“I’m heading out early. Do you need anything from me before I leave?”
Kelli shakes her head. “No, everything is under control. Are you still taking the full weekend off?”
She’s the only one who knows my weekend plans do not include a conference of any kind.
“Yes, I doubt I’ll be contactable, so I’m leaving my life’s work in your capable hands.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t suggest going away next weekend instead. You could’ve stayed the week up until Christmas as we’ll be closed anyway.”
“Trust me, two nights is more than enough for what we have planned.”
“Dirty whore,” she jokes, and I shrug happily, owning the compliment as it was intended.
More than two nights in a romantic city with Gabe is too much to comprehend for this happily single, almost forty-year-old.
Three hours later, Gabe and I are on his private Jet, bound for Paris. He flew direct from New York to collect me for a secret, dirty weekend in my favorite city in the world. In less than an hour, we’ll arrive and settle into our hotel.
And if I have anything to say about it, we won’t leave our room until we’re required to check out and dive back into reality.
“I notice you packed on the lighter side… are you planning on staying in all weekend?” A cheeky grin spreads across his face.
Laughing, I raise my glass of champagne to his in a toast. “I believe that’s the plan, yes.”
Gabe chuckles knowingly, rubbing his hand up the length of my thigh, teasing me with his light touch.
As we’re both familiar with Paris, we have no plans to do any sightseeing. Apart from meals, we have no desire to leave the room. In case we get carried away, Gabe booked a suite in a hotel with the best-rated twenty-four-hour room service.
My luggage exists of three outfits and, dare I say, only two pairs of shoes and an assortment of sexy lingerie. My intentions are clear based on what I’ve packed.
“Does it turn you on, sneaking around like this?” He leans forward, his hand snaking beneath my skirt, his finger teasing the wet fabric of my panties.
“We’re not sneaking around.”
“No? Where did you tell your friends you were going this weekend?”
Unable to resist, I lean toward him as his lips kiss their way up my neck until goosebumps break out over my skin. With a firm hand, he pushes my legs open, and glances up at me, waiting for an answer.
“To Paris for a training seminar.”
Gabe laughs, his eyes never leaving mine. He drags me forward, my pussy on the edge of the seat, and kneels on the floor. As he pulls my panties to the side, he dives between my thighs, and closes his lips around my clit. Good God, this man and his magic tongue. In seconds, I’m writhing over his mouth, grinding my wet pussy against his face, about to experience my first mile-high orgasm.
“Yes, Gabe…” I whisper, wrapping my legs over his shoulders. “So fucking good,” I moan, on the cusp of no return.
My body shudders as he holds my hips tightly in place, pressed against him as he nips and sucks, swirling his tongue over my clit as if he’s starving for the last taste of perfection.
My fingers rake through his hair, clutching his thick strands as I lose all control and give in to the pleasure only Gabe can offer.
Tenderly, he licks every last drop of arousal from me, moaning as he keeps me pinned in place, his fingertips digging into my buttocks.
I’m his to devour.
His to cherish.
With dark eyes, hooded and drunk with lust, he pushes back on the balls of his feet and stands above me. My mouth, level with his groin, waters at the sight of the bulge in his jeans. Slowly, he unbuckles his belt, pops the button, and lowers the zipper. Reaching out, I tug at the denim and his boxers, pulling them down his hips until he’s fully revealed to me.
Desperate to taste his arousal, I lick my lips. A bead of pre-cum pools on the head of his cock, begging to be licked. I take his length in my hand, teasing him with slow, purposeful strokes until he pushes my hand away and pulls me abruptly from my seat.
He spins me around so my back is facing him, my arms resting over the top of the seat. Hitching my skirt up around my waist, he shuffles my hips back toward the edge and pulls my thong down. Teasing my entrance with his cock, he asks, “How do you feel about an audience?”
Jill is a Texan, born and raised. She manages the hectic social calendars for her three active children and occasionally spends an evening with her dashing husband. Aside from being an author and a mom, she’s a travel junkie and loves to read when she is not lost in her own stories.
With Jill’s books, you can count on confident heroines, plenty of steamy tension, and deliciously assertive leading men. There are no guarantees in life, but with her books, you know everything will work out in the end. However, a perfect ending would not be nearly as satisfying without a seemingly insurmountable challenge. Jill loves to add plenty of adversity in her stories, creating unforgettably dynamic characters and sneaky plot twists you will never see coming.
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