Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I’d expected to be annoyed by the distraction, but Winnie was pleasant company. For once, he wasn’t overly chatty and if his occasional interruptions caught me off guard, I blamed my newly activated libido. I was intensely aware of Winnie.
Well, since we’d agreed that sex was on the table, there was no point in pretending to be a prude, right?
Contrary to what my ex thought, I loved sex. I loved everything about it. I loved the fluttery sensation of mutual attraction and the tentative dance that turned into rabid desire. I loved the intimacy of holding a man—touching, kissing, fucking.
And God, I wanted to fuck Winnie.
But I’d take whatever he offered and do my best not to scare him away.
I found myself machinating ways to get close to him. Yes, the man who could sit for hours in front of a computer suddenly needed to stretch his legs and step onto the balcony for a bit of fresh air.
Winnie would join me, standing close with a dreamy look on his face as he soaked in the city. I’d brace for manic conversation a la Mr. Toad in The Wind in the Willows. Again, he’d surprise me…leaning on me like a cat until I opened my arms and let him in.
Soulful kisses turned hungry in an instant. We’d stumble into my suite, pull the duvet aside and undress as if we were on a timer, chasing lips in the dimly lit bedroom. I was usually self-conscious about nudity. I wasn’t overly fit or trim, but I was too engrossed in Winnie to worry about my shortcomings.
He was beautiful.
I couldn’t believe he was naked in my bed, arms open, legs spread wide. I climbed atop him, licking every inch of his body from the crease under his knees to the sensitive skin under his sac. I sucked his balls, teased the tip of his cock, devouring him in greedy pulls, then tweaking his nipples.
Sometimes I urged him to feed me every drop he had while I stroked myself to the finish line. Other times, I covered his body, thrusting against his erection as I feasted on his mouth. I liked the feel of him beneath me, and I loved holding him tightly as cum spurted between us.
There’d been a couple of shower hand jobs, a sofa frotting session, and countless blowjobs. No complaints here…except I’d been extremely unproductive at work.
And Winnie hadn’t gone sightseeing.
Till today.
“Where are we going?”
My gaze traveled to Winnie as he adjusted his fedora at a jaunty angle in front of the mirror next to the elevators. This morning he wore a smart herringbone suit coat with designer jeans he’d rolled at the cuffs and a pair of shiny loafers that looked decidedly uncomfortable for traversing city streets.
In contrast, I was sensibly dressed in khakis, a tan jumper, and trainers. I would be comfortable; he would be fabulous.
“It’s a suggested schedule. I know you’re busy, and I respect that. So maybe a stroll through the gardens or the shops on the Champ Elise would be nice before we dive into the books?”
“Champs Élysées,” I corrected. “Lunch, one stroll, then back to work.”
“Yes, sir!” He beamed, dancing to the elevator as soon as the doors slid open. “I mean…oui, mon-sur.”
“Monsieur. We have one hour, Winnie. Nothing more.”
Winnie winked and threaded his arm through mine. “One hour.”
Three hours later, we’d popped into a dozen shops on Champs Élysées, had a bite to eat at a crowded café on the Avenue de Wagram, and bought tickets to traverse the two hundred and eighty-four steps of the spiral staircase to the top of the Arc de Triomphe.
It was cramped and hot, and not my idea of fun, but Winnie was happy and that was worth the price of admission. His smile blinded me. No joke. He stood on the precipice overlooking Paris, emanating the kind of joy I hadn’t felt since I was a child. I couldn’t stand there, staring at him forever, so I prepared my short speech about Napoleon commissioning the structure in 1806 to honor his troops’ victory over Austria. You know…for fun.
Winnie beat me to it.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“A village outside of Canterbury, two hours southeast of London.”
“Family?”
“I have one, yes,” I confirmed sarcastically.
Winnie snickered, nudging my elbow playfully. “Answer the question, Professor.”
“My parents are alive and well, happily married and happily retired. My sister, Annabelle, lives two streets away from Mum and Dad with her husband, two children, and three dogs. My father taught history at primary school, Mum was a librarian, and Annabelle and Richard are both historians. They have a successful podcast and have written a few books that have been well received.”
“Wow! Genius runs in the Creighton genes, huh?”
I gave a half laugh. “I don’t know about genius, but we’re all academics. I spent quite a bit of my youth surrounded by books.”