The Paris Secrets trilogy: includes: Window, Screen, and Skin (43 page)

Jean-Louis sat on the opposite side of the bed, facing the window.  Rare November sunshine beamed across his shoulders like white heaven on a god's physique.  He was checking email on his cell phone, so I scampered into the bathroom, completely naked, and sat on the toilet to pee.

Not ten seconds later, the door opened, and he strolled in and over to the vanity to pick up his toothbrush.

"Hey, hey, hey!"  I cringed forward on the toilet, protecting my breasts, feeling more exposed than I had the past two nights.  "Peeing here."

"I can see that.  I want to brush my teeth."

Seriously?  "Nope.  Peeing is sacred.  Well, it used to be.  Could you please leave me alone?"

He paused with the toothpaste oozing onto his brush and eyed me in the mirror.  Had I just yelled at a puppy?  A nod of his head and he headed out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and eyes cautiously diverted from the crazy woman sitting on the toilet.

Whew.  I wasn't crazy.  Was I?  No, not crazy.  Sharing bodily functions was pushing the closeness.  I could suck the man for hours, and spread my legs wide to allow him to do the same, but I wanted to keep tinkling private.  It was not too much to ask for.

So, Jean-Louis's evil side had finally appeared.  He was Share Too Much Guy.  Or maybe he was into the golden stream?  I cringed as I stood and flushed.  Please, don't let him have that particular kink.  I didn't understand the appeal.  I erred on the side of vanilla sex, after all. 

So I wasn't adventurous between the sheets, and did not need to explore my darker side with whips and chains.  Just because everyone was reading about it didn't mean I had to be comfortable with it. 

I eyed the shower then glanced to the closed door.  Poor guy.  He could very well be standing out there with a mouthful of toothpaste. Maybe my evil side had reared its head?  Crazy Yelling From The Toilet Girl. 

I opened the door and popped my head out.  He sat on the end of the bed, toothbrush in hand and mouth suspiciously full.

"All clear," I offered.  "Want to take a shower together?"

With a nod, he charged into the bathroom to spit.  Toothbrush rinsed, a sip of mouthwash gargled, he then spun and pulled me into his arms, kissing me silly. 

The kiss was a good, fresh, minty one.  It involved a firm, commanding pressure that skittered tingles all up and down my sex-achy body, and focused in my nipples.  I moaned and rubbed my breasts against his chest.  Digging into his skin with my fingernails, I wanted to keep him there, and also to mark him. 
To make him mine
.  And when he stopped the kiss it felt as if he'd taken the air from me and replaced it with a heady hit of adrenaline.

"You should patent that one," I said.

"Which one?"

"That kiss.  The silly kiss."

"I thought it was a You Are My Woman kiss?"

"Ooh, I like that even better.  I am your woman.  And you are my musketeer.  Oh no."

"What?" he asked as he flipped on the shower and tended to the temperature.  Standing there naked, his cock erect, he embodied casual sex god.

"I just realized when I finally leave and go home—because we have to work eventually—"

"Not until tomorrow."

"Right.  But I will have to go home sooner or later.  And it will be in my costume.  That'll be an interesting walk of shame, even if it is only across the street."

He took my hand and we stepped into the shower stall, which was held us both without having to shuffle for the water stream.  He stood with his back to the water and bracketed my face with his hands.  "It is not shameful to be my woman.  Or to walk across the street."  He kissed me and it was a wet, slippery treat that ended too quickly.  "But yes, it will be a silly walk in that dress."

"You are so not nice," I said, and playfully slapped his chest.  "I've been waiting for your edges to show.  You've been pretty open with me.  I don't know what could possibly be wrong with you.  Oh.  Wait.  I forgot.  You're married."

"That is something we'll have to deal with.  Everything out in the open, oui?"

"Yes, but let's not consider that chat until after the shower.  I want to stand under the hot water and let it soothe my achy muscles."

"You are sore?  Where,
mon abeille
?  Here?"  He stroked a finger over my lips.

