25. Paris
TWENTY-FIVE
PARIS
Lake
When we land and I have to show my passport, I finally take the phone from the black leather pouch Alessio packed for me. My uncle’s doctor's night shift nurse left a voicemail telling me in great detail about my uncle’s health status. He’s still unconscious, but his vitals are good, and they’re monitoring him.
Since the nurse gave me the number of the doctor I could text and ask questions, I shoot him a few messages and thank him for his time. I want to call my aunt, but she’s at work by the time we reach Paris.
My brother is at school, and I hope I’ll get to talk with him later. For now, I count my blessings that my uncle is alive and my family is well.
And also, I’m in Paris.
Leo and I walk into a Parisian hotel room with textured off-white walls. Black modern contemporary decor is interrupted by a touch of tradition expressed in a classic teardrop crystal chandelier and a dark chestnut-brown marble fireplace. Long, sheer curtains open to a balcony, and I immediately find my way outside. I grip the railing and lean out slightly.
I take in the view and recognize where we’re staying. On the drive over from the airport, I was too busy listening to the messages about my uncle and taking in the general splendor of the Champs-élysées and the Arc de Triomphe to pay attention to the hotel. I knew it would be nice, but I still can’t believe it’s this nice.
I spin around to tell Alessio we have the best view of Vendome Square (even though he knows because he selected this suite) when I find Alessio speaking to the general manager of the hotel, who kindly escorted us to our suite. I’ll tell him later.
My phone rings, and without looking at the caller ID, I answer. “Hello.”
“Your uncle will make a full recovery if you deliver the small plastic piece taped on the inside of the gun’s grip.”
Frozen, I listen. I can’t talk because Alessio is only a few feet away, watching me.
“You’ll need a tool to retrieve it.” the man continues. “In Paris, wait for further instructions.” The line goes dead.
“Lake!” Leo shouts, and I’m so startled that I jump, then rush into the bedroom. Leo’s bouncing on the king-size bed.
I’m fine. It’ll be fine. If I don’t stop freaking out, Alessio will realize something is wrong. Nobody will survive his interrogation, least of all me.
With the sadists calling to tell me they’ve spared my uncle and that they’ll leave him alone, I’m a little relieved. I’ll do whatever they want. And taking a small piece from the gun instead of the gun itself sounds like a much better option.
“This is my room,” Leo says, still bouncing on the bed.
At least he took off his shoes.
“Come, Lake, come.”
I remove my shoes and bounce with him while telling myself that my uncle will survive all this. My family will be okay. All I have to do is deliver something from inside the gun’s grip. I can do that. Can’t I?
Leo and I jump up and down a few more times before Leo slides off the bed. “I want to show you something.”
I follow him into the bathroom. There’s a beautiful tub, shower, sink, a marble countertop, mirror (everything is so pretty), and Leo stands in front of a wall hung with four framed black-and-white pictures of the same woman. She has long, straight, jet-black hair and stunning blue eyes. In all four images, she’s lounging on the couch of this penthouse suite. I believe there’s a large picture of her over the fireplace as well.
“That’s my mom,” Leo says.
Oh. I thought the woman was a fashion model, and the images were part of the hotel’s chic décor. Based on research, I’m aware that French hotels often portray their proud heritage that’s closely related to beauty and fashion as well as the arts.
Even though he’s aware she passed away, he’s using present tense, so I do the same. “She’s beautiful.”
We sit on the edge of the tub and look at the pictures. I take a moment of silence to commemorate the life of the woman who birthed such a lovely boy.
I clear my throat. “Do you remember her?”
“A little.”
“You must miss her, huh?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “I like to look at her.”
I clear my throat. “I miss my mom, too.”
He looks up, eyes wide. “Your mom is also in heaven?”
I nod.
“Hm. When is her birthday?”
I frown at the strange question. “In May.”
Leo explains, “On my mom’s birthday, we bake a cake.”
“Oh, that’s really nice.”
Leo’s quiet for a while, and then kicks his feet. “I’ll sit in the bath, Val.” He emulates a grown man’s voice. “Bring me a cigar when you get back, would you?”
I frown. This doesn’t sound like Alessio. “Who are you imitating?”
“My uncle Miro.”
That could be the name I heard on the other line. M for Miro.
“Hey,” I say as Alessio leans against the doorjamb. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“My two best friends are my brothers.” Alessio hands Leo a remote. “There’s a televised chess tournament that just started.”
“No way!” Leo snatches the remote and runs to watch from his bedroom TV.
“Is Miro meeting us in Paris?” I ask as I follow Alessio back to the sitting room.
“Doubt it. He’s taken up gardening. Maybe he’ll choke on a fresh carrot from his new garden and die a tragic death.”
Damn. “I take it he’s out of your favor.”
“Certainly. I’m interested in how you’re doing more than I’m interested in talking about Miro.”
“Much better now that I heard from the nurse at the hospital, thank you.” The sadist said he’ll leave him alone for as long as I do what he wants. I will do what he wants.
