pink quim, but he would make damn sure he left no doubt as to what he was doing.
“Tell me what you need me to do, bebé,” Diego murmured against her thigh. “What
do you need me to do?”
Cher shuddered as Diego kissed and nibbled her inner thighs. She tried desperately
to move her aching core to wherever his mouth was, but he held her hips in firm hands.
Mon Dieu, but the man was masterful. He could make her moist and needy with a simple
touch.
“I need you to kiss me,” she begged. “Kiss me… between my legs.”
Diego kissed her right at her hairline where her pelvis began, right above where he
knew she wanted him to be. “Here?” Cherie growled softly in frustration. She panted in need as he blew softly against her
outer lips then leaned closer to her core to inhale the perfume of her desire now pungent in
the air, all without touching her where she wanted him most.
“I hurt,” she whimpered fighting a desperate battle with her hips to move forward
just a few inches.
“Tell me where it hurts, bebé, and I’ll kiss it.”
There was no hope for it. He would not relent until she said all the naughty little
words he had taught her. To be perfectly honest, she not only had no problem using
wicked language as long as they were alone and engaged in love play, but it also sent a
delicious little thrill whenever she uttered taboo words and phrases and literally drenched
her underclothing whenever he used them.
“My, my…pussy,” her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“What about my pretty little pussy, chica?”
He was now swirling his tongue right at the juncture where her thigh met her pelvis,
causing her to pant in desperation.
“I need you in my pussy!” she exploded, tired of his torture. “You fingers, your
tongue, your…your cock!” With a growl Diego buried his head right where she desperately needed him. With a
grateful sigh, Cherie leaned back on her elbows spreading her legs wider to allow him
maximum access.
“Oh, yesssss…” she moaned as his wicked tongue laved her appreciative clit while
his fingers lunged deep, stroking that special place Diego called her “hot spot.” Whatever
the hell it was, it sent sinfully delightful currents of bliss throughout her body.
Diego moved his hands to her buttocks, lifting her closer against his questing
mouth. Her pants had turned into to pleading moans, her hip frantically moving against
him as he fucked her relentlessly with his tongue. Her release came with crashing intensity,
causing Cher to grip hanks of his hair in a vicious grip. Diego revealed in the sharp
sensation, loving that it was him to make her scream out in joy while her body convulsed;
physical proof of her pleasure.
Without waiting for the spasms from her explosive orgasm to subside, he plowed his
entire rigid into her welcoming body. Cherie screamed out in pleasure, erupting
immediately into another round of orgasmic tremors. Diego hissed through his teeth as the
sensation of her incredibly tight, wet pussy quaking around his cock. Refusing to give into
the aching need to flood her with his seed, he held her immovable against his body until he
could move without coming. In the back of his mind he was aware of the primal demand he show the young man still standing silently by the door this woman had been claimed in
every way.
“Tell me, querida, to whom do you belong?”
His normally deep voice laced with intense passion never failed to send shivers down
her spine. Looking into his eyes she could see he was struggling to stay in control, so afraid
he would hurt her. It touched her that he was such a considerate lover, but the knowledge
that she had the power to inspire unbridled lust thrilled her. She knew if she failed to
answer it would send him closer to the edge.
Clinching his jaw tightly, he began to move in slow, drawn out strokes. He retreated
until he was almost completely out of her body only to thrust forward forcefully again and
again. Cherie met him thrust for thrust, anchoring her feet on the edge of the desk; she
arched her back so that she could propel her hips upward in time with each down stroke
but he refused to give into her silent request and increase his rhythm. When she still
refused to answer, he plunged to the hilt and remained perfectly still.
“Querida, who do you belong to?” His voice was threatening, but it was a threat in
which she had no fear.
Grinning in anticipation she shrugged, “Well, to myself of course.”
Diego arched one eyebrow. So she wanted to play did she? He casually reached
down to stroke her face stopping to gently cradle her face. She was going to be furious when she found out what was behind this little interlude. Not that he ever needed an
excuse. It seemed he could not go more than half a day without bring buried deep inside
her. But right now he needed her complete submission. He doubted that would stop
Étienne Barbin from trying to steal her away, but he had to strike a deep blow to the boy to
let him know he was in for one hell of a fight. A fight the boy would not win while Diego
still drew breath.
“Chica,” he murmured looking deeply into her eyes. “You will tell me what I want
to know.” He swiveled his hips without withdrawing or thrusting forward. His smile was
pure sin at her mewing protest as she tried to move beneath him. “Tell me.”
“You!” she cried in desperation still trying to move.
“Me, what?” he demanded.
“I belong to you, damn it! My body, my mind, my everything! Please mon amoureux,
please. I need you!”
