Summer Sucks

Phil was one lucky son of a bitch. They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Evelyn Summer was a woman who took her sunshine very seriously. She would have quite happily murdered the local Channel Twelve weatherman should his prediction of a heat wave not have come to fruition. Fortunately for him, however, he had been spared the wrath of a woman who had just booked two weeks off work to enjoy the July heat. If her vacation fortnight had resulted in a fourteen-day downpour, old Phil from Channel 26 would’ve been in big trouble.

With the promise of endless sunshine for the next fourteen days and the opportunity to enjoy it in peace and quiet, Evie had spanked the plastic and splashed out on some expensive new garden furniture and a selection of sexy little bikinis. Now that the fierce summer heat had finally arrived, all that was left to do was relax in the garden and soak up the rays. A long, lazy afternoon working on her tan and sipping on an adult beverage had been the plan, that was until the irritating metallic grinding noise of a petrol mower had started up next door.

Evie lay in her new sun-lounger and tried to filter out the high-pitched whine from the old, rusty engine. Everything had been so perfect just thirty-seconds earlier. She was shimmering head-to-toe in a delicious smelling coconut sun cream, and her gorgeous little lemon-yellow bikini fit to her curves like a second skin. A tall glass of cloudy lemonade with a dash of rum sat on the small table next to her, clinking quietly as it slowly devoured the ice cubes floating on the top. It was a pleasant sound, synonymous with hot summer days, but unfortunately, now one that was being brutally drowned out by a mechanical drone that made her grind her teeth.

It was no good. She’d looked forward to her days off too long to have them spoiled by an over zealous gardener.

“Fucking loud annoying rumblin’ bastard…” Evie grumbled to herself as she stood up and stomped over to the waist-high wooden fence that started just past a tall hedge-line.

Evie froze mid-wave when she saw who was making all the noise. Either her neighbour, Mr. Wilson, had regressed in age by about fifty years, or a handsome young man was mowing his lawn for him. She was about to catch the boy’s attention but suddenly couldn’t bring herself to do it. The way the vibrations of the machine rippled up the sinews in his strong arms and across his strapping bare chest was hypnotising.

She nibbled on her bottom lip and glanced over the top of her mirrored aviators as she enjoyed the show. Each time the muscles across his impressive torso clenched, she had the sudden and irresistible urge to run over and rub her hands all over his well-defined abs. It felt like she’d just walked into the middle of a Diet Coke commercial. The daydream was unfortunately shattered when the mower engine abruptly cut out and the young man looked up.

“Hi,” he said as he strolled slowly towards the fence.

“Hello,” replied Evie with a friendly smile.

“Is the noise bothering you?” His tone was apologetic as he motioned towards the lawn behind him. “I won’t be much longer.”

“No, it’s fine,” she lied. “I’ve not seen you around before, are you a friend of the Wilsons’?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s too hot for Bill to do this kind of work, especially at his age.”

“That’s really nice of you to help him out,” Evie replied as she curled a lock of her hair around her finger. “So, are you on break from college or…?”

“I’m a sophomore at San Diego. Just earning a few extra bucks before next semester.”

The young man smiled when he spoke. Evie couldn’t help but admire how handsome he was when he ran his fingers through his soft dark hair. It was a nothing gesture, yet the way his bicep bulged when his arm bent at the elbow made her weak at the knees. Just being this close to him felt dangerous.

Just as Evie began to wonder if there might be a possibility of a mutual attraction between them, Mr. Hunky did not disappoint. Each time he thought she wasn’t looking, his eyes roamed the full, sensuous swell of Evie’s breasts. Her large, mirrored sunglasses hid the fact that she was observing him leer at her tits. Knowing that she could turn a young man’s head made Evie feel all the more confident and attractive, even if it did require some revealing beachwear. Her new bikini really did not leave very much to the imagination.

At one point as they made friendly small talk, the young man’s gaze dropped down to the tiny scrap of yellow fabric covering her mound. The way his lips parted ever so slightly made her hope he was thinking about licking what it covered. Evie didn’t mind. After all, she was mentally undressing him the same way.

Sweat had beaded all over his tanned body and was glistening in the midday sun. It ran down in tiny little rivulets along the tight curves of his abdomen, the same way condensation trickles down the outside of a tall glass of ice water. It would have been fruitless to fight the urge to follow their path all the way down to his waistline.

It was then that she noticed something that made her mouth dry. Every woman with a passion for men has a particular physical feature that drives them insane. For some it’s a rippling six-pack, for others it is a nice tight arse, but for Evie, it was the plunging, muscular V-shape that sits just above their groin. She just stared at his and tried not to drool. It was like an arrow pointing downwards; a private invitation for her to imagine what impressive anatomy lay hidden away underneath his clothing.

On the outside, Evie was doing a good job of playing it cool, but inside she was as red hot as a nymphomaniac on death row. Would it be so bad to tackle him to the ground right there in the garden American-football-style and have her wicked way with him behind the rose bush? He might only have been twenty or so, but he had the physique of a god. Evie tucked a stray lock of brunette hair behind her ear and pursed her lips. In one of those inexplicable moments where your mouth utters a series of words before your brain has time to work out if you really wanted to say them, she had already asked the question.

“I don’t suppose you’d be interesting in doing me would you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, doing a little garden work for me. I’d pay you, of course. It just needs a bit of tidying up really.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure thing,” he replied with a friendly smile. “I could maybe come over tomorrow morning?”

“That would be great.”

“I’m Mark, by the way.”

His proffered hand felt hot as it enclosed hers. She immediately wondered how those large, warm hands would feel grasping different parts of her body in the heat of a sexual frenzy. A mental image of them grasping her bare ass cheeks as she ground obscenely on his lap quickly flashed across her consciousness.

“Evie Summer.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Summer.”

A new warmth began to spread through her body as she relaxed back into the padded cushion of her new sun lounger. A wild flurry of inappropriate thoughts whipped around inside her head and took the form of her new gardener. What started as a gentle ache between her thighs soon blossomed until it begged for a hand to be slipped down inside her bikini bottoms. She dared not risk the embarrassment of getting caught though. For now, Evie knew she would have to be content with just the pleasurable torment of her wicked imagination.

Night brought with it no relief from the relentless heat that smothered everything in an oppressive shroud. Evie tossed and turned until eventually kicking off the damp bed cover that stuck to her skin. When she eventually drifted off, carried away in the arms of Morpheus, it was not ice cream cones and air conditioning that she dreamt of. It was Mark that tiptoed quietly into her dreams, materialising silently like a shape in the mist. Although she was initially flustered by his presence, he soon became a welcome figment of her fantasy. A coy smile curled her moist lips as in her mind he slowly undressed for her. The foreplay was slow and excruciating but preceded a vigorous and most savage mauling. He was like a wild animal between the sheets, grasping and pinning her body as they writhed against each other. He gave no quarter and took whatever it was that he wanted.

Evie awoke in the early hours, gasping for breath as her body shook with the flood with adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her cheeks burned a hot red and her sheets were soaked with sweat. She didn’t care how improper her fantasy might have been. It was what she now craved. Her body burned, adrift on a boiling sea of sexual frustration. She was slowly drowning in the desperate, urgent need to fuck.

Evie slipped her hand into her damp panties and roughly finished the job her dream of Mark had started. She strummed her clit with a desperation and hunger that only a gut-wrenching orgasm can sate. She bit her bottom lip to keep from calling out into the silence of 4 am, then melted into her pillow as her body was set ablaze. Her arms and legs clenched up tight, then shook as her climax tore through her from head to toe. She shuddered and twitched through an endorphin high the likes of which she had never known, before slipping into a deep and peaceful sleep.


Evie leaned on the worktop and watched Mark in a dreamy haze from the large kitchen window. He had been out in the garden all morning, working hard to tidy up her poorly maintained backyard. She’d been keeping an eye on him since he’d first arrived, gazing longingly across the dry, dusty lawn as she distractedly tapped her fingernails on the black-slate kitchen counter. Hot sweat had soaked into his steel gray t-shirt, leaving dark patches visible on the worn cotton. Much to her delight, the moisture made it cling to his body, wrapping it tightly around his muscled torso.

