Free Paris Was The Place I Met My Billionaire Lover (My Sweet Billionaire Love Story Series) by Kiera Zane

boys, slow to mature; the same people, same places, same everything.
    Now, finally, nothing was the same.  Nothing would ever be the same.
    Caitlyn’s reddened face was beaming, a twisted and glistening mask of heated pleasure and the gleeful eruption of prolonged suspense.  Not their first time together, it still felt like it.  Every time she looked at this man, every word she heard him speak, made her want to feel this way for the first time again; the first time every time.
    Time collapsing upon itself.
    Caitlyn felt like she was going to start sobbing, her twisted frown a lusty smile in disguise, clenched and waiting with all the rest of her taught, braced body for sweet, relaxing relief.
    Even beyond her own numbing sensation, system flooded with liquid glee, Caitlyn felt Julien’s wave cresting along with her own, welling up inside him.
    “Okay, Caitlyn, now,” Julien shouted, an undeniable command, “do it for me now!”
    Caitlyn opened her eyes, and so did her mouth as she released a full-throated, earth-shattering howl.  They both quivered, their bodies pinned together, inseparable.
    The crest of their mutual release seemed to go on beyond the physical limitations of their own bodies as merely human vessels and not otherworldly chariots for the pleasures of the gods themselves.  Nearly blinded, ears drowning in a muffled hum, Caitlyn was most aware of her own heartbeat pounding in her throat, her tongue’s new and frightening paralysis, the garbled grunts in a voice she barely recognized as her own.
    Their hot breath slowed, hearts calming.  Caitlyn’s skin shivered from the rush of the cool spring air over her body.  Caitlyn collapsed into Julien’s arms.  He kissed her forehead.
    They decided to get some rest before packing her things and vacating the condo, which they finally got around to doing the next morning; eighteen hours and three orgasms later.
    * * *
    Caitlyn and Julien strolled through the Place de la Concorde , its statues and fountains bowing in grandeur to the Obelisk of Luxor, a foreign wonder to humble even the most spectacular domestic creations.  The trickling of the water danced in the faint background, Caitlyn’s ear turned specifically away from it and the traffic and other distractions.
    She wanted to hear what Julien had to say about this.
    “You will be employed, of course, gainfully as well.  And you’ll learn so much about the ways of the business world -- ”
    “Julien, I know it’s a great opportunity, I’m just... concerned.  I can’t just be your servant, it has to be a real job, and I’m glad that it is.  But... our relationship is going to stay on its... current course?”
    “ Oui, but of course.  Caitlyn, do you not wish to continue our relationship as lovers?”
    No no, don’t get me wrong! Caitlyn wanted to say.
    “No no, don’t get me wrong,” Caitlyn said.  “I do, I... I really do.  And this all sounds great.  But, I mean... you’re paying me... we’re sleeping together... you’re paying me...”
    Julien shrugged, nearing exasperation.  “What is this American fixation with prostitution?”
    “I am not a prostitute!”
    “No, of course not!  It is you who makes this connection.  Here in France, all over Europe, and the rest of the free world, who else shares this definition of prostitution as anybody who either has sex or earns money?  In America you can make money, not have sex and still be considered a prostitute in some circles.”
    “People whore themselves out in all kinds of ways,” Caitlyn said.
    “So you’re in a position where you cannot win.  Caitlyn, you came here to discover a new way, a life you couldn’t have at home.  But aren’t you letting the same things that limited you there limit you here in the very same ways?”
    Could he be right? Caitlyn had to wonder. Maybe our way of looking at things isn’t the right way.  Everybody’s a lot freer and more progressive in the European Union, everyone in America