Money Shot (64 page)

This was my first trip to Paris, but I knew this was not like most places, here or anywhere for that matter. Everything was opulent, with polished woods and plush fabrics. It looked like some of the pictures I’d pulled up of the palace at Versailles. Like that kind of ornate furnishing but with a more modern edge.

Jake of course covered everything. The hotel suite. The dinners out. The guided tours. All of it. He never expected it to be otherwise.

I followed in silence to our top floor suite. He strolled in like he owned it. Maybe he did.

I, on the other hand, was still befuddled by the size. By the elegance. It wasn’t normal for a hotel room to be bigger than most people’s houses. Not in my world at least.

I liked it.

I felt guilty, but still, I liked it.

But all the luxury in the world meant nothing if Jake didn’t want me anymore. I couldn’t stand the thought.

We walked in the front hall and Jake hung up his coat. He took my scarf and hung it on the opposite side of the coat rack, as far from his jacket as possible.

“Jake, is that you,” a voice echoed from down the hall. His room was down the entry hall, through the living room, through the dining room, and down another short hall. The voice sounded young and had an accent. A German accent. A furious German accent.

Why was Annika here?

That bitch.

Did Jake invite her?

“Jake, who is that,” I asked.

The words came out way harsher than I hoped they would.

His mouth creased shut and the edges dipped down.

“Go to sleep,” he said, “Let’s put this behind us.”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” I said.

I wanted to hug him. But if he rejected me, I knew I would collapse right there. My body convulsed as a sob built in my chest.

“Stop it,” he said. “Go to your room.”

He gestured down the hall. I sniffed away a tear and nodded to him.

“Good night, Jake,” I said.

Yelling in earnest started a minute later. Annika was pissed. He was pissed.

Good.

Their, and mostly her, screaming lasted ten minutes and then went quiet. Cue the silent treatment. Or had they worked it out? What was she doing waiting in his room anyway?

Was I just another bimbo now? Yet another conquest to be kicked to the gutter?

I certainly didn’t fit the mold.

My stomach roiled and flopped. I felt the urge to puke. I took a big drink of water and exhaled.

I went into my bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was a wreck. My eyes were puffy, two dams about to break. I peeled out of the ruined dress and noticed dried patches of blood and cum on my thighs.

Who knew your first time would be so messy?

I hopped in the shower and cranked up the hot water. The shower head was one of those waterfall kinds in the ceiling above your head. The walls had a bewildering array of nozzles and levers. It had taken me twenty minutes to turn it on the first time I used it.

I still hadn’t tried all the options. I was afraid I might blow something up. Besides, the waterfall option was amazing.

The scalding water blasted over my shoulders, cascaded down my body, and washed away the outer evidence of our encounter.

After a long soak, I soaped up and stumbled out. I wanted to go to his room. To talk with him. To see if she was still here.

I knew he’d get pissed at me for nosing into his business.

But hadn’t tonight created a little shared business? Just between him andI. Didn’t I get to know about his other related businesses?

He’d be so pissed. And I was exhausted. The day. The wine. The tower. Jake.

It was too much.

I did a speed job on my teeth and hoped not to hear about it later at the dentist. And then into a tiny pink pajama set. Pink cotton panties with a matching pink cotton tank top.

I planned to wear it to breakfast in the morning.

So what if Jake said it was over between us. I didn’t have to agree. I didn’t have to make it easy for him.

I was going to flaunt it tomorrow morning. Show him what he was turning down. Bring him back to his senses.

I lay in bed staring out at the Eiffel Tower, perfectly framed in the large window and velvety cream-colored curtains.

My pussy ached with a dull radiating warmth. I traced my fingers up and down the groove and felt a dull throb, an echo of his presence there. A tingly chill raced up my back as I remembered the feeling of his pulsing thickness inside me.

I needed him. I needed it.

Again.

Chapter Nine

I awoke to dreams of making love on top of the Eiffel Tower. Making love to the love of my life. I floated up out of the drowsy, swirly place where the primitive parts of our brains rule.

Which is maybe why my pussy was damp.

As the hard edges of the waking world slowly settled in, images danced through my mind. Jake’s cock in my hands. Beads of sweat sliding down his chiseled chest. The sky fire in his blue eyes as he came inside me. My legs clamped around his waist, clenching him into the deepest parts of me.

My pink cotton panties were soaked through. Did I just have a wet dream? Like some sex-starved teenage boy? And they’re all sex-starved. If they had sex ten times a day, they’d still be sex-starved.

The clock showed six in the morning. Why was I awake?

There it was.

A faint moaning. A faint cry.

I scrambled up and snuck out my bedroom door, down the hall, through the needlessly large living room, through the dining room, and crept down the hall to his room. The door was closed.

I listened, barely breathing.

There it was.

A voice.

Moaning with pleasure.

Unless he was watching porn at six in the morning, he was in there with Annika. In there doing something that made her make those sounds.

What the fuck?

Earlier, it sounded like he was going to throw her out a window.

How could they now be having sex?

Make-up sex?

Did he really just take my virginity last night, the most beautiful, perfect night of my life? Except for how it ended. And now he was having some make-up sex with that bitch Annika?

My heart thumped in my ears. My brain screamed. My hands curled into hard fists.

He was mine!

My stepbrother. My lover.

Fuck that bitch.

Serious bodily violence was a serious consideration.

Maybe I was wrong though.

Maybe it was porn. Or maybe a video on his phone. Some candid sex recording from Annika or some other ex. Why would he be looking at that though?

Ugh. I had to know. Not knowing was killing me.

Before I could think better of it, I quietly turned the knob and opened the door a sliver.

The room was dark. Just a stream of early morning light shone through a crack in the curtains.

Two figures zoomed into focus as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. There on his bed. A tall woman facing away from me. Naked but for a bra. Long blonde hair flowing down her back. Thin. Desperately in need of an all-you-can-eat buffet thin.

Annika.

She sat on top of Jake, riding him. Her hips rolled with smooth, fluid grace.

Slut.

I watched his thick cock slipping in and out of her. The condom gave it a weird faint green color.

He was definitely going to have to quit his whore’s addiction. Starting with this one.

“Come on Jake,” she said, “I have to leave in a few minutes.”

“I didn’t invite you here in the first place,” he said. “In fact, I distinctly recall telling you not to come. Ever again.”

“Jake darling,” she said, “I know what you need. Shut up now and come.”

She pumped her hips faster.

“Jesus, Annika,” he said. “Would you just get off me?”

She didn’t slow down.

“Oh shit,” he said.

She froze.

“What?”

“I think the condom broke,” he said.

She leaped off him.

“Don’t you put a fucking baby in me,” she said. “Look at this body. Do you want to ruin my career?”

“Yea, I’d hate for that to happen,” he said.

She reached into the drawer of the side table and pulled out another condom. This one bright red.

She turned and looked at his stiff cock standing upright in the air.

“It’s not broken,” she said.

“Oh, my mistake.”

“Asshole,” she said and flung the new one on the bed.

“If I’m such an asshole, why are you here?”

“You want me here, Jacob,” she said.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he said. “We broke up. I’ve been trying to make you understand that ever since.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” she said. “Americans love big proclamations.”

“Oh God,” he said, “not this again. Focus down a mile. This is about us. Us being over.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she said. “We’re made for each other and you know it.”

Jake shook his head and looked at the narrow column of light peeking through the window.

“I want things you can’t give me,” he said, “even if you wanted to.”

He looked back at her.

“I want a family,” he said, “among other things. We aren’t meant for each other. You know it.”

“Don’t tell me what I know,” she said.