Free Forty Shades of Pearl by Arianne Richmonde Page B

How ironic, they, like the choker are also original Art Deco. They’re shallow coupe glasses like saucers – the sort in 1930s Hollywood movies, when champagne flowed in fountains and femme-fatales smoked with silver cigarette holders.
    Just as I’ve reached up for them, as I’m still standing on the chair, I feel Alexandre’s hand slip up between my thighs again. This yes-no tease is driving me to distraction. I nearly drop the glasses. I look down and see his head planted between my thighs, forcing them apart. I splay my legs a little. His soft hair is tickling me, brushing against my clit like silk. I close my eyes in bliss. He spins me around, his strong hands clamped on my hips. I can’t move, I’m being manhandled again. He has my backside now in his face. I can’t see him but I can feel him gently parting my buttocks with his fingers. His tongue starts licking between my crack. Up and down. Wow this feels incredible. Thank God I had a bath and I smell of sweet oils, I think to myself, as I whimper with pleasure. My hands cannot touch him, I’m still holding the champagne glasses and I don’t want to drop them. He pushes my back down a touch so I am now leaning slightly forward, bending over, still standing above him on the chair.
    “Relax, chérie,” he cajoles, and I am too turned on to disobey.
    His palm is cupping my Venus now, my clitoris throb-tingling as he slips his thumb inside and circles it, touching on my inner front walls. The base of his palm putting pressure against my clit – I’m flexing my hips back and forth. I’m really wet. This feels so….. oh my God ! His tongue is licking me up and down along the crack of my buttocks once more. Licking, flicking, darting, probing. He’s still palming my clit. I think I’m going to come. That would be a first. All my sensations are deep and hot inside – my brain is like a marshmallow—
    My mind is going into a tunnel of black and then flashing pink and red and .. oh wow, his thumb is pressing and circling rhythmically in a place at the front of my walls, in a place, oh….ah…, ah, ah. I feel every nerve inside me as I implode with pleasure in this deep, undiscovered zone, deep inside me. I cry out – this is the most intense, throbbing orgasm of my life.
    He holds his grip firm as I writhe with ecstasy, letting the orgasm spasms of my pulsing, tingling nerves climax in waves, until slowly, very slowly it calms.
    He takes his thumb and hand away and licks my juices from his fingers. “Hum, tasty,” he grins, looking up at me. He lifts me down from the chair and sets me on the floor, gently. He grabs the champagne bottle, takes the glasses from me and places them on the kitchen sideboard. He pops open the champagne and pours, as if what he has done is the most normal occurrence in the world.
    I’m a quivering wreck.
    “You like that, then?” he asks with a crooked smile.
    My jaw hangs open. “That’s never happened to me before. That was new. Where you had your thumb has opened up a completely new….a new—”
    “I must have hit your G-spot.”
    I have read about this famous G-spot but was beginning to believe it was a myth. “It felt….how can I describe it? It felt deep . So intense.”
    He smiles knowingly and narrows his eyes as if to say ‘that’s just the beginning.’ Does this man realize what he has just done? Oh yes, I think he does. He has a confident air about him as if he does this every day of the week.
    “Well, I got to do a little exploration of your body so I had an idea,” he says humbly.
    I’m still in a state of wonder. Shivering with amazement. He seems to know my body better than I do and we hardly know each other.
    “Are you cold, baby?” He looks concerned. A gentleman and a rogue rolled into one. I’m not cold, just shaking with post-orgasm ecstasy. He takes off his loose linen shirt and puts it about my shoulders. I drink in his torso. I close my eyes for a second and, like flash photography, or