Paris, Oh lala

Grey

Friday

“Grey,” Donovan whines, unconvincingly, as my finger trails down her spine.

The sheet is barely covering her ass from where she’s lying on her stomach. I like her this way. Under me, next to me, with me. We’ve been naked in this bed for days. Not that either of us is complaining. But I promised her an authentic French experience, and so far, all we’ve done is fuck and eat in bed. Although, that’s pretty fucking French.

“Quit it, McCallister. You’ll kill me.”

My palm slides over her ass, down between the apex of her thighs, so that my finger reaches her entrance. But I don’t push in, letting my finger linger and make slow circles.

Donovan’s voice is husky, fingers pressing into the sheet, grabbing fistfuls as I tease her.

“You’re a bastard.”

My lips meet her shoulder blade.

“I am. But I want to fuck you. And I always get what I want.”

Her head shifts so she can look at me. “You already did this afternoon. I’m hungry.”

I nip at her skin, making her jump. “Me too.”

My nose runs up her neck, as my tongue follows. “I want more.”

“No.” She moans.

I smile as her hips begin making minute rocking motions, trying to get closer to my finger.

“No?” I press the tip of my finger inside, hearing her breath hitch. “Are you sure, Cherry?”

Her hips push into the bed, grinding her clit against the mattress.

I push another fingertip in. “Want me to stop?”

She doesn’t answer as she spreads her legs, giving me more room to finger her. I thrust inside her warm walls, my mouth next to her ear.

“Speak to me, Cherry. I want to hear your filthy mouth.”

She’s panting as I glide in and out of her, my fingers coated in her arousal. Goddamn, she’s wet. My thumb rubs against her ass, over the most sensitive area, and she whimpers.

“Tell me what you want, because your messages feel mixed.”

Her hand grips my other arm, hard. “Fuck me now. Make me come so hard that I can’t walk, Grey.”

I pull a finger out, bringing it to my lip, licking her juices off. “Done, baby. Then I’ll take you out into Saint-Céneri-le-Gérei and feed you more than my dick.”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, her giggles turn into a squeal as I jerk her onto all fours. My dick is rock-hard, ready for her. I’m always ready for this girl. Donovan looks over her shoulder as my hand weaves through her long, honeyed hair, gripping it hard before I thrust inside of her, making her ass shake.

“Fuck” and “Yes” are moaned simultaneously between us as I stay still, inside her. It’s like being welcomed home.

Her eyes are on me as I open mine, drinking me in. My stomach muscles flex as I exhale and slowly begin to fuck her from behind. Her mouth is open, mewls drifting out as the sound of skin slapping creates a chorus of sin. We’re lost in this moment of raw lust. But it’s always like this when I touch her. I don’t know where I begin and she ends—I don’t think it matters, though, because she’s mine. Forever and always.

Donovan pushes up her legs so that she’s sitting in my lap—her back to my front. I wrap my arm around her waist, still holding her hair with the other as we rock back and forward. My lips take her neck, sucking and biting, wanting to leave a mark on her. I’d mark her whole fucking body if she’d let me—mine, mine, mine.

Her head lies back against my shoulder, and my hand leaves her hair to cup her teardrop breast. Our breaths mix as the smell of sex wafts through the stone walls.

“I love you, Grey,” she whispers. “So much that it makes me want to cry sometimes.”

She feels like she’s shaking, so I hold her closer, sealing our bodies.

“Cry, baby, but only for me. I want all of you.”

We move with wanton disregard, feeling the pull—the need for release. It’s so strong that it almost feels like we’re on fire. Donovan turns her cheek into my lips, tears falling and breathless, wrapping her arm behind my head.

My lips devour her tears, coating her with kisses as we fuck faster and faster.

“Do you feel what I feel, Grey?”

I nod as I press my lips over her cheek, demanding her mouth. I do feel what she feels. We’re fated, and that shit’s overwhelming. Our tongues dance, desperate to be closer to each other—to crawl inside and die in the other. Her hand dips to her front, rubbing her clit as I thrust inside of her.

“Rub yourself, baby, come on my dick. Come with me.”

“Grey. I’m close.”

My hips press up inside of her, harder, feeling encased by tight warmth. She’s a peace I’ve never known until her.

