Barely Yours (12 page)

I wake with a start, leap out of bed and fling open the curtains.

Oh my god
.
It wasn’t a dream!

“Oh my god, Will!” I gush. “I can see the Eiffel Tower!”

The Eiffel freaking tower!
So yeah, you guessed it, he took me to Paris.
Paris!
I just can’t believe it. I’ve wanted to go here for soooo long. And now we’re actually here, here for the whole weekend, and it looks just as pretty and magical and wonderful as I’ve always imagined. I just can’t believe it.

Will stirs slowly from beneath the sumptuous white sheets. “Bonjour,” he says with a playful smile, white teeth flashing.

“Bonjour to you too,” I reply excitedly. “Will, look, it’s the
Eiffel Tower
!”

“Do you like it?” he says.

“Like it? I love it. It’s so beautiful, it’s like a fairy tale. This is so perfect. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “I especially requested a room with a view. I want you to have the perfect Paris experience.”

“And I am, I really am,” I squeal, running from the window and jumping back into bed, kissing his handsome face all over in a flurry of excited kisses. “And I want to do it all. Can we have croissants for breakfast? And I want to walk the boulevards. And see Shakespeare & Co., the bookshop. I just have to visit there, too. And the Louvre! Oh, and Notre Dame. And the Sacre Cour, of course. And don’t forget the left bank. Oh my god, there’s just so
much
, and I want to see it all. We can see it all, can’t we? Please?”

“Whatever you want, my darling,” he says, sitting up and wrapping the sheets around me, pulling me in for a hungry kiss. “But first,” he says, an animal glint dancing in his big black eyes as he lifts me up and throws me back down on the bed, “there’s something
I
want to see first ...”

And with that he kisses me, running his hands eagerly over my body and under the hem of my negligee.

“But the croissants!” I say, trying to resist him as my body begins to yield. “The exploring!”

“All in good time,” he says, slowly, in that gorgeous English accent that just has me melting every time; it sounds so masterful, it seems to make me submit to whatever he wants. “First I think I’d like to do a little exploring of my own ...”

§

I lie back, kick off my shoes, and feel the silky warm grass beneath my feet. We’ve just had the most delicious picnic of fine French delicacies that Will seemed to magic up, as if from nowhere, and now we’re lying here on this picnic rug and basking in the afternoon sun. I let my head lean back on his broad chest and sigh contentedly.

“This is just the best thing ever,” I whisper.

“I meant it, Chrissie,” he replies tenderly. “I really
do
want to make you happy. You deserve it. And I’m so glad you’re having a good time.”

“Oh, I am, I really am,” I gush. “It’s just perfect. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. As a little girl, growing up, outside of London this was the place I wanted to see most.”

“I know,” he says.

“Huh?” I say. “How? I never told you.”

“But you did,” he shoots back.

“Okay, when?” I say, totally confused.

“The very first time we sat together,” he replies, “after you’d been in my life for a week. We were on the turquoise sofa and I told you a little bit about my time here, studying at the Sorbonne. You said then how much you wanted to visit Paris. And you looked so passionate about travelling and seeing the world, I guess deep down a part of me knew, even then, that one day soon I was going to take you here.”

As he says the words, my heart practically stops. It’s the most romantic thing, I think I’ve ever heard, and I lift my head off his chest and kiss him.

“Thank you,” I say between kisses. “Thank you, above all, for really listening to me. To what I want. And for remembering. Nobody’s ever done
anything
like this for me before.” 

The rest of the afternoon goes by in the most beautiful whirl. I can’t take it all in no matter how hard I try. There’s just so much style and culture everywhere you look. All the people seem like they’re walking round a film set. Every woman looks like they’re playing the part of Parisian Woman, Number One. I’ve never been that much into handbags and shoes or anything, but these women are making me
seriously
jealous with their utterly amazing style.

But it’s not just the people, either. It’s the buildings, the art. It’s like this whole city just breathes culture and sophistication.

As promised, we go to the Louvre, and it’s just so overwhelmingly amazing. Room after room of heart-stoppingly beautiful pictures, gorgeous furniture, delicate and ancient objects. It seems like we’re in there for hours, drinking it all in, but Will assures me that we haven’t even seen a tenth of their collection yet, and we’ll have to come back to see the rest another time if we want to take the other things on my list in, too.

People aren’t kidding, though. The Mona Lisa really
is
the size of a postage stamp!

From the Louvre, we wander the Champs Elysees. And I kind of want to skip over this bit, because it makes me sound like a total princess, a real spoiled brat, and that’s not what I am, and I certainly didn’t
ask
for it, but ... Well, out of the blue, I find myself being ushered into Dior.

§

Which is why, this evening, I’m here in a hotel suite, in
Paris
, looking at my reflection in a huge gilt mirror, as I zip up my new dress. My brand new Christian Dior dress.
Holy cow
, I think.
This is in-sane.

“It’s just
so
beautiful, Will,” I say. “Thank you so much. I still can’t believe it.”

“I told you,” he says, looking over at me from the other side of the room as he fixes his tie. “A beautiful girl should always have a Parisian dress. And you’re a beautiful girl. And we are in Paris. It would simply be a crime not to have bought it for you.”

