Free The Paris Affair by Kristi Lea Page B

him another light shove. He released her this time and stepped back.
    “Bedroom,” she panted. “It’s much more comfortable.”
    Then she bent down in front of him. Helmut gasped as he felt her fingers on the bare flesh of his inner thighs, and then her hands on his hard cock.
    “We aren’t going anywhere if you keep that up,” he said through gritted teeth.
    Her hands disappeared along with their beautiful teasing, and she yanked up his pants.
    “Better?” she asked with a wicked grin.
    “Not really.” Helmut’s gaze lingered on her lips. A tiny hint of pink tongue peeked out to lightly moisten those lips, and he gulped as he imagined that tongue flicking across the head of his penis. “I think you promised a tour?”
    His eyes feasted on the sight of her naked ass as she bent over once more to collect her robe and bottoms from the floor. She led the way out of the kitchen, her hips swaying hypnotically in front of him. Helmut felt like a rat following a piper. Right now, he could care less if the stroll ended at a cliff as long as he got his hands on that body of hers again.
    The bedroom was separated from the cavernous living space by a series of translucent screens with no door. Claire slipped around behind the nearest one, and he could see the outline of her body silhouetted against the frosted glass. The colors were blurred and he could see only a pink legs beneath the candy red of the little camisole he’d not bothered removing.
    She turned, noticing that he still hesitated on the opposite side of the screen wall. She stepped closer, so that he could distinguish the dark shadow of the patch of curls that covered her sex.
    He watched, mouth dry, as she slowly lifted her arms and slipped that red camisole up and over her head. The dark pink of her nipples showed clearly, her breasts nearly touching the glass. She crossed her arms to her shoulders, covering her breasts. Helmut began to step away, to come join her.
    Her arms dropped. Slowly, seductively, she caressed her own arms until her fingers met at her belly button. And then they slipped upwards, cupping her own breasts. He watched as she ran her thumbs over her nipples, and tilted her head back. Above his own labored breathing, Helmut distinctly heard her soft gasp of pleasure.
    One hand left her breast and slid up her neck to her lips. He saw her lick two fingers.
    He held his pants with one hand, and his cock throbbed and strained against the cloth, demanding to be freed. But he could not move.
    One of her hands squeezed her breast, tweaking the nipple, and the other left her mouth and slid down her sternum. To her belly button. And lower.
    Helmut’s knees nearly buckled. He fought alternating urges to work his own cock while he watched her pleasure herself, and to join her on the other side of the frosted glass wall.
    Her fingers paused just above her clit. She crooked her fingers at him.
    It was all the invitation he needed.
    He strode purposefully around into the bedroom area, barely breaking his stride as he kicked off shoes, shrugged out of his sweater, and dropped his still un-buckled pants. Claire had perched on the edge of her king-sized bed, covers swept aside.
    Her legs were spread wide open in invitation, and her hands moved restlessly across her bare torso. In two strides, he was crawling on top of her as she scooted backwards across the smooth sheets.
    “That’s my job,” he said, capturing her roving hands, and pinning them lightly up above her head.
    “I wasn’t sure you were coming,” she gasped as he nipped gently at her neck.
    “Won’t be a problem.” Helmut trailed kisses across her collarbone. “Trust me.”
    He took one pert nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. Claire ground her pelvis upward against his erection. Helmut released her hands so that he could freely explore her body, stroking down her sides, cupping her breasts, and lightly rolling her nipples between her fingers until she was panting.
    He could feel the