All of southern California was now officially in a heat wave and by high noon, everything not in the shade was mercilessly scorched by the midday sun. Evie rested her head on her hands and stared at the young man. He was tall, athletic, and exceptionally handsome. The memory of the night before flitted across her mind as she admired his raw sexuality. She wondered if he had any inkling of the effect he had had on her. She wondered if he had a girlfriend and if she had enjoyed the attention last night that she now craved.

Fantasising about Mark was a dangerous game. Just the thought of him peeling off his sweat-soaked clothes had once again made a hot sticky mess of her panties. In bed the night before, it was the scandalous thoughts of that young man which had started something her fingers had needed to finish. She’d only known him one day and he was already becoming a perilous addiction.

After a few hours slaving over the brittle, straw-like grass and the oily hot metal of her neglected mower, Mark’s work was finished and he came in out of the heavy, oppressive heat. He looked sun-beaten and tired as he trudged in through the back door into the shade. His shirt was soaked with sweat and smeared with grease from the old rust-bucket he’d been pushing around her lawn. Before she could make a friendly comment about his mucky appearance, Mark peeled off his t-shirt and hung it over the back of a chair. Evie’s eyes fixed on a washboard stomach so hard it made her gasp. One word slipped from her lips before she could think to stop herself.


“What was that?” asked Mark.

“Hmm?” she replied and flashed him a quick smile as though she hadn’t mumbled anything. “You’ve done a really fantastic job today. Here, you look like you could use one of these.”

Mark took the bottle of water Evie had offered him and drank the mercifully cold liquid before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh God, I needed that,” gasped Mark with a toast of his half-empty water bottle. “Thanks, Miss Summer.”

“You’re welcome.”

From the moment Mark stepped through the back door his eyes had been glued to Evie’s slim figure. She’d purposely picked one of her sexier outfits to wear as a kind of conscious flirtation. Thin shoulder straps held a light white viscose which plunged daringly deep at the front. The boy had been her eye-candy all morning, so why not return the favour? Evie casually leaned back against the edge of the large oak kitchen table. She’d been waiting for Mark to take his shirt off all morning and now that he had, admiring his body from just a few feet away was heavenly. It was like her own private striptease, yet unfortunately, one that stopped at the top half.

“Must be hard work pushing that heavy thing around. You look like you’re pretty fit though.”

“Oh, thanks,” he responded, “I like to work out. You know, keep in good shape.”

“You’re certainly doing that.”

Evie flashed him a quick smile which Mark returned with an embarrassed sort of grin. He was playing it coy, but she knew Mark had a crush on her. She’d caught him checking her out over the fence the day before and he had been doing the same when he’d first shown up that morning at the house. She hadn’t helped matters by pretending to have overslept and answering the door in her panties and a baggy old t-shirt. Mark had practically drooled at the sight of her shapely bottom in a pair of bubblegum-pink cheekies.

The look in his eyes as he’d stared at her was one hundred and eighty proof, triple-distilled lust. Young men that age always had about them an air of animalistic hunger when around half naked women. They craved sex – it was the hormones. Even glancing at him now she didn’t know whether wanted to fuck her or eat her. To be honest either would have been fine with her. What she did know, however, was that her poor pussy had been aching at the thought of it all afternoon.

Evie took a deep breath and tried to think of something to take her mind off the half-naked Adonis stood six feet away from her in her kitchen. She ran through everything she could think of: items to add to the grocery shopping list, things to take to the barbecue at the Anderson’s next Sunday, the big fat cock stuffed into the front of Mark’s shorts. The heat was driving her fucking crazy.

Evie was struggling with the justification of saying something to Mark. What if she did say something but he took it the wrong way? What if she offered herself to him without condition he rejected her advances? Evie swallowed hard and made a decision. It wasn’t enough anymore just to watch him from the window and imagine touching his hot, naked body. She’d spiraled helplessly into a vicious cycle and now craved nothing but to taste him. A leap of faith was required if she was going to slake her thirst.

“Mark,” Evie said quietly.

“Yeah?” he replied, before taking another long drink from the water bottle.

“Would you like me to suck your cock?”

There was a bulging of his cheeks before the boy spat up his drink so hard Evie thought it was going to come out of his eyes. She watched as the water sprayed from his mouth like a park sprinkler and covered most of the top of the kitchen counter. As he coughed and spluttered trying to catch his breath, the rest of what he’d been trying to swallow trickled down his smooth, muscled chest.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Mark babbled, staring at the dripping countertop. “I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s all right. It’s only water.”

He flashed her an apologetic smile as she started to dab up the droplets with some tissue. He was clearly embarrassed about what she’d just said and Evie thought that was cute. He was a hunk of a young man and must have been drowning in attractive young girls, yet he became all flustered when she flirted with him.

She again perched her bottom on the edge of the kitchen table, but this time parted her legs slightly and leaned back to rest on her hands. As her back arched provocatively, her breasts rose and pushed out against the thin fabric of her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra and knew her nipples were visible through the almost sheer material. More importantly, the hem of her light dress slowly rode up to mid-thigh exposing just the tiniest glimpse of her panties underneath.

“It’s so hot,” she said to herself in a seductive whisper. Evie tilted her head back and swished her long brunette hair from side to side. She could feel beads of sweat trickling down between her breasts. Her skin had flushed a hot pink colour despite the fact that she was wearing as little fabric as she could get away with before technically being naked.

“Roasting,” mumbled Mark in agreement.

Evie opened one eye and glanced at the young man, only to see him staring intently at the gap between her legs. As soon as he noticed her watching, he quickly looked away.

“So?” she asked him.


“I asked if you’d like me to suck your cock.” Evie looked straight into his wide eyes which looked genuinely shocked. It felt a little like teasing your prey before going in for the kill. “You didn’t answer.”

Mark’s mouth hung open like he was catching flies, but there was an unmistakable swelling in the front of his shorts which was beginning to tighten the cotton.

“You were serious?!”

Evie didn’t answer, she just sauntered casually over to the topless boy and without saying a word, slowly lowered herself to her knees in front of him. She spoke quietly as her fingers began to unbutton the waistband of his shorts.

“Yes, I was.”

“Woah, Miss Sum…”

“Shhh,” Evie whispered as she lowered Mark’s shorts to his ankles.

The impressive bulge in his navy blue boxer shorts made her pussy clench. She ran her hand over the swollen length, caressing it through the thin cotton as she imagined how good it would feel to finally wrap her lips around it.

“Come on, when’s the last time a pretty girl gave you a blow job?”

“Actually, it’s been a while,” he replied in a tense voice.

“Really?” asked Evie, more than a little surprised. “I’d have thought a handsome guy like you would be drowning in sorority hotties.”

“I’m a bit shy,” mumbled Mark.

Evie gripped his boxers at the elastic waist and peeled them down to join his shorts on the floor.

“I can help you with that if you want.”

With one hand she gripped his hard, hot flesh which had sprung up once freed from its restraints in his underwear. He sighed as her fingers closed around his throbbing erection.

“That feels so good.”

“Just relax,” she whispered as she circled his smooth scrotum with her thumb and index finger, then tugged downwards gently until he gasped.

Evie couldn’t believe she was actually on her knees in front of Mark. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the flood of adrenaline hit her bloodstream as she thought about what was to come. The prim and proper Evelyn Summer was slowly dissolving into a horny, cock-hungry slut who was licking her lips at the thought of forbidden fellatio.

Mark’s cock was fucking gorgeous. It was long and thick with a large, circumcised head. Textbook dick. Even his balls were big and heavy in her hand just as she liked. That just meant he was desperately in need of some loving female attention, thought Evie.

“It has been a while, huh? Aww, you poor thing,” she cooed.

Mark was the first guy she’d touched sexually since her ex-boyfriend had run off with a little barmaid whore before Christmas. It wasn’t until that moment, grasping his hard dick in her hands, that she realised how much she’d missed the intimate human contact. She knew seducing Mark was wrong, but she no longer cared. Evie looked up at him and in a soft, husky voice, whispered quietly the words every young man his age wants to hear.

“I’m going to suck you dry.”

“Oh fuck!” hissed Mark as the swollen head of his cock slipped between Evie’s lips.

Her mouth felt so hot on his sensitive skin that it almost burned. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter tightly as her tongue seared a path of indescribable pleasure around his sensitive glans. Their gaze met as he looked down and she looked up. He watched with growing excitement as her head began to bob up and down, slowly taking more and more of his cock into her mouth each time.

