Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

Rádio Check

His gaze was intense, challenging, but I didn’t back down. Instead, I let my hands glide over his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath my palms before tugging his shirt up and over his head.

He barely had time to react before I pushed him back, shifting our positions. With my legs straddling his waist, I took control.

“Tu es si beau,” I whispered in French, watching the way the words affected him. The slow, knowing smile that spread across his lips sent a shiver through me.

His hands slid along my thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against my skin.

"Continue, mon amour," he murmured in French, his voice thick with need. "J’adore t’entendre parler ma langue."

The way he said it—low, intimate, reverent—sent heat rushing through me.

I leaned down, pressing my lips against his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as I felt his body respond to my touch. With each mark I left on his warm skin, his breathing turned more uneven.

I let my lips brush against his ear, my voice dripping with promise as I whispered:

“Je vais te faire sentir bien.”

Charles let out a deep, almost tortured groan, his grip on me tightening.

"Putain, Amy," he rasped, his breath hot against my skin. "Tu me rends fou."

A smirk played on my lips as I trailed my mouth lower, teasing my fingers along the waistband of his shorts. His entire body tensed beneath me, the effect of my words undeniable.

"Good," I murmured. "Then let me drive you insane."

With a mischievous smile, I slide my hands into the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down along with his underwear.

Charles lifts his hips slightly, allowing me to remove them completely, and I can't help but gasp at the sight before me.

He's hard, incredibly hard.
I feel my heart race at the size and thickness of him. It's perfect, exactly how I'd imagined it, and maybe even better.

I lean forward, holding him with, feeling the weight and firmness of him. Charles watches my every move, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

With deliberate slowness, I bring the tip of him to my lips, tasting him with my tongue. Charles gasped, his hands instinctively going to my hair, gripping it tightly.

I couldn't help but smile with pride at how desperate and eager he was, feeling him throb beneath my fingers, before I began to move down, taking him into my mouth agonizingly slowly.

Charles let out a low groan, his body tensing beneath hers. "Amy..." he began, but his voice trailed off.

I didn't answer, just kept moving with a slowness that was almost torture.

My tongue traced patterns that made Charles squirm slightly. He still had my hair wrapped around his fist, and I could tell he was holding back to allow me to keep up my pace.

I knew what I was doing, and every movement was calculated to push him over the edge.

“You’re so good at this,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

I smiled again, and decided it was time to pick up the pace and give him what he wanted. I took him as deep as I could, almost all the way, feeling him fill my mouth completely. Charles was moaning now, his hips moving slightly against his will, seeking more contact. I could taste him, salty and masculine, and it was incredibly arousing.