Patience expended, I tore her shirt up and over her head. Her bra hit the floor a second later. She feverishly unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it from my trousers before tossing that to the floor as well.
Her breasts were as beautiful as I imagined, large enough to bury my face between. I bent her back over my forearm and spent some quality time on each. All the while, I felt the hum of her vibrator against my stomach.
Bed or conference table?
Arm of the couch?
What was the most fucking romantic? I couldn’t decide, so I lowered her right there in the foyer and stripped her naked. She just as eagerly removed the rest of my clothing.
I took a moment to appreciate the perfection of her, then donned a condom. I didn’t want to rush, but the way I was feeling I also didn’t want to forget. Then I started a deliberately slow exploration of her with my mouth. She was already wet and ready, but I wanted her crying for it.
I took the remote from her hand and placed it on a table before dropping to my knees before her. I placed one of her legs on my shoulder and took the toy in my hand, pulling it partially out, then sliding it back in. She gripped my shoulders with both hands and leaned back onto the wall for support.
In and out.
Back and forth until she was moaning and writhing.
I removed the toy and replaced it with my mouth, drinking in the taste of her. I flicked my tongue across her engorged clit, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I gently thrust two fingers in her wet sex and, with confidence, sought what some men never found. When I found it, she jutted her pelvis against my hand and called out my name.
Tongue. Fingers. G-spot. I could have brought her to climax then, but I selfishly wanted to join her on her next.
I brought her to the brink, then withdrew my hand and stood. As we kissed I lifted her again and drove my cock deeply into her. Nothing says “I like you” like a good wall fucking. We kissed. I didn’t go easy on her, and she begged me for even more.
“Oh yes,” she said over and over as I pounded into her. “Oh my God, yes.”
“You like it rough, Kitten?” I growled and dug my hand into her hair.
She clenched around me. “I like everything you do. Don’t stop.”
“Stop? This is just the beginning.”
We turned so my back was against the wall and I could raise and lower her on my cock. She dug her nails into my arms and threw her head back. I thrust harder and harder into her.
Only when her eyes began to close and I saw her giving herself over to an orgasm did I let myself go. Wildly, roughly, I turned and pounded into her until I joined her with a mind-erasing fucking explosion of an orgasm.
We stayed there, leaning against the wall, still connected for several minutes. Eventually I lowered her slowly to her feet and cleaned myself off. We might have ended there, but I’d made promises, and I intended to keep all of them.
It was the honorable thing to do.
I rinsed off her toy and handed it back to her, this time picking up the remote for myself. “Put it back in, Kitten; then I want you down on your knees.”
Her face was beautiful flushed. Her hair mussed and lips plump from my kiss. My cock twitched back to full mast in anticipation.
She handed me back the toy. “You want me on my knees, you put it back in.”
I could love this woman.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said in a duly serious tone. Then for flair, I put both the toy and the remote in one hand and bent to swing her over my shoulder.
She laughed and flailed. Her breasts bounced on my back. I carried her to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed.
Eyes dark with desire, she pulled her knees up and spread her legs for me. I inserted the vibrator gently and turned it on, moving it back and forth until she made a sound that said it was sitting just right.
I moved to the side of the bed with the remote still in my hand. “Come here, Kitten.” When she didn’t immediately move, I raised the level of vibration.
She rolled up and onto her knees and crawled over to the edge of the bed. “Yes, my guru?”
“Take me into your mouth, Wren. Take me so deep. I want to fuck your mouth.”
She did. As her lips and tongue worked their magic, I raised the level of her pleasure. Soon we were moaning together. She was a natural at knowing just what to do with her hands. Her lips closed tight around me. Her tongue teased and circled. She worked my balls like a pro.
I raised the vibration even more and loved how she paused to savor the sensation.
When I came she swallowed, and I named our first child.
I changed my mind later about Holy Fuck Romano, but in that moment it sounded good.
Everything was good.
I laid her back on the bed and loved her until she had her own explosion; then I cuddled her to my side and pulled a blanket over both of us. This was normally when I’d be coming back to earth and hoping the woman knew to leave rather than stay. I tightened my hold on Wren and fought sleep. Her eyes were already closed.
I wanted to wake to her.
There was so much more I wanted to do.
So much more I wanted to learn. What had she liked most? What did she want more of?
For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to wake alone. I wanted to make this woman crepes, all the goddamned crepes she could eat. And then spend the rest of the night burning those calories off.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WREN
Tucked against Mauricio’s side, eyes shut, I fought a wave of panic. If he hadn’t been holding me, I probably would have already been dressed and out the door.
Sex with a stranger was not supposed to be that good.
It shouldn’t have felt so right.
I didn’t even know his last name.
Five days, that was all he’d promised. Fun sex.
I shouldn’t love the scent of him. I couldn’t let myself relax into his embrace because no matter how good it felt, none of this was real. No wonder he walked around like he was God’s gift to women . . .