Evie could tell from Mark’s expression that his sexual experience was limited. She loved the way he looked at her. His eyes were starting to get heavy with the haze of sexual pleasure, but the hunger was still there. She could already feel his balls tightening and knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. Dizzy with the excitement and lewdness of the act, she relaxed her jaw and slid his big cock all the way down her throat until her nose was buried in his trimmed patch of dark pubic hair. He smelled musky and masculine which was just how she’d fantasised.

When she pulled back and let Mark’s cock slip free of her mouth, it shot straight up and slapped against his abdomen, glistening with a liberal coating of her saliva. The vigour of youth, she mused and smiled to herself before angling it back down and swallowing it eagerly. Mark moaned and rolled his hips forward, unable to control how his body was reacting. His tight frame tingled head to toe as his muscles trembled, desperate to release the pent up tension. His balls started to ache as Evie continued to tug them downwards away from his crotch.

She bobbed her head up and down steadily, only breaking the metronomic rhythm in order to gaze up into his eyes as she twirled her tongue around his swollen head. The way she flicked it quickly over the sensitive tight skin on the underside of his dick made him clench his teeth. Working just the tip, Evie’s full lips sucked and flared back and forth over the prominent ridge of his cock. She could feel the fire burning between her thighs and the throbbing, desperate need for an orgasm starting to consume her. She released Mark’s gorgeous shaved balls and slipped her hand down inside the wet, lacy material of her underwear.

She split her hot, swollen peach with two fingers and plunged them deep inside her quivering core. Evie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so sexually aroused. Her nipples were so tight they ached as the light summer fabric of her dress brushed against them, and her clit throbbed as it rubbed against her palm.

Mark started to groan. He sounded like he was in pain but nothing could have been further from the truth. It reverberated from deep inside his heaving chest and made Evie shiver from head to toe. She could tell he was starting to feel the pressure build within.

“Oh, fuck, Miss Summer!”

“You gonna come for me?” asked Evie as she frantically strummed her fingers over her clit, each digit slick with her sweet, sticky cum.

Mark just nodded his head with his eyes clamped tightly shut.

“Come in my mouth, Mark. I want to swallow every drop.”

The dirty talk had its intended effect on the young man. Sacrificing her own climax, Evie quickly pulled her hand free of her panties and shuffled forward on her knees. She wrapped her arms around his slim waist and grasped his firm bare buttocks. With his entire throbbing length buried deep in her throat, she felt Mark’s tight arse clench hard in her hands as he began to come.

“Fuuuck,” he growled loudly.

Mark threw his head back and gritted his teeth as the most intense orgasm of his life rocked his body. Every muscle in his abdomen flexed and contorted with each pulsating jet of cum that surged from his core erupting from his iron cock. The sensation of Evie’s throat tightening as she held him buried inside her was mind-blowing. Slowly she pulled back and allowed Mark to fill her mouth with the rest of his seed. She felt his hard flesh throb with each tight clench until the poor thing shook all over. When he had finally shuddered his last and slumped back heavily against the kitchen counter, Evie slowly savoured then swallowed the sweetest taste of impropriety.

The muscles in Mark’s back and thighs twitched uncontrollably as he gasped for air. His white knuckles betrayed the effort it was taking to remain standing as he held onto the edge of the counter for support. Evie sat back on her haunches and allowed Mark’s saliva-slicked cock to slip from her mouth. She stood up slowly and licked from her top lip a stray drop of cum. Despite her heart pounding furiously in her chest at the outrageous act she had just committed on her knees, she couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the contentment on the young man’s face. She ran a single, manicured finger down Mark’s chest between his pecs, and then slipped it into her mouth to savour the salty taste of her efforts.

“You bad boy,” she whispered with a smile.

When Mark was once again able to think straight, he pulled his boxers and shorts up from the floor and re-dressed. Evie just watched him, still able to taste the remnants of his semen on her lips. They caught each other’s gaze and both smiled as Mark was buttoning up his shorts.

“I’m sorry that I have to dash off,” said Mark in an apologetic tone as he slung his dirty t-shirt over his shoulder. “I should really have left a while ago.”

“Do you really need to go already?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty late as it is,” he replied and started walking unsteadily towards the front door. Evie loved the fact that he’d come so hard his legs weren’t yet working properly.

“No, that’s all right. I understand. Thank you for helping me out today, Mark.”

“No problem,” he replied, and wondered what exactly it was that she was referring to.

“Perhaps you could come over again tomorrow?”

The flirtatious smile she flashed him as they reached the front door made Mark grin like an idiot. Evie nibbled on her bottom lip and leaned against the wall like a young girl asking a boy out on a first date. To seal the deal, Evie traced a fingertip between the swell of her glossy, flushed breasts and gave him a puppy-dog look. The young man swallowed hard as he stared intently at her supple flesh.

“I could do that,” Mark nodded. “Do you want me to spend the day in the garden?”

“Actually,” Evie leaned forward and pressed her breasts into his hot, bare chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I was thinking you could spend the day in me.”

Mark’s breath caught in his throat as her lips brushed against his and she planted on him a slow, passionate kiss. She ran her tongue over his tight lips until he loosened up enough to return the gesture as she wanted. Even his mouth tasted good.

“Don’t be so nervous,” she chided playfully when their lips parted.

“About tomorrow,” he started with a more confident smile. “I might have to check my calendar.”

“Oh really?” Evie replied with a knowing smirk. “You do that.”

Mark opened the front door and stumbled over his own feet as he backed across the front porch. Watching where he was going would have helped him considerably but his eyes preferred the view of Evie Summer leaning against the door frame. She giggled at his clumsiness as she watched him leave. As he reached the sidewalk, Mark turned back with a huge smile on his face that he was unable to contain any longer.

“I’ll be here bright and early!”

Parisian Nights

The echo of designer heels clicking across polished granite tiles pierced the silence of the building lobby. It was the confident stride of a young woman who to look at her, exuded contemporary class and an urban sophistication. She stepped into the elevator as the doors slid open and with a perfectly manicured finger, pushed the button for the twenty-fourth floor.

Everyone in the open-plan office greeted her as she sauntered past countless bays of fashionably clad employees. Amy in turn wished each of them a good morning, never once forgetting any of their names. The women wore skirts and heels, the men, shirts and brogues. Looking good wasn’t a requirement here, but it was expected of them.

“Good morning, Clarissa,” said Amy as she arrived at the imposing oak door of the corner office.

“Good morning, miss Faye,” chirped Clarissa. “You can go straight in, she’s expecting you.”

Emelia looked up from her laptop as the door to her office opened and Amy slipped inside. She raised her hand and motioned for her to come in and sit down as she continued her phone call.

“No, he didn’t get an invite. He’s a pompous, opinionated prick who doesn’t know the difference between couture and cardigan.”

Amy loved the sassy attitude of her boss, there was a reason why everyone in the fashion industry both loved, and at the same time feared her. She smiled to herself as she placed her sky blue Saint Laurent handbag on a chair next to a samples clothing rack. Working at Moda had its perks, the samples alone were worth more than a fifth avenue condo.

“Listen, I have to go, darling, someone important has just walked in,” replied Emelia in a dismissive tone into the handset. An amused Amy raised an eyebrow as she settled into the seat. Her boss sighed as she replaced the phone and slumped back into her plush office chair.

A smirk spread across Amy’s lips as the most impressive list of curse words she’d ever heard, flowed effortlessly from Emelia’s mouth. She was astonished at the truly magnificent feat of verbal filth. Experience had taught her that Em only swore when she was really angry, or particularly stressed out about something.

“I think you might have missed one,” Amy said quietly to try and lighten the mood. “Bad morning?”

“Oh, don’t get me started,” Emelia replied, as she held up a finger.

“Clarissa, sweetie,” she said into the intercom unit on her desk. “Could you bring us two espressos please? Thank you.” She turned back to her assistant editor and just smiled.

“You okay, Em?”

“I’m fine, sweetie. How are you?” she replied cheerfully. “How did your date go on Saturday?”

“Who told you about that?” Amy was shocked that her boss was privy to that particular piece of information, but she shouldn’t really be surprised. Every scrap of gossip made it’s way through this office at some point.

