Brave the razor-sharp edges of an intensely hot love triangle as Michael and Priscilla discover the depths of Amber’s passion ultimately rivals their own.
They seemed to reach the Rue de Bacilli in a blink. He thrust euros at the driver and left the cab, so glad the rain had stopped. When he slipped through the gate, his steps slowed as he approached the keypad. He tried to relax. Earlier he’d been anxious, now adrenalin fueled him. Pressing the button, Michael waited. A minute later the blue light came on and he stared into the camera, breathing.
When the door buzzed he slipped inside, climbed the stairs and found Priscilla standing at the door in her PJs, giving him a questioning look. Her face was devoid of makeup, her hair in a loose bun atop her head.
Without a word, Michael approached and she stepped back. Their eyes locked. He walked into the apartment and closed the door. The air ripened around them.
Priscilla opened her mouth to speak but closed it when he took her hand and pulled her toward him.
Michael brushed his lips across hers, gently pulling the clip from her hair. When the silky mane fell, he cupped her head; and they stood that way for a long moment, neither moving. He inhaled her powdery scent. When he finally kissed her again, he was hungry for reassurance. Her hands went up his arms and she squeezed his shoulders.
Michael lifted her against his body; their kiss grew more intense. He slid the thin strap of her top off her shoulder, exposing one of the things he loved most about Priscilla’s body. He bent and took her taut, dark nipple into his mouth, making her sigh and sob at the same time. He lavished it with his tongue, sucked fervently with his lips.
As he raised her, she wrapped her legs around him as her hands worked to unzip his jacket. Carrying her down the hall, he found the bedroom purely on instinct. He laid her on the bed and quickly shed his top. Priscilla’s hooded eyes were on him and he loved what he saw there. Holding her gaze, he slid off her pajama shorts and tossed them to the floor. Then he moved the crotch of her undies to one side, exposing another of his favorite things. He caressed it gently with the pad of his thumb, up, down; her body trembling as she moaned his name and began pushing at his sweatpants. When he didn’t move fast enough to get them off, she nudged him back and slid them down herself, then she got him on his back.
As she leaned over him, Michael fiercely kicked the sweats from his ankles as her hair tickled his chest and her tight wetness inched down on him like a velvet glove, slowly, sweetly stealing his sanity.
The ride began slowly, deliciously. Michael caressed her body and raised his head to meet her nipple, sucking for dear life as the ride got faster, harder. Her honeyed breast fell from his mouth as their eyes locked and he felt the approach of his climax. His body trembled as the pleasure built up inside him, his love for her set to explode. He gripped her ass with both hands, tighter, trying to hold back. Their sighs and moans filled the room, the apartment. Her movement got deeper, more measured as she rode him at slight angles; Michael could feel she was about to come. He grit his teeth and swore, his body trembling.
When she came it was violent; her body gripped him like a vice, gushing a warmth so wet, he came inside her immediately.
Priscilla collapsed beside him, eyes closed, body quivering. The silence that followed their intense cries was deafening.
Breathing heavily, his ears ringing, Michael pulled her into his arms, entwining their legs and kissing her lips, nose and closed eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he panted, feeling her fingers caress the hairs on his chest. Her eyes opened and he could see her tortured heart in them. “Cilla, I swear on my mother’s grave I’ll never hurt you again.” He watched as tears filled her eyes and he kissed her again, then trailed kisses down to her neck where he sucked long enough to leave a mark as she writhed and clung to him.
Caressing her nipple he whispered, “Say you believe me. It’s why I came back.” When she didn’t speak right away, he got on top of her and parted her thighs. Michael was already hard again, rubbing himself against her moist clit. Up and down, back and forth. She cried out, calling his name as her hips left the bed. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she tried to get him to slip inside.
“Say it,” he said fiercely. “Say you believe me.”
“I believe you.”
He slid into her slowly, stretching her inch by inch. “Do you really?”
She tightened around him as she raised her hips. “Yes,” she whispered. “You’ll never hurt me again.”
“Cilla.” He traced her lips with his tongue. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she managed as he thrust deeper, awakening the oasis.
Before long, Michael’s movements were less rhythmic and took on urgency. Priscilla’s fingers plunged into his hair and she tensed beneath him moaning, her eyes closed.
Looking down and seeing her beautiful face rapt in pleasure, hearing her sigh his name…Michael lost control of his movements and died in her body.