Chapter Eleven
She led him through to the bedroom, shutting the door when Patapouf attempted to follow. A muffled, outraged meow came from the other side.
‘He’s so entitled,’ she said, then called, ‘Sorry, Monsieur Pussycat , there’s someone even cuter than you here tonight.’
‘Now I’m the cat that got the cream,’ said Joel, looking out of the window. That full moon was still hanging over the city, and the room was a silvery monochrome. There was no need to turn on the light.
‘It’s like that view in the Aristocats ,’ he said, and he hummed Everybody Wants to be a Cat …
From beyond the door, another faint meow.
‘Oh, how much did I love that film when I was a kid?’ said Chloe. ‘Paris is maybe the only city that outdoes its own film versions.’
The enormous bed was positioned to take full advantage of that view across the rooftops. There was only enough space left for a small chest of drawers and a bedside table, on which Chloe placed the cardboard box.
In the top drawer was a packet of condoms left behind by Madame Lol. Chloe mentally thanked her and wondered at what point she should let Joel know safe sex was now an option. But instead, feeling strangely shy as she stood beside him, considering whether to lose the towel, she said, ‘These garret rooms were for the servants of the people on the posh floors below, or just for the poorest people. This entire room was one living space; at some point it was knocked through to make a two-roomed studio. But at least they had that view to look at.’
‘Madame L’Estate Agent,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘That’s all very interesting, but truth be told, all I care about right now is what you’re intending to do with that cake.’ He nodded at it.
Then he noticed her hesitancy. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Sorry – what’s up?’ He sat down on the bed, and she sat beside him. ‘Having second thoughts?’
She stared at the box of cakes, remembering why she’d bought them. ‘No, I’m fine. I think. I was remembering why I bought those cakes. To console myself … the whole one-year anniversary thing.’
Their shackled hands were on the bed between them, and he turned his wrist to hold her hand. ‘Do you miss him?’
‘Not really,’ she said, without thinking. And then she realised it was true. ‘Well, I’ll be …I honestly don’t!’
‘Did you lure me here because you wanted a revenge fuck?’ he said, and in spite of his smile she realised this was a serious question. ‘Even though he won’t know it,’ he went on, ‘you’ll be all, Get a load of me now. And guess what? It’s his stag! ’
She frowned, not wanting to think too hard about that. ‘We actually came back here to saw this off,’ she said, looking down at their chain. ‘We seem to have forgotten about that part.’
‘I don’t want to break the chain anymore,’ he said. ‘I’m like a kid with separation anxiety.’
She laughed. ‘And no, Joel, I don’t want a revenge fuck.’ That was true, too. ‘I want a one-night stand with you because I’ve never done anything like that before, and I think it would be beautiful, and it would make me feel like I was living life to the full for one lovely moment in time … seize the day and all that. Maybe the fact that it’s my un-wedding anniversary would give it something of a “new beginning” vibe, but …no revenge.’
‘But will you respect me in the morning?’ he said softly. ‘A guy on his stag having a …’
‘… last fling; a last free fuck?’
‘When that’s exactly what happened–’
‘It’s okay, I understand,’ she said. ‘I know you’re not being a sleazeball, and I know you’re not properly cheating, because of why you’re getting married.’
He looked taken aback. ‘What?’
‘ Doing the right thing . And Oscar’s words, and all of it. I don’t know the ins and outs, so to speak, but I get the general picture.’
She searched his face, lit by moonlight, and it was confused. But as she gazed at him, she didn’t care about any of it – the reasons, the motivations, their histories. She’d stopped caring the moment he’d kissed her in the lift, and now she needed to stop wasting precious time.
She licked her lips, slowly. ‘Hey – pass the cake.’
His face broke into a smile. ‘Eat now, talk later?’ He picked up the box.
‘My thoughts exactly. How do we do this?’ she said, opening the lid. ‘I’ve never done food as foreplay.’
‘Not even the After Eight game?’
‘The what?’ She really had missed out on so much.
‘Let’s just go with the flow – whatever takes your fancy.’ He picked up a cream slice and split it horizontally, exposing the thick, enticing cream. He put one half back in the box, and slid his finger across the cream on the other, collecting a dollop. ‘Open your mouth,’ he said.
She did as he asked, then closed her lips around his finger and sucked as he withdrew it, without taking her eyes from his. A small moan escaped her; possibly because of the divine taste of the slightly sweetened cream, or more possibly because of the heat that was once again spreading through her body.
His finger carried on down to her towel, undoing it, and then his own.
‘More,’ she breathed.
‘Lie down.’
When she was on her back, he placed the halved cake on her stomach, the sticky icing against her skin, and scooped off another dollop of cream. She sucked hard on his finger, then swallowed, closing her eyes, giving herself up to the … lust was probably the best word for it. Lust, hunger, excitement, desire, all mixed up and now coursing through her body. She squirmed as he scraped off the rest of the cream and dabbed it on her nipples, then bent his head and began licking it off.
‘Yum,’ he whispered.
‘Save some for me,’ she gasped.
‘Loads left,’ he said, taking the other half from the box. ‘Doing okay?’
She nodded. ‘Better than okay.’
He straddled her, then leaned forward and kissed her deeply before his mouth moved slowly down her body, pausing to lick the last of the cream from her nipples, gobbling up the icing and licking the residue off her stomach, and then his head was between her legs. She closed her eyes as she felt cream being smoothed on. He paused, and she opened her eyes to see him stuffing the cream-less pastry in his mouth. ‘Delish,’ he said. Then she shut them again as the tip of his tongue dipped into the cream, again and again, before his mouth closed on her and he sucked, and licked, and she pushed herself against him, grabbing his hair, arching her back.
‘I need more cake,’ he said, and she gathered her wits enough to split the second slice and pass over half, and he carried on, bringing his fingers into the mix until she thought she might die of pleasure. She was desperate for release, but as she was about to reach that point he stopped and moved back up the bed to lie beside her again.
‘What … why … don’t stop!’ she panted.
‘Shhh,’ he said, and broke off a small piece of the gooey icing from the second slice, which was balanced on her stomach. ‘Eat.’
He put it between his teeth and she kissed him until it had dissolved, and then another piece, until it had all gone, while he continued to stroke her with his fingers … stopping each time she was about to come. It was absolute heaven and absolute torture.
‘Well, Joel,’ she gasped, putting on Paul Hollywood’s Liverpool accent as he stopped again. ‘Can’t fault that cake. I think that deserves a handshake.’ She moved her free hand down.
He let out a bark of laughter. ‘You haven’t seen my showstopper yet.’
‘It’s definitely time I did,’ she said, and diverted her hand to the last half of the cake. ‘Lie down.’
This was all so deliciously decadent. And amazing and wonderful and sexy and So. Much. Fun. She smiled at him as she drew her finger across the cream, collecting a huge dollop, which she sat on the end of his cock, squidging it a little so the cream wouldn’t fall off. Moving down, she began to lick, round and round. ‘Like a Mister Whippy,’ she muttered. ‘Yum.’
She looked up at him, but his eyes were closed and his face was creased in a slight frown. A frown of blissful concentration, she hoped. She carried on, adding more cream, licking and sucking, pausing to pop pieces of pastry into her mouth, until it was all gone, then she moved back up and lay on top of him. It was time to tell him there were condoms.