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“I was trying not to come,” he says with a slight laugh. Then his mouth finds the spot. He kisses it, pressing slightly and the pleasure mixing with the pain makes the scene become even more alive around me.
Nick doesn’t linger long. His mouth inches across my hip until it’s between my legs. I can feel every breath he takes on my clit. The sensation spikes up my spine and back down again like an amusement park ride. Bells and whistles ring. But none of it compares to how I feel when he finally takes the plunge.
My eyes roll back in my head, my hips buck. His mouth suctions to my clit, tonguing the sensitive nub until galaxies explode behind my clenched-shut eyelids. The pleasure is immense, otherworldly.
“Nick,” I gasp. His hands are gripping my thighs, pulling himself deeper into me. That tongue is magic, it has to be. No normal man has these kinds of skills.
“Evie,” he replies, muffled by my pussy. The sound is orgasmic, even as my real, impending orgasm hurtles closer.
He’s willing to take me all the way, but now it’s my turn to stop him. It takes superhuman strength and now I can sympathize for his own self-control. I shift to sit up. He tries to keep me there but I rest both my hands on his cheeks and turn his head up to meet my eye.
“I need you inside me right now,” I say.
That boyish smile brightens his face. Eager and willing, as ready as I am. He reaches to the floor, fumbling for his ripped jacket, finding the condom in his wallet. It’s out of one package and onto the next in a flash.
And then he’s on top of me, knocking at the door to come in. I press against him as he adjusts to my entrance and then finally he’s inside me. We’re together at last.
I’m filled to the brim and then just a little bit more. His cock pulses red hot inside me. Every plunge seems to go deeper. Every breath is cinnamon and sweat. I’m hypnotized by the passion on his gorgeous face, the intensity of it. And all of it combined with the work his tongue had done means that I’m barreling toward the edge far sooner than I would like to.
I try to hold it off but there’s no hope. My orgasm rockets over me, and I clench and spasm and squirm and come like I never have before. My pussy squeezes the life out of his cock, and it must be enough to finish him off because I’m still in the last throes of bliss when Nick also becomes a jittering mass of pleasure. He jerks and grinds inside me before finally falling on top of me, a panting heap.
We sit there for a moment. He’s still inside me, softening but still warm. Still amazing. We breathe and collect ourselves. I’m shell-shocked, partially from my orgasm but mostly from the realization that I’ve had twenty-seven years on this planet and apparently never had good sex until this very moment.
Finally Nick slowly and reluctantly rolls off me and onto his side.
“That was fucking incredible,” he says.
“Unbelievable,” I reply. “If I had known it would be like that I would have fucked you right in that train bar.”
He grins devilishly. “And I would have let you.”
Another long pause.
“I hate to ask,” he finally says. “But what now?”
Does he mean in general? Is he talking about the moment? The day? Us as a couple? All of them have different answers, and I’m not one hundred percent sure of any of them. I think back to what Mickey said again. What do I want?
I lean forward, plant a kiss on his cheek, and say, “We have to go shopping.”
His confusion is obvious.
“We have a party to go to tonight. And not only do I want to look the part, I want us to be the stars.”
Nick presses his forehead once more to mine and says, “That shouldn’t be too hard.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NICK
I have zero interest in going to a club tonight. Fuck the Seafarer. Fuck my company. Fuck profit margins and shareholders and all the rest of the bullshit.
What I want is Evie. I want her squirming under me and gasping in pleasure. I want her swallowing my cock as she stares up at me with those beautiful blue eyes. I want her in every position, in every way. And I don’t want to share her. Not with Kara, certainly not with the douchebags the DJ calls friends.
Still, even though errands eventually force us to leave our bed, the day ends up being one that will be stored with my most cherished memories. For the first time in months I forget about the ship and the company, Jack and my father. Here in the City of Love, I’m a different man. Someone who only has the woman beside him to think about, to hold, to pull into kisses that last until we have to literally tear ourselves apart.
We walk the Champs-Élysées, Paris’s premier shopping street. I buy her a dress, shoes, waving away her protests as I hand over my limitless AmEx card. She picks out a suit for me that she swears is fashionable. It’s a little tight but I take her word for it.
Then we get a lunch of finger foods to-go and eat it in the park beneath the Eiffel Tower, lying on a blanket hand-in-hand and talking in low voices until inevitably falling on top of each other once again.
