“What’s wrong?” Mateo rushes back over to me when he’s done with his check. He grips my wrist, pulling my hands from my face.
“I ache. In like–” I glance down. “Places. Well, one place in particular,” I admit leaning into his big body. I swear I feel as though I’m a freaking cat in heat. I want to rub myself all over him.
“You want me to take care of it for you?” He leans down, brushing his mouth along my jaw.
“Please.” I grip his shirt.
“I’ve got you, my little treasure.” He lifts me into his arms.
I kiss him everywhere my mouth can reach as he carries me through the suite. My back hits a bed, and he starts pulling at my clothes, though he’s careful when he gets to my knees. I should probably be shier when he steals the last piece of clothing from me, leaving me naked on the bed. He’s still fully dressed, but my body is too needy to care at the moment.
“You really are a rare treasure.”
I believe to him I actually am. The way his eyes travel over my body only confirms that more. His breathing is heavy, like he’s fighting to catch air. “And it’s my job to take care of you, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I agree. My own breathing begins to get harder. “Isn’t that what husbands do?”
“Fuck,” he groans, closing his eyes for a long moment.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” he responds instantly. His hands go to the inside of my knees, spreading them. “You’re okay?” He’s staring at my sex, but I know he’s talking about the bandage he put on my thigh.
“Yes.” I start to put my hand over my sex but pause when a deep, animalistic sound comes from Mateo.
“I’m going to kiss you there, Milly. Going to make you feel all better.”
“Please,” I beg. “I want to feel you there. I’ve–” My words are cut off when he all but pounces on me. “Mateo,” I gasp.
His tongue swipes across my clit as he uses his fingers to spread the lips of my sex. Before I realize what’s happening, I’m coming. I cry out his name as the orgasm consumes me.
It’s nothing like the ones I’ve tried to give myself. In fact, now I’m not sure the ones I’ve given myself could actually be considered orgasms.
Mateo doesn’t stop, though. His tongue keeps going. He slips it down further, thrusting it inside me. His hands slip under my ass, gripping my cheeks to lift me off the bed as he thrusts his tongue deeper inside. He repeats that over and over again. I rock my hips; the action comes naturally, but I want more. I want him inside me—his cock, not his tongue, even with how good it feels. I’m greedy now and want to experience it all with him.
“Mateo,” I whimper when he places me back down on the bed, his tongue going back to my clit.
I grip the sheets, needing something to hang on to when he works one of his fingers inside me. He sucks my clit into his mouth as his tongue swipes back and forth. When he presses another finger in, hooking them both inside of me, I’m done.
I cry out in ecstasy as the orgasm consumes me. That ache subsides, leaving only pleasure in its wake.
11
Mateo
“Have some more.” I offer Milly another bite of crepe.
“So frickin good!” she moans and gets the last little bit of hazelnut and chocolate from the corner of her lips.
“Nothing can compare to the food in Paris. The bread. Even a baguette from a corner store, fresh baked in the morning, is better than anything I’ve had in the States.”
“You’ve traveled a lot.” She sits back, and Scarab jumps into her lap.
“It’s part of my job.” I shrug.
“Which is?” She sips her coffee, one hand petting Scarab.
“I’ll tell you what I do as soon as you tell me your last name, how about that?” I cut another piece of crepe and feed it to her.
She rolls her eyes then chews slowly.
“Sorry. I should just let you enjoy breakfast.”
“It’s okay.” Her eyes soften. “I just don’t want you to look at me differently, I guess.”
“I get it.” I kiss the back of her hand. “Let’s finish up here, then I’m taking you out to see the city.” I quickly check my phone to see if Mrs. Verne has come through yet. Nothing. But I know she’ll get the information I need.
Milly may not want to tell me who she is, but it’s only a matter of time till I find out.
“I’ve never seen so much art.” She stares at a huge Renaissance painting.
“This is just the beginning. The building goes on forever, it seems like.” I escort her along the hall, her gaze rapt.
When we find a little girl working at her easel, painting a pastoral scene to match the one on the wall in front of her, Milly gasps. “Wow.”