Page 43

Billionaires in Paris Cynthia Dane 2022/8/3 13:56:25

My eyes clamp shut as she wraps her hand around my cock. It’s still in my boxers, but you would think she’s touching my skin directly. It’s intoxicating. It’s maddening. It’s making me harder than I thought I could ever be – damn, this is what it really feels like to be teased!

Hold back, Ian. You won’t get what you want if you come all over her pretty hand.

“I hope you appreciate how big you are,” she purrs against my cheek. “I don’t even bother with the small ones.”

There are a lot of beta male subs who like to be told that their cocks are puny and incapable of pleasuring a woman. They want to be humiliated. They want to be torn down and built up again. I think Kathryn and I both innately know that I’m not like that. I want something else. I want to feel like I’m as important as she is, albeit in a different way.

So she’s going to play up what’s so great about me. Stroke my ego like she strokes my cock, like she always does. It’s different from our usual play, though. She’s not looking for acknowledgment. She’s looking for reverence.

What am I looking for? Something beyond a good time.

Kathryn stands in front of me, T-shirt popping out of her trousers and lifting slightly up her stomach. She is one toned woman. If you made a sculpture in her image, you would have the kind of art piece museums scramble to get. Then some uptight mom wants it banned because she’s exuding too much badassery. Look at her! I’m staring at her belly-button and all I can think about is sex. Alpha Ian is begging me to rub my cock against that soft skin. If this were a scene where I’m on Top, I’d bring her close to me and grind until I either found the strength to hold back or completely lost it all over her stomach.

I’m thrown back into the scene. There is no room for Alpha Ian. He needs to take a nap.

Dutiful and Obedient Ian, on the other hand, is welcomed here. He’ll do as his lady commands, and he’ll be happy to do so. Starting with taking off these pants, yes.

There’s no rush. I ease her zipper down, careful to maintain eye contact. Kathryn crosses her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up. Her visage says that she’s pleased. I’m pleased to please her.

Her hips are unveiled. No one would ever embarrass her by saying she has good “childbearing hips,” but there is still plenty to happily hold on to as her jeans slide down her skin, revealing cotton black bikini bottoms. I can smell her arousal. A piquant scent takes me over as my nose nuzzles her stomach, lips brushing softly against her skin. Naturally, my hands continue to obey her command to undress her pants. They land on the floor around her ankles. Kathryn steps out of them and kicks the denim to the side. My hands are batted away from her underwear. Not yet!

“I’m going to stand right here,” she’s stern, but not unforgiving. Chills rush down my spine. “You’ve got ten minutes to make me feel your devotion. Start now. If I’m not impressed after ten minutes, I’m leaving.”

An ultimatum! I do love a good deadline to light a fire beneath my ass.

Frenzy mounts the room, and I’m at the center of the hurricane.

My knees hit the carpet. My hands want to grab and paw Kathryn’s body, but I don’t let them. We must be respectful. We must show her a strong serenity as we worship her mortal body. The spirit of a goddess lives inside, but this body beneath my touch is fueled by heat and blood.

She will age. One day, all this elastic skin will be replaced with sags and wrinkles. I fully intend to still be here to see it. Forty years from now I better be on my replaced knees looking up into these crystal blue eyes, seeing infinity.

It’s impossible to count the amount of times I’ve pursued Kathryn with the intent of seducing her. Not only in the beginning of our relationship. These days I still flirt with her, making lewd jokes and overt references to sex so she’ll know what page I’m on. I initiate. I lead. Most of the time she gets to do what she wants, but I still hold the dominant position. There is no denying that I am The Man.

I’m still a man. A man ridiculously in love with this woman.

I don’t just kiss her stomach. I’m enthralled with it. My tongue doesn’t want to stop tasting her skin, feeling her salt run over it and remind the rest of me that she’s as alive as I am. No caress I gift her can accurately represent how badly I want to touch her forever. May I squeeze her hips? May I dip my thumb into her navel? May I leave a trail of hot breath down her leg and kiss her plain toes? May I cover every inch of her regal figure with my adoration? I may be a mere human, but I desire to show her what an exalted figure she is. My queen. My goddess.