Free Boxed Set: At the Billionaire’s Command – Vol. 1-3 by Lucy Jones Page B

but it amazed me every time, as if I were seeing it for the first time. His face was so handsome that I thought I would never tire of discovering and admiring it. I had recognised him in the flames and in his caresses. Now I could read his green eyes.
    I was stretched out, given over to his desires. He reached out a hand to one of the tables and picked up a bunch of grapes between his fingers. Leaning over me, he carefully plucked the grapes off and lined them up on my body, from my neck to my pubis. He stepped back, contemplated his composition, leaned over me again and began to eat. Only his lips touched my skin. He took his time, making the pleasure last and spacing out each mouthful. Every time his mouth brushed against my body I stopped myself trembling and my back arching, so that the grapes did not slide down my sides. Between my breasts… my navel… and then in my bush. But his mouth did not stop there. It continued to descend, descend as far as the ultimate juicy fruit.
    His lips were now around my clitoris, sucking it, lapping it. I could no longer control my back or my breathing. I ran my fingers through his hair. I could feel the movements of his tongue, he was tasting me, eating me, devouring me…
    "Miss? Miss!"
I woke up with a start, panting and bathed in sweat. My neighbour had turned to face me and placed a hand on my lower arm.
    "Are you alright, Miss?"
I looked at him, wide-eyed.
    "I’m sorry if I woke you, but you seemed very agitated and you kept saying,
“Fire”
,
“Fire”
,
“Fire”
…"
    Oh no!
My dream came back to me and I blushed with shame. I hoped I hadn’t said anything else!
    "I’m fine, I’m fine, thank you. It was just a dream. I’m sorry if I disturbed you."
    "No, no, don’t worry about it. You seemed really shaken up by your nightmare, I wanted to save you from the flames,” joked my neighbour.
You don’t know how right you are!
    "To be honest, I think I’m hungry."
    My response had a double meaning, but only I knew that. My neighbour was surprised and amused. At least my answer had changed the subject and made us laugh.
    "My name’s Vincent", he said, holding out his hand.
    "Julia."

8. Fantasy
    So this was my neighbour for the New York-Paris flight: Vincent. Vincent was an extremely nice, young man, not particularly good-looking, but perfectly charming. With his short blond hair and his starched polo shirt tucked into beige chinos which fell perfectly onto polished shoes, he looked like a clean-cut boy in every respect. His soft blue eyes and open smile undoubtedly reflected a natural gentleness and an unaffected kindness. At first sight he was one of those boys, with his angelic face and wholesome style, about whom grandmothers say,
“He looks as if butter wouldn’t melt!”
and mothers say,
“He’s the ideal son-in-law”
, but whom girls find a bit too perfect, too much of a pretty-boy and a bit too smooth.
However, I had to acknowledge that his friendly demeanor, combined with his sporty build, inspired confidence, lent him a certain charm and made him seem strong, protective and reassuring.
    And as he also seemed to have a sense of humour, I was looking forward to having such a pleasant travelling companion.
    "Were you on holiday in New York?", asked Vincent.
    "No, not really. Let’s just say that before starting my studies in Paris, I wanted to travel a bit, see something different and learn to speak good English. I came to New York, found a job and stayed for six months. And you? Holiday?"
    "Could we address each other as “tu”?"
    "Yes, of course."
    I wondered why I hadn’t addressed him as “tu” straight away, as I do naturally with people my own age. Was it perhaps because a young man of around twenty travelling alone in business class did not seem to be a matter of course, because unconsciously, saying “vous” to him was a way of marking the distance which separated me from this “ first class” world in which I felt out of place?
    "I was there