The dress is so beautiful, I almost can’t take it. It makes me look so sophisticated. The moment it’s on, I’m instantly transformed into one of those chic stylish Parisian women I’ve been admiring all day long. It’s black, with a Bridget Bardot neckline to show off my shoulders. I never thought I wanted to show off my shoulders before! But it looks great, and I guess I should maybe pay a little more attention to fashion in the future. It has three-quarter length sleeves, and the full skirt ends just below my knee. It’s plain but classic, like something Audrey Hepburn would wear.

(Oh, and okay. And if I’m being totally honest, I suppose I should mention the perfect Chanel pumps on my feet, too.)

“You look beautiful,” Will says, striding over to me, and slipping his arms around my waist from behind.

And as he pulls me into him, kissing the exposed skin of my shoulders, I look at us, together in the mirror and I have to admit, we make a pretty damn good couple. My heart leaps and I try to take a mental selfie of us, of this moment – to burn this image into my brain forever.

§

“So that was Michelin star food, huh?” I say, sitting back in my chair with a contented sigh.

He nods, looking just as happy as I feel right now.

“Thank you for taking me to this amazing hotel,” I continue. “I mean it. The food was incredible. I’m going to remember this meal for the rest of my life.”

“Please, Chrissie,” he replies, holding up a hand. “It’s me that should be thanking
you
.”

“What the hell do you mean?” I laugh. “I don’t understand. What have I ever done for you? I mean, the jet, Paris, the hotel, the dress, this meal. Everything you’ve done this weekend has been incredible, Will, and all I’ve done is try my best to take it all in without my eyes popping out of my head.”

“I’m not talking about the weekend,” he says softly. “I’m talking about you refusing to give up on me when I shut myself off from you. You, seeing the potential and fighting for it. Before I met you, Chrissie, my life had become so cold, so empty. I told myself that it wasn’t time – that it was too soon to feel this way again. But I know that deep down, I was just scared. Scared of being hurt again. But being with you has shown me that it’s worth it. This is worth the risk. It was no life before. I’m glad you came in and complicated things. With you, me and Tabby, my life is just complicated enough.”

His words mean so much to me. I suppose it’s kind of obvious, the way he’s treated me this weekend, that he really
does
like me, that he truly wants me in his life now. But I guess I needed to hear him actually say it, out loud.

And now he has, I feel like the happiest girl in the world. My heart swells with joy and I can’t keep the grin off my face.

We chat away over coffee and the most tiny, beautiful, delicate chocolates. But before long, my mind turns to other things, and I’m longing for us to be alone together. Truly alone.

“This has all been so wonderful,” I say. “And it’s not that I want to call it a night or anything, but um, would you please take me to bed?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replies happily, before standing up and walking around to pull out my chair for me.

Okay. Maybe it’s kinda corny, but I just can’t get enough of this perfect English gentleman thing. It sounds weird, but he’s just got
such good manners
and it’s really, really sexy, just like in those romance paperbacks I always used to lose myself in, the very same books I haven’t had to bother picking up for months now.

We leave the restaurant and he escorts me to the elevator, and it’s only the presence of the attendant that stops me from ripping his clothes off and having him right there and then.

Perhaps it’s the dress, or maybe it’s just that I’m feeling more and more confident around Will, but as we tumble happily into the privacy of our beautiful room, I feel myself taking charge in a way I’ve never really done before. I feel sexy and confident – a woman who knows
exactly
what she wants – and before he even knows what’s happening, I’ve pushed him up against the wall, crushing my mouth against his in a passionate kiss, while my fingers stroke the magnificent length of his hardening cock through the silky fabric of his pants.

He groans with desire, his hands cupping my ass, drawing me against him, but I slip from his grip, dropping to my knees and tugging at his belt, desperate to taste him now, gazing up at him, eyes locking onto his as I free his hot hard cock, feeling the heat of it flashing against my face as I tease him with a coquettish kiss, right on the head of his cock, then I give him a few playful licks, designed more to drive him out of his mind than to cause him any real pleasure.

He groans and tenses, pressed back against the wall of the hotel room, his hard cock twitching and pulsing in my grip as I keep my eyes locked on his, teasing him with my lips and tongue until he can take it no more.

And then, when I’ve brought him right to the edge, I finally give him what he wants so badly, closing my lips around his velvet smooth shaft and taking him deep into my mouth, as far as I can, shivering with excitement as he finally lets out a long, low moan of pleasure.

I close my eyes as I begin to pleasure him, letting out soft little moans of my own, because it’s the craziest thing: each time I suck him, it’s like the sensation builds in my own body, too, even though I’m not even touching myself. And I feel totally in charge, totally in control, and as I work him with my lips, feeling the electricity building inside me until my whole body’s aching and burning for him, my nipples so damn hard they’re almost painful and my panties soaked right through, as I tease him with my lips and tongue, my fingers stroking his thick hard shaft and kneading his big tight balls until all of a sudden he takes in a final deep shivering breath, his hands moving into my hair, holding me still.

I can feel trembling, his muscular body so tense, his breath shivering past his lips, his gorgeous cock totally filling my mouth, throbbing hard against my tongue, his whole body poised for just one more tease, one more movement of my tongue.