by Miley Maine
I reached down and brushed my hand through the strands of her hair. She leaned in, with her hand still on my cock and opened her mouth.
Oh fuck. I bit down on my lip.
Kate took my cock into her warm mouth and closed her lips around the head. She made a sucking motion, with gentle pressure as she went a little farther down on my cock.
I held my body still, determined not to thrust into her mouth and scare her off. She pulled back, studying my cock, and then licked a bold stripe right up the underside.
“Kate,” I moaned again. “You’re amazing.”
She opened her mouth again, and took more into her mouth, this time hollowing her cheeks and moving back and forth on my cock.
“I’m getting close,” I breathed. I didn’t want her to try to swallow yet, and I wanted to finish with my cock buried inside her pussy.
“Just tell me when to stop,” she said. Then she went back to it, this time finding a rhythm where she moved her hand on the base of my cock, while her lips formed a seal around the head. Her mouth was searing hot, and the perfect friction rubbed back and forth over my erection.
“Okay,” I panted, touching her face. “I can’t take it anymore,” I said.
She leaned back, and I reached down to pull her up. I reeled her in and kissed her, licking over her lips and pushing my tongue into her mouth. I grabbed one of her legs and hitched it up, wishing she was naked so I could get to her pussy.
I lifted her, wrapping both legs around my waist. I carried her to the bed and laid her down. I stripped off my shirt and laid on top of her. With every move I made, my cock pulsed. “I need to be inside you,” I said.
She tugged her top off, leaving her in a pink bra. I unbuttoned her pants, and got them off of her. Underneath, she was wearing a matching pair of pink lace panties.
“Is your pussy wet?” I asked.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
“Oh spicy answer,” I said. “I like it.” I dipped my fingers into her dainty lacy panties. Yes, she was slick. Her pussy was wet, and so were her panties. I pressed one finger into her. “Feels like I could slide right into your sweet pussy.” I kissed her neck. “Would you like that?”
She nodded.
I crawled to the bedside table, where I’d stashed a few condoms. I rolled one on and then got back between her legs. “Spread your legs farther,” I said. “I want to see.”
Her skin flushed, all the way from her cheeks to her chest, but she opened her legs for me. “Good,” I said. “This sweet pussy is mine.” I added a second finger and she thrashed around, rolling her head back and forth.
“I’m ready,” she said. “I want it.”
“What do you want?” I wasn’t sure if she’d say the word.
“Your cock. Inside me,” she said. And then she blushed again.
“There it is. I love it when that pink flush covers your skin.”
She smiled. “What are you waiting for then?”
“Oh, is that a challenge?” I asked, twisting my fingers inside her.
She lifted her hips, shifting forward to rush against my fingers. “I think it is,” she said.
I knelt between her legs and rubbed the head of my cock over her entrance. “In that case, I’ll meet your challenge.” I got one hand under her pert bottom and tilted her hips up to a better angle. Then I pushed in, watching her face for anything less than pleasure.
“How’s that feel?” I asked.
“Big,” she said. “You feel huge, but good. Don’t stop.”
I didn’t plan to. She might not have been a virgin now, but she was still so damn tight. I pushed in a little more, into her welcoming pussy. Her walls fluttered around my cock, nearly sending me plunging over the edge.
Get a grip. You’re the one with the experience.
Her wide green eyes shone and her high cheekbones had that familiar flush that I’d come to expect anytime she got flustered. Apparently they flushed even more with arousal. She bit down, sinking her teeth into that full bottom lip. I had to kiss her.
She met me with passion, surging against me. I’d been with plenty of women who liked sex, who had as much experience as I did, maybe more. But I’d never been with anyone who seemed as genuinely interested in being with me as Kate did.
The friction squeezed my cock. I wanted her to feel the same pleasure I did. I loved her little sounds, the sweet little gasps and moans that she made. I slid my hand between her legs, and rubbed my fingers over her clit.
“That’s so good,” she said.
“Yeah? You like that?”
“Yes,” she responded, drawing the word out.
I drew her closer, inhaling her scent. “I’m going to lift you up,” I said. I rose up on my knees, and pulled her into a sitting position. I kept one arm around her waist. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist. From this angle, I could plunge my cock deep into her body. I kissed her neck, her mouth, I cupped her breast with my hand before sliding it back down to circle her clit. “I want to fuck you in my lap,” I said.
She arched her back, writhing against me, bucking her hips against mine.
“That angle,” she said. “Oh my God.”
“Same,” I said. I put one hand under her bottom, rolling my hips as I thrust into her. With my other hand, I flicked my fingers against her clit.
The speed of her breath increased. “I am so close,” she said.
“Let go. Come for me.”
Her fingers gripped my shoulders, digging into the skin. “I am,” she whispered. “I am.” Her pussy pulsed, contracting against my cock. She collapsed forward, resting her head against my neck.
She took a deep inhale and sighed against my skin. “That was amazing,” she said. She picked her head up. She wiggled in my lap. “You’re still hard.”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “I am.”
She started rocking her hips again, tiny little motions that set off sparks for me. “I’m almost there,” I said. I grabbed her hips and moved her up and down on my cock, her slick pussy working me until I hit the edge.
