26 Hours in Paris (15 page)

“I
didn't mean to sabotage our night by being negative. I agreed to let you make decisions for the day.” Kat intertwined her fingers and placed her hands in her lap. Her thumbs twirled quickly as she spoke in a very soft voice. “You've been wonderful, Marko. You're wonderful with anything you do.”

Kat, a competent and extremely headstrong woman on the surface, dropped her shoulders each time a future with Marko was mentioned. Beneath that surface, and only on personal relationship issues, she lacked confidence. Doubt had crossed her face more than once during their walk. She hid her reluctance to believe in herself well, but not well enough. He'd seen it.

Fuck
. Marko swept a hand down his face and rubbed his jaw. He should have kept her at home and cultivated her submission until she was totally secure in her feelings. Casual physical contact didn't suffice to keep her grounded and comfortable. He'd misjudged the depth of the situation.

She'd repressed the truth for too long. He'd allowed it. There was no way he'd let wrongful assumptions, supposedly based on logic, come between them again. He owned up to his shortfalls and steeled his determination. She'd only decide when she was honest with herself and with him. And only after he'd exhausted every avenue to prove to her that they belonged together.

“Thank you for your trust,” Marko said, raising his glass. “I do know best.”

A twinkle lit her eyes and she smiled. Her body visually relaxed. “I guess you haven't outgrown the bigheaded attitude.”

“Why should I?”

“Why, indeed?” She clinked her glass with his. “To you knowing best.”

The glow of acceptance accentuated her loveliness, and he knew that by night's end she'd agree to stay through the weekend. The rest . . . he would work out.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Not nearly enough,” she said, her fingers playing for more.

“You are so damn beautiful,
bella
.”

Her back straightened, and she sat up tall. He settled a long wisp of silky hair behind her ear, and caressed the soft skin of her pretty ear between his fingers, unable to sate the need to touch her. Truly lovely, she graced him with a bright smile, and just like that, Kat returned to the moment.

She sipped her wine, chatted with glee between courses, and ravished the grilled turbot. “Is everything in Paris so flavorful?”

“It's what we make of it, and flavorful is a perfect way to describe being with you,” he replied, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. He turned it gently and placed a kiss on the underside of her wrist. “So, so far, what is your most romantic landmark?”

“It's difficult to choose. The whole city dazzles my mind. The Eiffel Tower is more breathtaking than I expected. The café mentality is extremely romantic. The Pont Marie is as Cyril described—

“Cyril?”

“Cyril is the man from the plane. He was the one that said when you stand by the Pont Marie, you're supposed to kiss the person beside you.” Kat offered. “He kissed, or was kissed by, his first love beneath the bridge.”

“I can relate,” Marko said.

She fidgeted a little in her seat, and then held her hand out on the table and asked for her phone. Removing the case, she produced the card she'd placed in it earlier. “Cyril also invited me to this place. He called it a hidden gem. Said when I found what I was looking for in Paris to head on over.”

Marko knew this
gem
well. He knew Cyril. When he'd learned that his friend would be on the same flight as Kat, he had requested Cyril look out for her and make sure Kat would be comfortable. His friend had done exactly that and obviously more.
He
wasn't comfortable with the other man being on a first-name basis with
his
Kat and personally inviting
his
Kat to the club, but giving her a peek into reality did suit his long-term goals with the woman.

“Would you like to go?” He took the card and flipped it through his fingers, studying her face.

Kat shrugged. “Why not? He was correct about the bridge. His suggestions were very romantic. Even sexy.”

With no intention of convincing her otherwise, Marko nodded and placed the card in his pocket and retrieved his cellular. “Then we'll go. I'll arrange for a car.”

“Marko?” Slender fingers closed around his wrist and prevented him from lifting the phone to his ear.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I was hoping we could walk over the bridge together?” She raised her left shoulder and tilted her head. “I know it sounds corny, but it's like crossing into the future. If you don't mind, I'd enjoy the walk. The weather is cooperating.”

“It does not sound corny,” Marko insisted. “The club is off the Champs-Élysées, so we will need the car to get there.” He placed the call and arranged for a car to meet them on the Right Bank later in the evening. Motioning for the server to approach, he requested a thermos of
vin chaud
. “However, we will have a little outdoor picnic and a quick walk along the Seine.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. She leaned across her seat and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “I've always dreamed of strolling by the river. You're making this the most memorable night of my life.”

Merde!
Kat could hardly anticipate how memorable the night was about to get.