Allowing himself another humorless smile he still refused to allow her further
completion. “And do you wish to leave me?”
“Non!”
He rewarded her with one stroke. “Not even for your former fiancé? Would you
leave me for him, querida?” Cherie was beyond thinking about anything other than Diego and the delicious
sensations he inspired in her. She answered without thinking, but she answered truthfully.
Looking directly into his eyes she stated in a softly, but in a clear, unwavering voice. “Non,
I want no one but you. I need no one but you.”
With that simple statement the primeval animal Diego held inside on a tight leash
broke free in a way he had never allowed before. He withdrew, ignoring her cry of protest,
flipping her face down over the desk. Spreading her leg he growled, “Don’t move!”
Reaching into a side drawer he retrieved cream he usually used for chapped hands. With
gentleness he did not feel, he spread the cheeks of her buttocks working the cream with one
finger into the rosette staring up at him, daring him. Cherie let out a startled yelp, but did
not try to move away
“Relax querida,” he whispered working his finger into her. “Push against my finger.”
Breathing deeply, she did just as she was told permitting him to do as he wished.
One finger was soon replaced by two; at first it felt odd and slightly painful, but as he
began to scissor his fingers the sight pain was replaced by a deliciously intense pleasure.
Suddenly the fingers were gone and in their place she left the thick head of his penis
pressing against her forbidden hole. “Push down, bebé dulce.” She did immediately
allowing him to slip in inch by torturous inch.
“Sí, mi poco amor. You are so tight, so good.” He started slowly, giving her time to adjust. It was everything he knew it would be.
She lay with her head down, but she had begun to move in time with his movements.
Reaching around to caress her engorged clit, he was elated find her so wet she soaked his
hand. Encouraged, he sank two fingers inside her aching pussy while using his thumb to
rib her clit. He was immediately awarded by the tightening of her anal walls to grip his
cock like a live, warm pulsating vice. Cherie panted as she felt her body responding to the
strange new feelings he was invoking. He hauled her upper body up with one hand keeping
his other entrenched inside her ever wetter pussy. She leaned her head against his shoulder
whole entwining her arms around his neck.
“Diego, what are you doing to me?” she sobbed, loving every minute.
He alternately kissed and nibbled the side of her neck up to her ear where he
whispered, “I want to make you feel good, chica.” He pressed her even closer to him, never
missing a stroke as he kneaded her breasts and stimulating her pussy and her clit. “And you
my bad little girl, are killing me.”
Cherie’s only answer was her moans as she pushed back against his marauding cock.
Diego increased his tempo until he was pounding in and out of her ass as if his life
depended on it. She arched her back and met him stroke for stroke, crying out his name
until she screamed as her body shook. “That’s it, querida. Come for me bebé.” The muscles inside her ass grabbed onto his cock as if it was trying to suck him dry. With a roar he
plunged down releasing everything he had.
Cherie collapsed in a boneless heap on the desk trying to catch her breath. Diego
had always been a forceful lover, but never had he taken her the way he did today. Her
entire body felt like one big bundle of nerves. Even his soft caresses along her back caused
mini quakes all over her body. She could never belong to any other man now, not even
Étienne. She belonged to Diego completely and of her own free will. Once back in New
Orleans she would have to find a way to tell her parents. She knew they had wanted her to
marry to ensure her a stable future. The life of a placée was an uncertain one to say the least.
One day you might be the apple of your protector’s eye, but all too often, a placée was
forgotten her children right along with her, after her protector found a wife. Sometimes, he
just tired of her and went on to greener pastures. In either event, that left the woman and
her children devastated and without means of support.
With Diego, Cherie would take that risk. And as long as she stayed in Louisiane, she
did not have to worry about how she would support herself or any future children they
might have. She had every confidence both her Papas would ensure she was financially
secure. As much as still had feelings for Étienne, she was hopelessly bound to her Spanish
lover. She could never go back to the way things used to be. “Are you okay, querida?” Diego asked worriedly as he withdrew as gentle as he could
and gathered her against his chest. The thought of her noticing the young man by the door
was secondary to making sure he had not hurt her or disgusted her.
“I feel wonderful,” was the muffled reply as she snuggled deeper into his arms.
He could not help but smile in relief. She was an absolute treasure.
“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you? You are not sore?”
“Of course I’m sore,” she murmured fighting valiantly to stay awake. “But it is quite
a satisfying soreness. Now leave me alone and let me rest.”
Diego smiled, his hear full as he gently kissed her on the forehead. Without thought
he spoke what was in his heart. “I love you, Cherie.”
“I love you, Diego.”
