Read Online One Hundred Facets of Mr. Diamonds Vol.1- Aglow by Emma Green - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Green
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looking at me, and with impeccable clothes, he mounts his horse and gallops off through the vineyards. In turn I get up with difficulty, legs quivering and thighs wet from having climaxed like never before. I remove the straw from my hair, trying to make my hair presentable, smooth my skirt with a flat hand and re button my blouse. I can't stop thinking of the scene that just happened, and I feel that I am still excited at the mere idea of Gabriel Diamonds' lips on my neck. I feel my hand slide, in spite of myself, between my thighs and spread my wet panties to access my vagina still painful with the pleasure I felt. I put two fingers in the opening and immediately being to groan. I have never had the second orgasm following the first closely, common in women it seems, but I feel that this time I am close.
I see something move beside me and I wake up suddenly, realizing that I was immersed in a rarely intense erotic dream. My neighbours in the car get up to grab their luggage, apparently no idea of the inner turmoil that agitates me. My panties, completely wet, proof of what Mr Diamonds made me live in a dream. I am ashamed of this girly dream : frankly, a horse, what next ? But I am confused and I now only have to wait, arrive at the Bagnolet field and discover the face of the mysterious billionaire.
2. Backstage at the concert
I did not stop thinking about Gabriel Diamonds throughout the journey from Angouleme train station to the Bagnolet field, asking myself a thousand questions : Is he as beautiful in person as in the pictures ? Why is there almost no information about him online ? Is he married ? Why have I had this incredibly intense erotic dream with him as the main actor ?
I was very troubled arriving at the Bagnolet field, in the late afternoon. The castle is sublime, much nicer than anything I could have imagined. The central square pavilion, in white stone, is flanked by two wings that extend east and west. An old pergola, transformed into a rose garden, gives the area a poetic and slightly antiquated atmosphere. The English park which extends over seven acres slopes gently down to the Charente which flows quietly below. Journalists that had arrived before me walked slowly, in small clusters, between the ancient trees, making the place a real live countryside painting. Two trimmed box trees frame the door in front of which the car stops, crunching the gravel under the tires. Immediately, a man in a suit comes to open my door, then grabs my luggage from the trunk. All this luxury makes me terribly uncomfortable, so I smile as warmly as possible and get my cell phone out of my handbag to give myself countenance.
« F*** you should see the room my girl ! » I texted Marion soon as I was alone in the room that I was assigned. Finally, the room... I should rather say this, given the room must have been the size of my Paris apartment. Located in a castle's tower, it is round in shape. All along the walls, mouldings of impressive finesse underline the ceiling height that makes me dizzy. A thick red carpet stifles my footsteps and gives the room a soft side that delights me. I throw myself on the bed, taken by a laughing frenzy : the room is so large that I hear my laughter echo. The bed, twice as large as mine in Paris, decorated in linen to matching the curtains found between the mouldings. The sheets are soft and the pillows, six of them, are so well arranged that I dare not touch. The headboard, in fine wood, has a Diamond coat of arms, embellished with gold. I jump up out of bed, eager to discover the bathroom and the rest of the area. A discreet door allows me into an amazing bathroom, with a huge bath that instantly makes me feel like taking a bath. As the hot water flows, I go to the window overlooking the park. The raking late afternoon light, gives a magic to the weeping willows that I make out in the distance, near the Charente.
In my hot and foamy bath, I can only think of one thing : what am
I see something move beside me and I wake up suddenly, realizing that I was immersed in a rarely intense erotic dream. My neighbours in the car get up to grab their luggage, apparently no idea of the inner turmoil that agitates me. My panties, completely wet, proof of what Mr Diamonds made me live in a dream. I am ashamed of this girly dream : frankly, a horse, what next ? But I am confused and I now only have to wait, arrive at the Bagnolet field and discover the face of the mysterious billionaire.
2. Backstage at the concert
I did not stop thinking about Gabriel Diamonds throughout the journey from Angouleme train station to the Bagnolet field, asking myself a thousand questions : Is he as beautiful in person as in the pictures ? Why is there almost no information about him online ? Is he married ? Why have I had this incredibly intense erotic dream with him as the main actor ?
I was very troubled arriving at the Bagnolet field, in the late afternoon. The castle is sublime, much nicer than anything I could have imagined. The central square pavilion, in white stone, is flanked by two wings that extend east and west. An old pergola, transformed into a rose garden, gives the area a poetic and slightly antiquated atmosphere. The English park which extends over seven acres slopes gently down to the Charente which flows quietly below. Journalists that had arrived before me walked slowly, in small clusters, between the ancient trees, making the place a real live countryside painting. Two trimmed box trees frame the door in front of which the car stops, crunching the gravel under the tires. Immediately, a man in a suit comes to open my door, then grabs my luggage from the trunk. All this luxury makes me terribly uncomfortable, so I smile as warmly as possible and get my cell phone out of my handbag to give myself countenance.
« F*** you should see the room my girl ! » I texted Marion soon as I was alone in the room that I was assigned. Finally, the room... I should rather say this, given the room must have been the size of my Paris apartment. Located in a castle's tower, it is round in shape. All along the walls, mouldings of impressive finesse underline the ceiling height that makes me dizzy. A thick red carpet stifles my footsteps and gives the room a soft side that delights me. I throw myself on the bed, taken by a laughing frenzy : the room is so large that I hear my laughter echo. The bed, twice as large as mine in Paris, decorated in linen to matching the curtains found between the mouldings. The sheets are soft and the pillows, six of them, are so well arranged that I dare not touch. The headboard, in fine wood, has a Diamond coat of arms, embellished with gold. I jump up out of bed, eager to discover the bathroom and the rest of the area. A discreet door allows me into an amazing bathroom, with a huge bath that instantly makes me feel like taking a bath. As the hot water flows, I go to the window overlooking the park. The raking late afternoon light, gives a magic to the weeping willows that I make out in the distance, near the Charente.
In my hot and foamy bath, I can only think of one thing : what am
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