"No.  You could kiss me forever and a day and I'd still beg for more."

"How about here?"  He bent to kiss my neck where I was pretty sure I'd find a hickey when I looked in the mirror.

"Nope."

He tweaked each nipple with his fingers.

"A little," I offered.  "But don't let that stop you from anything you might have in mind."

His hand glided down my stomach and smoothed over my mons.  I shivered, despite the hot water beating against our sides.  He slicked a finger between my labia and ever so gently tweaked at my swollen clitoris.  "Here?"

"Yep."  I nodded against his chest.  "It's a good ache.  But I think it needs a little rest."

He dropped to his knees and kissed the achy part in question, then rose and pulled me into a hug.  "Thank you," he said.  "For making this real."

Chapter Four

Je m'appelle
Jean-Louis!

Sorry.  I will use English.  Now that I am seeing an American woman my English is getting a workout.  I generally speak my native French.  I also speak German and Russian, and strive to begin learning Japanese soon.  If I intend to make a mark in the International business world, I'll need an Asian language under my belt.

Yes, it is me, Jean-Louis.  Dear Reader, you did not think you would ever get inside my head? 
Bienvenue
!  It is a good place to be.  Especially after the past few days.

After the shower, Hollie had spread out her costume on the bed to study it.  Volumes of pink satin and lace covered nearly the entire bed.  I could sense her anxiety over having to wear it home.  She lived across the street from my building.  It would be a quick walk.  I might have to snap a picture of her while doing so.  Just for memory and, you know, possibly blackmail material.  (I kid you.  Maybe.)

All good things must end eventually.  It was Monday.  And work demanded my attention.  I stood before the closet.  I had a lunch meeting at the Hotel Regina with a client.  He was considering investing in my company.

From behind, Hollie hugged me.  I closed my eyes and took in the warm pressure of her body nuzzling against mine.  Breasts against my bare back.  Nipples hard upon my skin.  Her breath flooding my pores.  Soft hair spilling over my arm.  Could I stop this moment forever? 

How lucky am I to know this woman.

She stroked her fingers down the gray suit hanging prominently in view.  "This one," she said.  "It's perfect."

"Zegna," I confirmed, and pulled the suit coat out on the hanger.  "This is my lucky suit."

"Can I dress you?"

My naked lover bounced on her toes, her blue eyes sparkling with glee.  I had but an hour before I needed to meet the client.  I couldn't refuse her playful suggestion. 

I handed her the suit, pulled out a white dress shirt, and before I could select a tie, she reached in and tugged out the purple silk.

"I love this color," she said, smoothing the end of the tie over her lips.  "It's sensual.  Like you."

The woman said all the right things to polish up my bruised ego.  Trust me, before I met Hollie, I'd been pretty low about myself.  But I did not like to wallow.  And how could I with a pair of perky breasts rubbing against my chest?

"Okay," she said, stepping back and tapping a finger to her lower lip.  "Boxers!"

She bounced over to the dresser and pulled open my underwear drawer.  In which, I had found a pair of her black lace panties the other day tucked amidst the boxer briefs.  Left there when she'd visited to water my plants, apparently.  I'd drawn them out and pressed them to my face.  The soft fabric hadn't given up any scent of her, but the slick silk had prompted me to shove them down my pants and over my cock.

Monsieur Eiffel stood upright now to remember the feel of the cool fiber sliding over my erection. 

"Oh, I see he's ready."  Hollie bent to sweetly kiss the head of my cock.  I shivered as the wet morsel sent a frisson of sensation throughout the erect shaft.

When Hollie knelt before me and asked me to step into a gray pair of boxers, I complied.  She jutted up her derriere first, and I leaned forward to smooth a hand over her bottom.  A quick smack produced a surprised cry from her. 

She stood upright, dropping the boxers at my feet.  "What was that for?"

"Couldn't resist."  I winked.  "I have to leave in less than an hour," I reminded.  "Dress me quickly."