“Grapevine, darling. You know how it is.” Emelia picked up her Mont Blanc pen and started to nibble on the glossy black lid. “Well? Did you do the deed of darkness?”

“Jesus, Em,” Amy mumbled, embarrassed. “If you must know, we didn’t even make it back to my place. He also conveniently forgot to pick up his wallet when he left the house. I feel like a right idiot, I went to a lot of trouble to get a booking for that restaurant.”

“Urgh. Men are pigs!” Emelia spat out, before looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know it’s not been that long since you and Lincoln broke up.”

“It’s fine,” Amy sighed. “I’m giving up on men. I think I’ll just become a lesbian instead.”

Emelia was still laughing when the door to the office flew open and Clarissa tottered in carrying two small coffees on a silver tray.

“Here you go, miss Lake. I’ll just leave these here for you,” she said cheerfully as she placed the tray down on the mahogany side table and made a sharp exit.

“I’ll have you know that seventy-two percent of men try harder in the bedroom because of small romantic gestures, it’s a fact. Three hundred dollars that meal cost!”

“Amy, that was printed in our magazine, and we made it up.” Emelia took off her rimless glasses and placed them softly on the desk. “Listen, darling, I need to ask you a favour.”

Amy knew that meant trouble. It was probably the reason for the small talk, to try and soften her up. She grimaced in anticipation of the question as she gazed out of the high-rise windows across the corner of 8th avenue and west 57th street. The February rain streaked the tall panes of glass and blurred the view of the monochromatic concrete metropolis.

“I’m really not in the mood, Em.”

“Sweetie, it’s a dire emergency. I need you to head home and pack a bag.” As the words sank in, Amy’s eyes widened and she sat bolt up right in her seat.

“Don’t you dare!” she gasped. “This is the first vacation I’ve had in three years, it’s all booked. My mum is expecting me, it’s her birthday. The whole family will be there.”

“I know, I know. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. There’s been a major cock-up and Jenny is stuck in Rio, I need you to do the Tom Ford interview.”

“In Paris? Em, don’t do this to me!” she pleaded. “There must be someone else who can do it.”

“There’s not, I’ve tried everyone. Sally is in Fiji on her honeymoon to whatshisface, and Joanna is having her appendix out. Don’t make me beg, sweetie. I’ll get down on my knees.”

“You should be used to it,” Amy mumbled.

“I heard that,” her boss replied. “Come on, it’ll be two days, tops. It’s the feature piece for our Spring special edition, we need it.”

Amy huffed dejectedly, before caving into the comically large grin plastered across Emelia’s face. “All right, but I’m flying first class.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever you want, darling.”

“And I’m staying in a posh hotel.”

“I don’t care if you stay in the Palace of Versailles as long as you get the interview done.”

“Fine,” Amy replied as she stood and walked over to collect her handbag from the chair, “but you owe me one.”

Emelia made a ‘mwah’ kissing sound from behind her, “Thank you, sweetie! I’ll email you all the details now.”

Amy stepped out of the office, clicked the door closed behind her and slumped back against it, “My mum’s going to kill me.”


The hypnotic drone of the engines prevented Amy from sleeping. Even in the luxurious first class of the Boeing 767, the dull rumble was enough to keep her awake. All of the ambient lighting had been dimmed to allow the passengers to sleep, so Amy flicked on the overhead reading light and reached into her bag for her book. The flight had been delayed an hour due to bad weather, and that had given her some time to peruse the shops at JFK departures lounge. She’d picked up a travel guide to Paris in Borders and was now flicking through the introduction.

“Paris has many nicknames,” she read quietly to herself, “such as ‘The City of Love’, but its most famous is ‘La Ville-Lumière’ meaning ‘The City of Light’.”

Amy had never been to Paris before, so although she felt terrible about having to let her mother down, it was still an exciting adventure. As she skimmed through a section on the best shopping districts in the city, she became distracted by a young honeymoon couple making out on the other side of the isle. The cabin was dimly lit and very quiet, she wondered if anyone else was watching the little show that these two were putting on. Just as they started to get a little too amorous for discretion, they stood up, straightened their clothing, and sheepishly made their way to the bathroom at the front of the galley. Amy puffed her cheeks and blew out a frustrated sigh as she returned to her book. Sometimes it felt like everyone was having sex but her.

The plane landed at Charles de Gaulle airport on time, and she made her way through customs, then luggage collection, and finally out onto the street. Outside the air was biting cold, sharp even. The sky overcast, but flawless. It took her barely a minute to hail a taxi down, and as she settled into the warm back seat of the Mercedes C-Class, the driver loaded her suitcase into the trunk.

“Hotel Le Meurice, s’il vous plait,” she said, as he climbed back into the car. She’d been practicing that line for the last twenty minutes and was pleased with herself for totally nailing it.

“Oui, madame,” replied the driver as they pulled away from the curb.


The quiet tap of keys on a laptop keyboard was the only sound that could be heard, everything else was silent and peaceful. Amy was sat in her hotel room at a large mahogany writing desk, typing up the last section of the article for the magazine. The interview had gone much better than she had expected. Tom had been very receptive to her questions and the material for the feature piece was outstanding. Amy smiled as she glided her finger across the trackpad to the ‘Send’ button and clicked it with relish. She knew Emelia would be pleased, hell, she’d be over the moon with it.

As Amy absentmindedly nibbled on the lid of her pen, she turned in her chair and glanced around the room. To say it was luxurious would be an understatement, this place could put The Plaza to shame. At nearly seven-hundred euros per night, Amy knew she’d pushed it a little, but you have to treat yourself every once in a while. Especially when someone else is paying.

The room looked like the fantasy of an interior decorator with an unlimited budget. Every colour and material used exuded the charm of classic French Louis XVI style. Antique furniture was draped luxuriously with expensive, elegant fabrics. It captured the essence of what she had always perceived to be Parisian luxury at its finest. Even the antique brass wall lanterns were so ornate and elaborate, that she wished she could fit one of them into her suitcase for the flight back. Time just seemed to stop amid the tranquil atmosphere and elegantly muted palette winter colours. Unfortunately, Amy’s daydream of eighteenth century opulence was interrupted by the electronic chirping of her mobile phone sat on the coffee table.


“Madam Faye?” A female voice on the other end of the line asked.

“Yes,” Amy replied.

“This is Nicole, your customer liaison from American Airlines. I’m just ringing to inform you of the cancellation of your flight.”

“Cancellation? What do you mean ‘cancellation’?” This didn’t sound good.

“All flights have been cancelled, madam. The snow is causing disruption on the runways,” she explained. “If you check our website, regular updates will be posted on there.” Whilst the woman was ploughing through a script she would have to repeat hundreds of times today, Amy strolled over to the large window and took her first look outside for several hours. A flurry of big, soft snowflakes were blowing around lazily in the icy cold afternoon air.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”


“Oh. Sorry, yes that’s fine. I’ll keep an eye on the website,” replied Amy before hanging up quickly and sitting back down at her laptop. Flicking through the latest updates on the site as Nicole had suggested, it appeared mother nature had decided to push a cold-core low pressure system over western Europe. Four inches of snow had dropped on Charles de Gaulle airport in the last few of hours.

“Well that’s just effing brilliant,” she sighed, and slumped back into the plush padded chair.


Dressed in a clingy little black number, a must-have in any woman’s travel case, Amy strolled slowly through the classy marble and tiled mosaic atrium area of the hotel’s inner courtyard. She took in every detail of the opulent building as she made her way across the terrace. The lavish decorations, the eastern mosaics, even the antique scroll-work moldings; the place was more akin to a palace than a hotel.

Large, extraordinarily complex crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling of the bar in a classic touch of French refinement. Rich, crimson brocade drapes with golden tassels framed the tall, Parisian windows. Deep, chestnut coloured leather armchairs sat in front of marble-topped mahogany tables, each sporting a small lamp which created a soft, warm glow around the room. The candles which burned amid the candied dates and figs placed for the guests to indulge themselves, infused the air with a wealthy extravagance she had never before experienced. As Amy sauntered to the bar, she admired the beautifully frescoed walls, framed between dark-wood panels and bevelled glass Fleur-de-lis wall sconces. The panorama of scenes from ages past transformed the bar into an art gallery.

