He stilled his hand. “Why?”
“Just do it.” She gasped, her breaths coming in rapid pants, and then a low sound of relief.
Flynn’s cock throbbed so hard he thought he might come even without touching himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the sound of her orgasm, savoring the arousal curling around his spine, throbbing in his cock.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, sounding relaxed now. “Okay, now it’s your turn to slow down and wait for me.”
“Again so soon?” he asked, ridiculously aroused by the idea of her coming again for him.
“With this thing?” The buzzing started again. “I’ll be there with you in no time.”
“Okay, then.” If he had a few minutes to kill, he might as well get out of the rest of his clothes and get properly comfortable here in bed. “If I were there, I bet I could make you come even faster.”
“I bet you could too,” she said on a gasp. “You’re awfully good with your hands. And your mouth.”
“Wish I could come over there right now and show you.” He’d gotten out of his shirt, but now he had to pause and stroke himself, unable to bear the pressure in his cock.
“Where are you?” she asked, seeming to consider the possibility.
“I’m in Wales, almost three hours from London,” he told her, shoving his trousers down his legs and kicking them to the floor.
“That’s a shame,” she whispered. “But the combination of the vibrator and your voice is doing wonders anyway.”
“Glad to hear it,” he gritted as he began stroking himself in earnest. “Because I’m about to explode over here.”
“Tease yourself for me, Flynn,” she said, throwing his earlier words back at him.
“Getting harder to do, no pun intended.” He slowed his pace, taking several deep breaths to keep himself in check.
“I’m almost there.” She was panting again, and the buzzing got louder.
“Yes.” He let himself go, then, his fist moving at a frenzied pace as everything inside him clenched and tightened, centered in the throbbing need in his cock. Ruby whimpered, and it was the match that lit his fuse. His balls tightened as fire licked its way down his spine, and then he was coming in hot spurts against the sheets, groaning as release flowed through him. Vaguely, he was aware of Ruby moaning her own release in his ear, and then they were both quiet, breathing heavily.
“Goddamn,” he managed, his voice hoarse.
“That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done,” she whispered. “I’m…I’m glad you called when you did.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I’m going to Paris in the morning.” Her voice was soft, sleepy, satisfied. “Thanks for helping make London special for me.”
“I think you did that all on your own, but I’m glad I could be a part of it.”
“Goodnight, Flynn,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, Ruby.” He hung up the phone and lay there, sprawled across his hotel bed, too tired to move, but the ache in his chest—the one he felt every time he thought of never seeing Ruby again—felt a hundred times stronger now than it had earlier today.
Ruby steppedoff the EuroStar train just before noon the next day, eyes wide as she pulled her rolling suitcase into Paris’s Gare du Nord train station. Here she was, entering her second new country in a week. She spoke a little bit of French. She’d taken classes in college, and so she’d been trying to decipher bits of conversation here and there ever since she boarded the train in London earlier that morning, although she hadn’t had much success.
She’d seriously overestimated the strength of the EuroStar’s WiFi signal, and consequently, she had arrived in Paris sans hotel. All the seats in the station seemed to be occupied, so she rolled her suitcase over to the wall and stood, scrolling through nearby hotels on her phone. She covered her mouth and coughed, flinching at the dull ache in her chest. She rubbed at it absently, fighting back a growing sense of panic.
Yesterday’s occasional cough had become more persistent, although she’d been in denial about it as she rode on the EuroStar. Now, she was wishing she’d stayed in London, where she spoke the language, in case she ended up having to go to a clinic or hospital. With her medical history, this cough could easily become pneumonia, if it wasn’t already.
And she didn’t even have a hotel. She swallowed hard as she clicked on a website, desperate to get out of this loud, crowded train station. The hotel was affordable and touted itself as being near tourist destinations. It had a good customer rating, and she didn’t have the time or energy to be picky. It would do. She reserved a room and rolled her suitcase outside to join the line of people waiting for a taxi.
Once she’d made it into a cab, she showed the driver the address of her hotel and settled back in her seat, stifling another cough. The taxi slid through the streets of Paris, and Ruby stared transfixed out the window, taking in the gorgeous architecture, buildings with ornate stone facades and flower boxes in each window. As they rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Her pulse jumped, pushing back some of the fear and helplessness that had overtaken her. She was in Paris, for crying out loud. There was no way this part of her adventure wasn’t going to be awesome, immunodeficiencies be damned.
The taxi pulled up in front of her hotel, a quaint-looking brick-fronted building, tall and narrow, sandwiched between its neighbors like commercial townhouses. A bright red awning over the front entrance greeted her. Maybe the color was a good omen for her upcoming stay. She thanked the taxi driver, paid, and got out, letting him help her with her suitcase.
