Frenched Series Bundle (11 page)

Not too much to ask, was it?

The museum wasn’t very big, but that wasn’t why I loved it.

As we wandered through, I could see why Lucas was so enchanted with it. Located in an eighteenth century mansion, each room was a wonder of light and shadow and elegance. The fancy baroque details of the house—the tall arched windows, the parquet floors, the detailed plaster and woodwork on the walls and ceilings, the gilt on the curvy antique furniture—all of it offered the perfect contrast to the raw muscular beauty of Rodin’s human figures.

Admittedly, part of my enjoyment was being there with Lucas, who held my hand and spoke quietly to me about Rodin’s artistic style and why it appealed to him.

“I like the way he didn’t make everything beautiful, you know?” We stood in front of a naked figure of a woman who appeared to be clutching herself in shame. “And I love the fragments, especially the hands. Look at this one here.”

He took my by the shoulders and turned me around, and I gasped as we approached a huge sculpture in front of a window. It was two hands, the wrists emerging from the block base, palms and fingers arched toward each other but barely touching. Soft light filtering through the panes created delicate shadows on the hands and in the airy space between them, and I wanted to try to capture it in a photograph, although I knew a picture would never do it justice. “They’re so beautiful. Are they praying?”

“No. It’s two right hands, see?”

I stopped hunting for my camera and looked closer. “It is two right hands. I didn’t even notice that.” For a moment I stopped to consider how it was possible for two right hands to join that way. “What do you think they’re doing?”

Lucas stood right behind me and whispered in my ear. “Well, I have a dirty mind, especially today, but if you ask me, those hands belong to two people having sex. There’s a tension there, like they’re just about to clasp, that makes me think…” He stood so close, I could feel his breath on my shoulder, his chest on my back, his hips right behind mine. My whole body was intensely aware of him. He brought his right hand up, palm toward me, just in front of my right shoulder. “See?”

Biting my lip, I brought my right hand up to meet his, mirroring the sculpture in front of us. My mind whirled with thoughts of him naked, pressed up tight against my bare back.

Standing up.

Against a wall.

Plunging into me.

Maybe even in the shower.

All wet.

I felt the rise of an erection against my tailbone.

My clit tingled. My core muscles clenched

Fuck.

Woozy with desire, I had to close my eyes for a second. “Jesus, Lucas.”

He laughed softly, dropping his hand. “Told you I had a dirty mind. Now you better walk in front of me for a few minutes. I don’t want to scare anybody with what’s in my pants right now.”

Smiling at him over my shoulder, I pulled my camera from my bag and took a picture of the sculpture. It might not capture the artistry or the light, but dammit, I wanted a memento of the time Lucas nearly gave me an orgasm in the middle of the Musée Rodin.

There were plenty of other works of art in that museum that were unbelievably sensual and romantic, but as we strolled outside into the garden, it was the image of the hands I couldn’t get out of my head.

Or maybe it was the feel of Lucas’s stiff cock on my ass.

I was so hot and bothered, I wasn’t sure I would last much longer. As we paused in front of The Thinker, probably Rodin’s most famous work ever, I felt guilty that all I could Think about was fucking Lucas in the shower. I cleared my throat, prepared to banish niceties to the Gates of Hell, which was another of Rodin’s masterpieces I couldn’t concentrate on.

What, it’s full of naked writhing bodies!

But before I could suggest we go back to his apartment, get naked and writhe, he asked me if I’d like the see the gardens, and I felt too ashamed to say no.
Come on, Mia. You can give it ten more minutes.

“Sure. I’d love that,” I said.

As we walked toward the large fountain at the back, I wondered again if it was only me having a hard time remaining patient. Lucas kept making jokes about his dirty mind and tented pants, but I was beginning to think my imagination was the filthier of the two.

Then a moment later we reached the edge of the gardens, and Lucas pulled me between two rows of hedges, where a narrow gravel path made a little secret passageway. “I’ve been waiting to do this all day and I can’t wait any longer.” He turned me into his arms and kissed me, slanting his mouth over mine and plunging his tongue between my lips like he was starving for me.

I threw my arms around him, pushing my chest against his, desperate to feel his hard muscle on my soft curves. He dropped a hand to my waist and slid it up to one breast, over my camisole. I shivered.

“Mmmmm,” I moaned. “That feels so good. I love your hands on me.”

That’s when the first few splats of rain hit my head. Both of us glanced up and noticed the huge dark clouds moving in. Thunder rumbled softly.

“Perfect timing.” Lucas kissed me quickly. “I’m ready to go.”

“Me too.” We started walking back toward the house when it began to pour, the rain coming down in steady sheets. “Hold on, I have an umbrella.” I stopped to dig through my bag.

But it wasn’t in there.

Frantically, I rummaged through the contents of my bag, but there was no umbrella to be found.

“Shit, I forgot my umbrella.”

And then I began to laugh.

Closing up my bag so the gifts inside wouldn’t get wet, I laughed hysterically and twirled in a circle. “Lucas, I fucking forgot to pack an umbrella! Do you know what this means?”

“Um, we’re both going to get very wet?” He had to think I was crazy, but he didn’t hurry us out of the rain, even as thunder echoed above us again. Instead he just stood there watching me dance, waiting for me to explain my soggy euphoria.