She placed her clutch bag on the polished bar-top and settled into a comfy stool. Alone in a bar on Valentine’s Day, it hadn’t even occurred to her that it was the fourteenth until she’d checked her Facebook page earlier. ‘That pretty much sums it up,’ she thought to herself as the impeccably dressed and attentive barman stepped up.

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle,” he greeted her with a slight nod of his head.

“Bonsoir. Je voudrais…”

“I speak English, mademoiselle,” he replied quickly but quietly. Clearly this was to save her the embarrassment of a fumbled translation.

“Oh, great,” Amy said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Can I get a Manhattan with an orange twist please?”


As she watched the older gentleman begin to pour the whiskey, sweet vermouth and Angostura bitters into a cocktail shaker, her phone began to ring in her bag. In the quiet solitude of the spacious room, it sounded much too loud and discourteous. Amy removed it as quickly as she could and pressed it to her ear with an apologetic glance at the bartender.

“You know I’m snowed in, right?” she whispered loudly as she answered Emelia’s call.

“I just heard, darling. I am sorry. Being stuck in Paris, how awful.”

“I’m not laughing, Em. My mum is going to freak out.”

“What can I say, darling? Best to make the most of it. I’m ringing about the article.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied, “I emailed it to you earlier.”

“I know, I’ve read it. It’s absolutely fabulous, sweetie!” she replied. “That’s exactly why I made you assistant editor, you know. You have an eye for this thing. You are a gem.”

“You just remember that,” Amy whispered as the bartender stopped rattling the polished silver cocktail shaker and poured her drink.

“I will, darling. So, what are you up to?”

“Just sat in the bar, having a cocktail,” she replied.

“No, no, no. Amy, you are in Gay Paree!” shouted Emelia enthusiastically over the phone. Amy imagined her sat at her desk, waving her arms around dramatically. “I know it’s covered in snow, but isn’t there something you can do?”

That is when she saw his reflection in the bevelled mirror at the back of the bar. In he walked, ruffling the collar of his coat and disturbing the gentle dusting of white snowflakes from his charcoal jacket. Her eyes were drawn to the tall, dark stranger that had just strolled in from the hotel lobby. Muscular and handsome, he was impeccably dressed in an expensive, charcoal woollen suit jacket. With a quick glance around the room, he looked over to where she was sat and began to walk towards the bar.

“Em, I’ve got to go. Speak later,” Amy hurriedly replied before hanging up and stuffing the phone back into the bag.

“Un verre de Pinot noir, s’il vous plaît,” the stranger said to the bartender. Amy didn’t move a muscle, she just twirled the base of her chilled cocktail glass slowly and kept her eyes aimed at the myriad of exotic spirits lining the back of the bar. He turned to Amy and smiled a hello, “Bonsoir, mademoiselle.”

“Bonsoir,” she replied, turning and smiling sweetly as he pulled out the stool and sat next to her. Just as he settled into the leather seat, Amy caught him gazing just a little too long at the exposed flesh of her thigh. His eyes seemed to linger there before raking slowly over the rest of her body, as if he was sizing her up. The hem of her short dress had ridden up as she’d sat down. With a subtle cough and a casual wiggle of her bottom, she shimmied the fabric back down.

“C’est calme ici ce soir.”

Amy just smiled as he lent one elbow on the bar. She had no idea what he had just said to her, but she didn’t really care. That accent, she fucking adored that accent. It rolled off his tongue like a droplet of some sweet nectar. It felt like wrapping your naked body in the finest Italian silk, so smooth and sensual.

“Erm, oui?” she replied, but thought better of trying to fake her comprehension. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak much French.”

“Ah, you are American?” Amy nodded an affirmative. “I said that it is quiet in here tonight.”

Amy hadn’t really noticed, but as she twisted in her seat and glanced around the bar, they were in fact the only two people there.

“My name is Michael,” he continued, offering his hand.

“Amy,” she replied, as her small hand became buried in his warm, soft palm, “Nice to meet you.”

His thumb stroked softly over the back of her hand as he smiled. Amy smiled back and gave away no reaction to his obvious flirting. Her exterior was calm and collected with no indication that on the inside, she was as flustered as a schoolgirl who’d just found herself in the same room as her favourite boy band. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. They weren’t boyish good looks, but rather a rugged, masculine allure that wound around the taut strands of lust within her chest and squeezed. A hot flutter ran through her pricked skin as he smiled. A cocktail of chemicals surged through her body causing effects she was powerless to prevent. The delicate flush of her cheeks, her rapid heartbeat, a sudden unquenchable thirst. He released her hand and took a sip from the glass of red wine that had been placed in front of him.

“Where are you from, Amy?” Taken aback a little by his forwardness, it took her a moment to compose herself and reply.

“New York. I’m an assistant editor for a fashion magazine called Moda.”

“Ah, so you must be in town for the Spring Fashion Show then.”

“That’s right,” she replied, impressed with his deductive skills, “How did you know?”

“I am also, I’m a fashion photographer. I live in Marseille, but I am stuck here until the snow clears. Fortunately there is no rush.”

Discovering they work in the same industry opened up all sorts of doors, Amy found that they suddenly had much to talk about. Just as they were getting engrossed in work-talk, Michael stood up and offered her his hand.

“Would you like to get a table?” he asked. “Join me for something to eat?”

They ordered the most expensive dishes they could find on the Michelin starred menu, and talked for hours until the sun set. Dusk cast a glorious, warm golden glow in the patio atrium that adjoined the bar. Michael smiled when she talked, he laughed at her jokes, she found him utterly charming in every way. Amy even confided in him about Lincoln and their recent parting. She found it sweet that he so animatedly rebuked the man for ever straying from, “such a beautiful creature”.

Her eyes were transfixed on his chiselled jaw line and rough stubble. She watch longingly as he took a sip from a glass of water, letting a half-melted ice cube roll around his tongue until it melted. That’s how she felt when he looked at her, as if the heat of his gaze was slowly melting the clothes from her body. Amy knew he had spent the last couple of hours mentally undressing her. As the conversation moved towards modelling and fashion photography, his hand slid slowly across the crisp white table cloth towards hers.

“If you ever wish to try it, I think you would make a wonderful model.”

In the time it took his index finger to trace sensuously along the length of her thumb, her cheeks had flushed a bright cerise. Michael stood up and moved over to the chair next to hers. As he sat himself down, his heady cologne drifted across to her. It was sweet yet musky, a scent which had been warmed by his body. It was how a man should smell. Amy salivated at the naughty thoughts tumbling out of control through her mind.

He took her hand in his and she looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching them. Amy just stared as he gently kissed the crevice between her thumb and index finger slowly.

“You are a beautiful woman, Amy,” he whispered so as not to be overheard.

She gulped when his mouth travelled to her wrist, pressing his warm lips against her pounding pulse.

“I was thinking of taking a walk. Would you care to join me?”

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, swallowing as her mouth had gone dry. “Can I meet you in reception in ten minutes?”

“I’ll see you in ten,” he replied with a smile, as he released her wrist.

Amy rode the elevator back up to her floor, impatiently tapping a Christian Louboutin on the carpeted floor. As she entered her room, she slammed the door shut and slumped back against it heavily.

“Jesus,” she whispered to herself after a couple of deep breaths, “he fancies the pants off me.”

In a whirlwind of hurried motion, she quickly retrieved her black winter coat from the wardrobe, then looped and tied the belt around her waist. The clutch bag was discarded on the bed, and her mobile phone stuffed into her pocket. She wrapped a large, fluffy, gold-coloured scarf snuggly around her neck and adjusted her hair in the large, antique-framed mirror on the wall.

“With a little luck,” she said quietly to her reflection before making her way back downstairs.

Amy tugged at the clingy black dress under her coat nervously, and took a deep breath for courage as the elevator doors opened. Her stomach lurched as she saw him stood there, waiting for her. He could so easily swap his life behind a lens, to one in front of it. She tottered across the palatial, columned marble lobby towards him, her high heels clacking across the polished checkered floor.

“Ready?” he asked, as she stood in front of him.

“Oui,” she replied.

“Have you ever been to Paris before?” Michael asked as they stepped into the chill of the night air. It was so cold that it bit into Amy’s skin painfully. It was like a thousand tiny little pin pricks. She glanced up into the grey clouds and royal blue of evening twilight. The heavy snow had stopped and was now but a light dusting on the breeze.

“No, never.”

