Chloé (eBook)

The Diaries Series - Books 1-3

Cristiane Serruya (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2019 | 1. Auflage
705 Seiten
Between the Pages (Verlag)
978-0-00-016755-2 (ISBN)

Infos

At only seventeen, I left the sheltered life at the convent and married a much older Englishman. I was scared, but the idea of a life filled with parties, friends, and all the things I'd been denied seduced me. My parents had arranged this marriage for me, and how wrong could they be?

Nothing turned out the way I had fantasized. Day by day, my dreams fail to materialize. No parties, no lavish trips to exotic places, and worst of all, no love.

And one day, I engaged on an innocent task: planting roses for my garden, not imagining I would find love amid the thorns...and that love could come in unusual ways. And even married to an abusive and estranged husband, I make up my mind to find passion and claim it. I'm done being the good girl.

My name is Chloé de la Fleur and this is my story.

If you are a fan of Fifty Shades of Grey and authors Maya Banks and Sylvia Day, you will love this scandalous, refreshing, and, of course, incredibly romantic and unusual love story, which involves three alpha Italian knights who will do anything for their baroness-oops, their Principessa.

Textauszug

13

Mon Cher Journal,

I am so happy to see my idea for a garden effectively beginning to take form and the little seeds I have planted sprouting from the dark earth. When the baron is not at home, the hours I spend in the hothouse seem to fly.

As I have to stay long hours with Salvatore until he is satisfied with the result of our work, I always bring a picnic basket filled with food and water and fruit juice, which I partake with him on lunch time. Watching him eat and drink and work gives me such a thrill, I am shaking with desire and embarrassment, all wrapped up into one, and I can barely swallow my fruit juice. He touches me more and more each day, with silly excuses.

He would brush a lock of hair off my eyes; or hold my hand to show me how to handle a delicate flower; or—oh!—brush my breast with his forearm while picking a specimen from the table. Last week, he pretended he hadn’t enough space to move without pushing his whole body against my back.

I gave up any pretense of being bothered by his advances already as I am loving all his silly excuses for flirting and touching me!

He’s a good looking man and even if I get aroused, that doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it! Or so I thought.

Yesterday, when I walked into the hothouse he was shirtless.

I froze on the spot and gaped.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, perched on the edge of the desk, wiping his damp face and chest with his shirt. “I ran out of clean towels.”

I stared as the water drops ran tracks down his smooth skin and over his muscles before focusing on one drop hovering on his left nipple.

I felt a sudden surge of wet between my legs as I finally looked up into his face. He was staring at my mouth.

I licked my lips.

He abruptly stood up, went to the bathroom, and came back fully dressed and began drilling instructions and orders.

Today around noon Salvatore dismissed Ricardo, as usual, and then suggested we pause to eat something and proposed we eat outside under the tree shade, saying, “The hothouse is…well, hot, these days.”

We washed our hands and faces and walked to a secluded and shadowed place.

As he finished eating, he began his usual inquiring. “What is your favorite food?”

“I love sweets. Chocolate mostly. And I hate jelly.” Oh, did I say that? I’m so lame. I drank a gulp of strawberry juice to wet my sudden parched throat.

He smiled and scooted next to me, casually resting his large hand next to my thigh.

“My favorite color is blue,” he said, contradicting himself from previously saying it was green. “Yours?”

“Red,” I managed, nerves tensed with anticipation, his so near body leaving me breathless.

He scooted even closer and I closed my eyes when his warm breath sent a shudder through me when he asked, “Favorite smell?”

“Smell?” I repeated idiotically.

He had moved so close I could taste strawberries on his breath as he spoke again, “You smell good.”

And then he was kissing me.

I could hardly believe I was being kissed by Salvatore. I have been fantasizing about this moment for the past thirty-three days. And—Mon Dieu!—none of my fantasies have been close to this.

His kisses were not gentle, but fierce, and made me ache for him. I wanted him to take me right there under the trees.

And Salvatore lost no time in getting me laid down on the grass and began to kiss me anew, his tongue plunging inside my mouth and his fingers making quick work of my shirt buttons.

I wanted to relax and enjoy his caresses but at the same time I felt too energized to stay still and I squirmed under him, my breaths coming out raggedly. “Oh, Salvatore. Oh.”

His fingers continued their exploration and brought one of my breasts out of its silken bra. And tilting it up and toward his mouth with his hand, he bit my nipple.

“Ah!” I cried surprise, not because it had hurt, non. But because it felt good. So ravishingly intoxicating was the caress that I cupped my breast and offered it unashamedly for him to bite it again.

