The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) by Victoria Wessex
Authors: Victoria Wessex
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hard and deep.
Rain was flowing down our faces, running over our lips as mashed them together, rolling over our eyes as we squeezed them tight shut.
Erard took me by the hand, just as he had back in the diner, and pulled me off the path and into the trees. He whirled me around, pressing me back against a tree, its greenery stopping the worst of the rain. Then he began to run his hands over my heaving body, tracing my lines through the soaked fabric. Over my hips. Up over my breasts, lifting them, stroking my hardened nipples through the cloth. We kissed, broke, panted, kissed again.
I heard the towel drop to the floor. His cock pressed up against my freezing thigh, scorchingly hot and gloriously naked. I helped him drag my skirt up my thighs, baring me below the waist. I felt the head of him brush against my folds and then he was driving up into me, taking my breath away as the hardness of him filled me. His hands found my breasts, cupping them and then squeezing hard as he began to thrust, the head stretching my wonderfully as he went deep…and then deeper. I cried out, my head on his shoulder.
“Like this?” he whispered in my ear, and I nodded frantically. He grabbed my legs and hauled them up around him, and I crossed my ankles behind his ass. He held me there and began to fuck me with fast, hard strokes that were exactly what we both needed. Every thrust notched me higher and higher until I was gasping and moaning, writhing against the tree, my teeth nipping at his neck. My whole world narrowed down to the feeling of his cock inside me, sliding past my slickened flesh.
“Do you want me to pull out, this time?” he asked, teeth gritted.
I’d had my eyes closed. I opened them, then, and pulled my head back from his shoulder so that I could look at him. It only took me a second to decide.
I shook my head.
He grinned and I swear I felt his cock swell and twitch at the thought of it. I was just as shocked by my own reaction, but I couldn’t deny it. It wasn’t just the idea of doing something so forbidden and filthy…it was the idea of making a baby with him. It made me hotter than anything I’d ever known. “Do it,” I said in French. “Do it. Fill me up.”
That was all he needed to send him over the edge. He gave a growl of victory and thrust into me one last time, going as deep as he could, until the head of him was right up against my cervix. I gasped as I felt the hot explosion of him, spurt after spurt of his sticky seed, right where all the rules said it wasn’t allowed to go…right where I wanted it to be.
We gasped and panted, our backs freezing from the rain and the trunk of the tree, but our fronts blazingly hot. We touched foreheads, and then we kissed again.
***
“Virginia,” I said. “If it’s a girl.” That was my opener, the one I knew he’d knock down. Everything was a game to Erard, but I was beginning to see that that wasn’t a bad thing. It meant that he never took things too seriously—we never argued over the little things. It made him the perfect counterpoint to my moping—although I seemed to be doing less of that, lately. And he took us very seriously indeed.
So I’d learned to play along, to be tactical. I tamed the worst of his playboy excesses. So he wanted to go to Monte Carlo to gamble with his friends for the third week in a row? Fine…but I’d whispered to him what he’d be missing in the bedroom if he did, and he’d stayed home that night. Meanwhile, he joked me out of my dark days. When I’d worried about coming out to France for the first time to meet his parents, he’d surprised me with a picnic in Central Park, within sight of the trees where we’d fucked. We were good for each other, and the more we found out about each other, the better it got.
I felt Erard shake his head behind me, just as I’d hoped. “I don’t want her named after a state.” His hands smoothed over my swollen stomach.
“If you don’t like Virginia,” I
Rain was flowing down our faces, running over our lips as mashed them together, rolling over our eyes as we squeezed them tight shut.
Erard took me by the hand, just as he had back in the diner, and pulled me off the path and into the trees. He whirled me around, pressing me back against a tree, its greenery stopping the worst of the rain. Then he began to run his hands over my heaving body, tracing my lines through the soaked fabric. Over my hips. Up over my breasts, lifting them, stroking my hardened nipples through the cloth. We kissed, broke, panted, kissed again.
I heard the towel drop to the floor. His cock pressed up against my freezing thigh, scorchingly hot and gloriously naked. I helped him drag my skirt up my thighs, baring me below the waist. I felt the head of him brush against my folds and then he was driving up into me, taking my breath away as the hardness of him filled me. His hands found my breasts, cupping them and then squeezing hard as he began to thrust, the head stretching my wonderfully as he went deep…and then deeper. I cried out, my head on his shoulder.
“Like this?” he whispered in my ear, and I nodded frantically. He grabbed my legs and hauled them up around him, and I crossed my ankles behind his ass. He held me there and began to fuck me with fast, hard strokes that were exactly what we both needed. Every thrust notched me higher and higher until I was gasping and moaning, writhing against the tree, my teeth nipping at his neck. My whole world narrowed down to the feeling of his cock inside me, sliding past my slickened flesh.
“Do you want me to pull out, this time?” he asked, teeth gritted.
I’d had my eyes closed. I opened them, then, and pulled my head back from his shoulder so that I could look at him. It only took me a second to decide.
I shook my head.
He grinned and I swear I felt his cock swell and twitch at the thought of it. I was just as shocked by my own reaction, but I couldn’t deny it. It wasn’t just the idea of doing something so forbidden and filthy…it was the idea of making a baby with him. It made me hotter than anything I’d ever known. “Do it,” I said in French. “Do it. Fill me up.”
That was all he needed to send him over the edge. He gave a growl of victory and thrust into me one last time, going as deep as he could, until the head of him was right up against my cervix. I gasped as I felt the hot explosion of him, spurt after spurt of his sticky seed, right where all the rules said it wasn’t allowed to go…right where I wanted it to be.
We gasped and panted, our backs freezing from the rain and the trunk of the tree, but our fronts blazingly hot. We touched foreheads, and then we kissed again.
***
“Virginia,” I said. “If it’s a girl.” That was my opener, the one I knew he’d knock down. Everything was a game to Erard, but I was beginning to see that that wasn’t a bad thing. It meant that he never took things too seriously—we never argued over the little things. It made him the perfect counterpoint to my moping—although I seemed to be doing less of that, lately. And he took us very seriously indeed.
So I’d learned to play along, to be tactical. I tamed the worst of his playboy excesses. So he wanted to go to Monte Carlo to gamble with his friends for the third week in a row? Fine…but I’d whispered to him what he’d be missing in the bedroom if he did, and he’d stayed home that night. Meanwhile, he joked me out of my dark days. When I’d worried about coming out to France for the first time to meet his parents, he’d surprised me with a picnic in Central Park, within sight of the trees where we’d fucked. We were good for each other, and the more we found out about each other, the better it got.
I felt Erard shake his head behind me, just as I’d hoped. “I don’t want her named after a state.” His hands smoothed over my swollen stomach.
“If you don’t like Virginia,” I
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