Griffin

She’s never been to my flat before. It’s small, unassuming, and roughly the size of a car. But I’m not giving her a tour right now. I have one place I want to go. Her. The second the door closes, I yank her against me.

“Clothes. Off.”

She nods, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt, sliding one open, then the next, then another. I tug at her top, yanking it off.

And . . . holy fuck.

Her bra is emerald green, and I’m already in love with it. It’s lace, see-through, and it holds the two most wonderful sights in the world. “This, too. I’ve only had ten thousand fantasies already about your tits.”

“Pervert,” she says with a naughty grin as I unhook her bra while she undoes my shirt.

Her bra falls to the floor, and the most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen are inches away from my hands.

And then, yes, in my hands. I knead them, squeeze them, fondle them. “Spectacular.”

“Why, thank you,” she says, then, as I dip my face to the glorious land, sucking one rosy nipple between my teeth, she cries out.

No more teasing. No more sarcasm.

Her noises are pure lust, and they make me even harder.

I lick and suck as she moans. I lavish attention on each teardrop breast, making sure they’re properly adored by my mouth. Then, she grabs my hair hard and yanks my face up. Her green eyes are fierce and blazing with desire. She slams her hands to my chest, running her fingers along my pecs, over my abs, and down toward the waistband of my jeans. I groan. It feels so fucking good to have her hands on me, to feel her fingers exploring my body.

Her eyebrows wiggle. “Have I mentioned how much I like six-packs?”

“No, you haven’t. How much?”

“So very much.” She slides closer, her hands working their way to unbutton my jeans, pushing my briefs down. My cock announces how incredibly happy it is to see her with a full-on salute. She takes my hard length in her hand, and I swear, time stops for a few mind-bending seconds as she touches me for the first time. My eyes close as I savor the intensity of this moment. There’s no place else I’d rather be but rocking into her soft, talented hand. “So much it makes me want to have my hands all over you,” she says playfully, then squeezes hard.

I hiss. Electricity sparks all over my skin. “If you wanting to get your hands on me comes from having a six-pack, then I’m absolutely grateful I followed that one to the letter.”

She laughs as I smile, then we both go quiet as I thrust into her hand again.

Her voice is a dirty whisper. “Your dick is beautiful.”

I grin as I open my eyes. “You know that sounds even hotter in your sexy American accent.”

“Stop it. My accent isn’t sexy.”

“It so is. It turns me on. Especially the last thing you said. Maybe say that again, yeah?”

She grips me harder. “Your cock is beautiful.”

“Mmm. Yep. Totally hot accent, and that’s also my favorite thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She squeezes on an upstroke. “Now get your beautiful cock inside me, Griffin.”

“Scratch that,” I say, groaning. “That’s my new favorite thing.”

I grab a condom from my wallet, push my jeans down, and kick them off. Then I regard her, leaning against the door, half-dressed, tits out, lips bruised and bee-stung. I wave the condom at her. “This is a problem we need to fix right now. Full nudity is required, Joy.”

She’s topless, but her jeans and heels are still on. “Allow me to rectify the situation.” She unsnaps her jeans and pushes them down. Then, because I’m a gentleman, I kneel and pull them off the rest of the way, helping her step out of them, till she’s in nothing but a scrap of green lace, because of course, Joy wears matching lingerie.

And it’s beautifully, deliciously, slippery wet lace, as I discover when I slide my hand between her legs. Lust jolts my entire body as I feel how slick she is, even through her useless, pointless knickers. I draw a deep, satisfied breath as I tease my fingers across her. “I want to feel this all over me. I want my fingers inside you, my tongue on you, my cock in you.”

A tremble moves through her body. “Je suis excitée.”

I blink up at her, surprised she used those words correctly. “I didn’t teach you that,” I say with a quirk of my lips.

She grins naughtily. “I learned it a while ago. I can finally use it properly.”

“You used it fucking perfectly,” I say as I slide the waistband slowly down her hips. “I believe these knickers have done their service. I think it’s time we give them a proper good-bye and get them right the fuck off.”

I tug them down her legs then leave them on the floor with her clothes. I kiss my way up, and she shudders as I travel along her soft skin. And there, at the apex of her thighs, is the paradise I’ve fantasized about. One trim red landing strip leads to the promised land. My fingers play with the soft curls as I trace a path to her center. “Enjoy every day, and eat it like a fruit,” I say in a low, dirty whisper. Then I press a kiss to her clit, and she makes the sexiest, most sensual sound I’ve ever heard, an ohh that makes my cock twitch, makes me ache even more to be inside her. Her hands fly to my hair, and she yanks me closer, her breath coming in sharp, erratic pants. She rocks against me, and I feel like she’s almost there already. The possibility of her coming on my mouth intoxicates me. I flick the tip of my tongue faster, groaning as I lick her, tasting her sweetness, savoring the evidence of her desire.

