Page 70 of The Stipulation
I can feel her clit pulsing beneath my fingers, and I know she is on the verge of orgasming. I press down on her clit, gently atfirst and then more firmly, and that does it. She goes over the edge. I watch as her back straightens and her hands clench into fists. Her mouth opens slightly, and I know she is dying to moan loudly, but she keeps it in, and all that escapes is a tiny whimper. Her body convulses as she bites down on her lip. I slip my fingers back out of her clothes and wipe her lips with her juices. Then I watch while she gets herself under control again.
I lean in and kiss her glistening lips, and she tastes so fucking sweet I almost lose my cool. I have to fight not to tear her clothes off and take her right there in theJardin du Palais-Royalfucking gardens. Her hands claw on my back, roaming wildly.
“Fuck,” she whispers. “I want to give you a blowjob. Right now. Right here.”
My dick is as hard as granite and throbbing like a mad thing. There is nothing I want more than to take up her offer, but I can hear footsteps approaching. The sound of a small child running. I shake my head regretfully. “I’ll hold you to it tonight.”
The family of three passes next to us. I don’t know if they can see. We sit in silence, looking into each other’s eyes, searching for each other in them. The air between us is so charged I can feel my skin tingling. After a long, intoxicating pause, she pulls back slightly. Her eyes are dark, shining, and I know that whatever happens between us, Jo will never forget her visit to theJardin du Palais-Royal.
“Ready to face the rest of Paris?” I murmur.
Jo smiles mistily. “After that, I can handle anything, but you know what? Let’s go back to the hotel and finish what we started.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
Her grin is dazzling, mischievous. “Are you always this smooth, Axel?”
“Well, I’d certainly like to think so.”
We stand up together, kicking gravel with our shoes, and start the walk back toward the street, hand in hand. The garden fades behind us, but the warmth, the electricity, the sexual tension between us linger like a hidden perfume in the air.
The streets of Paris feel different now, richer, more intimate, more ours. I steer us back towards the hotel, letting our hands touch every now and then, enjoying every small thrill that comes from that brief contact. The city hums around us, but it’s nothing compared to the heat building between us, that shared awareness that we’re both on fire for each other. Jo glances up at me as we approach the hotel.
And as we step into the hotel lobby, I feel that same pulse of anticipation. Today has been incredible, intoxicating, and intimate in ways neither of us expected. Supposedly, our time together is coming to an end, but it feels as though this is only the beginning.
Chapter
Thirty-One
JO
We step into the hotel lobby, the familiar scent of polish, leather, and a faint hint of garlic from the kitchens greeting us like an old friend. The quiet hum of the elevators, the gentle clink of luggage carts, even the polite nods of the staff, it all feels normal, ordinary, after a day of magic.
Except, of course, nothing about this moment is ordinary. Not with Axel next to me.
“Do you think we can make it back in time for cocktails before dinner?” I ask, tugging lightly on Axel’s sleeve as we head towards the elevators.
He looks at me with that slow, knowing smile of his that makes me feel like he’s already plotted a perfect evening. “Cocktails weren’t part of the plan,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to make my pulse quicken. “But if it is cocktails my baby wants, then cocktails she’ll have.”
I laugh, shaking my head, but the warmth creeps up my face.
Up in our room, I step into the bathroom and freshen up. When I come out, Axel goes in. While I am alone, I peel off my clothes and shrug into something lighter, something that feels Parisian – a light pink sundress of mid-thigh length and thin spaghetti straps. It feels sweet yet subtly daring. I add my nude ballet pumps and quickly sit down to brush my hair. Axel emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his waist, his hair damp and falling slightly over his forehead. I watch him through the mirror, and I swallow hard. A grin tugs at my lips.
“What?” he asks when he feels my eyes on him.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just admiring the view.”
“Charming,” he says immediately, but he is flashing that grin that makes my knees feel weak.
We take the stairs down to the hotel bar.
Inside, the bar is dark with an almost secretive air about it. It has low, intimate lighting, flickering electric candles on every table, and behind the bar, shelves of bottles of all colors stretch all the way up to the ceiling. The air smells faintly of citrus and alcohol. A jazz track hums in the background, a female vocalist singing in a sultry voice, smooth and intoxicating, curling around us like velvet.
The bartender is dressed sharply; white shirt complete with black bow tie, and black trousers. He moves like he is a dancer, mixing drinks with precision and flair.
Axel slides the door closed behind us and leans closer to me.
“Is the bar to your liking,Mademoiselle?” he murmurs, and I feel the heat of his chest brushing my back.
