AllFreeNovel
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No way am I wasting time on food when there is so much to see. Who knows when I’ll get another chance? My job as an interior designer pays really well but it’ll be a long while before I can afford a trip on my own to France. The second I got it, I stopped living off my parents, which was my foremost goal as soon as I graduated.
“Have you traveled here before?” I curiously ask Dash, who shows me all the different spots, a little story behind each landmark like my personal tour guide. His memory is really sharp and keen and more often than not, I become lost in him rather than the view.
“Twice. Both times for business conferences,” he admits. “I made time to explore the city on the second trip.”
Dash always had wanderlust and would often travel on a weekend-long trip as far as I can remember. It was obvious it was his way of de-stressing from the chaotic world. Either he spent his time working alone or with Justin in the past. Now that I think of it, it seems lonely and sad.
Suddenly, I’m curious to learn more about him.
“Isn’t traveling your hobby?”
His hand, which was playing with my fingers, pauses and as he peers down at me, a lock of his hair falls on his forehead. “It was.”
It’s my turn to stop on my tracks. “When was the last time you went on a vacation?”
“Just told you.”
“The business trips don’t count.”
“My last trip was to Vietnam when I was twenty-four.”
“You’re serious?” I gasp. That’s ages ago. “But you can travel anywhere you desire. Why haven’t you?”
“Having the world at your fingertips isn’t always a blessing, kitten. It often becomes a burden and takes sacrifices to continue. When you have no one, your work becomes your entire world.”
“It’s okay to take a break, Dash,” I tell him softly. “You already work too hard.”
“It’s all I have and I can’t afford to take a break, nor do I want to.”
“Is it worth having premature gray hair?”
His lips kick to the side at my sarcasm. “I’ll still be handsome. Besides, women love an older guy. You’re ten years younger than me and I make your pussy wet, don’t I, kitten?”
I shush his mouth and hide my blushing cheeks from passersby. “You can’t say that in public, Dash.”
His fingers curl around my wrist and he lowers it, but doesn’t let go. Mischief dancing in his forest green eyes, he teases, “What? That you love getting your pussy spanked or that your cunt tastes like the sweetest drug men would die for? Or that the taste of it still haunts me as much as the feel of it stretching around my cock?”
Holy fuck. Damn his filthy talking mouth—and my pussy that suddenly feels empty and quivers for him. Having him inside me was both pleasure and sweet pain. I had felt him for days after. Every dirty, sordid deed he did to my body is etched into my skin.
Yanking me closer until I’m standing on my toes and our lips a hairbreadth away, he speaks smugly, “Is that too indecent to say in public?”
“You’re shameless,” I insult him, only for it to come out throaty and breathless.
“You have no idea, sweetheart.” Tucking me into his arms again, he pulls us in the direction of a restaurant with outdoor seating. “Let’s get you fed, wifey.”
Despite the rush, we get a table in a nice little corner with a direct view of the Pont des Arts bridge and the Eiffel Tower. Dash sits across from me and he’s a handsome view himself. Hair tousled and his suits well-fitted that it’s obvious they are custom-made and my favorite are the ones where he also wears a vest, like the one today. So prim and proper, and a striking contrast to his dirty talking mouth and seductive eyes.
Who knew men in suits were my kryptonite?
I gaze around me while Dash orders for us in fluent French. Each syllable, raising goosebumps on my skin because of how sexy and confident he sounds. The silence as we wait for our food is serene and comfortable. My gaze is drawn to him every few seconds while something from our conversation pricks at the back of my mind.
“Dash.”
“Yeah, kitten?”
“How is your dad? Are you close with him?”
His shoulders immediately tense and the calmness evaporates from our table before his gaze flies to mine. The detached and impassive man staring back at me is unrecognizable, as though I’m peering into a stranger’s face. My stomach hollows upon realizing I touched a nerve.