But seconds later, she pushes me away. I give her a look from my spot on the floor. “You don’t like it?”

She drags her hand down her breasts. “I like it too much.”

“I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“It’s a thing when you go down on me like that.”

I laugh. “Like how?”

“Like you’re devouring me.”

“Fuck.” I can’t resist her. I press another hot kiss to her clit and then rise. “I want to devour you.”

“I want you inside me.”

Well, I can’t argue with that, so I grab her, hoist her up on my shoulder. She squeals. “What are you doing?”

“Wall-fucking is great, but I’ve got a mind to spread you out on the couch by the window. I’ve wanted to fuck you so the neighbors can see.”

The shutters are open, and a spring breeze wafts in, the curtains fluttering. “Your neighbors are Peeping Toms?”

I set her down on the gray couch by the window. “Joy, it’s Paris. We are all voyeurs here.”

She shivers and runs her hand between her breasts. “Then let’s give them something to see.”

I groan as I watch her touch her belly now. “Including me,” I rasp out. “I’d like to watch you fuck yourself sometime.”

Her eyes darken with lust as her hand slides between her legs. I tear open the condom wrapper as her eyes drift away from me, like she’s giving me a private audience into her personal fantasy. Her knees fall open as she touches herself. My chest burns, and my body heats to record temperatures. She’s the most sensual woman I’ve ever seen, ever known. I want to just stare at her, to watch her as she pleasures herself.

But I know she wants more. I want more. I roll the condom on and kneel on the sofa, tugging her down the cushions, spreading her out, opening her legs.

Then I stop. I slap a palm to my forehead. “What was I thinking? No one can see us like this.”

Quickly, I switch us around, so I’m seated on the couch, and she’s on my lap. I tip my forehead to the open window. The view’s not much, but at least it’s a perfect sightline across the courtyard and into the other flats.

“Is this better for you?” she teases, glancing toward the window.

“It’s better for everyone. But it’d be better for me if you could get on my dick right now.”

She sucks in a breath as she adjusts her position, straddling me and staring at my erection with rapt attention and glossy eyes. Grabbing the base, I rub the head of my cock against her slickness. She leans her head back and moans, a dirty, gorgeous note, like sex and music all at once.

I moan, too, then I curse when she sinks down on me, taking me all the way. With her hands on my chest, she works to find her rhythm. Rising up, grinding down, swiveling her hips.

Watching her is pure eroticism. It’s like she knows every inch of her body. Knows what she wants. Knows how to find it. And knows how to use me to get there. With a sway of her hips, a grind of her pelvis, she moves on me in a sensual dance. Up and down, and she stays there for a moment, sitting on my cock, sucking in her breath.

Raising my hips, I thrust up into her. So wet, so hot, so perfect.

She moans my name, wraps her arms around my neck. “Don’t be gentle with me.”

Her dirty mouth sends a charge down my spine. It ratchets up the lust rattling through my bones. “I won’t.”

I grab her hips, dig my fingers in, and move her on me. I adjust my left hand so my thumb glides across her clit, and she gasps. Every sound she makes sends a bolt of desire through my body. I’m burning everywhere, heat flaring over my skin as we fuck by the window. Her mouth falls open. Her eyes squeeze shut. Her hair slides down her back. And her tits bounce magnificently.

Majestically.

This is the snapshot of everything I want right now. To have her like this and to be used by her for pleasure.

This woman I’ve spent my days with. Spent my evenings with. Spent all my words on. This woman I want so much more of. White-hot pleasure blasts through me as our bodies grind and thrust. She clutches my shoulders, digging into my neck as I push up. She stares down at us, at the way she rides my cock, how she slides up and down on me. She trembles at the same time as she moans. Loud and dirty and hungry. “Harder.”

She said not to be gentle, and if there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s making sure a woman gets what she wants. One hand moving to her hair, I grab a fistful of those lush red strands and I tug.

“Oh God,” she yelps. And then she moans—a long, lingering sound signaling the edge of bliss.

“Again,” she begs, her voice raspy.

I let go of her hips, bring both hands to her hair and my teeth to her neck, nipping her, biting her.