“In that case, you are in for quite a treat.” He offered his arm which she linked, smiling. “Shall we?”

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“It’s a surprise.”


The Champs-Élysées was an ocean of light, shimmering in the dark of night like something from a fairytale. The street was lined with endless cafes, luxurious boutique shops and antique brass lanterns which bathed everything in a soft glow. They strolled slowly together under the clipped horse-chestnut trees. Amy was in awe of the splendour surrounding her, it was truly a sight to behold.

In the far distance up ahead was the hulking form of the Arc de Triomphe, standing resolute under a sky clouded by a blanket of snow baring white and grey. They stopped for a moment to listen to some street singers who were out. Amy didn’t understand the words, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Each syllable echoed out into the cold night, crisp and clear, as their breath drifted up into the night sky before being snatched away by a gentle breeze. Snow flakes fell softly, lit by the warm glimmer from the old Parisian street lights.

Amy blushed a little as Michael took her hand and interlaced their fingers, his warm palm warming her own. They strolled on together, hand in hand, perusing the brightly lit boutique shops up and down one of the world’s most famous streets. They stayed open late for last minute shoppers and late night romance. The golden light spilling out from so many beautiful window displays and prestigious shop-fronts created the effect of an illuminated sidewalk, as unhurried people strode past, their shadows following. Amy was hypnotised by the beauty of ‘the city of light’.

“Did you know that Champs-Élysées is French for Elysian fields?” Michael asked her. “It is the Greek conception of the afterlife. A sort of paradise.” Amy smiled, enjoying Michael’s vision of their surroundings.

“No, I didn’t know that,” she replied. “Not just a handsome face, hey?”

“You think I am handsome?”

Amy blushed and guided them across to a shop front in order to avoid having to provide an answer the question. They stopped in front of a chocolatier, the golden caramel display behind the glass, a succulently sweet tease. As Michael stood behind her, she felt him rest his big hands on her shoulders. It seemed like it took an age, but she eventually plucked up the courage to ask him.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Chocolate,” he replied.

Amy giggled and leaned back against his body, as he gave her shoulders a playful squeeze.

“Come on, no kidding. What are you really thinking about?” He paused before replying as she watched his reflection in the glass shop-front.

“You.” A shiver of excitement ran down her spine as his fingers absently began to play with the collar on her coat.

“What about me?” she whispered, her throat now dry and scratchy.

“Your body. Your skin. How you would taste,” he replied, leaning in a little closer so he could lower his voice even further. “What it would be like to devour you slowly. Like taking my time to enjoy a ripe, juicy peach.” As the last word passed his lips, Amy let out a little whimper. Despite the cold night air, she could already feel a prickling heat spreading through her body. His fingertips traced along the edge of her scarf and tickled the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” There was a pause before she heard him whisper softly in her ear.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation, he knew what he wanted.

Amy tilted her head to gaze up into his eyes. He turned her body to face him as she felt her cheeks redden in an embarrassing flush. Michael smiled disarmingly as he stepped close, placing one hand on her hip. Amy felt an involuntary flutter and rebuked herself for the girlish indulgence. Explicit scenarios flooded into her mind like a tidal surge of lustful promise. Each one a sweeter confection than those behind the glass, a little treat to tantalise her senses.

Every feeling felt new and ungoverned, adolescent in their pure, unadulterated power. As she gazed into his eyes, her body ached for him. Desire for his affection had been smouldering since he’d first shown an interest, and now it seemed when he looked into her eyes, he knew her more completely than she knew herself.

“Vous êtes belle,” he whispered, as he bent down and touched his lips to hers. The words echoed inside of her, ‘you are beautiful’. They kissed passionately as Amy lost herself in the moment, unsure of what it meant yet wishing it to last forever. Her tongue slid into his mouth on a sigh, so deliciously warm and sensual. When they eventually parted, Amy couldn’t bring herself to release Michael’s coat lapels for fear of falling from her unsteady legs. She felt wild and feral, guilty as if their kiss had been a criminal act. His smile tempered her fire and made her smile as well.

“Oh là là,” Amy whispered before giggling to herself. The cold was really starting to bite a little too hard for comfort now. She released his jacket and began to rub her numb hands together.

“Are you cold?” Michael asked, to which Amy nodded. “Let’s head back.”


When the polished brass doors opened, they both stepped into the elegantly decorated elevator. Amy was nervous, they hadn’t discussed taking things further, things just seemed to be happening now of their own accord. As Michael pressed the button for the third floor and the doors slowly closed, the background noise from the hotel lobby died and they were left in silence.

The look on his face turned her insides to mush. He meant what he had said before, the barely restrained lust was now plain to see. Without any hesitation of reaction or complaint, he took one step towards her and pinned Amy’s body roughly against the wall, his hands gripping her wrists. A startled gasp was all Amy managed to eek out before melting into his embrace, as his lips pressed passionately to hers. His hands roamed her body as her chest heaved. She felt light-headed as though all the oxygen was being sucked out of the enclosed space. As he grabbed her thigh firmly and hoisted upwards, the hem of her skirt slipped higher and she wrapped her leg around him.

Time seemed to stop as the heated embrace consumed them both. He was powerful, and full of fire. He manipulated her body as if it were his own. They way he touched her made her pussy ache, grasping at her flesh as though he might die otherwise. Amy’s mind was a blur of motions and emotions as a bell chimed and the doors slid open. They seemed to effortlessly drift across the hallway in each others arms to his hotel door, before falling through it into the shadows.

Michael purposely neglected the polished brass light switch on the wall next to the door, the only ambient light in the room flooding in from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street. Before her eyes could adjust to the gloom, the soft touch of his hands on her hips caused her to shudder. She felt the warmth of his breath a moment before his lips once again pressed to hers. The darkness added another dimension to what was already barrelling out of control. She swallowed nervously and placed her shaking index finger on his lips.

“Give me two minutes?” He nodded, smiling as she tiptoed through the darkness to the bedroom. Amy slipped off her coat and dropped it onto the floor before entering the en-suite bathroom.

“You don’t even know this guy, Amy,” She whispered to herself as the latch clicked shut. She wrung her hands nervously as she paced up and down on the exquisite Italian marble floor, taking deep breaths to try and calm her pounding heart. Even when she was back in college, Amy had never been one to just jump into bed with a guy at the drop of a hat, but something about Michael was just irresistible. She knew before she placed her hand back on the polished chrome door handle how this was going to play out. When she had composed herself, she opened the door slowly and stepped out into his bedroom.

Michael had removed his jacket and unbuttoned his crisp, white shirt before discarding it on the floor. All she could see now was the silhouette of his muscular torso, haloed by the warm, amber glow flowing in through the frost-tinted windows from the streetlights below. Amy just caught the outline of his smile as he turned to her, before his face was lost to shadow.

They ambled towards each other slowly, meeting in the middle of the room. Amy could practically feel the heat radiating from his body as she tentatively lifted her hands to his torso. She traced her fingertips slowly over his sculptured chest, feeling the brush of the soft hairs on his hard pecs. A gasp escaped her lips as she caressed over a rough, jagged scar that ran diagonally across his stomach. Amy instinctively flinched, but he grasped her wrists in his strong hands and held them firm. She felt scared yet strangely at ease in his powerful grip. Michael’s eyes burned with an intangible fire which tightened her stomach, and did little to ease her rapidly fluttering pulse.

“A motorcycle accident,” he said quietly, the French-dappled syllables rolling off his tongue in the most sensual manner.

“May I?” Amy asked, captivated by the glimmering caress of warm amber beams flowing across his upper body. As he nodded, he released his tight grip as her wrists slipped from his fingers. She ran her trembling fingertips down over his chiselled stomach and softly over the scarred flesh, tracing the outline across his defined abs. The slow rise and fall of his bare chest was metronomic in their shadowed seclusion; she felt each minute movement of his muscles under his skin.

Michael bent his head and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her cheek. The heat of her flushed, blushing skin against his lips was the only tell of her tumescent glow concealed by the darkness. Every minute in his arms seemed to last a lifetime, a moment she could lose herself in, but in reality, was but his stubble-roughened face touching hers for one delicious second.

“Vous avez le goût si doux,” he whispered, before tracing his tongue over her teeth. His lips were hot and soft, the moist press of urgent flesh making her heart pound as she ran her fingers through his hair and grasped it in desperate, clenched fists. Her body responded to his affections like the floodgates of passion had been opened and could not be closed.