She’s gasping, sucking in the air, gripping my hair. “I’m coming.”

“I love you, Cherry,” I breathe into her shoulder, holding her in place so I can fuck her hard. “My Cherry.”

Donovan’s body tenses, all her breath held, as the most beautiful moan erupts from her lips. Her pussy tightens so hard around my dick that it feels like a heavenly vise, so tight that I can’t hold off any longer.

“Fuck, baby,” I growl, jutting harder inside of her a few more times before feeling the violent explosion. “Yes.”

Warm cum fills her as a long, exhaled “Amazing” falls from my mouth and onto her jaw. We’re an entangled mess, holding on to one another, never wanting to let go as our bodies begin to calm down.

Donovan slowly lifts her head, running her hands over my arms. “I feel like I should say thank you.”

My smile blooms against her skin as I pepper kisses over her smooth freckled shoulder.

“I should be the one to say thank you. Your pussy is heaven-sent, Cherry.”

There’s that giggle again. I fucking love that sound.

“Feed me, Grey, or lose me forever.”

“Did you just quote Top Gun?”

I grab her waist and chuck her onto her back, watching her tits bounce. Cum glistens on the inside of her thigh, and if I weren’t so spent, I’d be hard again. But I don’t need to be hard for what I want to do next.

Her eyebrows raise as she scoots back on the massive king bed. “What are you doing? I don’t like that look.”

My hands hit the mattress as I crawl toward her.

“Don’t you dare—”

I crawl closer as she moves backward, laughing, making her long shaggy bangs wisp back and forth.

“Grey,” she whines, but tries to add, “No,” in a more serious tone before holding out her hand to stop me. “I want food.”

I grin. “So do I.”

“You promised,” she counters, smacking the bed. “My pussy doesn’t count.”

But her words barely make it out between the laughter.

“Tell me no, Cherry.”

Her beautiful blues blink, in the sudden quiet.

“I’ll never say no to you.”

I stare into her eyes, wondering if that’s really true. Something about the moment makes me feel hollow inside, as if I can’t catch my breath. Before I give in to the feelings trying to birth, my eyes half-blink, and I dive in, making her moan twice more.

***

“Le chèque, s’il vous plaît,” I say, motioning for the waiter.

We’ve been seated outside on the heated patio of Auberge-des-Peintres, stuffing ourselves stupid for hours. It’s basically the only restaurant in this little French village, but I think that’s what my mother loved about it when she bought this place. It’s sat empty since her death. I couldn’t bring myself to come here—everything about it felt sad. Not with Donovan, though. It’s never felt more right.  

I grin, watching her drink her champagne as she looks up at the rose-colored streetlamps. The waiter, dressed in black pants and a crisp white shirt, pulls the check from his gleaming white apron, handing it to me.

“No. I don’t want to leave yet.” Donovan grins, realizing what I asked.

I secretly love that she doesn’t speak French. Makes surprising her so much easier.

“I love this place.” Donovan inhales up to the stars. “Your mom did well. It’s so cozy and picturesque.”

“I love you.”

She smiles, bringing her eyes back to me as she plays with the folded turtleneck collar of her white sweater.

“How lucky are we, Grey? Just two eighteen-year-old assholes, living it up at your family’s French estate for spring break. Sometimes my life surprises even me.”

I laugh, wiping the side of my mouth with my napkin.

“We can come back every year. Every summer. Whenever the fuck you want, so long as you smile like this every day. You look like an angel.”

She smiles brighter, standing, showing off her perfect ass in those goddamn leather pants. I hated when she bought them, but I’m starting to come around. Donovan holds out her hand. “I need a penny, Richie Rich.”

Without breaking eye contact, I reach into my pocket and pull out a hundred-dollar bill, placing it in her hand.

“That’s a hundred-dollar bill.” She grins, rolling her eyes.

“Same difference.”

Her throaty laugh shoots through the empty space as I reach into my dinner jacket. Pulling my Nat Shermans out, I tug a cigarette from the pack, tapping it on the table. Donovan holds up a hand, stopping a passing waiter in his tracks.  

“Excuse me, do you have a coin?” Her head shoots to me. “Ask him in French, please.”

Before I can, the waiter gives her a small bow, saying in a thick accent, “No need. For the most beautiful woman here, of course I have a coin. I have whatever you need.”

