When the plane lands, we walk down the steps to the tarmac, where we are met by a black sedan. Literally, the car is parked right by the bottom step. A driver in a black suit and a cap opens the back door to let us in.

We were flying for about fifteen hours. I slept for most of it, so I’m ready to go out and do something now, but I realize it’s pretty late here right now because of the time difference.

The airport looks empty. It’s a small airport meant only for private planes so it’s never going to be as busy as a commercial airport, but there’s zero activity here, aside from us.

“Thank you,” I say awkwardly to the driver, not sure how I should act. I’m not used to people waiting on me like this. I realize we’re in Paris, and I quickly add, “Merci.”

The driver nods at me as I step inside the car. Raphael follows, taking his seat right next to me. The cushion dips a little from his weight, making me hyper aware of his closeness. There’s no aisle separating us now.

“Where are we going, Monsieur?” The driver asks as he takes his place at the wheel.

“We’re going home now, Francois.” Raphael turns to me and asks, “Unless there’s somewhere you want to go?”

“No, you’re right, we should probably freshen up a little bit first. I feel gross. I feel like it’s been forever since the last time I took a shower.”

“You’re not gross, princess,” Raphael says as the car starts moving. He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “I’d still lick every part of you.”

A thrill runs down my spine and shoots right to my core. I feel flutters in my chest and tingles between my thighs.

How could he make me feel this way, with only a few words? He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I can already feel myself getting wet for him. I can’t help it; my body does his bidding.

Raphael smiles, his eyes dark and intense under the yellow street light that streams through the windows occasionally. As he leans back, he puts one hand on my thigh, and I almost gasp audibly. The warmth from his skin travels up to my pussy, making me throb and pulse for him.

The car glides smoothly down quiet suburban streets, until it pulls up to a tall, black, wrought-iron gate with a big, gold letter H in the middle. The family initial, I assume.

It’s dark around us, but the strategically placed outdoor lights show just enough to tell me there’s a big garden around us.

It’s hard to pay attention to some plants, though, when just ahead of us is a big, white mansion with tall, imposing pillars. The soft, warm lighting makes the place look homey, despite the size.

A man pulls open the door from the outside and smiles at me. “Good evening, Miss Ford,” he says with a thick French accent.

“Good evening.” It feels strange to have people address me so formally. And how does he even know my name in the first place?

My jaw drops as I take a closer look at the house. From up close, the pillars loom high, all the way to the ceiling of the second story of the house. There are marble stairs leading up to a pair of oversized double doors, held open by a brunette with a clipboard.

“Mr. Holt, Miss Ford, welcome to Paris. I presume your flight was pleasant?” The woman smiles as she greets us.

“Yes, Marie, thank you,” Raphael answers.

“Good. I’ve prepared your usual room like Mrs. Holt asked me to. I also followed her special instructions.” The woman winks, and I wonder if Raphael ever messes around with the family’s house staff.

The thought makes my chest tighten. I want to reach out and grab on to Raphael’s arm, but that sounds like the most ridiculous thing I could do in this situation. It would seem too obvious that I’m jealous, and I don’t have any right to feel jealous in the first place.

As much as it pains me to admit, I don’t have any claim over Raphael. He belongs to any woman he decides to share his night with. I just happen to be the flavour of the night. On a different night, it would be a different woman altogether. It could even be this woman with the clipboard.

But I’m okay with that. I need to be okay with that. None of this is real.

We walk down the wide hallway as the man who opened the car door earlier trails behind us, carrying our overnight bags. The marble floor is so clean and shiny I could almost see my own reflection.

There’s a grand piano by a curved staircase with wrought-iron railings. I’m going to have to spend some time with it as soon as I can.

We climb up the staircase and walk past more doors than I can count, until Marie stops in front of an open doorway. I can tell it’s darker inside than out here in the hallway, and there’s light flickering inside.

Raphael reaches the door first, then he starts laughing and shaking his head.

“Mrs. Holt told me this is a celebration of your engagement, so I should prepare the room accordingly. I trust this is to your satisfaction?” Marie asks in a worried tone.

“Yes, thanks, Marie.” Raphael looks over his shoulder at me and says, “You’ll want to see this. Believe me.”