“This evening is so dreamy . . . so perfectly romantic,” she said, curling her fingers around the thermos of hot wine. Kat practically bounced in her chair. Her big eyes, brighter than usual, seared him with a sensual invitation. The blush coloring her cheeks displayed her sexual desire. Marko's body couldn't help its innate response. He was a man, a man who wanted his woman. He tapped a fingertip over the rosy center of her left cheek, and her delicious lips parted. Immediately, he envisioned doing things to her mouth that were not very appropriate considering their location.

“It's more than romantic. It's sexy to the point of being painful,” he said. Taking her hand, he placed it over his groin to show her how sexy he thought it was.

“It is sexy,” she agreed, splaying her fingers. “A little discomfort serves as a nice aphrodisiac. No?”

His cock agreed. “More than you know,
bella
.” The red marks on her curvy ass had certainly served as an aphrodisiac. “I think we should hurry to our picnic. We have a few things to discuss before we visit the club.”

“Or maybe detour to the apartment?” Kat offered in a whisper. “We could enjoy a different sort of picnic there.”

“Yes. We can,” he agreed, deciding on the perfect spot to enjoy their
vin chaud
.

His cock swelled painfully in his pants, and he was the one in need. He needed the cold air to stall his libido, or he wouldn't wait for privacy. He'd take her on the very table on which they'd dined.

“
Allons-y
.” He grabbed the thermos, pushed back his chair, and reached for their coats.

* * *

Marko kept a hand on Kat's hip, holding her close as they walked through the lanes. He explained the basic premise of the private club, elaborating on its open mindedness and inclusive nature. He didn't outline specific activities or events, but he allowed her enough insight to change her mind if she wasn't comfortable.

They walked past the café from the afternoon and rounded the corner to the street entrance of the apartment. She tugged on his arm as they stopped at the door. “Is it a real sex club?”

“It is,” he stated. He entered the combination on the keypad, opened the door, and showed her to the elevator. “You will be with me. I will not allow for anyone else. Remember, you have given me the night. As for the membership at the club, it is exclusive and by invitation. Consensual play only.”

The elevator was larger than most private lifts, but she squeezed in close to him and tightened her grasp on his arm. “It's a bit intimidating, but my curiosity is greater than my fear. I think it'll be interesting to see,” she said. “Am I dressed right?”

“You will be.” Marko dropped a kiss on her head and closed his eyes. She was finally embracing what she wanted. “However, once we walk into the club, you become my responsibility. There will be no doubts or questions.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he repeated, no smile on his face.

“Okay,” she said. “I understand.”

At that, Marko smiled. Kat was taking a big step and trusting him.

The elevator stopped on the third level of the home. He led her through the foyer and into the formal living room, which from its mere location was meant to impress. Stark white walls rose to an intricate crown molding, which was dusted with gold roses. The wooden beams on the high ceiling added a distinct warmth and complemented the polished floors. Wanting her input on the décor, he'd chosen to wait on the majority of furnishings. Only a white leather seating group, as on the first level, sat before the tall windows and beside the fireplace.

Kat gazed around the vast space, once again a look of awe on her face. When she reached to undo her coat, he stopped her. “There's more.”

Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the room. The staccato rhythm of her heels coaxed his cock back to full attention. No matter how he tried, he couldn't stop envisioning Kat in the club. Physical submission and the acceptance of pure pleasure would add a definite link to their bond. A link she hadn't openly admitted she needed, he cautioned his eager body.

Strong and capable, she'd managed well on her own and put away a good nest egg for her mother to retire on. Her success did not negate the need for support. He was the man for her support. He
had
supported at the expense of delaying the inevitable. Requiring assurance, loyalty, and commitment didn't make Kat a submissive in every part of her life, but he knew she craved to be just that in certain points. It was his duty to identify those times and to fulfill her desires.

Stepping out onto the balcony, he indicated the spiral staircase. “Our picnic awaits,
mademoiselle
.”

* * *

Taking care to stay off her heels, Kat climbed the iron staircase on the balls of her feet. When she reached the upper turn, and the rooftop came into view, her mouth dropped.

Strings of lights trailed over the low wrought-iron fence and framed a canvas awning against the back wall, casting a radiant glow over the terrace. Set in an alcove between two of the building's stone sidewalls, plush couches with big red pillows were arranged beneath the retractable canopy and offered an unobstructed view of the city sprawling below them. The comfortable seating area featured a low cocktail-style table with a rustic fire pit as the centerpiece.

“Marko, this is heavenly,” she said. She held his arm while turning in blatant appreciation. He placed the thermos on the table, then reached for the remote.

Fire flamed in the pit and the awning retracted. “Why didn't you show this to me earlier?”

“Sometimes we need to be patient. Plus, it was raining, Kat,” he said, laughing as he pulled her into a hug. He linked his hands at the small of her back and swayed to the soft jazz drifting up from the street level. “Did you say something about corny?”

