Page 43 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
Against a wall.
Plunging into me.
Maybe even in the shower.
All wet.
I felt the rise of an erection against my tailbone.
My clit tingled. My core muscles clenched
Fuck.
Woozy with desire, I had to close my eyes for a second. “Jesus, Lucas.”
He laughed softly, dropping his hand. “Told you I had a dirty mind. Now you better walk in front of me for a few minutes. I don’t want to scare anybody with what’s in my pants right now.”
Smiling at him over my shoulder, I pulled my camera from my bag and took a picture of the sculpture. It might not capture the artistry or the light, but dammit, I wanted a memento of the time Lucas nearly gave me an orgasm in the middle of the Musée Rodin.
#
There were plenty of other works of art in that museum that were unbelievably sensual and romantic, but as we strolled outside into the garden, it was the image of the hands I couldn’t get out of my head.
Or maybe it was the feel of Lucas’s stiff cock on my ass.
I was so hot and bothered, I wasn’t sure I would last much longer. As we paused in front of The Thinker, probably Rodin’s most famous work ever, I felt guilty that all I could Think about was fucking Lucas in the shower. I cleared my throat, prepared to banish niceties to the Gates of Hell, which was another of Rodin’s masterpieces I couldn’t concentrate on.
What, it’s full of naked writhing bodies!
But before I could suggest we go back to his apartment, get naked and writhe, he asked me if I’d like the see the gardens, and I felt too ashamed to say no. Come on, Mia. You can give it ten more minutes.
“Sure. I’d love that,” I said.
As we walked toward the large fountain at the back, I wondered again if it was only me having a hard time remaining patient. Lucas kept making jokes about his dirty mind and tented pants, but I was beginning to think my imagination was the filthier of the two.
Then a moment later we reached the edge of the gardens, and Lucas pulled me between two rows of hedges, where a narrow gravel path made a little secret passageway. “I’ve been waiting to do this all day and I can’t wait any longer.” He turned me into his arms and kissed me, slanting his mouth over mine and plunging his tongue between my lips like he was starving for me.
I threw my arms around him, pushing my chest against his, desperate to feel his hard muscle on my soft curves. He dropped a hand to my waist and slid it up to one breast, over my camisole. I shivered.
“Mmmmm,” I moaned. “That feels so good. I love your hands on me.”
That’s when the first few splats of rain hit my head. Both of us glanced up and noticed the huge dark clouds moving in. Thunder rumbled softly.
“Perfect timing.” Lucas kissed me quickly. “I’m ready to go.”
“Me too.” We started walking back toward the house when it began to pour, the rain coming down in steady sheets. “Hold on, I have an umbrella.” I stopped to dig through my bag.
But it wasn’t in there.
Frantically, I rummaged through the contents of my bag, but there was no umbrella to be found.
“Shit, I forgot my umbrella.”
And then I began to laugh.
Closing up my bag so the gifts inside wouldn’t get wet, I laughed hysterically and twirled in a circle. “Lucas, I fucking forgot to pack an umbrella! Do you know what this means?”
“Um, we’re both going to get very wet?” He had to think I was crazy, but he didn’t hurry us out of the rain, even as thunder echoed above us again. Instead he just stood there watching me dance, waiting for me to explain my soggy euphoria.
