CHAPTER 9
Amelia
Florin stopped the car along the banks of the Seine, and for a moment I just sat there, taking it all in.
The river glittered with reflected lights from the buildings lining its shores. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, its hourly light show just beginning. It was impossibly romantic—the kind of scene you saw in movies but never actually experienced.
Florin came around and opened my door, extending his hand to help me out.
As I stepped out, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A red carpet stretched from where we’d parked all the way to a private marina. And at the end of that carpet, floating majestically on the Seine, was the most elegant yacht I’d ever seen. It was black with accents of gold all over.
“Is that—” I started.
A valet in a crisp uniform approached. Florin handed him the car keys without looking away from me.
He took my hand and brought it to his lips, his gray-blue eyes locked on mine. “Here’s to a special night for the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen.”
We walked hand in hand down the red carpet. My heels clicked against the fabric with each step, and I felt like I was walking into a dream.
As we reached the yacht, a group of five staff members in matching uniforms appeared, bowing slightly as Florin led me aboard.
“Welcome to my humble yacht,” Florin said, that slight smile playing at his lips.
The interior was breathtaking. Rich mahogany wood paneling, cream leather furniture, and crystal chandeliers glittering softly. In the center of the main salon, a table was set for two with white linen, fine china, and candles flickering in the gentle breeze from the open windows.
A live violinist had started playing something soft and romantic as soon as we had entered. Oh gosh! Was this all happening for real?
“Please, sit.” Florin pulled out my chair.
I sat, still trying to process everything, and a waiter immediately appeared with champagne. Not just any champagne—Dom Pérignon, if I was reading the label correctly.
The meal was extraordinary. Caviar served on mother-of-pearl spoons.
Some kind of delicate fish in a butter sauce that made me close my eyes with pleasure.
Duck that practically melted on my tongue.
Each dish paired with a different wine, each one more silky and exquisite than anything I’d ever tasted.
And through it all, Florin asked about me.
What did I love about pottery? What inspired my designs? What made me feel alive?
No one had asked me questions like that in years. No one had treated my art as something important, something worth discussing in depth.
“You have such passion,” Florin said as dessert arrived—a delicate chocolate soufflé. “The way you speak about your work, I can see your devotion to your art. It is beautiful.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Thank you.”
“I mean it, Amelia. You are extraordinary.”
After dessert, as we sipped French coffee, Florin quietly produced a red Cartier box and kept it on the table.
My heart stuttered. “What is this?”
“Just a little gift. For you. Please, open it.”
With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid.
My mouth fell open.
Inside, nestled on black velvet, was the most stunning diamond necklace I’d ever seen. The necklace held what had to be dozens of perfectly cut diamonds, arranged in a cascading pattern that would fall just at the hollow of a woman’s throat.
“Florin, I can’t—this is too much—”
“It is nothing compared to your beauty.” He stood and extended his hand.
He gently took the box and lifted the necklace. “May I?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
He moved behind me, and I felt the cool weight of the diamonds against my skin. His fingers brushed my neck as he fastened the clasp, lingering just below my ears. Every touch sent fresh waves of sensation through my body—anticipation, desire, something almost like fear at how good this all felt.
“Dance with me?” he whispered softly.
I nodded, and took his hand, still stunned, and he led me to the center of the salon.
The violinist shifted to a waltz. Florin had his hair tied back in a slick ponytail, and as we started a slow dance together, I noticed the edge of a tattoo peeking from under his collar. Dark lines, intricate patterns. I wondered how far it extended across his chest, down his body.
He pulled me close, one hand at the small of my back, the other holding mine. His grip was delicate but devotional, like he thought I might break under too much pressure.
He looked right into my eyes the entire time. He looked at me like he was drinking in every feature of my face, memorizing me.
The music swelled, and he pulled me even closer. I could feel a hardness pressing against me through his jeans.
We kept dancing, slowly at first, then faster.
More passionate. Our bodies moved together with an urgency, and I could see desire and lust in his eyes.
He pulled my leg up to his thigh and I leaned on him, still looking into his eyes.
We remained frozen in that position for a few seconds until my thighs started trembling with carnal desire at the closeness of his body to mine.
I felt my panties getting wet, and felt heat rising up my legs.
Florin leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Slowly, he moved his mouth to my ear. His breath smelled faintly of tobacco mixed with musk—sophisticated, intoxicating.
“I want to treat you like a goddess,” he whispered. “I want to do things to you that will make you see heaven.”
“Do you want to see heaven?” Florin’s lips brushed my ear as he spoke.
“Yes,” I whispered back. “I do.”
He took my hand and led me toward a corridor. As we passed one of the uniformed staff, Florin paused. “Please do not disturb us.” The staff bowed slightly and made way for us.
We continued down the corridor to a closed door. Florin opened it, and I gasped.
The stateroom was larger than our master bedroom at home, but that’s where any similarity ended. Plush carpet, a massive bed with what looked like silk sheets, soft lighting that made everything glow. And the entire far wall opened onto a private balcony.
Through those open doors, I could see Paris glittering as we glided past. The lights of the city reflected on the dark water, creating a magical, shifting landscape.
Florin locked the door behind us with a soft click.
Then he took me by the waist and walked me out onto the balcony.
