But I still haven’t told him about Elite…
“Come out here and sit with me.” Luka opens the bedroom door and waves me through. We sit and buckle in just as the plane begins to descend. Soon after, we’re taxiing on the runway at CDG through the early morning darkness. A car is waiting to take us to the Shangri-La Paris, and I can barely contain my excitement as we drive toward the city center just before sunrise.
There is so much to take in: gorgeous old stone buildings with sloping mansard roofs, the postcard-perfect, pre-dawn view from the bridge over the Seine, a few people out walking their dogs or setting up woven chairs outside of tiny sidewalk cafés. Luka leans over my shoulder to point out the window at the domed roof of the Sacré-Coeur and a few other famous sights in the distance, clearly familiar with the city and the arrondissement where we’re staying.
We pull into the hotel’s circular drive lined with lamp posts, and a valet opens my door.
“Bienvenue à Pah-ree,” he says warmly.
“Merci!” I respond, glad I can at least say “thank you” properly in French.
Luka and I step into a sprawling, luxurious building with white marble floors, softly glowing crystal sconces along the walls, a domed ceiling with a mural painted on it, and a wide staircase to our right with ornate black and gold wrought iron railings. A gentleman rushes to us, speaking rapid-fire French—which, of course, Luka seems to understand—and just like that, we’re immediately shown to our room.
My husband opens a wide set of cream-colored double doors, then cocks a brow playfully before picking me up in his arms and carrying me through.
“Does a hotel room threshold count?” he asks.
“It’s a threshold inParis. Of course it counts!”
He doesn’t give me time to look around, closing the door with his foot and hurrying to the bedroom to set me gently onto a massive bed with a golden brocade quilt.
“Watch this.”
He moves to the French doors a few feet from the foot of our bed and opens them. A small balcony is lined with flowers and topiary trees and just off to the left, the Eiffel Tower is still alive with lights against the backdrop of a pink- and orange-streaked sky.
Leaving the doors open, he makes his way toward me from the foot of the bed until he’s straddling me. His fingers dance across my chest as he unbuttons my shirt and leans low to nibble at my ear.My desire sparks immediately back to life. I’ve been holding it back for hours and it’s a physical relief that I don’t have to anymore.
“Did you ever think you’d get fucked on your wedding night with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower outside your window?”
“Never,” I answer honestly.
I swallow hard as he pushes my top off my shoulders and down to my waist. Then I shimmy out of the rest of my travel-wrinkled suit. Catching his eyes, I arch my back as he unhooks my bra and pulls it off me. I want to say something sweet about never thinking I’d have any of this, including a man like him. But it’s not the right time. I want him too much to talk.
Neither of us says anything else. My brain sinks into the moment, losing all sense of time and our surroundings. It’s just me and Luka and the sinfully delicious things he’s doing to my body. His mouth is everywhere—sucking at my nipples until I can’t lie still from the pleasure, working down my belly to my pussy where he feasts like he’s never tasted me there before. He’s tireless, letting me guide the rhythm, and he doesn’t stop until I’m coming all over his face, moaning his name. Then he leans in again, licking and sucking until a second orgasm follows.
I’m breathless and overcome with the reality that this man is mine. He’s fully and completely mine.“I need you,” I murmur. “All of you.”
We rip and pull at his clothes until he’s naked on top of me. Flipping him, it’s my turn to taste the hot skin on the side of his neck, whisper kisses over the planes of his hard chest. I don’t have a chance to make it to his cock before he’s gripping my hips and aligning me, and I bring myself down, impaling myself onto his thick shaft. We both cry out, the pleasure nearly overtaking me. My thighs tremble as I ride him, and already I feel another orgasm begin to build. His hands wind into my hair. With a gentle tug, he brings me low to meet his mouth.
My own flavor is strong in the kiss as he devours my lips, then flips us again so he’s on top. I lose it then. All awareness just fades away save for where our bodies are connected. He takes my hands, the warmth of our connected palms driving my pleasure even higher, and suddenly I’m shattering again, taking Luka with me.I feel him spill hot inside me, whispering my name as he comes, and my eyes tear up with emotion as I wrap my legs tighter around him.
Finally he collapses next to me, pulling me in close.
I run a hand through his hair and let out an exhausted breath.
“You were so right. Waiting was definitely worth it.”
My nipples perk as he runs his fingers over them. “I’m glad you enjoyed that, Mrs. Zoric. Because we’re just getting started.”
Brooklyn
Chapter 28
Ihave no idea what time it is.
I’ve been watching Luka sleep for a while now, drinking up the contented, relaxed lines of his handsome face. The past twenty-four hours have been magical, and it’s silly, but I’m honestly not sure if this is really my life or if I’m lost in a daydream. This is one of those moments in the movies where people pinch themselves to double-check reality.
Luka is finally sprawled out on the bed after making love to me three times; the last time slowly and from behind so that I could fully appreciate the Eiffel Tower view. Rolling carefully to the edge of the bed, I sit and put my feet on the floor. My pussy and the insides of my thighs ache deliciously in a heady reminder of the incredible honeymoon sex we’d had. I’m already ready for more. And when we decide we’ve had our fill of sex, there’s an entire city waiting to be explored.
