THAT MAN 4 (The Wedding Story-Part 1) (2 page)

“Blake, where are we going?” I spluttered, finally breaking the kiss.

“The rest of the cast and crew are going on a tour of Paris. But you, my tiger, are going on a trip to the moon and stars and back.”

“Oh,” I squeaked.

He tweaked my nipples between his thumb and index fingers. I could feel them harden as he smiled smugly. Heat blossomed between my legs and then his hands slid down my hips.

He hiked up the skirt of my dress and shoved my soaked lace panties aside.

His fingers quickly found something delicate and responsive. My clit.

They circled it. Hard, just the way I loved it. Moaning, I rocked into him as his deft fingers picked up speed.

“Je vais baiser votre cerveau,”
he whispered in my ear, his accent perfect.

“Parlez-vous français?”
I murmured back as a mind-blowing orgasm took hold of me.

“No, I talk dirty.”

*

Blake

If you think I was going to let my little tiger party with that horny French frog, you sure as fuck don’t know me by now.
Ga
s
pard-Bastard
. When I’d awoken this morning at the crack of dawn, I’d hopped into the shower, thrown together an overnight case of bare necessities, and driven myself in my trusty high-speed Porsche to LAX. Jennifer had been in France overseeing her first production for over two weeks, and I missed her like crazy. And it wasn’t just her tight little pussy I missed that my calloused fingers could attest to. I missed everything about her. Waking up to her in my arms. The taste of her kiss on my lips. Sharing showers. Her adorable giggle. And even the way she knew how to put me in my place. (Jeez. Another pun unintended?) Yes, my cock had a hearty appetite, but she’d shown me my heart hungered too.

Throughout the long eleven-hour flight, my cock had strained against my jeans while my heart beat like a jackhammer. I’d kept the tray table down the whole time except for the departure and landing. I couldn’t wait to surprise her and see the expression on her pretty face. And then rid her of the lacy lingerie and that new dress, which I’d sent her with the conspiratorial help of Gloria Zander and her designer pal, Chaz. I was about to line up the three cherries…the right idea, the right person and, with no hitches, the right time. A big win was in store.

Timing, I’d learned, was everything. Without it, everything could fall apart. Even the best laid plans—or plans to get laid. Luck had it the flight arrived early, and I was able to get to the Bateau Mouche with ease. Little did my tiger know, I’d chartered it out of my own pocket for my own personal use. It was going nowhere until I was on board. And neither was she.

I fucking wish I’d taken a photo of her face when she set eyes on me. Her emerald orbs lit up like two stars in the sky, and her mouth dropped to the deck in a perfect O. An O big enough to accommodate my big ole cock. Damn, she looked hot in that dress. Magically, the river breeze blew the skirt up above her thighs, exposing her frilly garter and stockings and the scrap of lace panties I’d asked her to wear. My rigid dick was itching to get inside them. But first things first. I needed her in my arms. And my mouth needed to consume hers. It felt like years. She melted into me like chocolate, and as my tongue danced with hers, I scrunched up her silky dress. My hand landed between her thighs. Expertly, I maneuvered my fingers under her little lacy panties and found my hidden treasure.

“Oh baby, you’re so fucking hot and wet,” I moaned into her mouth as I rubbed her nub.

Picking up my pace, I had her panting against me. So ready to come. “Oh God, Blake,” she cried out and then she let go.

I felt her shudder around my fingers while she clung to my shoulders so she wouldn’t fall down.

My cock was on fire. With my mouth locked back on hers, I walked her backward until she was leaning against the railing. Her harsh breathing mixed with the sound of the soft waves brushing against the boat. I hiked up her dress once more and cupped her sweet ass. And then in one swift move, I tore off her drenched panties and spread her legs.

“Blake, what are you doing?” Her eyes were wide.

Monsieur
Dirty Talker wasn’t done with her. Do you seriously think I flew half way around the world just to flick her clit? I gnawed at her slender neck and got right to it.

