3

“Stop,” I pant, this is too much. I am too sensitive. He sucks deeper and his eyes roll back in his head. “You are one hot fuck.” He growls as he laps it all up. He climbs up and over me and slides home in one swift movement.

I frown at the ceiling as my hand runs through his messy curls. I can hardly breathe. He’s so big.

He leans back on his knees and holds my legs in the air as his eyes drop to my sex and he watches my body struggle to take his large muscle. His thumb gently circles over my clitoris, knowing full well that will release me and allow his entry.

He’s experienced and he knows how to loosen a woman straight up

I watch him as I pant, somewhere in between disbelief, denial, and utter ecstasy. I didn’t know that sex could be like this. I haven’t had this before. I thought I’d had good sex… but now I’ve had this...

I realize not.

He gently kisses my ankle next to his ear, and he smiles sexily down at me. My eyes hold his for an extended moment and a frown crosses his face as I hold my breath. His hand gently brushes my hair from my face, his thumb running over my bottom lip

God. I close my eyes to block him out. This fucking guy is ridiculous.

“Regarde moi,” he whispers.

Translation: Look at me.

I force my eyes to open and drag them up to meet his.

“Vous êtes la plus belle femme putain j'ai jamais été avec,” he whispers softly. Translation: You are the most beautiful fucking woman I have ever been with.

He drops his body to mine, and his lips dust mine with reverence. We kiss for an extended time, as if forgetting that he’s still inside mine. An intimacy that is as beautiful as it is petrifying. Slow, gentle, and tender.

Stop it. You don’t even know him and this is a one- night stand.

“Cesser d'être molle et baise-moi,” I whisper.

Translation: Stop being mushy and fuck me.

He smiles against my lips. “That’s a first.” He smirks as he starts to slowly pump me.

“W-what do you… mean?” I pant.

“Nobody has ever said that to me before.”

I laugh as he pulls out and slams back into me, knocking the air from my lungs. He pumps me hard again. “And if I want to be mushy with my wife I have every fucking right to be.”

I laugh again as he lifts my legs over his shoulders once more and really lets me have it. His knees are wide to give him traction, and I can see every muscle in his stomach ripple as he moves. Strong, punishing hits as the bed smacks the wall with force.

Oh, he won’t be easy to forget.

My body starts to quiver again, and he smiles darkly, sensing my orgasm’s arrival. He knows his way around a woman’s body.

Damn.

Of course he does.

Our bodies are covered in a sheen of perspiration and I close my eyes to try and stop the orgasm. I want this to last.

I need this to last.

“I… don’t want… to come,” he pants.

“Me neither,” I breathe as I pull him back to my lips. “Promise me we will do this again in a minute.”

He laughs against me. “We can do this all night, Bloss.”

I smile as he lifts my behind with his hand to really hit the end of me, and I cry out as my body contracts around his large muscle.

“Fuck, yeah!” he calls as his head rolls forward and he comes in a rush.

We stay still, both gasping for air. Both wet with perspiration.

Jesus Christ…

What the hell was that?

His mouth meets mine and he kisses me softly as he cups my jaw. I smile against his lips and he kisses me tenderly again. “What an excellent wife you are.”

I laugh and he rolls us so that I am now on top of his large body. I rest my head against his chest as I try to catch my breath.

His lips dust my forehead. “Don’t bother going to sleep.” His hand drops between my legs and he spreads them so they hang over each side of his body. He starts to work me again; his three large fingers slide into my wet, swollen flesh. “That was the entrée and this is a ten-course meal.”

Four hours and four showers later, I lie in the semi-darkened room with my fake husband. The light is just peeking through the crack in the drapes. My head is on his chest and his large, muscular arms are around me. The night has been unbelievable to say the least.

We have devoured each other, and if he wasn’t out of condoms we probably still would be. I think we must have used a whole box.

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“New York,” I breathe. I cringe when I hear my husky voice—a symptomatic problem from lasts night’s Tequila and giving head activities, no doubt. “Where do you live?” I ask.

“Texas. Originally from Australia.”

I gently kiss his chest and smile in contentment. “I had a good wedding night.”

He kisses my forehead. “Me, too.” I feel his lips smile against my skin. “You probably won’t be walking for a while.”

I giggle into his chest. “Actually, can you organize a wheel chair to get me back to my room, please?”

“I would, but I think I will be using it myself.”

We lie in comfortable silence for a while longer. His hand runs back and forth over my behind, as if he’s memorizing every inch.

“Are you using the theorem of calculus to measure my ass?”

He laughs out loud and rolls me onto my back, holding my hands above my head. “Your mind is a fucking turn on,” he breathes before his tongue gently explores my mouth.

I just can’t get my fill of this guy. “I could say the same thing. I’ve never had bilingual sex before.” I smile. Hell, most guys I’ve slept with can’t even speak English to me when we have sex, let alone drop in and out of three languages.

He smiles as he bites my bottom lip and pulls it toward him. “Moi non plus. Je peux être accro.”

Translation: Me neither. I may be addicted.

I have always had a love of languages. They were my stress reliever when I was in high school and my parents were divorcing. I would lock myself in my bedroom and listen to language tapes through headphones so I couldn’t hear them fighting.