“Do you need to come, mon chou?” she asked, staring (she knew because she didn’t hide it) affectionately into his sweltering eyes and his dark, hard face.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Keep stroking, Olivier,” she ordered, reaching for his hand that was still over his head, now clutching the edge of the vault.
She took it and watched with great fascination the myriad of lovely expressions shift across his face as she moved it so he could comfortably accept what she was offering. Then she pressed his hand into the damp crotch at her center.
Unable to stop himself, he took what she gave him and beyond. Long fingers strong, he curled them in, shoving her panties into her pussy, palming her clit.
Right, he knew what he was doing down there.
That was good to know.
She drew in a sharp, delicate breath and whispered, “Very nice, Olivier.”
“Let me fuck you,” he begged.
She shook her head slightly, bracing her legs against the sensations and modulating her voice as his strong fingers forced themselves up and out, again and again. “Not this time, my chevalier.”
His hand curled into her roughly.
Possessively.
Her alpha.
She clenched her teeth to bite back a cry of pleasure.
“I need this,” he growled, tugging on her, swaying her hips toward him, like she wouldn’t know to what he was referring.
“You have it,” she pointed out, slightly breathlessly.
“Need it, Mistress.”
That was a plea.
“You have what I’m giving you tonight, Olivier,” she informed him.
His hand shifted, middle finger finding her clit through her pants, up and circling, pressing hard.
Her lips parted.
“Fuck, Amélie,” he whispered. “Please.”
“You’ll take what I give you, Olivier.”
“Put me on the floor. Sit on my face,” he demanded, his fist jacking his cock brutally. “I want my cock in you, but right now, the minute you took me, I’d shoot.”
“When I ride your face, you’ll be restrained and at my mercy.” His face darkened with more need. He wanted her to give him that too. “Olivier, you have what you’re going to get. Now, take care of it, please.”
The order registered and his focus intensified on what he was doing with his finger.
And he proved further he knew what he was doing.
All he’d given her that night, with delicate breaths whispering through her lips, she held his eyes and allowed his magic to work.
It took very little time.
Slowly closing her eyes, her hand coming to land on his chest, her fingers curling in, nails scraping through his hair, she trembled against his hand as she gave into the sweet release. Letting it wash over her, Olivier behind her eyes, his strength between her legs and evident under her hand on his chest, exquisitely elusive shivers slithered over her skin as she pressed her hips into his hand.
“Jesus, baby,” Olivier whispered through her orgasm. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”
At his words, still climaxing, she felt her mouth curve up.
“Jesus.” He was still whispering, now almost reverently.
She opened heavy lids and cast her gaze on him.
“Give me your seed,” she demanded.
His face registered the order and then registered surprise, like he’d never been ordered to come on demand before and was shocked it could happen, before his head dug into the vault as his cum streamed up his belly.
He was milking his dick, his legs still prone to the sides, that outstanding display likely to be just as the first he’d provided that night, used mentally by whoever was watching to get them off later … and spectacularly.
She bent over him, reaching out a hand to his cheek.
He was still in the aftermath of his climax but that made it perfect when she bent deeper and took his mouth in their first kiss.
She added tongue, stroking his, and there was an enticing musk to his taste as well.
She lifted away and asked, “Is my beast appeased?”
Humor lit his gaze as he muttered, “Your beast got his rocks off twice in a big fuckin’ way, Amélie. So yeah. Definitely.”
“Cheeky.”
His gaze stayed lit even as it grew slightly sober.
“Nice kiss,” he whispered.
God, on his back on a vault with his cum on his belly, his orgasm witnessed probably by more than a dozen people, and he was flirting.
“Now you’re a flirt.”
The grin hit his mouth.
“Sit up, Olivier. On the edge of the vault, mon chou. I’ll clean you.”
She bent forward and brushed her mouth to his. Contrary to what he’d been taught, he pressed up to deepen the contact, but relaxed back before she could take him to task for it.
She moved away and found him sitting up when she came back to him.
She positioned between his legs, cleaned his cum from his belly, and then walked back to the bin.
She returned to her steed, again between his legs.
“You may hold me loosely,” she allowed.
His lips quirked but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her loosely. Arms that were so long, they crossed at the back and his hands rested at her front hipbones.
“Something funny?” she asked.
“You’re cute when you’re bossy.”
She opened her mouth but he lifted his chin in a “shut up” gesture and kept going before she could get a word in.
“Cute but hot. When you’re workin’ me, it’s just hot, Amélie. So don’t get pissy.”