Master.”
It felt more than good. It was sheer perfection. Her body was silky and slick, and fit him like a glove.
The song continued and he found a rhythm, connecting to it and to her.
There wasn’t an ounce of pain in her eyes as he thrust up in her. There was wonder and joy, awakening in her eyes.
He felt that same awakening. This was new. This was something he’d never had before. This wasn’t something that took him out of himself. This was something that made him more. She made him something more.
Her nails bit into the flesh of his back, but he welcomed the tiny pain. It reminded him that she was with him.
Her whole body tensed and her face contorted as she clamped down on him. Her mouth opened and she cried out his name.
He kissed her, drinking down the sweet moans that accompanied her pleasure. And then it was his turn. He wasn’t ready for how hard the orgasm hit him. He was always in control, but this was a flash fire he couldn’t contain. It rolled over him and he clutched her, his cock pounding inside, not wanting the moment to end.
He finally fell on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat, but he didn’t care. He liked being stuck to her. It felt right.
Her arms were still around him, and he could feel her kissing his shoulder and neck. “Thank you, Master. It was wonderful.”
There was nothing in her voice or actions that told him she was angling for anything beyond his affection. She was happy. He could feel it. He’d made her happy, and that did something for him.
He reluctantly shifted off her.
She rolled to her side and stared down at him as though memorizing his face. “I guess I should go.”
Yes. That was exactly what should happen, but it wasn’t going to. He was going with his instinct on this one. He wanted something for himself, and she was it. “Stay with me.”
She stilled but didn’t move away. “Do you mean it? You want me to stay for the night?”
“I want you to stay with me while we’re in Paris.” He wouldn’t think beyond that. But for a few weeks, perhaps they could find a