“Soyez prudent, ou je la laisserai vous jeter dans la fontaine, puis je vous tiendrai dessous.” Be careful, or I’ll let her throw you into the fountain, and then I’ll hold you under.

He laughs, I laugh. Donovan narrows her eyes at me, but I wink and raise my brows as he holds out a euro coin for her.

The end of my cigarette burns bright as I suck back the smoke.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly to the waiter, who produces two more coins from his other pocket, but she shakes her head. “No. Save them for someone else—I only need one wish.”

She leans in, kissing his cheek and putting the hundred in his shirt pocket—much to my amusement.

“My God. An angel.”

We’re mesmerized, a couple of enchanted fucking idiots, me and the waiter, as we both stare at her.

Donovan bites her lip, locking eyes with me. “Be right back.”

I watch her maneuver around the small tables, out to the fountain across from where we’re seated. She stands quietly, her face lit by string lights reflected off the water, and brings the shiny coin to her lips. Closing her eyes, she gives it a kiss before tossing it into the water.

A sharp inhale precedes my eyes blinking from the moment. Fuck. I don’t know what just happened, but it felt like a rush—pure adrenaline. I feel like I could do anything right now, all because I love this girl, more than anything and anyone.

I love her, the kind of love that inspires Shakespearean tragedies.

My eyes drop to the table, only just noticing the waiter’s walked away. I’m fixed on the grooves of the wood as I tap my fingers against the table, letting my thoughts settle.

We’re eighteen years old. Still in high school. There’s no chance in hell—I’m fucking nuts.

Donovan saunters back to the table, looking like a goddamn angel with a halo of blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. But I can’t speak. I’m just staring at her because it feels like I’m seeing her for the first time. I can’t explain it, but I want to grab her, kiss the fuck out of her, and carry her all the way home to put babies in her stomach.

“Grey?” she questions, pulling her chair back. “What’s wrong?”

My eyes meet hers. “Marry me.”

Her gorgeous stare grows wide. “What did you just say?”

“You’re going to make me ask again?”

I stub my cigarette out and smirk at her. A stuttered laugh of disbelief drifts from her throat.

“Stop playing around. That’s not funny.”

I lean in, taking her hand and bring her fingertips to my lips. “I would never joke about such a thing as making you my wife.”

My lips linger over each pad as she speaks.

“You’re serious. You’re asking me to marry you.”

I stop at her ring finger and kiss it again. “I am.”

She smiles ear to ear, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth, but shakes her head.

“No. You’re crazy.”

I keep her hand in mine and relax back into my seat. “I thought you could never say that to me?”

Her eyes are coy as she brings a finger to her plump lips. The middle one brushes her lip before she looks away. Standing again, she makes me stretch my arm up because we’re still joined. I give a tug, trying to bring her focus back to me.

“Cherry.”

She looks back over her shoulder as she grabs her jacket in one hand. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

Saturday

“This is my favorite room in the house.”

“This is a bathtub—outside in the garden.”

I shrug behind her, uncaring. Donovan is nestled in between my thighs, back lying against my chest. Bubbles drip over the black claw-foot tub onto the soft grass as stars twinkle in the sky. It’s fucking perfect. A fire rages in a stone pit a few feet away, keeping us warm enough on the chilly spring night.

Her pink toenails peek out as her big toe plugs the gold faucet. “Can we come back this summer?”

“Anything you want, Cherry,” I promise, kissing the top of her head.

She doesn’t answer, just sighs with contentment as I pour water over her breasts. Our limbs glide over one another, and my hand dips further into the water, stopping to brush the tuft of hair covering my destination. My fingers move deftly, parting her lips.

“Are you sore at all?” I ask as I kiss her earlobe.

“Mmm, I am,” she breathes. “The last time I remember feeling like this was when I lost my virginity.”

I smile, rubbing her swollen clit. “Remind me to have that guy killed.”

She rolls over in the tub, surprising me and making the water slosh as she straddles my lap. Her tits are in my face, so I lean in to take a bright little bud between my lips.

“How is my virginity more precious than yours?” she moans. “What about the girl that got yours?”

Donovan’s nails press into my shoulders as she rubs herself against me. Her nipples are so fucking sensitive, I bet I could make her come like this.

