Chapter 27 Luc
Cody and I travel to his house by tram—with a paid ticket this time.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened, and the journey offers me a welcome chance to reflect.
We’re sitting side by side in the moving vehicle, watching the city pass by through the window.
This way of traveling is much faster than walking back, especially carrying heavy luggage.
Given the amount of stuff I have, it’s a miracle Maxime managed to get everything into just two bags.
They must be really good at efficiently packing things.
So much has happened today. As things are now, I’m unsure where Cody and I stand. He may have said yes to my proposal because he felt he had to, but he never took it back. He even said we’ll get married in France eventually. Does that mean we’re engaged now? I don’t know for sure.
I think back to our visit to the cake shop and everything that’s happened since.
Cody told me he’s been searching for me since we parted in the alleyway.
He said he went by my house but couldn’t find me there.
As I replay our conversation in my head, a question occurs to me, and I turn my head to look at him.
“How did you know where I live? You didn’t have my address.”
He nods. “After I couldn’t find you, I returned to the cake shop and confessed to your dad that I responded poorly to your proposal.
I told him I love you, that I wanted to take the leap with you, and needed his help to find you.
He eventually gave me the address, and I rushed over there, but you weren’t home.
I was lucky to find you at the station. I’m so glad I did. ”
My eyes widen. “You told my dad you want to marry me?”
“More or less. I called myself your fiancé.” He gives me a slight smile. “I hadn’t planned to get married, but I want to be with you, and I don’t care where. We’ll move to France if that’s what you need. We’ll figure the rest out together.”
“But you think I used you.”
“Baby, no . . .” He puts his arm around me and pulls me close, giving me a squeeze, not caring who sees it. “I love you, truly. But there’s so much about you I don’t know. Like how badly you want to return to France, for instance.”
I think about it for a long moment. Eventually, as I stare at him, something inside me loosens. The ache in my chest doesn’t vanish, but it eases. I lean in. “Do you mean it? You want to be my fiancé?”
“I do. So let’s go home, baby. We can talk it over.”
I nod and smile, my worry fading. Strangely, being here with him, in his arms, feels like I am already home.
***
Unlocking the door to his house with him looking at me feels a little strange…but also nice. It’s definitely something I could get used to. I’ve pictured the scenario of staying with him here before, not having to leave. And now it really happening.
Once we're inside, Cody and I plant ourselves on the couch, sitting close together with our legs touching and holding hands. As we discuss our plans to move, my excitement grows, but I also realize there are some complications about going to France, like Cody’s job and the fact that he doesn’t speak French.
That won’t make this easier. Still, we want to work it out.
One thing we can both agree on is that we’re okay as long as we have each other. That’s what matters most.
And so, I decide to take another step in trusting him.
“I may act like I know what I’m doing and sometimes pretend I don’t need you, but I absolutely do need you, Cody.”
Cody’s face lits up as he meets my gaze. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He chuckles. “You're so much more than the snippy French boy I met at the cake shop, aren't you?” He squeezes my hand. “But I guess I already knew that.”
“But I fooled you, didn't I? You didn’t believe I was a virgin, for one thing.”
“Yes, you put up a good act.” He gives me a sympathetic smile. “I must say, those are some big walls you put up around yourself.”
I feel like there's no denying it–not around him anyway. “Yes.”
“Why is that?”
“Why?” I repeat, frowning. He nods. I blink slowly, thinking about the answer. “Can’t it just be because I’m French?”
“It can be,” he replies. “But is it really only that?”
I shrug. “I’ve always been like this. The confidence, the distance, it’s a French thing.” I pause, then sigh. “But . . . you’re right. There’s more to it than that.”
“Tell me.”
I can’t help but look away, rubbing the back of my neck. Cody already knows more of my secrets than anyone else, but that doesn’t make opening up any easier. “You know I’ve been hurt before by the first person I loved. And that being torn away from my home left me with pain, and trust issues.”
Cody nods. “So you do it out of self-protection?”
“Oui.”
“But you feel safe with me?”
