Kingsley turned his attention back to Colette. As erotic as it was to be watched while fucking, he did have a job to do and that job was to make Colette come. As he moved in her wetness, she made murmuring sounds of pleasure as he pressed into her deeper. She took him easily now, and after only a minute or two of thrusting, he was fully penetrating her. He shifted his weight onto his hands and braced himself over her, letting his lower back and hips do all the work as he thrust his cock into the panting moaning girl. His thighs were hard as steel bars by that point. His years of experience were the only thing keeping him from spilling inside her before he’d even gotten her close to orgasm. He lowered himself onto his side and held her back to his chest, spooning her while he fucked her.

With his other hand he found her swollen clitoris. Colette cried out when he touched it. It was a beautiful cry. That little knot of tender flesh was hard and hot, and it throbbed against his fingertips as he kneaded it. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts. He could feel Colette’s vagina tightening around his cock as he pressed her toward climax. She was squirming against him, trying to take more of him inside her, feeling more of his touch on her. Every few thrusts she said his name or “please” or “yes.” Finally she said “more.”

“Harder?” he asked into her ear. “Deeper?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Which one?”

“Both. All. Everything. Just more.”

If he hadn’t been so hard and ready to come, he might have laughed at her eagerness. He kneaded her clitoris as thoroughly, yet as gently as he could, until she was gone, far gone, over the edge and there was no going back.

He pulled out of her and pushed her onto her back again. With a rough thrust he was back inside her. She arched underneath with shameless pleasure. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she needed. She needed to be taken and impaled and he was happy to do it. She threw her legs open wide in invitation and Kingsley pounded into her with powerful thrusts, ramming his full shaft into her before pulling out to the tip and ramming it in again. She was at that stage of arousal where he couldn’t begin to fuck her hard enough to suit her…but he would try. God, he would try.

The room grew fragrant with the scent of her wetness and their sweat. A heady moment for Kingsley with this beautiful young girl spread out under him, his cock splitting her body open, and one of the more fascinating women he’d ever met watching their every movement from only a few feet away. Colette’s nipples were hard and he sucked them into his mouth, nipped and tugged on them until the girl was nearly out of her mind with need. She writhed under him, her hips hungrily bucking into his thrusts, eager to take as much or more than he could give. He covered her breast with his hands, holding and kneading them while he rode her. When it seemed Colette had reached the very edge of her arousal, when she hovered there, poised on the brink of the cliff so that even the slightest breeze could send her tumbling over, that’s when Kingsley licked his two fingertips and pressed them against her burning clitoris again and rubbed.

Colette arched back again, arched hard, arched so that her shoulders came off the bed. She didn’t make a sound when she came, but she didn’t need to. Kingsley could feel it happening. Her inner muscles clasped at his cock, clenching it and squeezing it tight. And as she came he pounded into her again and again, rapid-fire thrusts deep into the core of her as he raced toward his own orgasm.

He’d fantasized briefly about pulling out and coming onto her lovely breasts, but the necessary self-control for that act was long gone. His own orgasm was unstoppable. As Colette’s body spasmed wildly around him, he released into her with a grunt he couldn’t suppress. With thrust after mindless merciless thrust, he pumped his semen deep inside her until he was spent and empty. He poured himself out and into her until he had nothing left to give and she had no will left to take.

And then it was done.

Underneath him, Colette had gone so still he thought she might have passed out. She only moved again when he slowly pulled out of her. Fluid, his and hers, poured from her and onto the already dampened sheets underneath her hips. He had just enough wherewithal to examine her body, his, and the wetness on the bed to make sure none of it was blood. It wasn’t. Then he collapsed next to her onto his side.

Colette slowly opened her sleepy eyes, turned her head and looked at him.

“Six,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse and hollow. She had no more energy than he did.

“What’s six?” he asked. “How many children we’re going to have?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “Six is how many times I want you to do that to me tonight.”

He’d just ravished her into near-unconsciousness and she was already asking for more. When they wanted him to leave this house, they would have to drag him out kicking and screaming.

