“Oui,” he replies. “Tu us chanceuxindeed. You’re the first non-French person I’ve gone on a date with.”
“And why’s that?”
He shrugs. “French guys just have that certainje ne sais quoi. They have style, flair, confidence... they’re the whole package. Or they look like it, at least.”
“And I’m not?”
“I don’t know yet. Haven’t decided.”
“Well, what can I do to prove it?”
“Learn French and keep speaking French to me. I like that.”
“Bien-sûr, mon amour,” I reply, already deciding it’ll be worth it. “Do you speak any other languages besides French and English?” I ask, forcing myself to shake off some of the warm feelings. I can’t get my hopes up—not yet.
“No. But I already speak twice as many languages as you do. Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know. It probably is, yes.”
Just then, our food arrives. The waiter places two breakfasts in front of us: a croissant, a tartine—which I now learn is a sliced baguette with butter and jam—a café crème, and fresh orange juice. Excitement floods me; it’s so good to finally enjoy food again now that my stomach has calmed down.
I don’t know what it is exactly: sitting outside a cafe on a terrace underneath the soft morning sun, surrounded by beautiful buildings, and with a gorgeous, witty guy in front of me with a golden tongue. It could be all of it or maybe just the latter, but either way, I’m a little in love with this city right now... and maybe not just with the city.
We eat our breakfast together—which tastes even better than it looks—while Luc tries to teach me more French words. I do my best to learn quickly and to pronounce the words correctly, but I struggle sometimes, and he laughs at me when I pronounce gentille as genital, which... well. You get the drift. On that front,it also doesn’t help that we’re in a crowded cafe with people around us who can hear me talk about genitals, and I can only laugh along with him.
When we finish breakfast, Luc looks satisfied. Just the way I feel. The bill arrives, and I pay without question. He didn’t ask me to, didn’t make up any excuses for why he couldn’t. I just didn’t give him the chance. I have no idea how much a baker at a cake shop earns, but I’m confident that my job at the bank pays more, and I’m happy to pay for this date.
“Consider it payment for your French lessons,” I tell him, to which he responds with another of his award-winning smiles.
“My shift starts at noon,” he tells me. “Will you walk me to the cake shop?”
I nod, not having to think about it. As if I could ever say no to that.
***
He unlocks the door to the shop—which I’ve been told his dad closed just after peak hour—and we step inside. There, he grabs my wrist without hesitation and pulls me along. “We’re all alone here. Come with me,” he says.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he replies, and I may have an idea, but part of me thinks it would be too good to be true. But when he leads me toward a hidden door, guiding me to the back of the cake shop, my stomach flutters with the possibilities.
We step into a room that’s mostly shelves, fridges, a counter, and cream-colored tote bags, which sayfarineandsucre—I’m guessing flour and sugar. Then, without another word, Luc sits atop the counter, his legs open. Goodness. I’m unsure what to expect, but I don’t have to wait long to find out. He grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me between his legs, and presses his lips against mine. My heart skips a beat, and my stomach swirls at raging speed. I don’t know exactly what I did, but I must havedone something right. This is more than I dared hope for, sooner than anticipated. And I only hope this is the first of many kisses we’ll share.
“Wow, you move fast,” I say, chuckling as I pull away briefly.
His eyes dart between my lips and my eyes as he clings to my shirt. “You’re the one who told me you really like me during our first date.”
“True.”
Looking at him, I don’t even know why I interrupted the moment. I’ve wanted this from the start, and now I have the chance to touch him, taste him, and have him do the same to me. So why did I start talking? It seems crazy.
Deciding I need more, I lean in and wrap my arms around him, pressing my lips against his. It doesn’t take long before I get lost in the kiss.
Normally, first kisses aren’t my favorite. What if, after all that build-up, one of us doesn’t like it? I’m not worried about that now, though, not on my behalf. I knew all along I’d love this either way, and I do. His body is warm to the touch, his lips are soft, and he fits perfectly in my arms.
There’s nothing gentle about his kiss. It’s hungry, if anything, so I let it consume me, responding to it with my own desire. I place my hands on his hips, grabbing him tightly as he slides his tongue into my mouth. Holy stars, I want him so badly.
As if he heard what I was thinking, he wraps his legs around me and claims my mouth in a dirty kiss. I don’t know how he could be any hotter. Or well, I suppose I do, because here’s something you don’t know about me: I’m into fit guys with small cocks. A bratty bottom in his twenties with a small cock, who’ll boss me around in bed like he owns me, is the ultimate fantasy for me. If Luc’s like that, then... well, fuck... we’ll have such great times together. I know we’d both make sure of that.
