Never Have We Ever, page 3
André pulled her into the heaviest kiss he had yet to give.
Valeska could have taken every kiss they shared over the past year and packed it into that one. Even so, this kiss, the one they shared in their honeymoon suite the first night they were married, was more passionate than whatever mess they attempted before.
Thank. God. Because Valeska had been impatiently waiting to show this man how she kissed.
Once her arms were around his neck, he relentlessly kissed her bruising lips, his tongue stealing purchase in her mouth as if he had been famished for her for years. Valeska wished he hadn’t lost his tie the moment he stepped into the suite. Because she needed something to cling to as her husband constantly knocked her off her feet.
The only time André spoke that first minute of making out like teenagers was when he muttered something in incoherent French. Valeska chose to interpret it as dirtily as possible. Years later, her husband would tell her that he had said something akin to, “I want to fuck you until this dress is too dirty to wear again.”
Didn’t he know that a woman was only supposed to wear her wedding dress once anyway? Really. He should have known.
Valeska knew this was going in a direction she approved of when André diverted his lips to her ear and said, “Do you want to take off this dress? Or should I?”
Her eyes fluttered shut in satisfaction. Every inch of her body tingled in the kind of anticipation that hardened her nipples and warmed her thighs. She had never been opposed to fucking like a common woman on her wedding night. She simply didn’t think it would happen!
“I might need assistance.”
She really did, since there was no way she could reach the zipper on her own. Yet she also wanted this man to undress her. Carefully. Considerately. As if he couldn’t bear to dislodge a single bead on her bodice or risk a tear to her skirt.
Honestly, he could fuck her on the table with the dress still on, if he wanted. Valeska only wanted an extreme to remember for the rest of her life.
She moved her hair out of the way so her husband could undo her zipper. André cursed in frustration, since the zipper refused to budge between his anxious fingers. It did not help that one of his hands encircled her torso and gripped her lower abdomen. Valeska pushed up against her husband’s chest and lost the last of her breath.
“I heard a rumor,” she said, when she found air again. “I hear that you are strong enough to tear my dress apart.”
“I am.”
A bristle of pleasure went down her spine. “Do be careful. This bodice was hand stitched by a master craftsman who…”
André’s teeth nipped her earlobe. Valeska twisted to her left, gasping in surprise. She had no idea her dress was unzipped until her husband pushed his hand beneath the fabric and quickly found her breast.
“Tell me now, Madame Dubois.” His husky voice, laced in a heavy French accent he could barely control when he was aroused, almost knocked Valeska out. “If you want me to slow down and make gentle love to you, now is the time to tell me. Or maybe you are the kind of woman who likes it more…” He cursed again. How could French curses shot directly into a woman’s ear sound so erotic? What kind of power did the French really have? “You like it more passionate?”
“Like what?” She could play his game. She better be able to, if they were going to make this marriage work. “Maybe I don’t understand you.”
Was it a purr or a growl that rumbled through them both? All Valeska knew was that his hand squeezed her breast and her knees buckled. “Sex. You like it rough, or you like it gentle.”
“This is the sort of thing we could have sorted out before the wedding night.”
And night it was quickly becoming. Twilight had long descended on the estate, although the soft golden glow of the evening still spread across the suite.
“I like it hot.”
Her sleeves fell down her arms until the entire bodice of her dress fell away from her chest. The strapless pushup bra that had kept her lifted and separated on her wedding day threatened to follow it. Valeska was too wrapped up in the moment to worry that her husband might not find her attractive beneath her clothes.
Seeing her breasts bursting from her tight bra certainly did not deter him. If anything, it made him hold her closer. Valeska cursed the heft of her skirt. She wanted to feel if he was hard in his pants. I seriously need this. Give it to me, André. They should start their marriage on the best note possible. That included a long round in bed that left her panting and drifting off to sleep for the rest of her honeymoon.
“This cannot be anything but hot. Let me make love to you. I will not disappoint.”
Valeska whimpered in his backward embrace. It was a good thing she had pushed all of her curly hair to one side, for her husband now covered her cheek and throat in heavy kisses that refused to be stopped.
There were certainly worse ways for a bride to lose her dress on her wedding night. Here Valeska had worried that she would be taking it off by herself in another room. Having her husband, the most handsome man she could ever ask to marry, slowly remove her bodice while keeping one hand always cupped on her breast was poetry.
“You should learn French, Madame Dubois.”
Valeska’s eyes fluttered open. “I have plans to learn more French.”
“Good, but a tutor will not teach you how to say bedroom things. I will teach you.”
“What’s wrong with saying bedroom things in German?”
“Nothing.” Valeska smiled. Anytime someone forewent the opportunity to take a potshot at her native tongue was a good one. “There are so many wonderful things to say in French. I’m sure I will say many of them to you. Like this.”
No, Valeska could not say she understood the next string of French words winding their way into her ear. But they were hot, and by the time her husband’s hand sank to her waist, she was ready for her thighs to glide open.