“Oh, God. I wish I knew what you just said,” she moaned into his mouth as she pulled back, breathless and dizzy.

“I was wondering how anyone could taste so sweet.” His words dripped like honey and smothered her consciousness with a warm longing. She ached to taste him once more, to stroke her tongue over his, to consume him.

They lay on the bed kissing, lips and tongues exchanging affection in the dark. Michael reached down and ran his warm hand slowly up the length of her smooth, slender leg. Every inch of calf he touched brought goosebumps to her quivering flesh. With a relaxed calmness, his fingertips crept up, over the bottom of the dress and slowly over her thigh. As Amy watched him, one arm resting languorously above her head on the soft pillow, the dark-haired stranger traced his fingers ever higher over her fabric wrapped body. Deft fingers followed the natural contours of her body, each swell and valley of flesh receiving his gentle touch.

His fingertips slipped under the thin strap at her right shoulder and with a desperate slowness, peeled the soft satin to one side exposing her heaving bosom. The puckered nipple of her right breast, that had been straining against delicate black fabric, was now freed and aching for his touch.

A soft moan escaped her parted lips as he descended and kissed her feminine swells. Tracing the edge of her dress, Michael covered every inch of her exposed flesh in loving affection. Her skin was rich, like double cream, illuminated only by the penetrating glow through the antique windows. The only sound in the room was the moist contact of his lips on her bosom, and the clatter of each heel and she slipped off her shoes and let them drop to the hardwood floor.

She felt a burning warmth as he took her rigid nipple into his mouth. Every stroke of his tongue, each circle around the firm little nub caused her to whimper softly. Amy loved having her nipples played with, they were very sensitive, often becoming tight just from the friction of whatever top she happened to be wearing. As if knowing the exact boundary between pain and pleasure, Michael bit down firmly into her tingling, crinkled flesh. Amy’s skin sizzled with delicious agony as she arched her back, her fingers travelling up the back of his neck and stroking through his soft, dark hair.

He ran his hand up her inner thigh and under her dress. Despite the sexual tension which was creeping through her body, twisting every muscle tight and raking across every single nerve ending, she found herself relaxing into his arms. She felt safe and for the first time in a long while, desired. As Michael’s hand inched ever closer to her now damp panties, she pressed her head back into the soft, fresh pillows and smiled. She trembled under his touch, moaning quietly as his warm hand cupped her aching sex through the scrap of damp lace which covered it.

“Oh, yes.”

He grazed his fingertips over her panties and against her clit, keeping the pressure constant and firm. He rolled her swollen nub through the lace fabric until she found herself rolling her hips to grind against him. She was practically panting with need by the time he removed his hand and scooped her up in his arms to a sitting position. Struggling to keep her hands from shaking, Amy managed to quickly unzip the dress. With his assistance it was slipped off silently in the darkness and tossed across the room into a crumpled pool of fabric, no longer required.

A fractured beam of light lay over her abdomen as she lay back into the fluffy pillows. The liquid rays seemed to almost flow over her, accentuating her feminine contours, highlighting her succulent swells and masking the forbidden valleys. Michael took his time searing his hot tongue along the soft curves of her torso. With every inch he travelled lower down her body, the more her chest heaved with anticipation.

Amy gasped as Michael worked his fingers inside her panties and gripped the front of them firmly. He pulled the lace tight as it rode into the sensitive crevices either side of her clitoral hood. She bit into her bottom lip as it forced the swollen, puffy flesh of her labia to bulge around the fabric. It felt like floating on a midnight ocean, as waves of pleasure flowed through her body. His tongue seared her skin, burning deliciously as he stroked it languorously along the smooth, arousal-slicked flesh.

Her whimpered exhalations of a most exquisite torture escaped into the dark room. He teased her mercilessly, licking her sensitive flesh until she was writhing for release. He hooked a finger around the sodden lace before pulling it to one side and exposing her completely. Amy suddenly felt self-conscious, yet even more aroused now that the last barrier between her aching pussy and his mouth was gone.

With a deliberate slowness, he trailed a single finger around her throbbing clit before dipping it into her sopping pussy. Amy clenched around him and bucked her hips, desperate for more. As quickly as he had entered her though, he slipped it free, trailing a tiny strand of sweet, warm arousal to his mouth where he licked his finger clean.

Michael shuffled up onto his knees and lifted her legs. His fingers hooked the waistband of her panties at either hip and he slowly peeled the delicate scrap of expensive lace off. It glossed over her slender legs before he discarded it on the floor next to her dress. With her legs held straight up towards the ceiling, Amy giggled softly as she wiggled her toes, enjoying the playful glimmer of the ‘Parisian Blush’ pink speckled nail polish.

Her pussy was like a swollen peach, ripe, sweet, and aching desperately now for his touch. Amy couldn’t remember ever being so sexually aroused before. This was more intense than even her most sordid of hot fantasies. She felt his hands slide under her firm bottom, as he lay down on the bed between her thighs. He gripped the warm flesh of her buttocks and lifted her effortlessly from the bed. Amy felt utterly exposed as her mound rose up, and her legs splayed either side of his muscular shoulders. All she could see was her neat little landing strip of dark pubic hair, and his hungry, dark eyes. There was no way to escape his mouth. She was offered up to him for his private consumption.

Having her whole sex engulfed by his scorching mouth was almost more than she could bear. She wove her fingers through his soft, dark hair and gripped it tightly, her hips bucking and rolling against his face. The incessant lashing of his hot tongue drove her insane with pleasure, as he devoured her hungrily. Each time his tongue parted her swollen lips and plunged into her depths, she involuntarily squeezed as her pouting hole wrapped tightly around his intrusion. Even the rough scratch of his stubble against the soft skin of her inner thighs drove her wild.

A few men had gone down on Amy during her life, but this was something else; Michael was relishing the act like his life depended on it. Everything was perfect, the way he sucked her lips into his mouth and tugged on them, the way he flicked his tongue so fast it vibrated across the very tip of her exposed clit. Amy felt as if she was being devoured alive by this man, and she absolutely loved it.

“Oh, sweet Mary mother of fuck, that’s good!”

Her orgasm was close, like the rumbling of distant thunder of the horizon. Before she had the opportunity to savour the sweet taste of bliss, Michael slowed and stopped his savage mauling of her delicate folds. With the grace of a big cat stalking its prey, he crawled up over her body slowly from between her legs. As soon as she could reach, Amy got to work on his belt buckle. Her eager fingers quickly slipped it free and unbuttoned his trousers.

A wicked grin flashed in the dark as he leaned in for a kiss. Amy could taste herself on his lips, a sweet gloss that she found exceptionally arousing. Through the lustful haze of desperate need, she sought to capture each and every feature of his face in the gloom of the shadows. This stranger who had seduced her, this man who now possessed her.

His tongue teased her own, flicking and stroking in a practiced dance of sexual exchange. With a need she never knew existed, Amy couldn’t wait a second longer to get her hands on his cock. She lifted her legs and hooked her big toes into either side of his waistband. Michael lifted his hips from her body as she wriggled his trousers and boxer shorts over his tight arse and down his thighs. He knelt up on the bed to kick off his ankles the last remaining scraps of fabric on his body. Amy crawled onto her knees in front of him.

“Stand up,” she whispered.

Without any hesitation, Michael stood on the bed in front of her. He was like her own personal Adonis. Amy’s eyes widened when she saw the size of his cock. He was impressively big and hard as steel, his rigid length standing straight out towards her. With her left hand she wrapped her fingers around his hot, tight flesh and lifted it to his stomach. She licked along the underside of his length, savouring the moment when she heard him sigh his appreciation. Each stroke of her tongue caused his balls to twitch inside his shaved sack.

A tightness in her stomach only emphasised her condition as she saw a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip. Amy licked her lips in anticipation of tasting him. She took him in her hand and with an unknown hunger, began to circle his firm head with her tongue. Every crease and ridge of his stiff cock felt the sultry, wet pressure of Amy’s affection. A pleasure only exceeded by the mind-blowing thrill of her lips slipping slowly down his shaft, and engulfing him in her deliciously hot mouth.