“Not corny. Absolutely not,” she whispered, her sweet breath teasing his lips. “We should've started with the terrace. It's the most beautiful and the most romantic place I've ever seen.”

He closed the distance between them and kissed her. Savoring her taste, he reveled in every caress of her tongue and the softness of her lips.

Enfolding her in his arms, he devoured her mouth with each step he took toward the couch and was still unable to get enough of her. He didn't want to let her go, but they had a picnic to get on with and an interesting night ahead of them. He lowered her onto the overstuffed cushions and sat beside her.

Breathless, she sidled onto his lap. “Do you mind?”

“Never.”

She looked into his eyes and tangled her fingers in his hair. Her mouth, swollen from his kiss, curved into a radiant smile. “Marko?”

“Yes, baby.” His body objected to the lazy lingering, but his heart wanted to remain in the gentle moment. He wound his arm around her waist and settled his hand on the curve of her hip.

“I . . .” She sucked on her lower lip and exhaled. She tried again. “I . . .” Her lip trembled.

“Sh,” he breathed, cupping the back of her head and brushing his lips over her forehead. “I know,
bella
. I know.”

Kat released a low breath, then pressed a kiss against the side of his neck and relaxed on his shoulder. “You do know.”

Warm from the spiced wine and the euphoric effects of the time she'd shared with Marko on the terrace, Kat skipped into the bedroom and tossed her coat on the lounger.

“I can't believe you really picked out clothes that are appropriate for a sex club,” she said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulling off her right boot.

“Truthfully, you don't need clothes for the club. Your birthday suit would be nicely welcomed, but I'm not about to share that exquisite vision with anyone else.”

She dropped the left boot to the floor and turned to find Marko, who stood in the doorframe with his arms folded menacingly across his chest. Her body heated beneath his dark gaze, and she was compelled to go to him, to feel his touch.

The Chloe design swept across her calves, reminding her to sashay rather than walk, but in all honesty, she wanted to run across the room. She had to make an effort to move slowly, but when she reached him she had to feel him. He radiated pure masculine sexual prowess. As her eyes followed the defined lines of his forearms, strength and resolve traveled from her fingertips to her core. She shifted on her feet, trying to minimize the tingle spreading between her legs.

“Has my gentleman turned into a he-man?” Kat asked, looking up through her lashes and trying her best to portray a shy maiden.

“I'm invoking my two hours once we arrive at the club. Strip, Kathryn.”

Kathryn! Strip!
“Just because I was issued an invitation to a sex club?”

“No.” He glanced at the time, then walked to the closet. “Because you belong to me, and I'm taking you to a sex club. Have you had a change of heart? Or are you procrastinating?”

“I'm sorry,” she replied, not exactly sure why she was apologizing. She just didn't want to disappoint him and ruin their perfect evening. Lifting the lovely dress over her shoulders, she placed it on the bed, and shook out her beret hair. She wanted to look perfect for him.

“Come here,” he said, stepping from the closet and holding out a black leather mini-skirt. He knelt and waited for her to approach. When she did, he lifted each of her feet in turn, caressing under the arches and over her instep, and then raised the softest of leather to her hips. He reached around her and zipped the skirt into place. “Pretty.”

His approval drew a smile. Kat couldn't look away as he rose to his full height and ran a finger over her lips. Of its own accord, her tongue flitted out and tasted.

Marko retracted his finger and returned to the closet. “In the club, you will touch when I allow you to. You must listen to instructions. You need to trust that I will take care of you.”

“Okay,” she said.

He opened the top drawer of a built-in dresser, and brought out a skimpy black bra hanging from his fingers. Slowly, he fit her hands through the straps and settled the sheer material over her breasts, hooking the front closure with meticulous tenderness.

“I haven't worn a front-closing bra since high school,” she admitted, not voicing her concern about how much support it could possibly offer.

“We can reserve that fantasy for a different night. Tonight, I own you.”

With no material to contain the moisture, her thighs were coated with her excitement. Thankfully he'd allowed for the stockings and had thought ahead to leather.

He slipped her feet into the boots, then stood back and looked at her. He raised an appraising brow and shook his head. “
Merde, tu es belle.”

Smoothing the back of two fingers down her cheek, he dipped lower, over her shoulder and outlined the swells exposed above the bra. Her breasts grew achingly heavy. She arched her back for control, but her nipples had hardened and were straining against the transparent covering for his attention.

“Beautiful and ready,” he said, trailing his knuckles over her right breast and capturing its crested peak between his fingers. “No boundaries. No reservations. Completely mine.”

She was his. She placed her faith in him. Having only read about the famous sex clubs in Paris, she wasn't sure what to expect. Would there be orgies on the dance floor? Were sadists breaking the physical limits of their slaves? Did couples interchange partners and loan out sexual desires? The carnal possibilities were too many to consider, and the excitement for the experience mingled with fear.