I took a moment to thank the man upstairs for this experience. Now, some might think it was wrong to send up a thank-you for what might be considered immoral . . . but I’d just been shown how good sex was supposed to be, and that wasn’t something I took lightly.
Had I married any of my past lovers, I would have been sentencing myself to a lifetime of mediocre. I had no idea this was possible.
Sure, I’d heard it could be, but I didn’t really believe it. I thought it was like when everyone in church said they were praying but they were really daydreaming. Maybe some of them were really praying.
Who knew?
Mauricio’s eyes were closed, and his breathing had deepened, so I attempted to slip out of his embrace. His arms tightened around me. “Stay,” he murmured.
Was he even awake? Maybe he said that to every woman he took to his bed.
It felt way too good to be in his arms, in his bed.
I started to hyperventilate. Space. I needed to put some space between us so I could wrap my head around what had just happened.
This was only tragic if I made it tragic.
Only a bad idea if I did something stupid like start to have feelings for him.
I tried to slip away again. He buried his face in my hair and inhaled. “You smell so damn good.”
When my phone rang, I bolted for it, breaking free. “I should get that.”
Mauricio rolled over onto his side and propped up on one elbow, watching me.
Buck naked, I sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor and answered my phone.
“How was your date?” Cecile asked. “Want to get something to eat together? I have so much to tell you.”
“I had a nice day.” I met Mauricio’s gaze and mouthed, “Cecile.”
He nodded.
“Why do you sound so weird?” Cecile asked.
“No reason.”
“Are you still with him?”
“Ye
s.”
“You have to tell me . . . did you actually go on the bus tour?” she asked with a laugh.
I couldn’t decipher the expression on Mauricio’s face. He looked as confused as I felt. No, that had to be wrong. He was the one who did this all the time. “We took the tour. Now we’re just . . . hanging out.”
He arched an eyebrow, and amusement filled his eyes.
“You fucked him,” Cecile exclaimed. “Was it good?”
“Can we discuss this later?” Had Mauricio heard her? His grin said he might have.
“Because he’s still there. I get it. Fine. I can wait. But listen, I held up my side of the deal. I met Felix’s parents, and you are not going to believe what I learned.”
I leaned forward and for a second forgot about my audience. “What? What did they say?”
“He wasn’t with another woman. He was injured at work. It was serious enough to require surgery. He didn’t want me to know because he was embarrassed. I guess he thinks I won’t see him the same way, but accidents happen to everyone.”
“Injured? What happened?”
“They didn’t give me too many details, but the recovery will take weeks.”
“Is he still in the hospital?”
“No, he’s recuperating at his apartment. I want to drop by with some food for him or something. What do you think? We’re not on a take-care-of-each-other-when-we’re-sick level, but I care about him as a person. I’d bring food to any friend who was injured.”
I chewed my bottom lip and met Mauricio’s gaze again. He was definitely listening in. “Cecile is thinking about dropping by to see Felix. Maybe bring him some soup or something. What do you think?”
He sat straight up. “Bad idea. No.”
I frowned at him. “It wouldn’t be to stay. She just wants to show him that she cares.”
“I guarantee you he does not want her there.”
Mauricio was adamant, and my chest tightened with emotion. I was offended for Cecile. It was also a smack of reality for me. You know what? Fuck Felix. Fuck you too, Mauricio. “Mauricio thinks you should go. I do too. Don’t even call. Just drop by with something. If he’s not a complete douche, he’ll be glad you did.”
With narrowed eyes, I silently dared Mauricio to say differently.
He rubbed both hands over his face and groaned.
“You really think so?” Cecile asked.
“I do,” I assured her. The best cure for confusion was to take a good long look at the truth, no matter how ugly it was. If Felix turned Cecile away, her feelings might be hurt, but she would see that being with a man who didn’t care about her was a waste of her time.
Even if the sex was good.
“Okay. I will. I’ll call you later and tell you how it goes.”
“Cecile, do me a favor . . .”
“What?”
“If he isn’t nice about your visit, give him hell for it.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me, Wren. I can take care of myself.”
“I know. Just don’t accept less than you deserve.”
“I won’t.”
After I ended the call, I placed the phone on the carpet beside me. Mauricio glanced at his phone, then back at me. How was it possible that after one day I could almost hear his thoughts? “You want to call Felix to warn him.”
“He’s been a good friend to me,” Mauricio said with an apologetic grimace.
“Was he really hurt? Is he truly recovering from surgery?”
“Yes.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Then what’s the big deal? They’ve been having sex for years. Doesn’t that at least make them friends?”
“It should.”
“In my world it would make them more than that.” I folded my arms across my chest and realized I was still naked when my breasts bounced beneath them. I looked around and saw nothing to cover myself with, so I stood and went to the nearest closet. The T-shirt I chose was far too big for me, but that meant it covered everything I wanted it to. Hands on my hips, I stood beside the bed and looked down at the man who had just given me a few hours I’d never forget. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I won’t be Cecile.”