“Six?” he said. “That could take a while. Best get started…”

He kissed her lips. They were dry from panting, but a girl who’d just had a man in her for the first time needed kissing and lots of it. It might have turned to more than kissing quickly if Madame hadn’t interrupted with another one of her “Ahems.”

“Drink,” Madame said, offering Kingsley and Colette each a champagne flute.

Kingsley helped Colette straighten her nightgown and sit up. She winced, but she didn’t complain of any pain. Even he might be feeling a twinge of soreness tomorrow after how hard he’d rode her. He looked forward to feeling his muscles talking to him, reminding him of this night and every little thing he did to this delicious girl.

“Thank you,” Colette said as she took her first sip of the chilled champagne. Her nose wriggled from the bubbles. It was adorable enough that Kingsley thought six might be the low estimate.

Parched as he was, he emptied his champagne flute in two swallows and didn’t even taste it going down. He lay back on the bed and pulled Colette to his chest. She came willingly, smilingly, and brought many kisses for him with her.

“I hope you approve of my performance,” he said to Madame.

“If Colette approves, I approve,” Madame said. She placed both empty glasses onto a side table and returned to her chair.

“When can we do that again?” Colette asked.

“I just came out my ears,” Kingsley said. “I’m going to need a long time to recover. Ten minutes, bare minimum.”

Madame pointed at Colette. “You rest. And you,” she said, pointing at Kingsley, “come with me.”

“Me?” Kingsley pointed at himself.

Madame didn’t answer. She merely gave him the look that brooked no opposition.

“Stay,” he said to Colette, giving her a quick kiss on her pouting lips. “I’ll be back. Promise.”

Kingsley climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes quickly and haphazardly. Trousers, shirt barely buttoned. He skipped the shoes and walked barefoot with Madame out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

“Where are we going?” he asked Madame.

“I want Colette to rest a while,” she said. “It’s not good for her to get too attached too quickly. Recipe for disaster, as they say.”

“What about me?” Kingsley asked. “What if I’m too attached?”

Madame waved her hand, a gesture to show she was flinging his question aside. “You just made love to a pretty young virgin. Your head’s in the clouds. In two days you’ll have forgotten all about her and don’t pretend otherwise.”

Kingsley’s steps slowed. “In two days, I hope I’m still in bed with her,” he said, blinking. A sudden headache hit him between the eyes and he fought the urge to lie down again.

They were outside another room and Madame opened the door to a simple white bedroom, a guest room, and though there was nothing sinister about it, he didn’t want to go in. Madame pushed lightly on his lower back and he felt too weak to resist.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Madame said. “You look tired. You should sleep.”

Sleep was exactly what he wanted. Kingsley wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep and sleep and sleep. But it wasn’t much after midnight. Why was he this exhausted?

“You…” he breathed and raised a heavy hand to his head. “What did you give me?”

“Nothing that won’t wear off by tomorrow afternoon. Until then…” Madame said. “Lie down. Don’t make it difficult for yourself. There’s no reason to.”

He could have made it difficult. The urge to throttle the woman and flee was almost as overwhelming as the urge to lie down and sleep. Almost.

“What did I do…” was the last thing he said as he collapsed onto the bed.

Madame put a pillow under his head as he fell to his side. “It’s not personal, dear,” she said, patting his cheek. A tender touch, almost motherly. “I like you very much.”

“Then why—” he tried to ask again.

Madame touched his eyelids, lowering them closed.

“Shh…” she said, a mother to a son. “It’s just our way.”

Kingsley’s head swam, and his brain danced. He forced his eyes open, and he saw a door in the middle of a forest, and a beautiful boy with hair like June and eyes like January stepping through the door and visiting him where he lay on the bed. The boy touched his face, gently.

“Oh, there you are,” Kingsley said. “You found me.”

“I’ll always find you,” the boy said and smiled.

“I don’t like this anymore,” Kingsley said to the boy. “I want to go home.”

The boy picked Kingsley up off the bed as if he weighed no more than a feather, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him home.