Parisian Nights

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.