Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Pierre placed his hands on my hips, and before I could even think, his hot tongue glided up my pussy. I gasped at the glory, and as I drove my fingers into his damp hair, Pierre drove his tongue into my throbbing hole, lapping up the sex juices that I’d yet to wash away.
The water tumbling over me was hot, but his tongue inside me was even hotter.
He squeezed my breasts. As he licked my pussy, I scrunched my fingers in his hair, holding him in place and savoring the glorious sensations pulsing through me. Pierre’s tongue took me to another world. I no longer felt the tumbling water. I no longer smelled the lemon-scented soap. I closed my eyes and my whole world condensed to his movements and the fresh climax building inside me.
He added his finger to his tongue, and as he drove that digit inside me, he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked. It was sensory overload, and I couldn’t hold back a second longer. I screamed as my orgasm ripped through me.
It was fast. It was explosive. It blew my mind.
I released my grip on Pierre’s hair, and when he pulled back and looked up at me, his giddy smile showed he’d enjoyed that as much as me.
He stood and kissed my cheek. “That’s just a taste of what’s to come.”
“Oh.” There was another oh to add to my collection. He must think I’m birdbrained.
Pierre stepped over the edge of the bath with his mighty erection leading the way. He grabbed a towel and disappeared from the restroom.
Holy hell.
My insides pulsed in glorious beats as his parting comment rolled around my brain. Pierre was a regular Romeo. Fuck yeah.
It seemed an eternity before my brain kicked into gear enough for me to wash myself properly. The hair conditioner on the shelf caught my eye, and I poured a small amount of the coconut-scented liquid into my palm. After massaging it into my hair, I persisted with my knots until I could actually drive my fingers through my mop.
Satisfied, I turned off the taps and stepped from the shower.
I dried off with a fresh towel, wrapped it around myself, and went in search of my gigolo. The room was empty, but the flickering candles on the balcony drew my attention. A smile curled across my lips as I stepped between the curtains.
Pierre had a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two elegant flutes on a tiny table. He’d also made an antipasto platter with cheeses, olives, cured meats, and bread.
I was living in some kind of dream. A delightful, sensual dream.
He stood and tugged the seat out for me, just like he did every time I visited his café. After I sat, he poured the bubbles and held his glass up for a toast. “To new beginnings. ”
I smiled. “To new beginnings.”
The next couple of hours were special. We chatted about everything from his four ex-wives and three daughters to my life as a tour guide. The conversation was natural and pleasant, and it was like catching up with a long-lost friend. At least, that was what I imagined.
As the evening rolled on, it became evident that I’d be staying the night. The only other man I’d ever spent the night with was William. My only hope was that neither Pierre nor I would feel uncomfortable come morning.
When Pierre finally led me to bed, he showed me another side to his passion. Our lovemaking was tender and slow. He took his time, drawing out my arousal and making my body sing like a master musician. We climaxed together, and when he rolled off me, I curled onto my side. He nestled up behind me and draped his arm over my waist. Our naked bodies slotted perfectly together. I was officially in heaven.
His breathing deepened and I closed my eyes, inhaled long and deep, and let the lovely throbs coursing through my body coax me to sleep.
I awoke to the delicious aromas of melted butter and cinnamon. Squinting against the blazing sunshine, I glanced down and gasped. I was completely naked and exposed like a beached whale. Yanking a sheet across my body, I searched the room for Pierre. He was in the kitchen, his back to me, and other than wearing a white cloth apron, he, too, was naked.
I was torn between pretending to be asleep, so I could watch him for as long as possible and saying good morning. My decision was made when Pierre glanced over and caught me admiring his ass.
The plain white apron had Chateau de Vin et d'antiquités embroidered in the center of his chest in gold thread. “ Bon matin tête endormie . ”
Did he just call me sleepyhead? I searched for a clock but couldn’t see one. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly eight.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“You must’ve been exhausted.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
Hmmm, I knew exactly why. In addition to the multiple orgasms I’d enjoyed before I fell asleep, I had hazy memories of Pierre arousing me sometime during the night. Silhouetted with the lights of Paris as his backdrop, he’d ridden me for a third time. Despite being eighteen years older than me, the man sure had stamina.
Wrapping the sheet around me, I opened my suitcase, tugged out some clothing, then made my way to the bathroom. After a cursory glance in the mirror and resisting a scowl at my reflection, I relieved myself. When I wiped, I flinched. Ouchy mamma. Bit tender down there.
That was another first for me, but I wasn’t complaining. I’d be happy to be sore like that for days if it meant I was treated to another sexual marathon with Pierre.
I dressed in khaki shorts and a retro patterned blouse and left the bathroom. Pierre was placing two white plates on the kitchen counter as I padded toward him.
I tugged out a barstool and settled at the counter to watch him cook.
He hummed a tune and seemed blissfully happy. This was yet another first. William had detested cooking. Pierre’s face, however, held an expression of perpetual joy as he flitted from the hot plates to the chopping block to the oven.
“What’re you making?”
“For you, mon beau , ricotta crepes with caramelized pears.”
“Sounds yummy.”
“Wait till you taste them.”
“I can already tell they’re going to be delicious. ”
After sampling the sauce with a tiny spoon, he added a shake of spice and stirred it with a wooden spatula. Pierre scooped out another spoonful, but this time he reached over the counter for me to taste.
I couldn’t help the roll of my eyes as I savored the buttery caramel sauce. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”
“ Excellent. It is ready.”
As he served up breakfast, I followed his instructions to fill two coffee mugs from the percolator in the corner. We sat outside to eat and with each mouthful, I surrendered to pure bliss. The caramelized pears were a perfect accompaniment to the creamy ricotta, and the crepes were just the right amount of butter and crispiness. Pierre had elevated himself from a good chef to an exceptional one.
We didn’t rush our meal and again, our conversation flowed perfectly.
The view beyond his balcony presented a different aspect during the day. Directly below was the courtyard belonging to the apartment downstairs. Based on the plump tomatoes adorning the lush green bushes, the occupant was obviously a keen gardener. Their collection of gnomes, statues, and ornaments gave it a cottage theme. Beyond their back fence was a large park, complete with a set of children’s swings that remained unused the entire time we were out there.
I was genuinely sad when Pierre mentioned he had to get ready for work.
After we cleaned our dishes, he wrapped his arms around me. The pleasure of that simple move had me glowing both inside and out.
He pulled back and kissed my forehead. “ S’il vous pla?t , you return very soon. Yes?”
“I do believe I will,” I responded without hesitation.
Damn, it felt good.