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Cory, turns me around and hikes my dress up while I struggle with his belt and zipper. After I free his cock, I give it a few good pumps. He’s so solidly rock hard that I know he won’t be able to last long. But we just need it quick and dirty, which is exactly what this room is.
While I’m still wondering how we’re going to manage this without touching too much of the filth in this room, Cory lifts me up in a tight hug, but then, unlike any hug I’ve ever had before, he manages to get his arms under my knees, so that he’s holding me up entirely by my legs. This has the added effect of spreading my thighs, and in an instant, his cock is just inches from my dripping entrance.
“Get inside me,” I moan into his ear, kissing at his neck for good measure.
With a single motion, Cory’s hips move forward, and he fills me up. We lose our balance for just a second, but then he steps forward to lean my back against the wall. Then we’re working up into a steady rhythm. I wriggle against him, but there is little I can do in this position. I am simply a recipient of his thrusts, my lips and moans letting him know that he’s doing everything right.
The wall creaks behind me with each thrust, and for a split second I wonder what the back of my dress will look like after this romp, but this thought is fleeting in the shadow of the orgasm building up inside me. When Cory speeds up, I know he’s close, but this time, I cum first. The strain of the position seems to be making it harder for Cory to concentrate on his own pleasure. But he’s not giving up.
While I’m still shaking in his arms, he thrusts several more times, finally pressing deep inside me. I feel him cum, and as the energy drains out of him, his arms relax. In a stumbling motion, my feet find the ground once more, and Cory and I are leaned against each other, panting and hugging.
At this exact moment, a mouse scurries across the floor. I shriek and leap back into Cory’s exhausted arms. “What do you say to getting out of here as fast as possible?”
After taking a few seconds to adjust our clothes, we’re giggling as we rush down the stairs, Cory saying that if I don’t hurry that he’s going to leave me here with the rats. In minutes we’re walking the romantic streets, our oxytocin levels boosted as we swing our arms between us and talk about how far we’ve come.
“I still can’t believe that we’re still in France,” I say. “Every time I wake up, I have to remind myself that I’m not in the States.”
“Pretty cool, right?” Cory says and squeezes my fingers.
A scooter passes by us on the street, a basket on the back loaded with three baguettes. It’s so stereotypically French that it almost seems like a joke.
“When we go to Paris in a few days, you know where Lizzie is going to want to visit, right?” Cory says, laughing to himself at his apparent realization.
“Where?”
He turns to me and says in an exhausted tone, “Disneyland.”
“No!” I shout. “They have one of those here?”
“Yep. And the instant she finds out, she’s going to be begging us to go there. And you know I can’t say no to that kid.”
“Oh, I know she’s your biggest weakness.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “So what does that make me?”
“You?” Cory says and squishes his lips to the side in this cute thinking pose. “You’re my greatest strength.”
“That’s entirely too sappy,” I say. Then I squeeze his fingers and say, “But thanks. I like that.”
The rest of our walk is spent in silence. I’m just soaking in the sights, the sounds, and the smells. I want to remember every detail of this night. Because in a week, we’ll be back to our life in California. And even though that is like a dream in itself, I don’t know when we will have a chance to return to France again.
Once thing is for certain though, this has been the most perfect honeymoon I could ever have imagined. Just one year ago, I was at an Applebee’s trying to show of how far I’ve come to a bunch of people who didn’t give a rat’s ass about me. Now I’m married to my best friend, starring in Hollywood movies, and honeymooning in Europe. I have an amazing daughter, a new best friend in Sarah, and a future that promises to grow brighter with each passing year.
If my life is a movie, I’m living the happily ever after.
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PLUS THREE - First Chapter
Keep reading to check out the first chapter of PLUS THREE, the first in a series containing a reverse harem of billionaires, bad boys, and no need to choose between the two.
Chapter 1
Ms. Watterson spots me from across the floor. Her gaze is enough to pull me in like a black hole. She’s standing just outside her office, having a discussion with Lee, a reporter who’s apparently been here nearly as long as she has but acquiesces to her every whim as though she were his dom. Lee is a religious man, which isn’t something I would normally make a note of, except that he’s got enough religion for a whole Southern Baptist church.
When I approach the two of them, Ms. Watterson takes the soy latte I picked up for her on my way into the office. As on every other day, she offers no thanks or money to repay me for what is my biggest financial burden outside of rent, which is not insignificant in Los Angeles, even when you live in a shoebox.
“You’re late,” she says. “I was certain something terrible had happened.”
