Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(25)

We’re making out in a flurry of lips and teeth and tongue as we spin out of the shower and washroom, bumping into counters and walls, and I know it’ll be a miracle if we even make it to the bed. Somehow, Olivier manages to lift me up in the air and then carry me over, practically throwing me on it, so I land on my back, my breasts bouncing freely.

I stare up at him, my lips throbbing from where he ravaged me, and then watch as he strides over to the bedside table and pulls out a condom. I’m not sure if there’s always a stack of them in there as courtesy to guests or if he’d put them there, but, either way, I’m not complaining. I am on the pill, but I like to be safe rather than sorry, and with him taking charge like this, it nips that talk in the bud.

I don’t want to talk right now.

All I want is him inside me; I’m practically aching for him.

He can tell, too, because his eyes are focused on my pussy as he slides the condom on.

“Spread your legs wider,” he says in a rough voice, the kind of tone that gives you goose bumps. “Let me see what your pretty little pussy looks like.”

I gulp and then do as he asks.

His expression turns even more lustful, as if that’s possible, his lids becoming heavy, his nostrils flaring.

He’s going to devour me, I think to myself.

Good.

I spread my legs wider, and then before I know what I’m doing, I’m playing with myself, running my fingers over my swollen, slick clit in a teasing manner, watching what this is doing to him.

Then he growls like a beast unleashed, and he’s grabbing my hips and slamming his cock into me.

My lungs empty, and I cry out in pain and pleasure and surprise.

“No more teasing,” he says through a grunt, and then his grip grows tighter, and he starts to pound into me, relentless.

I can barely breathe; my heart feels like it’s skipping its way out of my chest.

I manage to keep my fingers moving, the pleasure building up higher and higher as his cock sinks in deeper, and soon the pain and shock are pushed to the side.

Now all I feel is him and his desperate feral drive.

He pulls my hips up higher until my legs are around his back and then keeps up the pace.

My head rolls to the side, staring at the doors to the balcony. I can vaguely see our reflection: his tall, lean, and muscular body standing at the foot of the bed, my hips jerked up high as he thrusts into me, my breasts jostling with each quick pump of his hips.

It’s so fucking erotic, I can barely believe it’s happening.

It looks like a porno, just how wild and—

Wait a minute.

It almost looks like there’s someone else in the room with us.

There’s another face, staring back at me.

I look to the opposite side of the bed, but there’s no one there.

Then I look back to the window.

I still see the reflection, I swear, a man out there watching us . . .

Olivier’s pumping slows.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I glance up at him with wide eyes. “Did you see . . . ?”

I look back to the window, but this time the reflection is gone.

He looks, too, and frowns, then lets go of one hip to wipe the sweat off his brow. “See what?” he asks, breathless.

I shake my head. I’m all over the place. “Nothing.”

“How about we change things,” he says, slowly pulling out. “Flip over.”

I give a furtive glance to the window again, and then when I still see nothing, I turn over so that I’m on all fours, my back to him. At least this way I don’t have to stare out the window and freak myself out for no reason.

Not that the idea of being watched while having sex is that freaky.

That’s something the old Sadie would never admit to.

He places his hand on my shoulder blades and pushes me down gently into the mattress. I’m basically flattened against the bed, my ass high in the air. He starts to push inside me, and I grab hold of the sheets, holding on tight. Even though I’m wet as sin and greedy for his cock, the size of him takes my breath away, and I have to remind myself to breathe through it, letting him in farther and farther as my ass gets higher and higher.

He adjusts his angle behind me and then pushes himself in to the hilt, and I feel myself expand around his thickness, his dick dragging over every desperate nerve inside me.

An aching groan falls from my mouth.

“Ma chérie,” he says hoarsely, “you will unravel me with your sounds.”

God, please. I want him to unravel.

But, even as I think that, I know he wants me to unravel first.

He starts pounding me faster and faster, the bed slamming against the wall. I swear it might even be moving a few inches to the right.

I gasp, gripping the sheets harder, my hands sweaty. I can barely hold on, even with my cheek pressed into the mattress. I’m so full of him inside me, and he keeps hitting the right spot over and over again, so that nothing else matters to me now except coming fast and coming hard.

“You like this?” he whispers.

I can only nod and make needy little sounds.

I swear I can hear him grin.

He thrusts into me, his hips circling quickly, and the feeling inside me grows and builds and tightens until I feel like I might pass out. Our skin slaps loudly against each other, the sound echoing around the room, turning me on even more.