Alessio nods. “Did you see the credit card inside the leather pouch with the phone and the passport?”
“I did.” It’s a sleek black credit card with Alessio’s name written in gold on it.
“I have a meeting this evening, but after that, I’m taking you out to dinner. I’d like you to go downstairs to a boutique and buy a short black dress with a deep opening in the back. And whatever else you want that complements it, besides jewelry. I’ll take care of that.”
I scoot away from Leo’s bedroom. When Alessio doesn’t follow me, I grab his hand and pull. Shock registers on his face when I yank him, but he obliges me, even dips his head when I grab the lapels of his suit and rise on my toes.
I kiss him. On the mouth. “Thank you for bringing me to Paris. It was on my bucket list, and I could never have afforded a suite on this majestic, historically significant square. I must also thank you ahead of time for the dress I intend to buy.” Of course, Alessio told me he was taking me out to dinner, instead of asking me if I wanted to go.
Alessio presses his palm to the small of my back and brings me flush against his body, where I can feel he’s hard between his legs. He dips, then tilts his head, blue eyes searching for something in mine. It’s not permission, because he knows he has it since I initiated this contact, but it’s something else. Something I’m unsure I understand.
When he pulls me closer, I kiss the corner of his mouth. He responds by teasing my lips open and pulling on my bottom one, then letting go. Pull. Let go. Gently, he traces his lips over mine, creating heat and friction.
I close my eyes and relax my shoulders, letting my head fall back. His hand catches the back of my head and tilts it so now he’s positioning my mouth and pushing his tongue inside.
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Surrender.”
Alessio kisses me, and my body turns to goo. I moan at the taste of him. He’s a man who always tastes fresh. No stale alcohol or marijuana aftertaste. I meet him with my tongue, and the moment our flesh connects, he groans, a deep masculine sound that makes my channel pulse with need.
Alessio deepens the kiss, and I rake my fingernails through his abundant dark hair. I love his hair. It’s thick and long enough to grab fistfuls of, which I do. Gently, I tug just to provoke him. There’s violence in the way this man fucks me, and I yearn for that. Alessio doesn’t disappoint. He hoists me up on his hips by the backs of my thighs and starts to walk toward the other bedroom. We’re still making out when I pull his tie loose and start to unbutton his dress shirt.
The moment he gets me in his bedroom, I’m on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. My shoes, pants, and underwear are flying off me as Alessio’s breathing hard, his focus between my legs. The moment he sees my bare pussy, he climbs onto the bed and palms my knees, then spreads my legs wide.
“There’s my pretty,” he says and dives in.
Alessio’s hot mouth latches onto my clit, and he shakes his head fast as he laps at me. Two fingers plunge inside me. I curve my back and grab fistfuls of his hair so I can pull him closer.
Alessio’s a relentless lover and determined to make me come. The first time he bent me over the bar, he made me come so fast and so hard, my arousal dripped out of my vagina. When he mentioned it, not only was I embarrassed, I didn’t believe him, but he did it again and again by stroking me with his clever fingers and making me come forcefully. It’s something I never experienced before. Not on my own or with other men.
Now he wants it again. His fingers are rubbing the same spot inside me, and his palm presses down on my lower belly, all while he’s licking my clit.
I want this to last forever, but Alessio gets what he wants from my body whenever he feels like getting it.
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Give to me.” He sits up and starts rubbing my clit while fingering me. My legs start to shake as my body prepares for release.
I cover my face with a pillow and muffle my scream when I come all over his fingers. Once my body stops spasming, Alessio kisses my vagina.
“What an obedient pretty you are for me,” he says. “You need a good pounding, don’t you?”
I’d answer, but he’s not talking to me. If I answer, Alessio will gag me.
He kisses my clit, and since it’s sensitive, I buck and close my legs.
Alessio steps off the mattress and removes his belt, unzips his fly. He strokes himself and moves away to make room for me to drop to my knees. I know what to do because we’ve done this before.
“The pillow,” he reminds me.
I grab the pillow and toss it on the floor at his feet.
Once my knees hit the pillow, I open my mouth, and Alessio shoves himself inside all the way to the back of my throat, which induces my gag reflex. He pulls back and fucks my mouth until I’m gagging so much, I worry I might throw up. But I hold it down because I can tell it won’t take him long, and I know what to expect. Alessio warns me before he comes. I choose where I take his seed.
He’s close. Really close. He strokes my hair before he throws back his head, and I get to watch him shatter. It’s such a rare sight that I watch closely, intent on not missing a second of it.
Alessio’s chest moves up, and he bites his bottom lip before letting it go. “Fuck, Lake, choose now.”
I grab his hips, telling him with no words that I choose my mouth. Alessio hisses as the jet pours down my throat. I close my eyes as I swallow and start to relax, having had amazing oral sex in Paris.
A flash of light blinds me, and from under closed eyelids, I wince. I think he snapped a picture. Before I can protest, I hear the swish-like noise of a sent message.
He didn’t just send someone a picture of us, did he?