As we both stand just outside the door, the man puts our bags on the luggage rack inside, then both he and Marie leave us alone.

I look at Raphael, who’s looking back at me.

“Wow.” That’s really all I can say.

“Yeah, they tend to go overboard.”

My mouth hangs open as I stare with disbelief at the bedroom. This looks like a scene out of a chick flick.

None of the lamps in the room are turned on. There are only candles. A fireplace at the far end of the wall crackles, the flame making the room look warm and cozy.

There’s a path made of scattered red rose petals, leading from where we’re standing down to the bed. It’s obvious where we’re meant to go and what we’re supposed to do. I guess Elise is ready for a grandkid.

I slowly enter the room, not quite believing my eyes and afraid to make any sudden moves lest the illusion disappears.

Like a sucker, I follow the flower path to the bed and see a silver bucket on it, the metal sweating with condensation. A wine bottle and two glasses are inside, as well as a bunch of ice cubes. There are a few flower petals on the bed as well.

I sit on the bed, and Raphael follows me, stalking toward the bed like a predator ready to pounce. He doesn’t have to say anything; I can see the lust in his dark green eyes, despite my inexperience.

My heart pounds in my chest. Am I really going to do this? Am I going to let him take my virginity?

He terrifies me like no other man has. But that’s only because I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone else before.

Still, as far as first times go, I couldn’t ask for a better set-up than this.

A luxurious, romantic bedroom in a huge mansion where there’s house staff to attend to my every need? Yeah, this is a gazillion times better than the back seat of John’s car, where we used to make out after school. Or even Mark’s bedroom.

I’m glad I’ve been waiting, but the wait is over. There’s nobody else I’d rather be with than Raphael.

“Wine?” Raphael asks, lifting the bottle out of the ice bucket as he takes a seat beside me on the bed.

“No.” I want to be sober for this. I want to remember every single detail.

“Okay,” Raphael says, slaying me with his smile. He puts the ice bucket down on the carpet. Looking right into my eyes, he cocks an eyebrow. “Wanna take advantage of the other...amenities in this room?”

He may be my fake fiancé, but the pull I feel toward him is scarily real. I’m drawn to him, like moth to a flame.

Without saying a word, I slide closer toward him on the bed. We gaze at each other for what feels like forever, when in fact it's probably only a few seconds. Neither one of us says a word, but our eyes tell each other everything we need to know.

I want you, and there's nothing else that matters in this moment.

Raphael gets the message loud and clear. His eyes grow darker, his lids heavier.

He reaches his hand out and puts it behind my head, on the base of my skull. Clenching his hand into a fist, he tilts my head up and leans closer.

My heart hammers against my rib cage as Raphael ravages my lips. It’s obvious what we both want, and he’s not taking it slow like he did last night. Or two nights ago—with the time difference, I don’t know how long it has been. All I know is it feels like it’s been too long and I crave him like a junkie needing her next fix.

Is this just how sex is, or is it just because I’m experiencing it with Raphael?

I have no idea what this means, where this will lead, and whether I want more from him than just sex.

All that matters is his presence right here, right now.

Raphael’s hand grazes my neck, waking up the sensitive nerve endings on my skin. It travels down over my collar bone and onto my chest. I gasp into his kiss as he squeezes me over my blouse and my bra.

He lays me down on the bed, my legs dangling over the edge. He hovers over me, surrounding me with his big, sculpted body, making me feel small and vulnerable. Yet, it only makes me want to surrender and let him have his way with me.

His lips trail kisses down my face, teasing my neck as he peels my blouse open from the bottom. I arch my back to let him unhook my bra, then lift my hands up so he can pull both my blouse and my bra off.

I feel self-conscious, my torso bared for him to see, the way that no other man has ever seen me before. I worry about my imperfections—the little pouch in my belly, my uneven breasts, the marks on my skin I’ve collected over the course of my life from various little injuries.

But it doesn’t seem like Raphael sees any of those things. He smiles as he takes it all in, devouring me with his eyes, his appetite only whetted by the sight.

He wastes no time to dive in and put his mouth on me, kissing, licking, and sucking my tits, the valley between them, and my nipples. I squirm from his ministrations, but his firm hand on my bare waist keeps me in place. He’s not letting me get away from him.