“Maybe you are a quick study, Valeska.” André’s hold on her breast tightened until she moaned in entangled pleasure. “Because you did exactly what I told you to.”
She gasped. Not because of what he said, but because his other hand was on her garter and tugging at her lingerie.
“Are you wet for me, Madame Dubois?”
Something Valeska’s mother had said early on in the courtship stuck with her. “Don’t let him think he has total control in your relationship. That goes for every aspect. If you give your husband Poland, he will try to take Russia.”
“You hard for me, Monsieur Dubois?”
He thrust his hips forward and brought hers back. Even through the layers of her skirt, Valeska definitely felt the erection ready to claim her.
“Then I am wet for you.”
André’s grip left with his next breath. “We will see. Shall we go to bed?”
“You’re not done taking off my dress.”
“Oui, oui, you such a, how do they say… ah, such a diva. A true princesse.”
Valeska chose to interpret that as his erotic brand at humor. I don’t mind being treated like a princess. That included having her whole dress removed. As soon as it pooled around her feet, she took her husband’s hand and hopped out. Her shoes were the next to go.
“Look at me. In my underwear.” Valeska tsked. “You should let me undress you now.”
Had she masked the giddiness? Because how unfair was it that lowlier women throughout the world had sampled André’s body the night they met, yet she had to wait a year to see him naked?
“Yes, if you are a princess, then let me be the prince. It’s good.”
Valeska turned around in his arms, both hands splayed against the breast of his tuxedo. “Your English is diminishing.”
“Because all the blood goes from my brain to my dick.”
Valeska took in a deep breath. “Say it in French next time.”
He nibbled her ear while she helped herself to the buttons, folds, and occasional zipper of his wedding suit. She may have had more material, but he had more layers. Good thing she was a refined lady who knew her way around a man’s suit. Not to mention, it was much easier to move about now that the mess of her dress was behind her. She was happy to let him gaze upon her in her white lingerie while she removed his jacket, shirt, and cummerbund.
She hooked her fingers beneath the sleeves of his undershirt, bringing his lips to hers. André’s tongue was quick to dive into her mouth and taunt the back of her teeth.
“You make love to me,” Valeska said, emboldened by their new confidence with one another, “like I am your wife. You know the meaning, yes?”
“Maybe you should tell me. Maybe I forgot.”
Valeska growled her approval when he reached around and grabbed her ass. It brought her pelvis closer to his. That hard erection rubbed against her slit, covered by a thin strip of silk underwear. “It means you are reverently dirty.”
“Reverently dirty. I like that. Even sounds best in English.”
Valeska had to concur. “So you fuck me now?”
André took one of her hands and moved it to his zipper. “I want to see you be dirty first. You set the tone, Madame Dubois. Then we make the music.”
He was lucky that she was so turned on. Because that was the only way he could inspire her to get down on her knees, in her wedding lingerie, and unzip his pants.
André removed the last layer covering his torso; Valeska removed the last obstruction to what was now hers.
Oh, good. It was happy to hear the news.
Valeska was no stranger to pleasuring a man, but it had been a while, and there was pressure to do an excellent job on their wedding night. She wasn’t merely setting the tone for the evening. This would set the tone for their whole marriage, and if Valeska wanted to keep this man coming back for more – let alone beyond two years – then she needed to give him the full service. This was what they had put off for a whole year, after all.
André said nothing. Assuming short grunts and the occasional moan could be considered nothing. Because that was all Valeska elicited as she licked his hardening length and lightly sucked on the base of his cock. You really have been holding out on me, Monsieur Dubois. André had a satisfying girth to him that hardened Valeska’s nipples and sent a bit of her budding arousal down her thighs. My wedding night underwear is soaked through. As it should be. She opened her mouth and slowly swallowed him, inch by inch.
He filled her mouth and teased her throat. His hands gripped her curly hair and held the back of her head closer to his waist. He wanted her to swallow all of it. They didn’t even need English to make that clear.
“Look at me. I want to look at you.”
Valeska opened her eyes. All she could see was the ripple of his Adonis line and the swathe of blond hairs covering his pelvis. Her husband smelled like rosewater and lavender baths. He tasted like a man who desperately wanted to fuck her.
Even so, she gazed up at him. The eyes staring back at her were full of lust. For her.
Fingertips gently touched her cheek. A coif of her hair tickled her nose. André brushed it away and slowly thrust his hips forward. Valeska had to break eye contact to concentrate on her breathing. He didn’t get a deep throat on his wedding night and eye contact. They could work their way up to that.
They had at least two years, after all.
“Ah, yes.” The limits of his restraint rippled through his abdomen. Valeska rubbed her slit to think that this man wanted to fuck her throat until he spilled his seed into her stomach. He wouldn’t, though. Not tonight, anyway.
He’d probably save it for the second day of their honeymoon.
Valeska humored him for a minute more before releasing him from her hold. The gasp of air sucking down into her lungs sent her back on her ass. When she sat up again, her husband had stepped out of the rest of his clothes and beckoned her to stand.
“Now we go to bed.”
