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“Was this how you wanted to see it?” I whisper in her ear.
“It’s perfect,” she replies. She turns to face me “You’re perfect. I can’t believe you arranged this. It’s by far the most romantic thing anyone has done for me.” She makes a face. “Not that the standard was very high. When did you do this?”
“While you were getting dressed. I just wanted this night to be special,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
“Well, you’ve managed it.”
“This isn’t all,” I say with a grin.
“There’s more?” She laughs. “I don’t think I can handle more.”
“Not even dinner and a show at the Moulin Rouge?”
“No way,” she cries, hitting my forearm. “I tried to get tickets, but they were sold out. Some special anniversary show.”
“We better get ready, or we’ll be late,” I say.
“That was amazing,” Erin gushes. She takes my hand and squeezes it, dancing on the spot.
We are standing outside the Moulin Rouge, following dinner and the show. I can barely hear her through the excited chatter from the other patrons, but I’m pretty confident the show was a win.
“It sure was,” I agree. I excepted to like it—I mean, half-naked women dancing, what guy wouldn’t?—but I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I did. And the food was sensational. I don’t even know what the entrée was, but it was fucking good. But the best thing about the night was the company. She looks fucking amazing in her long black dress with delicate lace cap sleeves. I run my fingers down her spine, along the very low-cut back of her dress. Any lower and it would be illegal.
She leads me down the street, resting her head on my shoulder. We walk hand in hand, probably looking to anyone watching us like a couple in love. Every few minutes she stops to snap a photo of something that has caught her eye. I laughed when she said it a few weeks ago, but she was right: there is something special about being in Paris with that person. I don’t consider myself the romantic type, but maybe I’ve just never been with the right person. Tonight, with Erin, all that changes. This is the most content I’ve ever felt.
I’d take one night with Erin over a lifetime with someone else.
“What do you want to do now?” I ask tenderly. I move my arm around her back and pull her closer to me. She must be cold, because as incredible as she looks in that dress, her bare arms are exposed to the freezing air. She snuggles against me and wets her lips, and I catch the sense of sadn
ess in her mood. She glances up at me and smiles.
“Honestly? Let’s go back to the hotel. Everything I want is there.”
We get back to our room to find champagne and chocolate-coated strawberries sitting next to our bed. She squeals with excitement and kicks off her heels. I laugh as she dives onto the mattress, rolling around with the biggest smile on her face. She reaches over and grabs a strawberry, sucking on the end. I don’t think she’s trying to be seductive, but fuck me, I’m hard. I take off my shoes and join her, my desire for her unquenchable.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I chuckle.
“Enjoying myself is an understatement. This is incredible. You’re incredible.”
I pull her over to me, my fingers softly caressing her neck. She leans in and kisses me, her lips tenderly pressed to mine. She positions herself so she’s on top of me. I sweep her hair away from her face as it falls in waves around us. Her eyes search mine as she kisses me again, only this time I don’t let her pull away. With both my hands cupping her face, my mouth engulfs hers.
Carefully, I roll her onto her back, with me over the top of her. Her legs wrap around my waist, and as my hands slide over her body, resting on her breasts, her nipples harden. I groan as she unbuckles my pants and slides her hand inside my boxers.
I’m so hard already, but as her fingers curl around my erection I’m on the verge of exploding. Any inclination I had of being gentle with her goes out the window as I inch her dress above her hips. She sits forward enough for me to slide it over her head, and then rests back against the pillows beneath her.
I trace along the curve of her neck and down over her collarbone, my finger grazing her hard nipple, rolling it between my fingers. I reach behind her back and unclasp the bra, sliding it from her shoulders. Like everything else, her breasts are perfect—round and plump, but not too big.
“You’re incredible,” I mumble, closing my mouth over her nipple.
She gasps, her fingers grabbing at my hair.
“I want to taste you,” I growl suddenly. I scoot down the bed. Looping my fingers through the band of her panties, I yank them down. She giggles as I toss them aside and bury my face in her pussy.
“Has anyone ever made you come before?” I ask.
She swallows and shakes her head vigorously, her crystal blue eyes filled with anticipation. God, that’s such a turn-on. There is something incredibly sexy about my tongue exploring where nobody else’s has. Her legs tremble and lock around my neck as her fingers gently stroke my hair. I kiss her, my tongue slipping inside her.
“Oh God,” she yelps and arches her back. Her toes curl under her feet, pressing against my arse as I bury my tongue deep inside her wetness. I put my hand on her stomach, restraining her, allowing me to push her as close to the edge as I can without letting her fall.
