Free ATasteofParis by Lucy Felthouse Page B

so tightly into Blanche’s hip that they would probably leave marks. He retained just enough presence of mind that he continued to stroke her clit. Thankfully it soon did the trick, because unless she was the queen of faking it, Blanche came. Her cunt gripped and released his cock in a series of waves as she arched her back and gurgled and groaned into her fingers.
    Soon the waves receded and she slumped forward, resting her head on the wall. Ryan leaned on her for a beat as he recovered from his own climax then, aware he was probably squashing her, he disentangled slowly, reaching down to secure the condom before he pulled out.
    He quickly disposed of the rubber and tidied himself up, tucking his cock away and doing up his jeans. A splash of cold water on his face and a scrape of damp fingers through his hair later and he was presentable again. He turned to see how Blanche was getting on and saw that she was looking at him expectantly.
    “What?” he said, confused. Did she want another kiss or something? He’d happily oblige—her lips were plump and sinful and she was very skilled when it came to using them.
    “I need to go,” she said with a pointed nod toward the toilet. Then, before he had a chance to excuse himself, she’d plonked herself down on the seat and was emitting a distinctive tinkling sound.
    He averted his gaze, at the same time wondering why he was bothering. He’d just fucked the woman, for God’s sake, so why was he getting so uptight about her peeing in front of him?
    She finished, wiped herself delicately with some toilet paper then put her knickers and skirt back to rights before flushing the loo and moving to the sink. Washing her hands thoroughly, she, like him, then ran damp fingers through her tousled hair. Once she was satisfied, she walked toward the door. Deciding to get his own back, Ryan flipped up the toilet seat. Before he could get his cock out, though, Blanche had unlocked the door, peered out to see whether the coast was clear and exited the cubicle.
    Quickly Ryan dashed over to re-lock the door before someone came in and caught him short. Then he went back to his business, flushed the toilet, washed and dried his hands and left the room. Making his way into the relevant train carriage, he adopted a casual expression as he swept his gaze towards Blanche’s seat.
    She wasn’t there. He looked up the length of the carriage to see if she was anywhere else, but couldn’t see her. Remaining cool, he slid back into his own seat, checking everything was present and correct in his bag before looking back toward where she’d been sitting. There was nothing. No bag, no drink on the table in front of it. She was gone. Not far, obviously, unless she’d jumped off a moving train, but she certainly wasn’t where she’d been to start with. He wondered if anyone had noticed what was going on around them and thought it odd that the woman had returned to her seat then moved not only seats but carriages. He doubted anyone would have been so observant—people often didn’t notice what was going on right in front of them.
    Ryan shrugged. It had been a fuck, nothing more. Probably she’d been scratching an itch. But it didn’t matter. Whatever the reason, it had hardly been the start of a lasting relationship, so Ryan wasn’t about to scour the train looking for her. They’d fucked, it had been amazing, end of story.
    Picking up his book, he flipped to where he’d left off and prepared to read for the rest of the journey to Paris.

Chapter Two
     
    Arriving at the hostel after his Metro journey from the Gare du Nord station, Ryan checked in, took his paperwork and stashed his bag in a locker. He’d already transferred the things he needed into a smaller bag that he could easily carry around with him. That way he knew his guide book, passport, Metro ticket, wallet, phone and drink were all in one place, and he could keep a hand on the bag, protecting his valuables. The only thing a