35
HE PULLS MY LEG UP and slides a long finger into my panties. He presses it into me, deep and hard. And it feels so good. He knows exactly how to make me lose my inhibitions. “You like this, don’t you?” His words are but a faint whisper, his breath ragged.
“Uh-huh…” I moan, wanting more. So much more. It feels so good, but it’s not enough.
“You want it like this?” he asks. “Or do you want my cock, baby?”
“Y-your... cock,” I say in a desperate whimper. I’ve completely forgotten where we are. I’ve forgotten about the world around us. There are just the two of us in this moment.
“God, these red boots of yours are making me hard.” He tears off my panties, and swiftly slides them down over my knee. I shoot out my leg to help him along.
The panties hang off my leg, abandoned, as he pulls me closer against him. He feverishly works at his fly and reaches for the condom in his jacket pocket. As soon as I can, I grab his huge hard-on and guide him inside me, under the cover of the flaring skirt of my red dress.
I hold on to his broad shoulders as he presses up against me, gently at first, pushing slowly inside me. I close my eyes, and enjoy the feel of him and the thrill of the elicit. I can’t believe we’re doing this here, in a dirty dark alley.
He groans as he pushes into me harder and faster, and it feels so amazing but I can’t quite get there, and I desperately want to. I trail my hand down my side, and explore under my skirt. I find my throbbing clit and rub it gently. Oh God…
This is happening. Any second now.
“I love it when you touch your pussy, baby,” he whispers against my ear as he goes at me harder. “Make yourself come. I want to hear you.”
I oblige and take myself there, not wasting another second. His throbbing cock still inside me, he moans loudly against my ear as he pushes hard into me, stills and comes. One more push and he’s done.
He stands still for a few seconds, pressed against me. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I smile. “No… I loved every minute of it. Or should I say every second of it?” I tease.
He laughs against my ear. “Sorry, I was a little quick there, but you drive me crazy, Kayla. That dress, and those boots…”
He pulls slowly out of me, and I press down the folds of my dress. “Thank goodness I’m wearing this thick jacket because my shoulders would be feeling it tomorrow.”
He takes my hand in his. “Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want my girl all bruised up.”
We set out on our way back to the metro. “Thank you,” I say again. “For tonight. It was amazing.”
He smiles down at me. “No, thankyou, Bernie.”
“Oh, shut up!”
I swear, that guy loves to take me against walls, but he also loves to drive me up them.
* * *
Mom isall bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. You’d never know that she’d just broken off her engagement. She’s ordered a crêpe with custard and strawberries. I’m eating an omelette with a side of fruit.
We’ve agreed to meet at this little café, smack in the middle of the both of us, where the first and the 8th arrondissements meet. She’s staying in the 8th, and the first is where I am. It’s a little swankier where she is, and she’s closer to the Eiffel tower, but I like the first arrondissement, the center of it all.
The café is like the hundreds of others in this city; pretty bistro chairs, charming decor and art, stiff servers, stylish patrons, and menus written in French on cute chalkboards. This one has vintage Paris posters and a huge selection of crêpes.
“I’m addicted,” Mom says as she digs in. “I wonder if I could make these at home. They’d never be as good.”
I smile. “You could try.”
“Well, you know me,” she says with a mouth full of crêpe. “Not such a great cook.”
I smile but don’t say a word. Mom is great but yes, she’s never been a great cook. “So how are you feeling? You seem really great.”
She smiles widely. “I’m great. Antoine and I had a great time yesterday, and we’re going to see the Louvre today. We’ve booked a private tour.”