She cries out her pleasure, and I rope my fingers in her hair once more, gathering it in my fists. I tug it back, tugging her down harder on me at the same time. Like that, I control her moves, and the exquisite torment on her face tells me she loves it.

I meet her eyes. “This is better than my fantasies.”

“Do you fantasize about me a lot?”

“Every night. Every morning. All the time.”

I yank her hair again. Hard. Rough. Demanding.

The way she likes it.

She’s saying God’s name as her eyes squeeze shut, and her lips part in a gorgeous O, and then she’s silent for one long, lovely, suspended moment until she cries out.

When I hear her orgasm, there’s no doubt the neighbors will, too. The sound of her passion rattles my own climax free. Pleasure thunders down my spine, barrels into my thighs, and I come.

I say her name because it feels like that. Like erotic, filthy, fantastic, can’t-believe-I’m-finally-having-her joy.

* * *

Eventually, she gets the tour. It lasts all of thirty seconds, since this is French real estate, after all.

“It’s my mum’s sister’s flat, so I lease it from her. Aunt Sophie, who was known for giving me the most amazing treats during the holidays,” I explain as I show her the minuscule bedroom.

“Sophie sounds like my kind of relative.”

“She is.”

“And does this mean the Thomas family gets to keep this flat for generations?”

“Yes, it’s our prized possession.”

Something flickers across her eyes when I say that, like a spark of hope. I’m not sure what’s on her mind, but honestly, with her naked in my place, it’s pretty hard for me to think straight. She spots a framed photo on my bureau of Ethan and me after the race we ran. Her eyes widen and she points. “Your brother was good-looking.”

“You’re not allowed to say that,” I say in mock seriousness as I pull her onto the mattress.

“Oh, c’mon. You two must have been lady-killers.”

“Wait. So you were stark raving mad at me on the street earlier today about item number two on his list, and now you want to know if we were tomcats together?”

She swats me. “I did not get mad at you, and I definitely did not turn stark raving mad. Plus, if memory serves, you kissed me right after you told me, so I guess your plan to make me jealous worked.”

“Will it work again? I’m not above doing whatever it takes to get these lips on mine.”

She shrugs impishly. “You’ll have to try harder. First, tell me something I don’t know about you.”

I lean back into the pillows, tucking my hands behind my head. “I love lunch. Like, fucking adore it.”

She laughs. “Everyone loves lunch.”

“No, seriously. That’s not true. People love breakfast or people love dinner. Lunch is the most underrated meal in the world, and I love it madly, and deeply, and truly.”

She drags her hands through her hair, still tangled up from me. “My sister and I used to sneak out for lunch when we could.”

“Sneak out?”

“That’s what we called it at least. Mostly we just met for lunch at In-N-Out Burger.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Seriously? What’s that? You don’t know?”

I shake my head. “I presume it’s a burger joint?”

“It’s only the greatest burger joint in all the land. From coast to coast. Sea to shining sea. They also have great milkshakes. Someday, you’ll go to the States and you’ll understand the joys of In-N-Out Burger.”

“Someday I will,” I tell her, then we talk more, as moonlight filters across the sheets. She tells me about Allison, and I tell her more about Ethan. Even though only one of them is alive, somehow the conversation doesn’t hurt quite as much as it would have a few months ago.

Maybe this is what it feels like to move through grief. You never truly get over the loss of someone you love. But you get by, you get through, you get around.

That’s why I don’t say anything tonight about what comes next for me. Sometimes, you just want things to go perfectly. And they do for the rest of the evening. Because we can’t keep our hands off each other, and soon enough we’re not talking about family. We’re talking about each other.

I prop my head in my hand. “You know we’re seeing each other tomorrow, right?”

“At work?”

“And after.”

“For language lessons?”

“And for this,” I say, running a hand down her hip.

“Presumptuous much?”

“Woman, I have orgasms to give you. Don’t deny me.”

She tugs me close. “Say it in French.”

And I do, whispering dirty, filthy things in her ear, as I move her under me, and slide into her again. “Je te veux tellement.”

I want you so much.

She moans.

“Say it to me,” I command.

She repeats my words. “Je te veux tellement.”

“Now tell me to fuck you hard. I know you know this one.”

Her back bows as she murmurs, “Baise-moi fort.”

I bring her to the edge again, telling her, “Jouis avec moi.”

Come with me.

Soon, she does, as the moon shines and Paris sleeps, as we’re entwined together at last.