“What about her?” I mumble, on a mission.

Her wet hands run through my hair as her head drops back. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

Her body whips up, hands on my cheeks to pull my face to hers. “Jesus. Do I know her?”

“No. It was here—in Paris. She was the housekeeper’s sister.”

A scowl grows over her jealous face, making me smile, and I wrap my arms around her tighter, sitting taller and pressing her breasts against my chest. My palms splay against her slender back as my lips brush hers.

“Jealous?”

“Very.”

I kiss her chin, loving this monster inside of her.

“Want to erase her?”

Donovan’s eyes lock to mine as a grin peeks out. “Mmhmm.”

Her hand dips down, as she lifts up, taking my cock between her fingers, and tugging up, circling her hand before she slides downward.

I groan, biting at her jaw, “Go on, then.”

My arms outstretch over the sides of the tub as I lie back. She raises to her knees, positioning herself over my cock, but I nab her waist and garner her attention.

“After you, nobody else mattered.”

My words are my truth. Nobody else ever mattered.

Her eyes gleam with satisfaction, but she still scrunches her nose. “Yes, but she came before me.”

I shake my head, lowering her body over my length, sucking in air as the sensation takes hold. Holding her in place, I grab her chin and bring her eyes to mine.

“Nobody ever came before you. You were, are, and will always be the first and only girl I’ve ever loved. I fucked her—but I’ve only ever loved you.”

Donovan is it for me. She knows it and I know it. Her eyes stay locked to mine as she rides me slowly, making the water stir and slosh. A shiver rocks my body, not because I’m cold, but because I’m consumed by Donovan and what I feel for her.

Her arms wrap around my neck, cheek pressed to my face as we fuck in a goddamn bathtub in the garden.

“Marry me,” I whisper into her lips as we kiss.

She pulls away, licking some water that’s splashed up. I swear to God, for the briefest of moments, I think she’s going to say yes, but she shakes her head, smiling bright, and looks up at the stars.

“Ask me again tomorrow, Grey.”

Sunday

Her hand wraps around my forearm as she stands from the car. I rented a cherry-red two-seater to bring us to the next town over. Donovan looks like a vision, wearing a knee-length black form-fitted dress with sky-high heels. Today’s our last day here in the villages before we head into Paris.

I almost brought up staying in our Saint-Céneri, but I know she wants to get a good Eiffel Tower picture for the ’gram. And I won’t deny her anything.

“Tell me again where we’re going? And why I needed to get all dressed up?”

I laugh, looking down at the heels set against the cobblestone.

“Come here, before you break your damn leg.”

I sweep her up like a bride, and she giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck. Donovan’s eyes stay on me, unworried about any attention.

“We’re having a picnic at dusk.”

I stop in front of a shop window, looking for the street I’m supposed to take, one that leads to a vineyard behind this court. I didn’t want to drive up to the surprise. I want it to be more unexpected, so I parked a block over.

“I got dressed up for a picnic?”

“Yes.” I grin down at her.

“And you’re wearing a suit…for a picnic.”

“I am.”

She jiggles her arms, tugging on my neck to make me look at her.

“Are you completely ignorant as to what a picnic is?”

I laugh again, ignoring her and walk over the uneven street, past two more old buildings, until the road becomes more dirt than rock and grapevines weave over walls. We round the corner, the sun shining past the walls, to an open field. I jerk my chin for her to look.

“Stop complaining and pay attention, Cherry.”

Her head shifts and she gasps, tensing in my arms. I’m smiling like I’ve won the lottery, but it kind of feels like I have.

“No way,” she breathes out, covering her mouth as I set her to the ground.

I lean in behind her to her ear and whisper, “Yes, way.”

“Grey.”

She glances over her shoulder, picking at the only bracelet she wears—the gray one. The sound of air whooshing fills the sky as the hot air balloon is readied.

“Surprise. We’re having a picnic in the sky. Overlooking French vineyards. At sunset. A bit cliché, but that just means the romance works.”

She turns to face me, palms on my chest. And I ask the only question I care about.

“Are you happy?”

“Beyond.”

She places a hand on my shoulder, lifting her foot and removing her shoe. I hold her waist, helping to steady her as she does the other. With a quick peck to my lips, Donovan turns around and walks through the tall grass barefoot. I watch, instead of following, enjoying her happiness. Her hands trail over the tall grass as she glances back over her shoulder, bottom lip between her teeth.