Curling tense fingers around his wrist, Kat brushed her thumb across the heel of his palm and looked into his eyes. He lowered his head and his breath warmed her lips.

“I've got you, Kathryn,” he said in a low voice. He slanted his mouth over hers and a sense of safety seeped into her. Secure in his capable hands, she was his.

Flames licked over her skin. The heat between her legs burned.
His.

He pulled a leather jacket from the closet and fit it on her shoulders. Taking the red wrap off the bed, he settled it around her neck and nodded. “
Allons-y
.”

* * *

Marko cursed the cold. The small leather jacket did little to keep her warm, but walking into the club with a coat or warmer clothing wasn't an option. Additional coverage would make her stand out in the wrong way. Kat needed total immersion in the night's experience. There was no room for any discomfort.

“Walk fast, sweetheart,” he said, squeezing her hand as they stepped onto the bridge. “There'll be plenty of other opportunities for a casual stroll.”

The red cashmere, tucked into the lapels of the jacket, covered her chest. The unprotected legs and pussy were a different story. The boots and skimpy leather left too much exposed. Angling to her left, he hoped the length of his coat cut the effect of the wind.

The convenient location of the Pont Louis-Philippe was the greatest benefit to using that specific crossing. Only meters from their door, it was rarely crowded with pedestrian traffic at night. It didn't have the romantic allure of promised kisses from strangers like the Pont Marie, nor was it weighted down with street performers like the Pont Saint Louis. They walked quickly, and in silence, into what Kat had identified as their future. A car, with impeccable heating, waited on the Right Bank.

Seeing the driver's door open, Marko waved her off and steered Kat to the waiting vehicle. He opened the rear door and a blast of warm air surrounded them. “Hurry out of the cold,
bella
.”

She scooted inside, and once she'd folded her legs close to her body, she rubbed her soft gloves over the sheer stockings. Marko settled beside her and hastily removed the red shawl from her chest to wrap it around her legs. He rubbed one hand up the side of her right thigh, while he pressed the left against his coat.

“
Bonsoir, monsieur et Mademoiselle Kathryn
,” a sweet feminine voice called from the front. “
Heureux que vous êtes hors du froid. Et merci de me garder hors de lui.”

Kat turned to look at him.

“Oui, monsieur,”
Stella replied.

“Stella said she's glad we're out of the cold. She's grateful she was able to stay in the car and keep warm,” he explained. The privacy glass promptly lifted into place. Done with the formalities and greetings, Marko smiled down at her. “Better now?”

“Much. That wind was vicious,” she said, snuggling closer to him and fitting her legs beneath his knees. “Where's Jean-Luc?”

“He's off on Friday nights.” Marko cupped her cheeks and circled his thumb over the bright red in the center. “
Bella
, it's important you decide on an easy safe word before we arrive at the club.”

“I don't need a safe word. I'm with you.”

Elated by her reasoning, he pressed his lips to her mouth and kissed her until the oxygen in his lungs was spent. The woman, who had insisted on taking care of everything on her own, felt safe with him.
Merde
, he wanted to break out the champagne and celebrate her gift.

“The scenes are not always exclusive. There may be things that make you uncomfortable, and admittedly, some of those things will be rewarding if you choose to explore them, but you do have limits. I'm not a sadist, Kat, but we may reach a limit that you do not wish to explore. The safe word is for your comfort.”

“I trust your judgment.”

Damn if his cock didn't stand and salute.

“You need a safe word,
bella
,” he insisted.

She didn't reply; rather, she placed her cheek against his chest and rubbed her hand over his heart. Nothing had ever felt so right. He would fulfill her fantasies, just as she had just fulfilled his greatest aspiration. They stopped at a traffic light, and the perfect word pulled up beside them. He dropped a kiss atop her beret.

“Your word is Porsche,” he said. “When you feel that you want to stop any activity or you want the evening to end, you will say Porsche.”

Worrying her lower lip, she looked up at him.

“You will make me proud, not disappoint me, by using your safe word if you feel you've reached your limit,” he explained. “I'm very happy to own your trust, Kathryn. It means everything to me. But my job is to show you pleasure like you've never experienced. I will push your body, and I will push your mind. There will be times when you may question my actions, but I will not hear those questions from your lips because you will not dare voice them. Your safe word is Porsche.”

“Okay,” she said, her eyes darker than usual. The chill had left her skin, and her cheeks burned pink. “Porsche. I got it. Okay.”

With a gentle nudge on her chin, he angled her face up and brought his mouth to hers. “Okay is officially my favorite word.”