“Kate.” I let go of her hips and pulled her in, hugging her tight.
She settled back against me, sighing softly, and I ran my fingers through her hair.
When the time came, I wasn’t going to want to give her up.
Chapter Sixteen
Kate
“I have a proposal for you,” Mrs. Laurent said to me on Tuesday evening. “We are going to France on Friday, and we would like you to accompany us. We discussed this possibility when you were hired, but it is up to you if you would like to join us.”
An all-expenses-paid trip to France? Um, yes. “I’d love to,” I said. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
“Wonderful. We will visit my family home, as well as Paris. I will have our stylist pack a bag for you with everything you’ll need.”
That seemed over the top, just like everything else she did. When my college friends – the ones who had money to travel – went to Europe, they took a backpack stuffed with black pants and sweaters that were easily rolled up. “Thank you so much.”
“One more thing. I am not sure if it is appropriate, but I will ask. Would you like to invite Mr. Baxley to accompany us to France? I know my husband could use his input at several meetings.”
Invite Owen? It seemed a little soon to be traveling overseas with him, but it wasn’t like I was the one suggesting it.
“Um...”
“If this was too forward a thing for me to ask, then we will leave Mr. Baxley at home. I do not want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I won’t be uncomfortable,” I said quickly. There was no way I was going to pass up this opportunity. I wanted to go, and if Owen could go too, then that was even better. And if Mr. Laurent needed him for work, then why did my opinion matter?
I had no clue, but I was going to make the most of having the opportunity to visit the most romantic place on earth with the hottest
man I’d ever met.
“I will let my husband know that we should bring Mr. Baxley along,” Mrs. Laurent said.
“Thank you again.” I was already making a mental list of all the things I wanted to see in Paris while I had the chance. When I’d interviewed with the Laurents, they’d said I would visit other countries with them. I’d expected to travel to other South American countries, which would also be amazing, but they’d never said Paris could also be on the cards.
Elated, I sang a few Broadway songs to Gabriel while I made his dinner. That was on my list too – visit New York and see an actual play on Broadway. But that could wait. For now, Santiago was more than enough, and I had the bonus of visiting Paris.
I even danced on my way over to his highchair. He was an appreciative audience, laughing and clapping his hands. Tonight we were eating in the kitchen, where just a small table sat. It was a lot more welcoming than the big dining room full of stuffy furniture.
“I’m not a performer, but I’m glad you like it,” I told him, putting his sweet potato on his plate.
“I don’t know,” a deep voice said. “I think you’re a pretty good performer.”
I jumped about ten feet in the air.“Owen!” I spun around. “I nearly dropped the baby’s spoon!”
He stood there in one of his sexy suits. “I’m sure we’d be able to find another in this place.”
For some reason, that made me laugh. “Yes, that’s true,” I said, handing Gabriel his spoon and snapping a bib around his neck.
Owen stepped closer and brushed his hand down my arm. “Sorry I scared you again.”
“Just startled,” I said. “Hey, did Mr. Laurent talk to you about France yet?”
Owen’s eyes went from amused to serious in the space of one heartbeat. His strong jawline clenched for a second before he relaxed. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Mr. Laurent might not appreciate me interfering in his business with Owen.
He turned his head to the wall and took a deep breath, but it looked like it took effort. “Please tell me,” he said.
“Just a few minutes ago, Mrs. Laurent told me I’m going with them to France on Friday.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “You’re going to love it.”
I snapped the lid on the container of sweet potatoes and put it back in the refrigerator. “You’ve been to France?”
He nodded and leaned against the kitchen island. “Yeah. Several times.”
That didn’t surprise me. “I can’t wait,” I said. “I really cannot believe it. But the part I was going to mention was something else.” I pressed my lips together to keep from letting the words all rush out. “Mrs. Laurent said that Mr. Laurent wants you to come too.”
Owen frowned. “Me?”
“Yes.” His reaction indicated that he hadn’t anticipated accompanying Mr. Laurent on this trip.
“Did she say why?” he asked.
“She said he mentioned it to her.” I lowered my voice. I sat down at the smaller kitchen table so I could supervise Gabriel while he fed himself. “But I think it was her idea. I think she’s lonely here. I don’t think she socializes outside of the people he invites over, so having us date is entertaining to her.”
“That’s really weird,” he muttered. “Laurent hasn’t said anything to me. Not yet anyway.”
“Will you go?” I asked. “If he does ask you?”
Owen’s eyes looked almost glassy for a second and he seemed unfocused, compared to his usual attentiveness, which didn’t make sense. But then the look was gone, and his dark blue eyes were directed right at mine. “I’ll go,” he said. “If Mr. Laurent wants me there, then I’ll be there.”
“I hope he does. I wouldn’t mind having a seasoned escort guide me around.”
Owen sat down at the table across from me. “We’re gonna have so much fun in Paris.”
“Tell me about it?” I asked. “I’ve read all the guide books. I’ve read about the Arc de Triomphe, and Notre Dame, and the Louvre. But I can’t completely picture it.” I took a bite of my pasta. “Santiago is the biggest city I’ve visited.”
