Page 46 of The French Kiss


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Simon picks up the diva dog, who seems instantly happier at Simon’s touch. “He’s a bit jealous when other people take my time and attention.”

I understand that, little man!

“It’s okay. I should get home anyway, get some sleep before going to the workroom tomorrow and let Xerxes have a bit of Daddy time.” I swear to God, the dog smiles in victory.

Simon argues, “You don’t have to go.” But when I continue getting dressed, slipping my heels back on, he gives in. “All right, let me get dressed and I’ll take you if you must go. But next time? Plan to stay.”

Next time? There’s going to be a next time? Whoop-whoop!

My pussy perks right up at that, getting wet like the little slut she is. But I do think a bit of processing after tonight would be a good thing. Simon says he wants to worship me, and damn, did he, but there’s still a little seed of worry in my gut about this whole thing.

Actually, two seeds of worry. Neither of them particularly small.

One, the competition and whether this is some form of cheating even though we’re not talking about the contest or designers. And two, how can Simon Corbin really be this interested in me?

I’m still rocking my 7.9, and now, knowing that Simon is also kind-hearted, witty, and a fantastic lover, he’s moving on up the scale. I gotta go at least fifteen now, which makes him even further out of my league.But if he keeps making me come like that, I could probably overlook that, I think with a shiver of satisfaction.

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