When she shattered in his arms, the rhythmic contractions of her climax squeezed, pumped, and sucked him dry. His entire body shuddered, the volcanic pulsations explosive as he erupted profusely inside her.
Limbs quivering as he held her, he brushed tender lips against the side of her face. “Mmm,” he hummed as he caressed her breast. “The perfect way to start the morning.” He withdrew carefully from her body and dropped the condom into the trash. He pushed her tresses away so he could suckle her neck. “You are exquisite,mon coeur. A rare, delicate beauty that I just can’t get enough of.” He swallowed a pink nipple, reveling in her moan of delight.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she whispered as she sat up in bed, her long hair spilling down over a shoulder. The tiny pink tip of her nipple peeked through the silky golden sheet, and Jean-Luc couldn’t resist touching it.
She arose from the bed with a smile and nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “Is it over there?”
He sprawled languidly across the mattress, his satisfied body awash in a pleasant afterglow. “Oui, in the corner, beside the kitchen.” He stretched his back, smiling at the curve of her swaying hips as she softly plodded across the bare wooden floor. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
Ella emerged a few minutes later, dressed in last night’s mauve tank top and denim skirt, her glossy blonde hair finger combed, the smudged mascara wiped from her sleepy eyes. Pulling up a barstool, she leaned over the black kitchen countertop to inhale the rich aroma of the steaming coffee as he placedun bol de caféin frontof her.
Between the two breakfast place settings, Jean-Luc set a platter with four flaky croissants,un pot de confiture,a jar of honey, and a small tub of butter.
Settling down onto the barstool at her side, he picked up the platter to offer her the typical French breakfast. She smiled and selected a croissant, spread it with butter and raspberry jam, and licked her fingers with childish delight.
Jean-Luc grinned as he sunk his teeth into his own croissant. Wiping his mouth on a napkin, he said, “Although I’d much rather spend the day in bed with you, I do have three art lessons this morning, so I’ll walk you home when we’ve finished breakfast.”
A glimmer of disappointment flashed in her deep green eyes.
“But remember…I want to paint you. Would it be alright if I came to fetch you after my lessons are done? Say, around noon? We can get sandwichesto go. I know a quiet park nearle Sacré-Coeurwhere we can sit on a bench under the shade trees and have apique-nique. When we’re done, we can come back here, and I’ll show you some of my art. And the studio where I’d like to paint you.” He took a big gulp of coffee and flashed her his most disarming grin. “Nude, of course.”
Her eyes widened as she swallowed a bite of croissant. “Nude?”
“Mais, oui.I want to portray your inner fire. The passion I saw and felt last night.” His appreciative fingers caressed her cheek. “The sizzling flames beneath the fragile surface. Romantic antithesis. A compelling contrast.”
She smiled hesitantly, uncertain eyes searching his face. “I do love the charcoal portrait you sketched of me last night. I’m sure the painting will be incredible, too. But I’m nervous about being painted nude.” She traced a finger around the rim of thebol de caféas she gazed into her coffee.
“Don’t be nervous with me, Ella. I want to capture your exquisite beauty on canvas. To make love to you with my art, as well as my body.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “I am glad we’ll have the whole month of June together.”If I don’t scare you away, like the others…
They finished up, left theatelier, and walked along the quiet, quaint streets of Montmartre, just beginning to stir in the early morning light. When they stopped in front of herrésidencenearla Maison Rose,Jean-Luc suggested, “Let’s exchange phone numbers. You can text or call me if there’s any change in plans.”
Their contact information shared and stored, he wrapped his arms around Ella’s waist and pulled her close. Brushing his lips softly against hers, Jean-Luc promised to return at noon. “À bientôt, ma belle. See you soon.”
He waited on the street corner until she disappeared into the building, then strode briskly across the cobbled stone square under the clear morning sky. He inhaled Ella’s scent on his moustache, his body thickening as he remembered how she’d writhed under his tongue. Today, they’d have the whole afternoon together. He envisioned her long legs wrapped around him, the thick, velvety warmth of her welcoming body… and had to stop and adjust his jeans to finish the trek home.
At the apartment, he showered, tidied up, and prepared for the art lessons. Throughout the interminable morning, he found himself repeatedly thinking of Ella, grateful for the painter’s apron which not only protected his clothing, but also concealed his embarrassing, obvious arousal.
When the last lesson was finally done, Jean-Luc checked his messages, relieved that Ella had not canceled. He responded to a few important texts, tucked his phone in his back pocket, and headed out into the warm spring sunlight.
A bouquet of mauve pink roses and plump peonies in the adjacent florist shop reminded him of the tank top she’d worn last night.The same color as her lips.And nipples. He paid for the flowers, inhaled the fragrant blossoms, and hoped the impromptu gift would please her.
When he arrived at therésidence,Ella was waiting for him in the lobby. She waved to him through the large window, her pretty face lit up in a glorious smile.
Her hair was swept up into a loose chignon on top of her head, a few tendrils curling softly against her cheeks in a style which reminded him ofla Belle Époque,when Impressionists such as Renoir, Monet, and Van Gogh had flocked to Montmartre. A stretchy black camisole top accentuated her slim torso, and large pink roses tumbled across the black cotton gypsy skirt which cascaded in voluminous tiers to her ankles. Long earrings sparkled in the sunlight, dangling to the top of her tanned, sculpted shoulders.God, she was beautiful.Abelle bohémienneto rob him of breath and coherent thought.
Like a graceful ballerina captured on canvas by Degas, Ella floated through the door, her eyes widening in surprise as she accepted the proffered bouquet from Jean-Luc’s outstretched hands. Burying her nose in the fat pink blooms, she hummed with pleasure and swayed with obvious delight.
“I love them. Thank you so much!” she exclaimed, reveling in the heady floral scent. Dark green eyes glinted like fine emeralds as she gazed up at him with unabashed joy. “Pink roses and peonies are my favorites.”
He snapped a picture—he’d use it to paint the portrait of her sensual delight—and pulled her into an affectionate embrace. Gently claiming her lips with his own, his tongue traced the silky lining inside the soft petals of her rosebud mouth. “I’m glad you like them.” He smiled down at her, tucked inside his arms, the flowers cradled protectively against her chest. “Ready to get some lunch?”
She nodded and linked her arm through his offered elbow, burying her nose into the fragrant blooms with a murmur of contentment.
Under the clear blue sky and warm late May sun, he led her to a little glass kiosk with a white awning where they orderedsandwiches à emporter, ducking into apâtisseriefor twotartelettes aux cerisesfor dessert.When they reached the cobbled stone square with the fabulous view ofle Sacré-Coeuramidst the familiar shade trees, Ella was awestruck by the cascading branches of light lavender flowers lining the quaint, quiet street. She exclaimed in a whisper of wonder, “Look at the wisteria. It’s incredible!”
They settled onto an empty park bench, unwrapped the crusty baguette sandwiches, and dug in, savoring the spicy tang of Dijon mustard over the grilled chicken and Brie topped with lettuce, tomato, and hard-boiled egg. Ella devoured hersandwich au poulet,openly admiring the fragrant blooms of purple wisteria which enclosed the picturesque park.
Jean-Luc was captivated by her youthful exuberance, her innate joy at the natural beauty which surrounded them. He wanted to know more about her. She was beguiling. Bewitching.