“That’s right. You said you’d never left Alabama before.”
“Right. And Santiago is bigger than the entire state of Alabama.” My feelings about Alabama were complicated, and I wasn’t sure I could put them into words. I didn’t want to go home, but I did miss it. “Being here in the summer makes me think about home.”
“What parts? Your school?”
“Yes, school, but also my hometown. The way the asphalt gets so hot in July that you can smell it almost melting. The way a car gets so hot that the metal burns your fingertips. The shade from the giant oak trees. I miss all of that. I even miss the lukewarm lakewater, and the sound of a loud muffler on a pickup truck.”
All of those memories were tied up with my sister too, and I missed her. Video chats were great, but nothing was the same as getting to hug her. To my horror, my eyes began to water. I blinked a few times. I did not want to look like an emotional wreck.
Thankfully, Owen didn’t comment on my teary eyes. “I can’t promise you any of those things in Paris,” he said.
I wiped at my eyes, unable to disguise it. “Sorry, nobody gets homesick over the smell of asphalt.”
“There’s nothing wrong with missing your home,” he said.
“Do you miss San Francisico?”
“Sometimes,” he said.
“Which parts?”
“The Pier. The ocean. The wind. You know how you talked about the asphalt melting? That doesn’t happen in the Bay Area. It’s sixty-five in July, and it’s windy. The ocean is beautiful there, but the sand is different from Alabama’s sand down at Orange Beach. It’s not that sugary white sand. It’s rockier. Shocks a lot of tourists.”
“I finally made it down to Orange Beach after my Freshman year of college.”
“I bet that was fun.”
“Yeah. About ten of us rented a small house. It wasn’t beachfront, but I didn’t care. It was the first time in my life I’d been on vacation.”
“You are going to love Paris. I can take you to the main attractions, like the Musée d’Orsay, and the Champs-Élysée and the Eiffel Tower. And then we can hit some of the local spots too. And we’ll have to sneak away to Versailles.”
“How have you traveled so much?”
“My last job was for an international accounting firm.”
“I never knew accountants were so glamorous. I always pictured accountants toiling away in a bleak office reading the U.S Tax Code and filling out forms.”
“That is reality for some people,” he said.
“But not you.”
“No, not me,”
“Would you like something to eat?” I asked. “I can make something.”
“No. I just stopped by to say hello. I need to get back.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said.
He leaned in very close, and whispered very quietly in my ear: “I’m glad you mentioned the trip to me. I’ll get to spend the next few days anticipating.”
“Anticipating what?” I whispered back.
“Making love to you in the most romantic city in the world,”
I gripped the edge of the table as my eyes fluttered shut. “I’ll be anticipating that too,” I said. I opened my eyes.
His jaw clenched a few times. “I have to go. If I don’t, I’m going to grab you around the waist and carry you off. And I don’t think that would go over very well with our employers.”
“No. It would not. But I suspect I’d enjoy it.”
“I don’t suspect,” he said. “I know it.” He pulled me in, kissed my forehead, and then left.
I plopped down in my chair next to Gabriel. “Well. That was crazy,” I told the baby, who was beginning to nod off.
I cannot believe I’m really in Paris. I snapped a selfie and sent it to my sister and my best friend.
The Charles
de Gaulle airport was much like the airport in Santiago, or the one in Houston or Panama. The flight had been long, but mostly pleasant, thanks to the first-class seats and more importantly, Owen’s company.
Having never flown until I got the job with the Laurents this summer, I was still a bit of a nervous flyer, but having Owen there made a huge difference. Once we were in a private car heading toward the center of the city, I didn’t tear my eyes away from the car window, not even to look at Owen.
I had to work on keeping my mouth closed, and not gaping. Santiago was a busy metropolis, and it was vibrant, and full of life. Paris was certainly full of life too, but it was stately and refined. Every street café, every hotel, every storefront was alluring.
There was no name, no marquee, no flashy billboard outside our hotel. Just a cream-colored building with an all-white interior. I’d thought the Laurents’ villa was luxurious, but this hotel was miles more opulent. It was obvious where Mrs. Laurent had gotten her inspiration.
The Laurents’ home in France was actually in Marseilles, so we were occupying this penthouse for the next week. On the rooftop balcony, I had a clear view of the Eiffel Tower. I turned quickly, stood against the railing and snapped a selfie.
Then I just stood there and looked out at the city.
“It’s wonderful,” I blurted out to Owen. “I had no idea. The movies, and the pictures, they don’t do it justice.”
“There’s definitely no place like it,” he said, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “I can’t wait to show you around.”
And that was exactly what he did. Over the next few days when he wasn’t working with Mr. Laurent, and I didn’t have Gabriel, Owen took me to the Louvre, the Musée d’Orsay, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe. We strolled down the Champs-Élysée, we ate at the sidewalk cafés. I got the full tourist experience.
At one of the cafés as we sipped our wine, Owen sat back in his chair. “You want to hit the Jardin du Luxembourg tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. What is it?”
“It’s a park, with gardens. We can have a picnic there. It’s great for people-watching,” he said. “Then we can do the Eiffel Tower at night.”