“I do. But it’s hard sometimes, like when I disappeared for a week.” I shrug, not entirely comfortable with the topic. “I was afraid that what we had didn’t mean the same to you, and I didn’t want to risk it. Part of me still feels like I should run away now, but I won’t. Because I don't want to.”
He nudges his knee against mine. “I definitely don't want you to either,” he says softly. “I don't think I can even let you go at this point.”
I must say, I kind of like the idea, and I know it's true; he basically chased me through the city today.
I grab the front of his sweater and lean in. “Then definitely don't.”
Bridging the distance, I press my lips against his, catching his mouth into a kiss.
It's soft at first, but quickly intensifies, and before we know it, we find ourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing and unable to keep our hands and mouths off each other.
And who can blame us? After all, we’re in love .
. . and engaged. I know exactly how I want to celebrate, and I’m convinced he’ll also like it.
“Fais-moi l’amour.”
He smiles and nods, his arms wrapped tightly around me, and I know he understands that I just told him to make love to me.
There’s no hesitation in his reply. “How do you want to do this?”
I don’t have to think about that. I usually love being in control, but after he told me he thought I was using him, tricking him, I need him to show me that he no longer feels that way, that I’m what he wants most in the world.
“I need you to prove to me you love me. Doesn’t matter how. And I’ll do the same for you.”
He bites his lip, his gaze falling to my mouth. “That I can do.”
“I mean it. I need to feel it.”
“Oh, you’ll feel it,” he whispers.
He hesitates for a moment, and before I can figure out why, he repositions his arms, sliding one beneath my legs and the other around my waist. Then, without warning, he stands up, never letting go, actually tightening his grip, and lifts me off the couch.
I gasp in surprise. This has never happened to me before, and I didn’t see it coming—what adult man would?
I'm still trying to process what's going on when he suddenly stands still, holding me like this, perhaps waiting to see whether I’ll object. But why would I? He’s giving me exactly what I asked for, showing me he loves me, that he wants me, and I’m floating.
There it is again: that miracle touch. His hand gently strokes my back as he holds me, his eyes locked on mine, and oh… . . . this is a great start already.
To show him my approval, I press my lips to his and kiss him.
We part only because he starts moving again, carrying me toward the bedroom.
I chuckle as he lowers me onto the bed and places himself on top of me.
The next moments are spent practically ripping each other’s clothes off.
The way he touches and kisses me is almost roughly, as if the wait is impossible to endure.
In a way, it is. We had sex just this morning, but it feels like much longer.
Just as I hoped, he doesn’t give us time to pause.
He’s letting his hands run all over me, exploring every piece of bare skin.
And everything he does screams he won’t keep doing this for long either.
After a minute or so, he grabs my legs, lifting my ass and, without hesitation, brings his head to my crotch as though he’s been hungry for it.
Then, confirming it, he says, “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you naked.”
I chuckle. “And I’ve been waiting for it from the moment you gave me that naughty look in the shop.”
“You mean on the day we met?”
“Oui.”
He moans. “God, that makes it even better.”
Then, catching me off guard, he laps at my hard cock like there’s no time to waste, and lets it slip into his mouth.
He sucks on it, taking my breath away. For a moment, I’m in heaven, but to my surprise, after several seconds, he lets it pop out of his mouth again.
He turns it into a game, the best possible torture, and repeats the process again and again until I’m absolutely losing my mind.
He’s sucking and licking only to pull away, exposing my dick to the brisk air around us.
The contrast makes me wild and incredibly frustrated, but I can see what he’s doing; he’s dragging the moment out, playing with my cock and worshipping it to prove he loves me.
But the fact that I understand what he’s doing doesn’t mean I can stand it.
I don’t recall ever having been this impatient about anything.
No one’s ever sucked me off before—my first boyfriend made sure I never let anyone close to my private parts again.
But Cody’s different, and now, from the first contact with his tongue, it’s pure bliss.
He makes me feel wanted, like I’m the most desirable person in the world.
With him, I don’t need to feel insecure; I can just relax and enjoy the ride. But I want more. I need more.
“God, more, please…” I barely manage to get out.