Amy held him in her mouth as she snaked her slender arms around his waist and wrapped them lazily above his buttocks. Casually worshipping his cock with her mouth, she began to suck as Michael’s hips involuntarily rocked back and forth. His delicious manhood glistened in the darkness with the slippery shimmer of her saliva. Each time she leant forward to take a little more of him into her mouth, Amy took in the musky scent of masculinity. It was intoxicating and utterly arousing at the same time.

The rhythmic friction of her mouth and attentive tongue soon had her French provocateur gripping her hair in his fists. Amy had never really been one for rough sex, but at that moment, she couldn’t think of anything more thrilling than having her face fucked. To passively resigning her body to his total, and complete sexual gratification.

His strong hand held the back of her head as his cock inched further and further into her mouth with each thrust. Michael threw his head back and grunted as she gripped tightly to his hips. With her tongue stroking along the underside of his thick shaft with each rock forward, she glanced upward over his torso and marvelled at the sight. His muscular abs rippled under his scared skin, as the warm light flooding through the windows caressed him in high contrast. She had to touch him, just to make sure he was real. She felt the course hair under her fingertips and traced it down, under his navel to the trimmed patch of dark pubic hair.

Each time she swallowed his erection, her nose nestled into that rough, curly thatch. Each time he pulled back, she gasped for breath before once again feeling overwhelmed as his cock pressed against the back of her throat. When Amy couldn’t stand to wait any longer for him, she gripped his throbbing shaft and eased him from her mouth.

“Fuck me, Michael!”

Without a single word spoken, Michael pushed her onto her back and knelt down between her legs. Amy watched him anxiously as he teased the head of his cock between her slick folds. With a single thrust, he sank his full length into her hot, aching depths. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt before, it was a searing fullness and sense of completion. Despite how wet Amy was, taking a cock of his size was still a pleasure on the knife’s-edge of pain. He pulled back almost to the tip before thrusting into her once more. A rhythm started to build as perspiration specked their flushed skin. The heat of his powerful body rolling on top of her was so intense.

It wasn’t long before she adjusted to his length and girth, and as if he knew she was ready, he began to pummel her with vicious strokes. Amy had never been this sexually stimulated before. She never knew anything could be this vivid and utterly fulfilling. Every single muscle in her body contracted and relaxed in time with his punishment. Every single nerve ending sizzled with electric pleasure.

Amy watched breathlessly as Michael lifted himself on his muscular arms, and knelt before her like a moisture-dappled statue. He smiled and ran his fingers through his mop of dark hair before saying quietly, “Turn over.”

He didn’t have to ask twice, whatever he wanted was his. Her muscles already ached but she rolled onto her stomach and rose up onto her knees. Michaels hands caressed the soft skin of her bottom as she arched her back and rested on her elbows. Without him inside of her, she felt empty, incomplete. A feeling quickly dispelled as he unceremoniously speared his way back into her pouting pussy.

Amy’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the sheets so tight her fingers went numb. She wanted this to last forever, yet at the same time, to end this very second in an explosion of sexual release. The heat of his hands as they gripped her hips was scalding. As she bit into the fresh linen to keep from bruising her bottom lip, Amy crossed her ankles between his legs and clenched tight around his thick, engorged length. He grunted as he withdrew after each agonisingly delicious thrust into her depths. His moans punctuated his pleasure of her slow massage, the languorous milking of his cock by her most intimate of intimates.

She squeezed tighter as he thrust harder, both of them trembling with the strain of keeping up the pace. Amy was now whimpering unintelligibly as they pleasured each other to the brink of orgasmic oblivion. Before she could grasp and embrace her ever approaching climax, Michael pulled out, enclosed her waist with his arms and flipped her roughly onto her back. All she could do to hold him close was wrap her legs around his waist as he began to fuck her into submission. Her hips lifted from the bed with each retraction, and were savagely slammed back into the mattress with each relentless thrust.

He gripped her wrists firmly and pinned her arms above her head, burying them in the soft pillows. The kiss was unbridled, a passionate mess of gorgeous chaos. He nipped at her lips and bit into her throat as he held her in place. Amy’s body was no longer her own. She bucked and moaned wildly with lust as he punished her body, and she in turn retaliated with hers, consuming as much of him as she could. Her thighs clasped his hips as her heels tried to pull his body even closer.

Her ears were filled with the roaring of the blood, coursing at breakneck speed through her veins. With each second that passed she lost a little more of herself. Edging closer and closer to that moment when the inevitable, would become the unstoppable. Like the beating of a butterfly’s wings which unleashes a hurricane that God himself would be powerless to stop. Her body tensed as euphoria saturated her senses. Her body was now shaking with madness and ecstasy, tiptoeing along the ragged edge of consciousness.

With a final flurry of powerful thrusts signalling the end of the line, Amy grabbed the back of Michael’s head and roughly mashed their mouths together. As she began to come, she bit into his lip, drawing a speck of blood as her fingers dug in and raked across his muscled back. Her escape into blissful sexual oblivion began as his thick, bulging cock pulsed deep within her body. There was no line now between pleasure and pain, just the feeling. She gripped him like a fist of hot liquid velvet, clenching hard each time he withdrew from her, milking every last drop of cum from his quivering body.

With a final ragged sigh of exertion, Michael’s sweat-covered torso collapsed heavily onto her delicate frame. Being pinned to the bed by a dead-weight of naked muscled perfection was the stuff she had dreamed of. Dreams, however, do not require the need to breathe. With the combined total sum of her remaining energy, she managed to roll him off and onto his back. He was smiling and looking directly into her hazy eyes. With a slow flick of his tongue, he licked away the trickle of blood from the split she had bitten into his bottom lip. Amy was utterly spent, not an ounce of strength remained in her broken body. The last thing she remembered before drifting off to a peaceful sleep, was seeing that gorgeous smile upon his face.


The shimmering rays of morning sunlight warmed Amy’s skin, as they lovingly embraced her body in the welcome of a new day. As they travelled slowly across the serene scene of carnal abandon and caressed her cheek, her eyes fluttered open. It took a moment or two for her to realise where she was, what she was doing there, and whose leg was resting against her own.

Every muscle of Amy’s body ached as she crawled towards the headboard and propped herself up against the stack of soft pillows. The warm, white sheet hung lazily below her breasts as she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Her movement had woken Michael. He stirred from his slumber as he rolled over and lay his arm gently across her waist. Amy smiled as he rested his head on her right arm and softly kissed her bare skin.

“Bonjour, belle fille,” he said sleepily.

“Belle means beautiful, right?”

As if on cue, the ear-shattering screech of her mobile phone broke the silence of the room as it began to ring in her coat pocket. Amy scrambled desperately to retrieve her coat from the floor and answer the call before it ruined the moment.

“Hello?” she whispered into the handset.

“Amy? It’s Emelia, darling. Everything okay?

“Yep. Absolutely fine.”

“Have you seen the weather forecast, sweetie? Looks like you might be getting out of there sooner than you thought.”

As Amy slumped back against the cushioned headboard, Michael sat up on the edge of the bed. She watched as he stood and stretched his arms over his head. Surrounded by the golden glow of dawn, he looked angelic. He was completely naked and twisted slightly from side to side, as every muscle rippled along his back, arse and thighs. The only blemishes on his statuesque physique were the angry red scratch marks across his back.

“Actually, about that. I was thinking I might stay another few days. Maybe a week.”

“A week? That hotel costs a fortune! You have some cheek,” Emelia laughed over the phone. A suitable choice of word as at that moment, cheek was exactly what she was looking at.

“Mmm hmm,” Amy mumbled.

“Well, I’m sure we can stretch to it. I hope you have a nice time, darling,” replied her boss. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Amy’s eyes followed Michael as he strolled slowly across the room to the en-suite bathroom. His sleek hips and muscular frame like some greek legend carved from finest marble. She listened as the water began to jet from the shower head as he turned on the taps. Amy grinned to herself, a naughty thought suddenly popping into her head.

“Hold on,” Emelia continued over the phone. “Why the sudden change of heart? You couldn’t wait to get out of Paris last night, now all of a sudden you want to stay an extra week. Have you met someone? Have you pulled?! Who is he? Amy? Amy, are you there?”

Emelia’s voice echoed up towards the tall ceiling of the empty hotel room, from where the phone had been discarded and quite forgotten upon on the warm, crumpled sheets.