“I’m going to fuck my future wife’s brains out.”

“But Blake, people on shore will see us.”

“Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re never going to see them again. And when they hear you roar, believe me, they’ll wish they were us.”

“But, don’t you think we should enjoy the cruise? And take in all the monuments?”

“Tiger, there’s only one monument in Paris you need to take in and it’s right here.” I zipped down my fly and out popped my rod. Nine inches of pure pleasure. It deserved a five-star rating on Yelp.

I nudged it against her, and in a hot breath, it was deep inside her. Her muscles clenched around my length. I hissed. I’d almost forgotten how good her tight little pussy felt. On the next breath, I was pounding into her ruthlessly, every thrust taking her closer to the edge. I clamped my hands firmly on her waist so she wouldn’t fall overboard. Fuck. That would be bad. Her moans mingled with my grunts as I pummeled her harder and faster. Her face contorted with tortured pleasure, and I kept my eyes open to enjoy the beautiful sight of her. The beauty of Notre Dame, as the boat swung around the Île de la Cité and passed by the famous landmark, paled next to that of
ma belle dame
in my face and in my arms.

“Eyes, tiger,” I ordered. I wanted her to enjoy the spectacular view too. On my command, she snapped open her long-lashed lids, and I rewarded her with another all-consuming French kiss—
la pelle
or shovel as some called it in France. In the distance, I heard promenaders along the Seine cheering us on with wolf whistles and applause.
“Allez, allez! A votre santé!”
I waved to them.

“Have you missed me?” I panted out as my cock hammered into her.
Missed this?

“Oh yes. So much.”

Ahead of us, the Eiffel Tower sparkled. At the rate we were moving, it would be at least half an hour until the boat passed it, and headed back to the quay. My own lit up tower of steel wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Come with me, baby.” An intense tingling sensation surged from my sac to the tip of my shaft. I swear, my cock was going to jump out of its skin.

She emitted a ferocious roar you could hear in LA, and then I cried out her name as my own powerful orgasm met her blissful wake.

“Oh, Blake,” she murmured, her voice, a breathy whisper.

Spent, I nuzzled her neck. “Are you happy I came?” Man, what was with me and these double entendres?

She sunk her head against my chest. “So happy.”

With my arms wrapped around her, we stayed in this resting position for several long minutes as we aptly neared the Arc de Triomphe. So maybe we’d missed some of the sites along the Seine, but it didn’t matter. I tenderly kissed her silky flesh everywhere I could.

Piano music drifted into the night air. Cole Porter. “I Love Paris.”

“…in the springtime,” I sang softly against her ear. I’d arranged for a romantic champagne-filled dinner for the two of us on the dining deck below—complete with a pianist and songstress. They were going to perform songs from the play list of
Pearl
to which we’d slow dance. And later fuck some more—I was saving her sweet pussy for dessert.

She sighed dreamily, never lifting her head from my heart.

Yes, I loved Paris in the springtime. There was only one thing I loved more—Paris in the springtime with my tiger. My future wife. I held her tight.

“Oh, Blake, I could make love to you all night.”

That was the plan.

Jennifer

“H
appy birthday, tiger.”

Groggily, I peeled one eye open after the other. Blake had insisted I take the afternoon off to spend time with my parents. After a whirlwind tour of Hollywood, we were all tired, and I headed home after dropping them off at The Beverly Hills Hotel where they were staying, courtesy of Blake’s family. Late afternoon sunlight was streaming into the bedroom where I’d taken a much-needed nap. Through my hazy vision, I could see Blake heading my way. He must have gotten home while I was sleeping. Bare-chested, he was wearing sweats, and his hands were behind his back. I could stare at that glorious chiseled chest all day.

I forced myself to sit up. “Blake, my birthday’s not till Monday.”

He smiled that cocky smile I loved so much. “Yeah, I know, but I wanted to give you something before our dinner tonight with our parents.”

