Page 113 of One Week in Paris
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“THANK YOU,” I say as we walk down the streets of the 12th arrondissement. The night air is crisp and cool, and I hug myself as my boots take me toward our apartment in the first. “Thanks for taking me there. It was the coolest place I’ve ever been.”
“My pleasure.” He cozies up closer, and slows down his stride. “I knew you would love it. I was doing research about Paris because I wanted to do something special with you, and when I found that place, I thought it was perfect.”
“It was.” We’re not holding hands — it’s too chilly for that. His hands are in his pockets and mine are huddled against my breasts. We walk briskly. I wonder if he’s as anxious to get home as I am. I picture us, naked and warm in our bed.
He smirks. “I can’t believe you beat me at that game.”
I smile. “I sure did.”
“You sure did,” he says, and grabs my hand abruptly, practically startling the boots off me. He presses me against a green building. There’s aHOTELsign lit up. My feet are awkwardly tangled around a potted plant. He presses his mouth to mine, and I get lost in the heat of his kiss. I indulge in him for a few seconds before pushing him away. “We can’t. Not here.”
He smiles and pulls away. We resume walking with huge grins on our faces. We talk about the museum, not walking fast enough. “Did you notice that woman statue with the horse head and the angel wings?” he asks.
“Yeah. Lots of weird statues. But they were all really beautiful.”
“That might have been the weirdest, creepiest place I’ve ever been to."
He’s walking a little too briskly, and I stretch out my stride to keep up with him. “Creepier than the catacombs?”
“Sorta. Creepy in a different way.”
He grabs my hand again, and pulls me in once more. This time it’s against an old curved stone wall covered in lush greenery, stretching around a curve. It’s dark but there’s a streetlamp not far in the distance. He presses his hot mouth against my cheek. “You know when I was in the catacombs, I kept thinking about you.”
“Really?” I’m amused by his admission. “Skulls and bones make you think of me. Interesting.”
“There were all these dark corners down there, and I couldn’t help fantasizing about fucking you against one of those cold stone walls.”
Heat fills my core, travels down my body. It’s so cold out, but my insides are melting. “Kind of…” I say, breathless. “Kind of like… this stone wall, right here.”
Could we? Right here? It’s dark, and no one is around. Almost as if he can read my thoughts, he slides a slow hand under my long skirt, up the length of my calf, and then my thigh. His hot touch feels so delicious, like a warm bath. I close my eyes when he reaches my sex. I press my head back against the cold stones and look up at the dark night sky. “Oscar…” I whisper.
I want to tell him to stop, but my body says,Go, go, go… and fuck me, right here.
“God, you’re wet,” he whispers. “I also fantasized about sucking on your sweet pussy down there, amongst the skulls.”
A smile traces my lips. “You’re twisted, Oscar.”
He teases me, plays with the edges of my moist panties. “You like it.” God, he’s turning me on so much. I really wish we were in our bed. When he sneaks his hand inside my panties, I almost lose it. I want him to take me right there. He slides a finger over my clit briefly, teasing, and it dances around my sweet spot, torturing me. He shoots me a wicked smile.
Yes, my boy loves to play.
“You-you’re, b-ad,” I whisper, my words broken.
“And you love it.”
I close my eyes. “I want you inside,” I say, my voice pleading.
“You want my finger or my cock, baby?”
Oh my…
We hear a sudden laugh and distant chatter. There are people walking up the hill. They can’t see us yet, but as soon as they trek up the hill, around the curve, they’ll run smack into us. Oscar pulls away, and I press down my skirt, making sure I look presentable.
About four seconds later, two couples walk past us, completely oblivious. They offer us friendly smiles, and we reciprocate. They’re speaking French, but I don’t quite understand what they’re saying. Oscar and I stand still for a beat, waiting for them to walk further away. He seems as flustered as I am.
“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
