Passion Blooms in Paris
By Diane Thorne
December 9 – December 20
Gwenever continues her travels in Europe and after several days without a man, she longs to find passion again. What better place than Paris?
She visits the Louvre and meets Pierre Devaux, a Frenchman, but he’s far from the typical local. He’s a famous French actor and he can’t keep his eyes off Gwen. He offers to escort her through the museum and she gladly accepts. As they explore and analyze the artwork, he seduces her with his sultry words and sexy accent. As Gwen’s desire for him escalates, she quickly forgets about the centuries-old art. But interruptions from fans and visitors keep her and Pierre apart. When he invites her to a private room, she questions if he’s playing games with her. Should she spend the day marveling at the works in the Louvre, or follow what her body yearns for?
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I am an erotic romance writer living in Indiana. I write in a variety of genres such as Contemporary, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Erotic Romance and Menage a Trois. When I’m not slaving away at my day job, I create erotic adventures with hot and seductive men. Reader beware, I am not responsible for any titillation, increased temperatures, or hormonal stirrings. Blame my characters and read responsibly.
Her heart was beating fast again. While she would enjoy touring the museum with him, she wouldn’t be able to focus on the art. The need for a man thrived within her. With him at her side, she couldn’t help but admire his handsome and strong body. Then the flow of naughty thoughts would consume her. Damn her raging hormones.
“Those women told me you are a famous actor here in France,” she said as he took her into the next room filled with more paintings but empty of visitors.
“I started modeling in my youth. I played on television shows before I took a break and attended college. I returned to acting in my late twenties and have been in the business for the last ten years.”
He stopped in front of a portrait of a half-naked woman.
“You must have a lot of fans,” Gwen said.
“Yes. It’s difficult to go places sometimes. But this place is big and I can move around without too much attention. Pictures are not allowed.”
He turned to the framed art on the wall. As he surveyed at it, she studied him and tried to guess his age. To be an actor for so long after completing his education had to place him in the mid to late thirties. The facial hair gave him an older, more experienced quality. Women tended to appreciate men who appeared with confidence and brains. Add dark hair, tranquil blue eyes and lips worthy of sucking to said male and most women would drool on the spot. Hence the reason her panties were damp and she couldn’t help staring at him.
“This is not one of my favorite portraits of a woman, yet I look at it every time I come here. This woman holds fake beauty. Her skin is too white and it has a waxy sheen. She has no moles or hair. Her breasts are too small and the nipples seem unreal. Her expression is impassive. How can this be when she’s laying half naked in front of a man?” He shook his head and said something in French.
“Maybe this is a creation from the artist’s imagination and not a real person.”
“But why not make the woman more lifelike so we can appreciate her true beauty. Why paint her as something she’s not?”
He turned to face Gwen. “I’ve seen plenty of the women portrayed in pictures in the Louvre and their beauty doesn’t compare to you.”
A rush of heat reached her cheeks. “Do you say that to all the women?”
“No. And I’ve met plenty.” The corner of his mouth twitched. While holding her hand, he lifted his other and touched her shoulder. Slowly, he glided his fingers over her skin and tendrils of longing scurried to her breasts. “I greatly desire to see your beautiful body. Without clothes.”
He lowered his gaze to her chest and the yearning within her increased tenfold. But hesitation gnawed at her conscience. She was in the Louvre and she barely knew him. She took a deep breath as she what to do. What to say.
“I assure you, my girls are not like hers.”
A smile formed on his face. “They are bigger, yes.”
“Full. And your nipples, are they hard?” He moved his fingers to her neck and gently grazed them lower, bringing the tips underneath the fabric of her sundress that covered her left tit.
“Yes. Very.” And aching for his touch.
“Do they wish to be touched?”
“Yes, and sucked.”
The yearning in her core spread like a wildfire. His touch made her long for more, made her wonder what it would feel like for his hands to hold and squeeze her breasts. Staring at his lips, she imagined them closed around her perky buds and doing all the wicked fun things a man liked to do. Fuck, she wanted him.
“I would enjoy playing with your girls, as you call them,” he said with a sly grin. “But first, I’d have to lick every inch of your body. I want to taste you and the desire inside you. Are you wet, Gwen?” He slipped his fingers deeper under her sundress and into her bra.
She squeezed her thighs together. Damn, he was adding fuel to her carnal fire.
“I’m a horny forty-four year old woman. Yes, I’m very wet right now.”