André picked her up, the sudden display of his strength startling Valeska. By the time she landed on the large bed, her bra had come undone and her husband was between her breasts, his tongue teasing one of her nipples before consuming it entirely.
She no longer had an ounce of restraint. As far as Valeska was concerned, they should have been fucking twenty minutes ago.
“You make me feel good, Madame Dubois.” André tore aside her underwear and kissed a heavy trail of desire down her stomach. “Now I make you feel fantastic.”
The ungodly sound coming out of Valeska’s mouth when her husband first tasted her slit would have sent other men screaming. Not André, who didn’t hesitate to cover her pussy with his tongue and coax every drop of her desire out of her body.
The man had shown considerable restraint when his cock was in her throat. Restraint Valeska couldn’t say she had as she grinded her pelvis against his face and enjoyed every second of his oral lovemaking as if it would be the last. Her bra came off her body and landed on the floor. Her underwear was torn in two. The only thing still on her body was her garter, which must have tickled André’s chin even though he powered through any and all discomfort to pleasure his wife.
It was unbearable!
Valeska, propped up on one arm and pulling his hair, forgot where she was. Maybe she didn’t know who she was, either. Because this? This was the kind of intensity she wanted the first time with her new husband. Unlike him, who had remained so composed even while softly fucking her throat, Valeska unleashed her rabid lust and threw herself into orgasm as soon as it lurked within her.
She wanted to be wet enough for him. She did not doubt that it was his plan as well.
German slipped from her lips. On purpose, too, because she didn’t want him to understand her when she cried in frustration, “You torment me like this when you could be fucking me!” Whatever. It sounded more than dirty enough.
André made her ride out two orgasms on his face before releasing her. She was too relaxed yet too wound-up to do anything but let him encircle him with his body from behind. His powerful arms held her close to his chest, her breasts pushed up against her chin and her right leg flung back over his. The tip of his erection teased her ass.
“You ready for me?” His words had never been accented. That’s right, you bastard. You turn me on with your accent. Valeska had never been one for a French accent until she met André. Suddenly, she understood what her friends gushed over whenever they discussed the sexiest accents in the world. Hearing a Frenchman’s words purred into her ear, his thick cock only an inch away from taking her, was about to make her come. “You ready to really become Madame Dubois?”
Valeska’s head sagged toward the pillow. “Fuck me.”
His growl of approval was the second to last thing she heard before he penetrated her. The last was the sound of his cock driving deep into her flesh.
“Oh, fuck!” Valeska cried, the most coherent thing to echo in the bridal chamber before a string of dirty German words erupted with every thrust. André held tightly onto her, ensuring her body stayed exactly where he wanted while pounding his cock into her. Valeska didn’t have the chance to touch herself. She had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to. Not yet.
Like he doubtlessly did not understand her frenzied German epithets, Valeska likewise could not understand a drop of French raining upon her. She knew they were questions from the inflections at the end of every sentence, but what he asked her might as well have been her favorite color or her favorite childhood memory. I know what my favorite memory is right now. Him, stretching and filling her to her limits, his grand idea of pretending to deflower her hinging on this intoxicating position. The deep penetration it afforded almost sent Valeska into the stratosphere of sexual pleasure.
He was so hard and dripping to come inside of her. She knew that’s what he said, even though she couldn’t understand the words.
“You come,” he whispered in English. “You come on me.”
Valeska obeyed almost immediately. The rush of orgasm made her drive herself back onto him, demanding that her husband reach her innermost depths and take what was now his. If you can reach it, you can have it. Valeska screamed so loudly that André covered her mouth with his hand, his body stilling within hers although he did not yet come.
I wish he would!
Valeska needed to feel him come undone. She needed to know what it was like.
Instead, the bastard rolled away from her, leaving her open and wet. Valeska’s legs closed, but her thighs were so wet that they slid together. She felt no shame.
“You are so beautiful.” He kissed the dip in her back and lightly fingered her abandoned slit. “You sound like a symphony when you orgasm.”
Valeska couldn’t help but laugh. “Why did you stop?”
“Because I want to see your full beauty.” He fell onto his back and pulled her ass into his lap. “You are not too tired to give it a ride, non?”
Of every position André would take her through over the next two years, flinging herself back on her hands and riding his cock would always be the favorite. Not only did it make her feel powerful for a change, but that was a look of sheer bliss on her husband’s face whenever he watched her bounce, curls, breasts, and stomach and thighs when she grew older and filled out more. It wasn’t the easiest for achieving maximum physical pleasure, but the emotional intensity was worth a few minutes of digging her toes into the bed.
“Yes…” André said, when she finally fell forward and covered his face in kisses. His cock slipped out of her, but this time she did not feel that strange abandonment. They were closer than ever now. “Most beautiful. Tres beau.”
Valeska collapsed onto her back, too exhausted to do most of the work anymore. André did not complain. He immediately took his place between her legs, looming over her while his hips directed hers. By the time his cock found its new home once more, Valeska was so deep beneath him that she quivered to consume his presence.
“Fuck me,” she begged, almost forgetting her English. “Please.”