My breathing gets heavy. I hear myself sigh and moan. I still surprise myself by how sexy I sound. Raphael seems to feel the same way, too. With every little sound I make, he kisses me harder, pulls on my nipples further, grips my waist tighter.

His hand slides down my hips and travels back up my inner thighs, making me tingle with desire, my pussy throbbing and aching for his touch.

I stopped him at this point yesterday, but I’m not going to chicken out this time. I want him, and I don’t want him to stop now.

He pushes the hem of my skirt further and further up, until my panties are exposed. Hooking his fingers underneath the waistband, he yanks them down until I’m completely naked, except for the skirt bunched up around my waist.

I feel completely defenseless. It doesn’t help that Raphael is still wearing his jeans and shirt; it makes me feel even more naked. I want to see what he looks like underneath his clothes, but I don’t know how to ask him to take them off. I can’t think. I’m too overwhelmed by the new sensations he’s introducing.

I can barely focus because all my attention is on the finger trailing up my inner thigh, and the lips kissing my other thigh. I moan and let my legs splay open, letting Raphael see the most intimate part of me that nobody else has seen.

“You look tasty, princess,” he says as he puts his face between my thighs and stares right at my pussy, which must be dripping with my wetness.

I grab the soft sheets underneath me with my fingers, preparing myself. I know what’s about to happen, but I have no idea what to expect. I can feel his hot breath on my pussy, giving me a preview of what’s to come.

I shudder when his lips touch my pussy, soft and hot and intoxicating. I had no idea anything could feel this good, and he’s only getting started. I look down and see him staring right at my face, watching the way I react to what he’s doing.

My face feels hot, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m embarrassed from him looking at me so intently, or because that’s just how my body responds to being eaten out.

Everything’s so new and I don’t have the presence of mind to analyze everything. I can only experience.

Raphael makes little moaning sounds, like he’s enjoying something delicious, and it drives me crazy. Before I can stop myself, I reach my hand down and stroke his hair, gently pulling him closer.

He flattens his tongue and licks me from my opening all the way up to my clit, lapping up my wetness. It feels amazing physically, and it also makes me feel like he accepts every part of me. He erases my self-consciousness and puts me at ease.

He sucks my lower lips into his mouth, exploring my folds with his tongue. As he zeroes in on my clit, I start to shake involuntarily, losing control of my own body. I moan and shudder for him, and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself. I’m so close. I can feel it, just out of reach.

I grab his dark hair with one hand, while my other hand pulls at the sheets. I don’t understand why, but I feel like I have to hold on. Like I’m about to go on a wild ride.

And then, it happens. I catch a glimpse of Raphael’s piercing gaze watching me before my vision loses focus. My back arches on its own, just like my head is thrown back involuntarily. I’m literally just holding on as wave after wave of pleasure wash over me, drowning me in ecstasy.

When I settle down, coming down from my climax, my whole body feels relaxed and spent.

“You look so hot when you come, princess,” Raphael says with a smirk between my legs as he touches me with his fingers.

He pushes one digit inside me—it feels strange. I’ve never even masturbated by inserting anything inside me, so it feels foreign and I don’t associate the sensation with pleasure. But I’m still sensitive from the orgasm I just had, and it starts to feel good as he gently rubs the walls inside my pussy.

He adds another finger, stops, and looks at me. “Are you a virgin, princess?” Raphael asks.

I nod, too embarrassed to say the words.

He pauses, and I wonder if that was the wrong thing to say.

What if he thinks taking my virginity is too big of a step to take with a temporary arrangement like ours? What if he thinks I’m going to take this way too seriously just because I’ve never had sex before? Or, what if he just doesn’t want to do it with a clueless virgin?

“We’ve had a long night, both of us,” he says as he gets up from between my legs. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and gives me a chaste kiss on the forehead. “We should have some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, he walks out of our bedroom to god knows where.

What just happened? Why wouldn’t he keep going? Did I do anything wrong? Is there something wrong with me?

I lie in bed, naked and alone, my clothes strewn around me. Under my ass, my juices stain the sheets.

Why doesn’t he want to fuck me?