Mom and Dad had flown in for my twenty-fourth birthday. They’d been here since Monday and we’d had a great time. It was their first trip to Los Angeles since I’d started working for Conquest Broadcasting in their adult entertainment division, SIN-TV. One of the highlights of their trip was coming to my office. My mother, God bless her, kept saying “very lovely” though I knew she was having a mini-coronary each time she passed by a full-frontal nudity poster of one of our pure-porn prime time shows. She was relieved to see that my new executive office was tastefully furnished. Both my parents admired
The Kiss,
the sensuous erotic painting on the wall, and I told them it was a gift from Blake. Having to work, I sent them on a tour of the studio and made sure they got to see some tapings of shows as well as meet a few stars. My mother was in heaven when her idol Denzel Washington gave her an autographed headshot.

Unfortunately for them, they couldn’t be here on Monday, the actual day of my birthday, because Dad had to go back to Boise. Though now retired from academic life, the university was making him a Professor Emeritus on the same day. It was a noble achievement and I, like my mom, was so proud of him. Unfortunately for me, my crazy work schedule with a dozen erotic romance telenovelas at various stages of production, made it impossible for me to fly back home to share his special day. I was thrilled, however, that they’d decided to come to California to spend some time with me. Tonight, for the first time, they would be going to Blake’s parents’ house. His mother had insisted on having them over for their weekly Shabbat dinner. I was sure by the time it was over they’d both know a little Yiddish—well, at least one word.
Shmekel
—that and
shtupping
—thanks to Blake’s oversexed eighty-six-year-old grandma. I was sure this dinner was going to be the other highlight of their trip—for better and for worse.

Catapulting me out my mental ramblings, Blake sat down on the edge of the bed we now shared and handed me a small box. It was shiny red with a small white stick-on bow. “This is for you, tiger. Open it.”

My heartbeat sped up. Blake loved buying me presents, and they were always so creative and thoughtful. And sometimes a little naughty. Carefully, I lifted off the lid. Inside was another small box—this one velvet. Removing it, I snapped it open and gasped.

“Oh my God, Blake, they’re exquisite,” I exclaimed, unable to contain my excitement or tears of joy. Glittering before my eyes was a pair of magnificent earrings—two dangling pink tourmaline hearts, each set with diamonds. They matched the pink tourmaline necklace he’d given me last Christmas. Tourmaline was my birthstone.

Grinning cheek to cheek, Blake planted a kiss on my forehead. “Put them on tiger, and I want you to wear them tonight.”

“Oh, Blake!” I gushed, smacking his lips with mine. “I love you so much.”

“The same.” He watched as I inserted the pierced earrings into my earlobes.

“How do you do that?”

I laughed lightly and then rubbed the dangling earrings between my fingers. “I want to see what they look like on me in a mirror.” I made my first attempt to get out of bed, but Blake held me back by the matching necklace I rarely took off.

He smiled at me wickedly. “Not until I give you your other present.”

I glanced down and instantly had an idea.

Blake

Y
up, I did have another present for my tiger. But let me tell you, it was hard hiding this one. No pun intended. The tent between my thighs was sizeable, and it was expanding by the second.

The gist of my present was not lost on Jen. She gazed down at my crotch and her brows lifted.

“Oh, and what might that be?” she asked wryly, as if she didn’t know.

I shoved down my sweats. “This one.” Before her stood my big cock, gift wrapped in a big red bow. I suppressed a moan. It was fucking killing me because I’d tied the stupid bow on earlier—just tight enough so it wouldn’t fall off—and now my pecker had practically doubled in size. What the fuck had I been thinking? The bow was cutting off my circulation and giving me numb nuts.

Jennifer burst into laughter. She was laughing so hard she was crying. I swear, if she didn’t take this fucking bow off soon, my dick was going to fall off and I’d be crying tears too.

“Blake, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she managed. She was practically howling. “It’s like you’re God’s gift to women.”