“That’s OK! In fact, it’s fucking awesome!” Overwhelmed with joy, I rushed at him, took his chin in my hands and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He laughed. “Does rain turn you on or something?”

“No. Well, it does now, but it never did before. See, I’ve always had this fantasy about kissing in the rain, but I’m always so well-prepared, I’ve actually never been caught in the rain on a date without an umbrella.” I jumped up and down, my wet hair flapping in my face. “The fact that I left the hotel without one today means that I was so distracted by other things—good things—that I didn’t even think to plan ahead for shitty weather! I don’t even think I checked it today!”

I’m not sure Lucas appreciated the monumental nature of the statement, but he grinned and pulled me close, kissing me as if he’d never get enough, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Not the people giving us strange looks as they rushed for cover. Not the rain soaking our hair and clothing and streaming down our faces. Not the fact that we’d only met two days before and had less than a day left together.

Or maybe it was as if
only
the last reason mattered.

He kissed me as we waited for the Metro, his arms wrapped around me from behind, his lips soft on my neck. He kissed me on the train, where it was so crowded we had to stand, our damp bodies pressed together at the front of the car, our mouths so close we couldn’t resist bringing them lightly together. He kissed me hard in the stairwell of his building, grabbing me as I tried to race up the steps and pinning me to the wall between the second and third stories, my hair dripping on his arms.

“You’re all wet. I like you that way,” he said, his mouth searing a path down my throat.

We were both panting, hands groping, our sodden clothing too heavy on our bodies. “I’m wet everywhere,” I whispered.

With a groan he tore his mouth from me and pulled me up the final flight of stairs so fast my feet barely found purchase on the cement. The ten seconds it took him to unlock and throw open his apartment door felt like an eternity, and the moment we were inside, I dropped my bag, he slammed the door, and we went at each other like feral wolves.

Tongues and teeth gnashing, we tore off every shred of each other’s clothing, a cyclone of four hands, frantic breaths, and hammering hearts that mocked the storm raging outside. Rain pounded against the windowpanes as Lucas shoved me back against the door. Dropping to his knees, he forced my heels apart and plunged his tongue between my legs, hooking his arms under my thighs. Gasping, I put my hands in his hair as he tongued me relentlessly, swirling hard circles over my clit before closing his mouth over it, sucking greedily. Then he brought one hand to my belly, flattening his palm over my abdomen and rubbing me with his thumb while his tongue drove inside me again and again.

Oh God oh God oh God, it’s happening too fast
. I moaned and cursed and clenched my fists in his wet hair, feeling the vortex build low in my stomach and my legs weaken. “Fuck, Lucas, I can’t stand, I can’t stand.”

His mouth traveled up my body, warm and wet on my stomach, my ribs, my chest. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, while filling his hand with the other breast. I writhed against the door, flattening my palms back against it as I arched into him. It was too much and not enough. My body yearned for everything he could give me with an urgency I’d never felt before. I felt almost violent in my need to have him.

I reached low between us, taking his solid cock in my grasp, sheathing it with both hands. He gasped, growing harder and thicker and driving me mad with the need to feel my lips on him, to lick him up and down, to taste him. By no means was I an experienced giver of fellatio, but I’d done enough research in the attempt to liven things up with Tucker that I had a few ideas.

Yes, this means I googled
blow job advice from guys.

Several times.

I was totally prepared to test out the top tips, but what really knocked me out was how fucking ecstatic I was about it. Before, I’d kind of approached it like an actual project, but I was jumping out of my skin to go down on Lucas.

Falling to my knees at his feet, I pressed my lips to his upper thigh, and dragged my tongue across his lower abs, keeping his erection firmly in my grip.

Then I looked up at him, with the head of his cock poised just before my open lips.

His mouth was open, his eyes on fire.

Without looking away, I touched my bottom lip to the velvety tip and shook my head slightly from side to side.

“Christ, Mia.” His chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

I took him in between my lips, one hard inch at a time, and he tipped forward, hands bracing against the door. Thunder growled in the distance, blending with Lucas’s low groan of pleasure as I slid him in deeper, stopping only when he hit the back of my throat. Moaning softly, I kept him there and gave him several slow, tight pulls with one hand.

“Oh my God. Fuck yes.” Lucas inhaled and exhaled loudly as I eased my lips up and down his cock and then circled my tongue around the underside of the tip. “
Fuck yes
, you’re unbelievable.”

I looked up before taking him all the way in again, jerking him into my mouth a little quicker, and my heart pounded at the way he couldn’t take his eyes off me, the way he breathed so heavy, the way he spoke.

“God, Mia, you’re so fucking beautiful. I love watching you.”

It was even hotter than I’d imagined, pleasing him this way. And I loved it as much as he did—my skin burned and heat pulsed through my body. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so unabashed, so free to do anything I wanted, so confident that what I was doing felt good. I reached between his legs, teasing and playing and touching him everywhere, watching and listening to see what he liked best.

It was hard to tell.

Everything I did, every inch of his body I explored, made him tremble and curse and moan. “You fucking gorgeous woman, I can’t believe the things you do to me. You make me crazy.”

I raked my nails down one of his thighs, then slid my palm around to grab his ass. He began to thrust into my mouth, never taking his eyes off the sight of his cock plunging between my lips and exhaling quickly with each drive of his hips. I was so turned on, I reached down to touch myself without event thinking about it—something I never would have done before.