So maybe that slap had been too much.  It had taken her off guard.  Surprised her.  And I wasn't sure if it had been a good or disturbing surprise.  I'd had to try it, though.  I wasn't into the rough stuff or spanking, but who could resist that gorgeous ass?  It demanded the spank test.

She pulled up my boxers, and when she got to my cock she first shifted it to the left then thought about it and shifted it to its more natural position at the right.

"You dress
vers la droite
," she decided.

"I do.  And look at you, Mademoiselle I Speak French Now."

She shimmied her shoulders and shrugged.  "I know a few things.  But prepare to be underwhelmed by my pitiful command of your language."  She adjusted my cock slightly.  Her attention only made it harder.

"It's going to be difficult to keep the fellow contained.  Monsieur Eiffel doesn't like it when you cover him up."

She bent to kiss my cock through the gray fabric, and then gave it a firm squeeze.  I groaned at that pressure.  If I didn't manage a quickie before I left, I'd have to sit through lunch with an erection.

"Pants," she said, seemingly without regard for my obvious arousal.  "No, shirt next."  She turned and retrieved the shirt from the bed and I pressed my hard-on against her naked derriere.  "I thought you were in a hurry?" she sweetly asked over a shoulder.

"I am.  Fine.  Shirt." 

I stood back and held out my arms.  Pulling it up each arm, and beginning to button it from the top, Hollie tilted forward, skimming the front of my cock with her hip.

"You are teasing me," I warned.

"Yes, well, if you are patient, I might do the dressing part quickly and then we'll have time for a quickie before you leave."

The woman was a mind reader.  I did appreciate her hidden talents.  As I also appreciated her full breasts, so I gave one a squeeze.

Despite the distraction, she landed the bottom button in the buttonhole then slid her fingers up the front of the shirt.  "This is nice.  It hangs perfectly and emphasizes your biceps.  I do love a well-tailored man."

"Does it turn you on?" I wondered, eager to catalog her turn-ons.

She nodded.  "To me, a man in a suit can be sexier than a naked man."

"Is that so?"  I nudged my hard-on against her hip.  "So you really prefer me clothed right now?"

The tip of her tongue peeked from the corner of her mouth.  "Yes.  No.  Maybe." 

A naked woman was dressing me, and I found it most titillating.  Her nipples were tight and hard, a deep rose blossom against her pale skin.  Sucking them put me on another plane.  It was like a Zen act that calmed me, yet aroused at the same time.  The jewels bobbling on my tongue were more delicious than any treat.

She lifted my trousers from the bed and I noticed the fabric skimmed her breasts and she hissed out a delicious sigh.

My cock prodded against the boxer briefs.  It wanted attention.  But in denying it gratification I was amping up the adrenaline.  Anticipation heightened my senses and the citrus shampoo that lingered in Hollie's hair and on her skin teased at my nostrils. 

Stepping into the trousers she held for me, I allowed her to pull them up.  Carefully she zipped, though I winced, worried she might pinch something valuable—until she did not.  A tight fit.  It would be obvious over lunch.

"
Très bien
," Hollie observed.  I did love it when she attempted French.  Even if sometimes she didn't quite get the pronunciation correct or the right words.  "Are you meeting a man for lunch?"

"Why?"

"I'd be jealous if a woman got to enjoy all this sexy."

"I cannot leave with a hard-on," I protested, and pulled her into my embrace.  I pumped my hips against hers.  "Please, Hollie?"

She ground her loins against mine, and my eyelids shuttered.  I tightened my jaw, riding the heady trip of want that shivered through my system.  My cock pulsed.  It was molten hot, and the building tension had already tugged up my balls. 

"Mmm...do not tease me,
mon abeille
."

"Coat!" she declared, and shuffled from my grasp.  "Arms behind you," she ordered, and again, I fought the growing frustration and complied.

"You should do the tie first," I suggested with the coat sleeves halfway up my arms.