He moved away from where his mouth had been pressed against mine, and I felt him trail his lips down my neck to my chest.
Raising my hands up, I threaded my fingers through his hair. It was soft and silky, and I heard him groan as I tugged it, lifting my hips.
“Jesus, Chantel,” he muttered against my skin.
His teeth gently grazed my nipple, as his hands pulled the lace cup away from my breast. When his clever lips surrounded my sensitive tip, he sucked it hard enough that there was a slight sting of pain to accompany the pleasure.
Stopping, I look down my body to the man who now has his hands burrowed up under my sweater.
“Take this off,” he instructs gruffly.
Putting aside the journal, I keep my eyes on him as I sit up and pull the sweater over my head.
“Bra, too,” he adds.
At this point, I can’t find one single reason to not do as he requests.
I’m so consumed with my own hot desire that I’m surprised when I can actually see the moisture on my thighs. Undoing my bra, I slide it off, throwing it to the side.
“Lie back down, Gemma.” His voice floats across the small space between us.
I slowly move back to the position I was originally in. He picks up the journal and hands it back to me with lowered lids. As I take it from him, I suck in a deep breath when he lowers his head and flicks his tongue across my nipple.
“I believe we were right here.”
Moaning, I shut my eyes. I’m almost unable to continue, but I know if I keep reading he’ll continue reliving the words on the page. I know I’m not the woman he so obviously hungers for and even though I’m not who he wants, I find myself stupidly willing to be her substitute.
He cupped my breasts in his hands and tongued my nipple—first the right, and then the left.
It felt strange to me, his tongue was hot and wet. While it was unbelievably exciting, it also tickled a little bit. I could feel his breath against my sensitive skin as he breathed out every time he suckled on me.
Then, he was on the move again. Those lips I was now coming to love made their way down the center of my body to my navel where he dipped his tongue in and bit lovingly around the edges. At this stage, I dropped my hands from his hair. They were up by my head because, honestly, I couldn’t even think enough to hang on to him.
“Chantel?” he asked.
I tipped my head in his direction. I knew he was looking up at me. “Yes?”
“Touch yourself for me while I undress.”
I reached for my breasts and cupped them. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that,” he rasped.
He was not gone for long. I felt his hand slip under my panties as he dragged them down my legs. His whole body weight shifted as he pushed himself between my thighs, wedging his now naked hips between my legs.
His hot skin singed into mine, and I could feel his arms by my head as his fingers played with my hair. He kissed my mouth gently.
“You are the most flawless thing I have ever seen.”
I didn’t know how to answer him. I could have told him that he made me feel cherished, desired, or even wanted. Did any of that really compare to what he was telling me?
Instead, I leaned up and kissed his mouth. I traced my hands over his face, memorizing every dip, each subtle change in texture. As his lips parted above mine, I was struck with a soul-altering moment of truth.
I was his.
He could do whatever he wanted, and I’d still be his.
I was in love with Phillipe Tibideau.
I shut the journal and reach down to grip the hair that is tickling against my breasts.
“Stop,” I tell him as I put the journal to the side.
Immediately, he lifts his head, and as he focuses on my face, I see dark desire smoldering in his deep green eyes.
“Do you even know who you’re with right now?” I ask him.
I’m desperate to know he isn’t thinking of her as he brushes his mouth across my nipples.
He gives me a blistering look that tries to make all my doubt instantly disappear, but this time, I hold firm. This time, I need to know.
“Of course, Gemma,” he assures seductively. He lowers his mouth down onto the curve of my breast. “Your breasts—they’re fuller and rounder than what hers were.”
I know I should feel disgusted or at least disturbed that he’s kissing me and talking about her. But, as he sucks my nipple between his lips, his cheeks hollow out, and I’m reminded of all the beautiful angles of his face Chantel was talking about. Instantly, I’m struck by his sheer attractiveness.
He moves up my body, and he’s suddenly right where he was in the journal—between my thighs. The only difference is that I’m naked, and he’s clothed—well, except for his open pants. His eyes are looking down into mine, and I’m finding it hard to make any words come out of my mouth. That’s when I feel his right hand move down to trace the curve my hip.
“And your hips are curvier. They flare out more, giving you that sexy hourglass figure that men everywhere would beg to touch.”
I can’t help but arch my hips up against the hard cock I can feel straining inside his pants.
“But the question isn’t really if I know who I’m with right now,” he points out as he flexes his hips against mine, letting me feel the full force and impact of his desire. “The question is…do you?”
I think about that for a moment and lift my hands to his hips. I know who I’m with, and I want him in me now. Pushing down his pants, I grip his hard cock in my right hand, lining him up with my greedy pussy.
“I know exactly who I’m with,” I tell him.
I watch as he lowers his head to the side of mine.
“So, tell me, Gemma. Is it me you’re with, or are you here with me and Chantel?” he asks seductively.
Before I can answer him, he thrusts his cock up inside of me.
I can’t help the scream that comes from my mouth as he pushes his hips forward, and suddenly, he’s back at my ear telling me wicked and depraved things I shouldn’t know.
“This is the same blanket, Gemma. I’m fucking you on the exact same blanket I took her on. How does that make you feel?” he asks me as he drags his thick cock in and out of my dripping sex.
I can’t seem to formulate an answer, and he doesn’t seem to care because he keeps up his seductively warped monologue.
“Do you know that every time I sank my cock into her, she arched her back, just like you’re doing? Her eyes—fuck, those beautiful and useless eyes—would stare up at me like I owned the whole fucking world.”
I pant as his moves become faster and harder, almost brutal. He shifts and puts his left hand under my ass, pulling my pelvis up, so he can burrow deeper inside of me. I feel like he’s close to penetrating my very soul as he leans down to bite my bottom lip.
“Does it turn you on—reading and knowing how she felt every time my cock pushed into her? It must, Gemma, because you aren’t even using this smart head of yours anymore. Your arousal is making you careless.”
“What?” I question. I’m caught up in my own lust as I feel my core flutter around the thickness wedged deep inside of me.