Looking over her reclining body, Diego’s eyes locked with the Cherie’s former
fiancé in unspoken communication. The young man stiffened, narrowing his own eyes in
response. No, this one would not give up so easily. Still, Diego had made his point. He had
still taken and claimed her. He would not be the gentleman and bow out, allowing this
young pup to take her back. She belonged to him, completely.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Diego sighed as he looked out over the seemingly endless blue sea. If the winds
prevailed, they would arrive in New Orleans in a week. It couldn’t be soon enough for him.
Étienne Barbin was proving to be a far more worthy opponent then he had first believed
and an all around nuisance. The little interlude in his study meant to send the little shit a
message had only seemed to goad the pup. Instead of exiting gracefully, the boy had only
removed himself as far as the parlor, to wait until Diego had put Cherie to bed.
“I would’ve thought you’d gotten the point,” Diego drawled as he strolled into the
parlor, pouring himself a healthy drought of brandy without offering the younger man any
refreshments. It was unpardonably rude, but the boy was there to steal the one thing that
meant a damn to him. He completely dismissed that Cherie had been the boy’s long before
he had ever met her. She was his by right of conquest. He wasn’t giving her up.
Suárez with curiosity as he tried to sort through the multitude of emotions coursing
through him. He certainly looked the part of his reputation; tall, dark, dangerous and
completely uncompromising. When Christine L’Amour had first told him Cherie was with
this man before him, Étienne had felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. The
duque was relatively young, unmarried, richer than most men could ever hope to be, and he held more power than any territorial governor. The only thing Étienne had to offer that
was comparable to any of that was his hand in marriage. He had walked to the duque’s
midtown mansion hoping that his willingness to make Cherie his wife regardless of where
she had been or who she had been with would be enough for him to woo her back home to
him. What he had witnessed in the duque’s study had ripped that small hope to shreds.
The thing was, instead of feeling anger or jealousy at the erotic scene he had witness,
Étienne felt excluded. He did not boil in anger at seeing Diego’s hands on his fiancé; he felt
left out somehow. He did not want to tear them apart, he wanted to join them. Étienne
had waited for Cherie for half of his life and he’d never failed to be infuriated at the sight of
her smiling at any other man that was not one of her fathers or her brothers. He had lurked
at every ball she had attended quietly warning off all of the young bucks, relying on Claude
or Luc to warn off the older gentlemen. Never had he felt to urge to share her, or worse to
be shared by her.
Of course he knew of her parents three-way relationship, just as she knew his father
lived with his long-time male lover. That was part of the reason they were so perfect for
each other. Étienne had long ago accepted his father for who he was, but he had never been
attracted to another male, until now. He had always expected to be in a normal one-one
relationship despite the strangeness of both Cherie’s family as well as his own. Diego had
been magnificent. His body had excited him every bit as
much as Cherie’s. As much as he knew Cherie would not walk away from the duque, he was very much afraid he would have
a most difficult time walking away from either of them.
“I got the point,” Étienne said quietly turning away from Diego to stare out the bay
windows.
Diego frowned. “Then why are you here?”
Étienne shrugged with casualness he didn’t feel. “Would you be able to walk away?”
That made Diego pause. If Cherie decided she wanted to return to life she had been
torn away from and leave him, could he let her go? The question brought Diego up short.
No, he would never let her go. Yet he’d fully expected this boy to do just that.
“I understand the way you feel,” Diego began. “But you are young…”
“Yes, I am young.” Étienne whirled back to face the man sleeping with his lost love.
“But I will not grow out of it. I will not love again, not like this. That is what you were
going to say was it not?”
Diego was taken about by the vehemence in his voice. Damn, that was exactly what
he was going to say.
“No,” he lied. “I was thinking more of marriage settlements and the like. Men in my
position have never married for something as plebian as love. What you saw today was my
claiming of something you believed was yours. I assure, though she might have been at one
time, she is not and will never be yours. I will, of course, provide you with the full value of her dowry, but I cannot allow her to marry you, or anyone else. She is mine, as I have
shown you and she will be mine until my dying breath.”
Unfortunately, Cherie had chosen that exact moment to enter the parlor and had
been furious. After pushing Diego from the room, she had “visited” with the damn boy for
more than an hour. Afterwards she promptly locked herself in the suite of rooms adjoining
his own refusing to speak to him, muttering something about “overbearing male stupidity”
or some such nonsense. His little darling had a red hot temper. Ah, but the make-up was
twice as fiery. Even if he did have regrets about not taking her back to her family
immediately after learning who she was (which he didn’t), he felt no such qualms after the
she had finally decided to forgive him. They had not left the bedroom for two days. If it