Sixty-Five
Hugo
At exactly midnight, she entered my bedroom, joining Sherry and Chantel just as I had requested of them. Both of my women were beautiful, but there was something about Isobel that stirred a far more formidable reaction within me. Possibly it could be due to the mere fact that didn’t come to me as a willing woman. She was desperate to fix her father’s crucial problem; consequently she had to sacrifice herself like a lamb to be at my disposal.
Be that as it may, though my principles protested, there was something about the thought of having a reluctant woman forcing herself to open up to a man she barely knew because of an obligation. It was twisted at its best, but the appeal fired my nearing boredom of my usual tastes.
Apart from her beauty, Isobel was different. My cock was certain of it.
I liked aggressive, sensual women, and she was plainly the opposite of that. She had a way about her that gave away the veil of innocence even though she masked it as much as she could. The animal in me wanted to strip it bare—literally and figuratively—and lavish on her unmarred innocence. I felt compelled, driven to be the very man to unleash her into a world full of sensuality, rutting into unparalleled mating.
Staring lustily at her beauty, I saw she had changed her clothes into a demure, black dress while Sherry and Chantel both wore silk robes, ready at a snap of my fingers.
“Mon chéri,” Sherry rasped out as she brazenly strode across the room, bridging the gap before us while the other two stayed back, waiting… watching. My beautiful, blonde, seductive woman gave me a whisper soft kiss before she slowly started to take my clothes off, starting with my silk tie. “We’re here to make you feel better.”
My cock alarmingly didn’t salute to her soft caresses. Sherry was my main lover. She’d been with me for about five years, and in those years never had this ever happened to me. My cock worshipped her, yet tonight, her voice and her soft touch didn’t feel enough.
My hunger was thriving for more…
For Isobel.
However, I had made the promise earlier that I wouldn’t do anything to her. I meant to keep the vow even though I’d end up blue and frustrated. A man of my word was what I was known for, but tonight, my passionate nature tempted to overrule my senses.
Needing more of a distraction before my mind wandered off to the inevitable, I snapped my hard gaze towards my other lover. One look was enough command to have her coming to her heels, naked in a blink of an eye as she abandoned her robe without thought.
“Mon Roi.” (My King.) She seductively smiled at me then got on her knees and slid the rest of my clothing off my body before I felt Sherry’s lips on the back of my neck, breasts pressing against the expanse of my back as her nails dug into the skin of my buttocks.
Across the room, I heard Isobel’s sharp intake of breath just as Chantel’s mouth met the head of my shaft.
Glancing towards her, she had both of her arms wrapped around her stomach as she bit her bottom lip, looking like she’d been caught stealing something valuable. Our gazes clashed and the turmoil of emotions in her face awakened the beast in me. I wanted to comfort and hurt, provide pain and pleasure, anger and delight. The wave of feelings awash over me, leaving me strained and confused, but most of all, raging with a fire so fierce the woman with enchanting eyes could alone stoke it brighter.
Eyes locked together, I was held mesmerized as I felt both Chantel and Sherry sucking my cock, softly, gently—hungrily.
Each second that ticked by without her breaking contact, the harder I got. Though the ladies’ ministrations were excellent, it was the woman across from me—the air of reluctance she portrayed and the avid curiosity—that got me going. Moreover, when I let out a deep, pleasing groan and she dared break contact, the savage beast in me emerged, needing to come out and play.
“Ladies, I need to speak with Isobel,” I spoke softly yet succinctly. Without glancing at my lovers, I knew my cutting command confused them, yet I didn’t have the luxury of time to explain anything. Besides, I never explained anything to anyone. These were part of the rules in being my kept woman. I showered them with all the beautiful things life had to offer, and in turn, they gave me gratitude.
From my peripheral vision, both women quietly gathered their robes and slipped out of the room until it was just the two of us left. She still looked aghast and frazzled. I remained boldly naked—and harder than I had ever been in my thirty-four years of manhood.
Giving her enough time to breathe and get used to the idea we were alone before deciding to close the gap between us, I languidly strode towards her while her eyes fought the need to glance towards my emboldened member, charging with purpose. Once I reached her, my hunger tripled.
“Good evening, Isobel,” I greeted as calmly as I could, mismatching the storm raging within.
Her brow furrowed, nervous and unsure of herself. “Hello, Mr. Xavier,” she meekly said, meeting my dark depths.
“Hugo,” I corrected her. “Let me hear you say my name.”
She nervously licked her lips before whispering my name. “Hugo.” The sound made me groan with pleasure as I felt a small bead seep out of the head of my shaft.
Her eyes dropped towards my raging manhood as I noted the emotions that flittered across her beautifully delicate face.
“Frightened of what it could do to you?” My control was slipping as I tried to portray the unaffected man before her, yet my member gave me away, seeming beyond enraged. Wanting to progress further, I went on with one purpose. “Touch it. It’s been waiting to make your acquaintance.”
Shimmering eyes focused on me, baffled and questioning. “I thought you said you weren’t planning on doing anything with me tonight.”
Her vulnerability made me feel amazingly powerful. “And I will keep to my word, but I never said anything about you not doing anything to me, ma chéri.”
“Oh—well… uh… what did… you want?” she stuttered her words out before licking her lips and clashing those tantalizing orbs at me.
What did I want? Whatever she was reluctant to give, my mind automatically said as I looked down at her, wondering how her hand would feel against my skin. “Touch me, Isobel.”
Her fingers shook as she bit down on her lip before giving me a tortured face, thus making me ache further for her touch. I let out a harsh breath when she made contact. She brushed her finger on the tip as she stared at my cock with fascination twinkling in her eyes. This woman hadn’t done much, however her mere here-and-there touches almost made me combust inside. Her vulnerability, reluctance, and curiosity made a heady, potent concoction for me, and I simply couldn’t get enough. I wanted more…
“Make me come in your hands, ma belle.”
She swallowed whatever saliva she had before she gripped my length firmer, harder as she began her ministrations.
“Grip the base and focus on the head.”
She did as I asked her before I gradually started to thrust my hips into her palms, shutting my lids close as I focused all of my senses on one part of my anatomy, basking on her sensual hands and fingers. Lust veiled my sight as I opened them to watch her work me well, and by God, what a sight she was.
“Look at me. Give me those beautiful eyes, ma belle. I want to stare at them while you stroke my cock. I want to see your soul while you make me come in your hands.”
The sexy, shy kitten did as I requested, stroking the deep, sensual furnace within my body before it escalated to its peak and erupted beautifully, magnificently in her hands.