I forgot, in the swirl of my emotions, that he was baring my body in the middle of Beardley Park and that someone could walk up on us at any moment.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said looking down at me when I was naked but for my panties—I don’t use drawers anymore—garters, and stockings. “A voluptuous, beautiful woman.”

He moved his lips to my other breast and played his tongue over the rosy circle of my areola before resorting to torture me again with nibbles and bites.

“So beautiful, cara.”

The moment was emotional for me and I didn’t notice when one of his hands, which had been resting on the stocking covered flesh of my thigh, began an upward exploration under my lace panties and his fingers inserted themselves under the waistband and caressed my bald sex. He whispered, “Naked as a baby! Naughty woman!”  

He tugged this way and the other but didn’t manage to pull my panties off. Then he got a firm hold on the waistband, with both hands and gave a quick, stout jerk, tearing and ripping them off my body.

“Oh! What have you done?” I gasped, shocked with his brutality. I tried to move but his heavy body and big hands prevented me, holding me down in a manner, which rendered me helpless.

“I couldn’t get them off any other way, cara,” he said with a wink.  

“Let me up!” I said.

“Aren’t we supposed to finish this first?” he asked, smirking at my futile attempt to get rid of him.

“I’ve changed my mind!” I exclaimed. “Let me up instantly!”

“First, I am to give you something to remember!” Without wasting a moment, he moved down and slipping his large hands under my thighs, opened them, drew me closer, and—oh!—pressed his mouth right over my sex hole cunt.

As he did so, I put my hands on his head, trying to push him away.

“Oh! Non!” I gasped, but his tongue was already down there, entering my moist vagina, my wet hole, my dripping cunt, up and down, between my folds, non-stopping. And finally—to my surprise and delight—it centered its caresses over my small button, my clitoris, my clit. And, as when the baron rubbed it, it responded, but this time I felt it stiffening out, and felt my slit throb and then spasm.

“Non! Don’t do that,” I gasped again.

Yet my words and my actions were by then disparaged. Instead of trying to shove Salvatore away I had entwined my fingers in his lush hair and was pulling his face into my sex.

Then he stopped licking my clit, and getting it between his lips, he sucked it in a sharp pull. My whole body shuddered violently.

“Oh! Oh, that feels nice!” I gasped. The delicious feeling was sinfully delightful and I couldn’t contain myself anymore as he continued the sucking. “Oui, like that! Oh! Oh! Don’t stop!”  

My clamor aroused him to a feverish state and he redoubled his efforts as I arched my body forward, intending to have all of his tongue and lips, and maybe something bigger and stiffer, too.

“Oh, Salvatore,” I cried as he sucked and licked. “Oh!”  

Suddenly, I felt my thigh muscles tense and my whole body with them. I clutched his hair and squeezed his head tight between my thighs as a huge wave of orgasmic contractions started deep in my body, coursing through my tummy muscles and I sensed something wet dripping from my nether lips and I was showering him with my orgasm. I couldn’t contain myself and I screamed “A-a-aah! Aaaah!”

“You’ll be generous now,” he said as I still trembled and floated in a rosy cloud, a very happy woman.

Salvatore took off his shirt, the buttons popping off, and shoved his trousers down. He was not wearing underwear and his penis jumped out, hard and thick and long, hungry for me.

Mon Dieu, I thought, that can’t possibly go into me. As I was thinking of somehow getting out of doing it, he pulled me roughly and quickly turned me around.

“Oh! What are you doing?”

Kneeling behind me, Salvatore put one hand on my tummy, raised my round buttocks to him and held my hips tightly so I didn’t have any chance of getting away.

“Non, non,” I said, afraid, and tried in vain to escape his hold.

“You are taking it, cara,” he said.

From below I watched, horrified, his enormous rod approaching. “It won’t go in!”

But in it went!

It was a furious scene, under the English heat, the trees as our observers.

It felt like I was being split apart and I screamed, but he just kept pushing it in further and further in, in and out, in and out.

“Such tight pussy,” he groaned and carried on pushing it into me, ignoring my cries.

“Oh, oh, oh.” It felt like I was being impaled by a…trunk, and a big and hard and smooth trunk at that. I looked between my legs and saw a gigantic sack swinging to and fro as his penis penetrated me as if it had no end, but just kept getting deeper and deeper.

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Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 18.4.2019
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-016755-X / 000016755X
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-016755-2 / 9780000167552