The night air was cool against my skin. I could hear the gentle lap of water against the yacht’s hull, the distant sounds of Paris nightlife.
“I want to show you Paris like you’ve never seen it before,” Florin whispered in my ear.
“How?” My voice came out breathy, already knowing what he meant, already wanting it.
“I want to undress you right here.” His hands moved to my hips. “I want to taste you. I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come.”
His words made my nipples harden instantly, visible through the thin fabric of my dress.
Florin looked down and smiled.
He slid his hands up my thighs, pushing my dress higher.
Then he lifted me, and placed me on a sideboard at the wall of the balcony.
He pushed me against the wall, and my legs fell limply over the edge of the sidebar.
He parted my legs slightly, and stood in between them.
He looked at me with pure lust in his eyes.
I sat facing the river and the exquisite sights of the Paris skyline but at that moment, nothing was more exquisite than the young, beautiful man in front of me.
He looked into my eyes and kissed me. He pushed down the neckline of my dress, exposing my breasts.
His lips were tender at the delicate places, and hard at just the right spots as he kissed his way from under my ears, to my neck, past my collar bones and down to my breasts.
He lowered his mouth to one of my hard nipples, and started sucking and kissing.
Each touch sent electric tingles straight to my core. My panties were soaking wet. I was aroused in ways I didn’t know were possible.
Florin knelt before me, pushing my skirt up to my hips. He pulled down my soaking wet panties to my ankles and I sat there on the table naked, except my dress crumpled around my waist, my pantyhose stockings and my high heels.
I realized suddenly that we were out in the open. And I didn’t care.
His mouth found my gleaming clit and I gasped. He used his tongue in ways that made my legs shake. He found places I didn’t even know could be aroused. Each intoxicating suction sent waves of pleasure through my entire body.
With each movement of his tongue, my hands clutched tighter in his hair. My legs trembled. My eyes rolled back.
“Oh God,” I whimpered. “Oh God, Florin—”
He worked me higher and higher until I reached a peak I didn’t know existed. My entire body clenched, then released in a gush of pleasure so intense I cried out in a whimper.
I was covered in goosebumps. My breasts were bouncing with each suction. My legs were moving involuntarily in rhythm with what Florin was doing to me.
I was bare and raw and exposed to all of Paris, and it only made it better.
When Florin finally lifted his face, it was glistening. He smiled—satisfied, proud. “Oh, you’re delicious, Amelia.”
He stood and unzipped his jeans. I watched, still catching my breath, as he revealed himself.
He was big. The sight of him made me weak in my knees. My body was ready, eager, desperate to take him in.
He pulled out a condom and I watched him roll it on, mesmerized by the size of him.
“Do you want me?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.
“I want you so bad,” I breathed. “I want you to fuck me.”
He lifted me by my thighs and positioned me over him. For a moment I was scared. Would I be able to take all of him?
But he’d prepared me so well with his mouth that when he entered me, I slid onto him easily. He filled me completely, reaching places that had never been touched before.
He pounded into me there on the balcony, Paris glittering around us. I wound my fingers tight in his hair and we moved together in a delicious rhythm.
He made me curse and sweat with each thrust. With each movement, I felt him deeper inside me, and I wrapped my legs tighter around him.
Another orgasm built, even more intense than the first. When it hit, I screamed and cursed, not caring who heard.
“That was heaven,” I gasped when I could finally speak.
“Just being with you is heaven for me, Amelia,” Florin said softly, zipping himself up.
After we’d straightened our clothes as much as possible, we had another glass of wine in the main salon.
The violinist had packed up. The staff had discreetly disappeared. It was just the two of us, floating down the Seine as Paris slept.
Too soon, we were docking. Florin drove me home, his hand resting possessively on my thigh the entire way.
I pulled out my phone and saw multiple messages from Mark.
Where are you?
Are you safe?
Should I pick you up?
And the most recent, from just a minute ago: Please respond, Amelia. I’m waiting for you at home.
I slid the phone back into my purse without responding. I didn’t want anything to ruin this perfect night.
When Florin pulled up to our building, we shared one last long and deep and passionate kiss.
“When can I see you again?” he murmured against my lips.
“Soon,” I promised. “Very soon.”
I walked to our apartment door on shaky legs, my heels in my hand, the diamond necklace still around my neck.
As soon as I opened the door, I saw Mark standing by the window. He must have seen Florin drop me off. He must have seen our kiss.
“Where have you been, Amelia? It’s one o’clock.” he looked genuinely worried.
I yawned and stretched my arms, suddenly taken over by a surge of blissful fatigue. “Oh, is it? I didn’t even realize. I guess I had too much fun.”
I stumbled slightly as I set down my heels. “And too much wine.”
I noticed my fishnet stockings were hanging loose, one completely torn. I adjusted them and saw Mark watching me intently. “Oh dear, I guess my stocking tore.”
Mark’s face had gone completely pale. “Amelia, did you—”
“Of course I did, honey.” I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about Florin’s mouth on me, his body moving inside mine.
Mark looked like I’d struck him.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m really tired.” I moved past him toward the bedroom, the diamonds at my throat making me feel like a queen.
I left my husband standing in the hallway under the dim kitchen lights, and I didn’t look back.