This fucking girl. 

We make our way to the balloon, the host meeting us, opening the basket door.

“Welcome,” he says in thick, accented English.

Donovan claps her hands, jumping in place as I laugh and speak with our attendant in French. I can’t help but steal glances at her, watching as she walks inside the sizeable woven basket and looks inside the boxes of treats I’ve arranged.

Our guide goes over the float plan, confirming what I arranged as a thunderous crack sounds through the sky, making both of us look up.

“Merde. You know how it can be in springtime. Perhaps it will be fine—”

Shit. Fuck you, French weather.

“Was that thunder?” Donovan questions as I’m already resigned to the inevitable.

I look to her, feeling the first drop of rain we’ve had since arriving.

The guide waves for Donovan to exit. “C’est la vie. Come, girl.”

But she looks at me with those eyes and that sad face, making me wish I had the ability to change the weather. My arm extends, her palm slipping into mine, as I help her from the basket. She has no idea how disappointed I am.

“I’m sorry. But we can’t be up there with the rain, thunder, and maybe lightning. Forgive me?”

Her bottom lip pokes out, but then she grins. “It’s not your fault. You’ll just have to book it for the summer. When we come back.”

“Deal.” I lean down and kiss her, sweet and tender, taking my time to relish her lips.

We break away, and our host hands me the basket I’d arranged. Rain begins to trickle as I take her by the hand, leading her back out the way we came. We’re no further than twenty feet when another crack of thunder fills our ears and brings with it a torrential downpour.

“Oh my God!” she rasps, laughing as I drop the basket, shrugging off my black suit jacket.

“Use this.” I toss it her way, running my hand through my already wet hair.

I pick up the picnic basket and retake her hand as she holds my jacket above herself. We’re laughing as we run back through the field—I’m soaked in my white dress shirt, and she’s barefoot. Puddles splash underfoot as we run across the street, back into the courtyard with the shops.

“Oh, no. Grey, the car.” She points as I pull her under a dry spot provided by the overhang in front of a store door.

Our car’s its own disaster, seeing as it’s a convertible and we had the top down. Donovan lowers my jacket, wiping her face. We’re crammed into the small area, looking at each other with matching smiles. I lift my thumb to her face, wiping the mascara from under her eyes and wanting to kiss her.

“I must look like a mess.”

“You’ve never been more beautiful.”

I’m about to lean down to kiss my girl when chimes sound and the door at my back opens.

“S’il vous plaît, entrez,” an older silver-haired woman urges, holding the door open.

“Je vous remercie.” I smile, ushering Donovan inside.

The lights are dimmed but not out, and it makes the place look closed. The woman motions for us to sit on some plastic chairs she has by the front. Donovan smiles as the woman takes her hands, patting them.

“Belle fille. Vous êtes très chanceux. Achetez quelque chose de sec à cette fille. Oui? Beautiful girl. You are very lucky. Buy this girl something dry. Yes?

Kind and shrewd. I like this lady. I look around, realizing it’s a secondhand clothing store. When my head shifts back, Donovan’s disappeared.

“Cherry?”

“Here,” she calls, standing over by the window.

“What got your attention?” I ask, walking up next to her.

She smiles at me, pointing to a dress in the window. It’s a white dress, with little suns on the bottom.

“I had a dress like this when I was twelve. My dad bought it for me at some vintage store, and I cherished it.”

I brush her hair from her face. “It looks like you.”

She turns her profile my way. “Actually, I bought it because it reminded me of you.”

My head draws back. “Me?”

She nods, and she weaves her hand through mine. “Yeah. Do you remember the last summer we had together before I left?”

How could I forget? I almost worked up the nerve to kiss her that summer.

“I do.”

She inhales, leaning her head on my chest.

“There was this moment, it’s silly, but I thought you were going to kiss me. And it made my life. I must’ve written six pages in my diary about it.”

I’m staring down at her beautiful face, listening intently.

“You obviously didn’t kiss me, but the possibility of you was enough. It felt like a glimpse of the sun.”

“So you bought a dress with suns on it.”

“Yep.”

