Les Amants Magnifiques Novels & Stories

"Fuck....fuck!" Marcella shouted in pleasure and panted heavily upon the intense orgasm which brought her to the edge of bursting. After they both were done the other men ejaculated in the air, painting the whole room in white cum. The bar manager and the rest of the workers were elated with the results which indicated more money. However Anthony got up from the floor and flung his arm out to support Marcella whose legs were terribly shivering. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled Marcella only to whisper something in her ear which made her blush.

I finished my glass and Alexandre helped me fill the glass for the second time. “The music here is so nice.” I laughed gulping down the second glass as ‘Copines by Aya Nakamura.’ played in the background. “Yes, it is.” “Tu ne penses pas qu’on devrait l’arrêter? Elle commence à se saouler.” Noelle said to Amélie who had a smile on her face as I stretched out my glass to Alexandre for another fill.

That left only five people in the private viewing suite — Vincent, Isabella, the mayor, his secretary, and the young woman seated beside him. “Ah,” Laurent said suddenly, the gleam in his eyes unmistakable. “I don’t believe you’ve met my niece, Mademoiselle Amélie Laurent.” The woman turned, offering a practiced smile. “Mr. Sinclair,” she greeted in flawless English, her voice soft, calculatedly demure. “It’s an honor. My uncle speaks of you often.” Vincent gave a polite nod. “A pleasure.” Amélie leaned forward slightly, her perfume sweet and cloying. “I hope you’ll find Paris charming… and perhaps consider staying longer.”

She demanded. "Madam, please, there must be a mistake. I've never tried to seduce Mr. LaCroix nor did I get close to him." Amelie explained, her voice was calm, but deep inside, she was seething. "And secondly, I'm aware that Mr. LaCroix has a fiancée, so what's this about sleeping around? I've done nothing of the sort. I'm not that type of person, madam."

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It was by far the most gorgeous store Amber had ever set foot in her life. In between their pit stops to the suite, Amber and Leo took a leisurely stroll across the extravagant bridge Point Alexandre III. The famous bridge decorated in golden statues, nymphs, and cherubs, had been in several famous films as well. Amber couldn’t help but toss a coin into the river Seine below to wish that every day was as perfect as this one with Leo by her side.

Amara let out a cry and tried to lash her leg out at Lucas's hoping to connect in a painful way. He sidestepped her attack and held a hand in front of her mouth while smiling at the onlookers. "It's for a new play production. I'm Msr. Renard, and this, in my arms, is the lovely Miss Amara, the star of the play entitled 'Les Hotages du Lyon,' the Hostages of Lyon." He chuckled with cold eyes and spun himself and Amara around, forcing her to move with him. "Please, everyone, come see it next month at my theater, Les Menteurs."

Every kiss they gave each other, every touch, every moan, every gentle bite, they would all be imprinted on his brain, indelible like a tattoo. Afterwards, they finished showering and continued making love in the bed. Ambert was watching Layla sleep—well, like he said, Eiffel Tower wouldn’t move— beside him on the bed when his phone on the night stand rang. He wondered who it could be, as he told anyone back home that he didn’t want to be disturbed while in Pairs, and then decided to ignore it. Watching Layla sleep with only a white blanket clumsily covering her naked body would be way, way more enjoyable than speaking on the phone, whoever was on the other line. And he had told everyone bac

He held on to my right shoulder, so I turned to face him. "Will you take your hand off my shoulder or I'll turn you into a mouse?" I raised my left eyebrow, glaring at his cold yet undeniably handsome face. "Whoops!" He immediately took his hand off my shoulder. "You two! What are you waiting for?" The guard on the table called us. He's looking at me from head to toe right now. I quickly walk towards him and say, "My name is Alenna Delevigne from the city of Nalaknabak. I'm a..."

The heavy, wide flesh pressed inside, parting her as the folds of her sex began to grip and hug the heavy erection. “So perfect…” Armel said. “Take me in, mon ange…” And she took him in, caressing him with her femininity in the most intimate way. Her hands gripped his arms as her neck arched, her hair falling around her shoulders as slumberous green eyes stared back, locked with his gaze. Making love to her was pure pleasure. It was pure rapture. It was sweet, hot ecstasy. “There, mon amour,” Armel crooned, his voice rough. “Let me love you, just like this. Exactly like this...”