He scooted across the bed and rose to stand in front of me. When he reached for me, I stepped back and he dropped his hands. “You’re not Cecile, and I’m not Felix.”
I took a step back. “This was great. Phenomenal even, but—”
He took a step to close the distance between us. “Stay, Kitten.”
I retreated a few feet. “See, that’s the thing. I’m not really a sex kitten. This isn’t my scene, and you’re not my type.”
Okay, honestly, the Adonis that stood before me in full naked glory was every woman’s type, but I meant on a deeper level.
A frown creased his forehead. “And what is your type?”
“You’re beautiful, but I need more. I want someone I have things in common with. Someone who gets my jokes even if I leave the punch line off.” I retreated another few feet. “I want something real.”
“Wren, if I did something—”
I turned and fled to the foyer, where all my clothes were. He followed, dick waving as he approached. I threw his pants at him. “Could you put something on, please?”
He stepped into them.
I found my underwear and donned them, then put my jeans on. Without speaking I shimmied my bra on beneath his oversize T-shirt.
Bare chested—beautifully, deliciously bare chested—he stood beside me as I stepped into my shoes. The sadness in his eyes made me feel guilty about the way I was leaving. He’d been nothing but good to me . . . and I mean good.
How could I explain that was part of the problem? If things hadn’t been so perfect, maybe, maybe we could have had until Saturday. I couldn’t risk the kind of hurt I saw looming if I let this go too far. “I’m sorry,” I said gruffly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything right, too right, which is why I have to leave. I know that sounds fucked up, but it’s how I feel. I don’t regret today. I just—” I remembered my vibrator. “Should I leave it? Take it? See, that’s my point. I don’t know. But more than that, I don’t think I want to know. I don’t want to be a person who fucks a guy, grabs her new vibrator, and goes home like nothing happened.”
“Good,” he said in a husky tone, “because both your vibrator and I want you to stay.”
I blinked back tears. “You don’t have to pretend you do. See, that’s the thing. I thought I wanted the fantasy, but I don’t think I do want to be swept off my feet. I’m sorry.”
He walked with me to the door. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Wren. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t have more than that.”
A heaviness settled in my heart. “And you shouldn’t, because we don’t really know each other. That’s the point, right? You asked me to come out and play and I did. Now I just want to go home.”
“Home? You’re leaving Paris?”
He was such a good actor. Honestly, I almost believed he cared if we never saw each other again. I shook my head. “Not yet. I meant my rental. Thank you for today, Mauricio.”
I went to open the elevator door.
He placed his hand over the call button. “Wait. You can’t leave like this.”
I met his gaze. “You’re the one who said I should never be with someone who didn’t respect what I want. I want to go home, Mauricio. Let me go.”
He dropped his hand. “Do you want me to call you a car?”
I shook my head. “I can catch a taxi on my own.”
He looked about to say something more, but I pressed the call button, ducked into the elevator, and left before he had a chance to. On the ride down I realized I was still wearing his shirt.
I half expected him to meet me when the elevator doors opened, but he didn’t. He didn’t race to the street to ask me to stay. Didn’t text me not to go.
I didn’t want him to.
But I was disappointed
that he hadn’t.
It was still light out when I arrived back at my apartment. I locked the door behind me, threw the key on the counter, and took a long, hot shower. And all the while I told myself I’d made the right choice to leave.
I thought it as I snacked on a stale baguette.
I thought it again as I flipped through endless channels in French before I found a news station in English.
It was practically a mantra by the time I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling as the sun finally set. I turned off the lights, then checked if Mauricio had texted.
And told myself I was happy he hadn’t.
Each time I tossed and turned, I reminded myself that being alone was better than being with someone who didn’t care about me.
Just before I fell asleep, I wondered if he was anywhere near as confused as I was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAURICIO
I swore under my breath as I paced from room to room in my empty penthouse. Simply because I didn’t want the maid to have to do it, I rinsed off Wren’s toy and put it in my luggage. It sat on a pile of my socks like a modern-day Cinderella slipper left at the ball.
Which made me what? The Prince of Dumbasses? I could have told her why Felix didn’t want company. I should have.
But it wasn’t my story to tell.
I didn’t call Felix to warn him about Cecile’s impending visit, though. Partly because it wasn’t smart to get involved in anything as tangled as that, but mostly because I agreed with Wren. After years of sleeping with Cecile, Felix should have the balls to tell her why he didn’t want to see her.
If he still had balls. Maybe they dry up and fall off when a man breaks his dick. I didn’t know, and I hoped I’d never find out.
I shook my head to dispel the image of Felix with raisins for ’nads.
My phone was still on my bed. I picked it up and typed: I’m sorry, Kitten.
No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t like that nickname. Because she liked it too much? I’d done everything right and somehow done it all wrong.
The Wild One Page 9