I glance over my shoulder at the store clerk. The lights flicker, growing brighter as the rain subsides.

The woman stares back at me, smiling. “Avez-vous pris une décision?” Have you made a decision?

“Oui, nous aimerions acheter cette robe.” Yes, we’d like to buy this dress.

***

The light from the day is gone. The rain has stopped. But there’s still dampness in the air. Donovan changed into her new dress and bought some flats to go with it. She’d talked me into an old band T-shirt until I saw one that said Nintendo, so I grabbed it, and a pair of jeans and sneakers as well.

We’re walking hand in hand, eating some chocolates from another shop as people begin to fill up the court.

“Where is everyone coming from?” I laugh, looking around at the well-dressed crowd.

“Church.” Donovan points to an aged steeple with a giggle. “It’s Easter Sunday, dummy.”

My brows knit together as she begins pulling me toward the crowd. “Come on. Let’s go look at it. I bet it’s gorgeous on the inside.”

“Not my thing, Cherry,” I grumble, popping another chocolate in my mouth.

“Oh, come on. It looks old and interesting.” She glances back at me. “Keep your mouth closed. I know there’s a terrible joke already readied.”

I smirk, swallowing my dirty joke, and let her lead the way. We pass through the last few people exiting and stand on the steps looking up. It’s old, for sure, but quaint. I bet it doesn’t fit more than a hundred people.

“Can you imagine what these walls have seen?” Donovan muses, placing her hand on the mossy stone as she stares up at the stained glass.

“Lots of death, I’m sure,” I tease.

“Even more baptisms.” She winks, walking further inside and making me follow.

We walk past dark wooden pews toward the front of the little chapel. An altar of sorts has a lavish display of flowers laid across, gifting the room with a floral musk. Donovan leans in, smelling a rose, blinking her blue eyes up at me.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

But I’m staring at her.

“I wouldn’t know.”

She closes the space between us, her palm coming to my cheek. “You didn’t ask me today.”

I was going to, Cherry.

I press my cheek into her hand. “Will you say yes?”

“You won’t know unless you ask.”

My eyes lower to the cracked floor before I smile, giving a quiet laugh. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the simple rose-gold band that was hidden inside our picnic basket. A basket I left behind at that clothing store, but not before taking the most essential piece.

“I wanted to propose over a vineyard in the sky.” I twist the ring between my fingers, staring down. “I thought that maybe you’d finally say yes because I did it right.”

Her eyes lock to mine as I look up.

“But that’s not our story. We haven’t done anything the right way—it took a million bad choices before I finally got you.”

I take her hand, slipping the band on her finger before I drop down to my knee.

“I’ve loved you since I was twelve. So it makes sense that I should ask you now, looking the way we do, because twelve-year-old me wanted to kiss you back then just as much as I want to every single day, for the rest of my life.”

Donovan’s twisting her band in circles around her finger, staring at me.

“If you don’t like it—”

Her finger shoots to my mouth. “It’s perfect.”

My eyes close, pressing a kiss to her finger before I stand.  

“Be my wife—whenever you choose. Just let me be your forever. It’s always been you, Donovan.”

Her thumb rubs across my cheek, wiping away the evidence of my vulnerability, but she still says nothing.

A low rumble begins, voices echoing off the walls, around us. “Dis oui. Dis oui!” Say yes. Say yes!

A smile explodes onto her face as we look around, realizing our display caught the attention of the people in the court. People who are now waiting, inside the church, for her answer. Almost as desperately as I am.

“Say, yes,” I whisper.

Her angelic face turns back to mine, arresting me with her eyes.

“We’re a forever, Grey. Yes.”

***

We stood hand in hand, in front of the town priest at a church neither of us attended, and committed ourselves to one another. Donovan wore the white dress with the suns on it, and I had on my jeans and T-shirt. Twelve-year-old us got married, in a small village in France, just us and two passersby as witnesses.

That was her choice. And it never made me happier.

We never left the village, opting to stay. My wife preferred it, and I’ll never deny her anything, including keeping our secret until we graduate.

“Are you ready?”

Donovan’s smile is contagious, as I take her hand, kissing the back of it. “I am, Cherry.”

She smiles up at me, and I hold the door, retaking her hand as we walk into the marriage licensing office to make our secret official in the state of New York.

First. Last. And only.