her hand under his, stilling her fingers. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to see what’s right under our noses.’ Insightful, analytical Essie, so in tune with others’ needs, would hate that she’d tolerated a bad relationship for herself, just as he hated his own blindness and misguided trust.
‘Fun fact,’ he said, grinning when she levelled sceptical narrowed eyes on him. ‘That guy wasn’t worthy of the tip of this finger.’ He lifted her pinkie to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the tip. ‘Let alone the rest of you.’
Couldn’t she see that? Didn’t she understand any man would be fucking lucky to have her? He would have...once.
Essie broke the dark direction of his thoughts with an energetic kiss, tugging on his neck and then climbing on top of him and sitting astride his thighs. She sat back and looked down at him, her beautiful face soft with desire and doubt.
He gripped her waist, questions banked up in his tight throat.
‘We have to go back to London today.’ Her words gave him pause as if she’d added, ‘Back to reality.’
And Ben would return from New York. Would that alter their new arrangement? ‘I know. Still time for a few more experiences though...’ He could feed the desire and banish the doubt. Just fun.
She smiled, her hand encircling him and pumping with lazy strokes and the perfect amount of pressure.
‘Have you ever been to Paris before?’ he asked. The urge to offer more than new sexual experiences lifted the hairs on his arms. He wished they could stay a week. Wished he could wow her, wine her and dine her, as she deserved. Wished he could show her everything the French capital had to offer by day and indulge in her by night. All in the name of fun, of course.
Her thumb grazed the sensitive spot beneath his crown. He cupped her pert breast, his thumb tracing the dark tip. She shook her head, her mouth parting on a gasp and his balls rose up.
‘We don’t have enough time to see everything, but I’ve planned some sightseeing, if you’d like a whistle-stop tour.’ Anything to put that sparkle back in her eyes.
She glanced at the window and the view beyond. ‘Well, I can see the Eiffel Tower from here.’ Her thumb traced the head of his cock, spreading the bead of moisture her stroking had released. Then her eyes lit up. ‘Can we get real croissants?’ She bit her lip, which he’d come to learn was her vulnerability tell, and a damned sexy sight.
He nodded, warmth from his gut spreading to his chest at her simple request. No Learjets or Tiffany baubles for this woman.
‘Great.’ She stopped rubbing him and jumped from the bed.
He recoiled, every muscle in his body taut and pulsing with energy to drag her back and bury himself between those thighs.
‘Time for a shower, then, because I’m starving.’ Instead of heading to the en-suite, she twisted her hair while her stare lingered on his still-raring-to-go groin. ‘I’ve never experienced breakfast in the shower...’
Within seconds he’d hustled her into the bathroom and turned on the spray. She laughed and dragged him inside the glass cubicle, which was big enough for two.
Her mouth met his, her smile stretched wide. ‘I wanted to do this last night. I’m sorry I was so tired.’ And then she dropped to her knees on the tiles and gripped the base of his straining cock.
His eyes wanted to roll closed, so good was the sight of her on her knees. But he forced them open. He spread his thighs as the water pounded his back and cascaded over his shoulders. Essie smiled a sultry smile up at him, pressed her tongue to the base of his shaft and licked a path to the engorged tip. He braced one hand on the glass, terrified his jerking legs would give out before the fun was over.
Her warm mouth engulfed him, stretching her pink lips around his head. He grunted, an animal sound he was certain he’d never made before, and then he cupped her face, tangling his fingers in her wild, wet hair. An anchor.
She sucked hard and swirled the tip of her tongue over the sensitive crown, lingering on the spot that left him growling out her name and clamping his jaw so tight he worried for his enamel.
The minx had the audacity to smile around him, her mouth full, and then she bobbed her head, her eyes locked with his, full of challenge while she moaned and mumbled. He surrendered. He was always going to lose this fight. The sight of her on her knees with his cock in her mouth one he’d remember for ever. She worked him higher until every muscle screamed.
She was fantastic. Why had he battled so hard to fight this attraction? His balls tightened and boiled and fire flickered at the base of his spine.
‘Essie...’ The warning clear, no doubt by the look of twisted agony on his face.
Humming encouragement against him, she nodded her head, giving her permission. The flames licked along his shaft, lightning striking the tip at the moment he erupted on her tongue with a harsh yell and a slap of his hand on the tile.
She swallowed him down, releasing him with a pop and satisfied grin. He hauled her to her feet and crushed her close while she gripped his ass cheeks in both hands.
He pulled back, smacking kisses on her swollen, grinning lips.
‘Best.’
Kiss.
‘Fun.’
Kiss.
‘Ever.’
* * *
Essie pointed her phone at the majestic gothic spires of Notre Dame and snapped some pictures. The private pleasure cruise Ash had booked took them down the Seine from the Eiffel Tower to the Pont de Sully and back. A perfect way to see so many of the city’s iconic landmarks and to fully appreciate Paris’s endless stunning architecture.
After they’d dressed, they’d spilled out of the hotel and found a charming Parisian café where they’d sat on the pavement at a gingham-covered table for two and feasted on warm crumbly croissants that melted in the mouth. This new experiences game they were playing left her floating on air. She’d even forgone posting on her blog for that day and switched off her phone in reverence to her first orally delivered orgasm and her first visit to the French capital.
Ash approached with two flutes of what was probably real champagne—she was too scared to ask, because today had already had enough of a fairy-tale quality to leave her both swooning and restless.
Because she’d woken up in Paris next to a gorgeous man, any woman’s dream, who lived a lifestyle she couldn’t comprehend—one perhaps, had her parents been married, had she and Ben grown up together, she might have glimpsed. But that wasn’t her reality.
Her reality had been the role of odd kid out—not quite like many other kids from single-parent families but not quite like the whole families, either. Her reality had been years of loneliness, confusion and pining for an absent father. Yes, he’d sent endless gifts and she’d never gone hungry, but her reality had been an illusion. Just as her and Ash cruising the Seine drinking champagne was an illusion.
‘You look sad—Paris not what you expected?’ He sat next to her.
She shook
