Wanderlust

Paris

This part is pure smut. I make no apologies.

Part Two

Cassie took Sam's hand as they stepped out of the elevator and onto the soft carpet of the hotel hallway. To outside eyes, they would just look like any other married couple, returning from an evening out in Paris.

But Sam could feel the need – the want – in Cassie from the way her fingers gripped his.

Despite the near overwhelming urge to drag her into their suite and bend her over the first flat surface they stumbled across, he slowed his pace to a stroll and dropped back a step. He did have an excellent view he needed to appreciate.

After a few steps, she looked back at him, her face puckered into a confused frown. She could feel the raw sexual desire radiating from her husband so why he was actually so…so casual all of a sudden?

Then she saw his eyes, and the bolt of sheer need she felt for him (and from him) left her desperately wet and aching.

She had a feeling this was going to be a night to remember.

Not that any of their nights together had ever been forgettable.

Dropping his hand, Cassie unlocked the door to their hotel suite, stepping inside and not bothering to flick on the overhead lights. They had left the blinds and drapes pulled back so the illuminated view of Paris greeted them, and they both moved toward the window as if inexorably driven there by the sheer beauty of the view.

"Amazing," Sam breathed, standing behind Cassie and settling his hands on her waist.

They stood like that for a while, just drinking in the vista before them.

"You can't beat that view," she finally agreed, leaning back into him and sighing as she felt his breath on her neck.

"My view is pretty great, too," he replied, grinning wolfishly as his fingers tightened around with a possessive desire that made her breath catch in her throat.

His wandering hands found the tie that held Cassie's wrap dress together, and he slowly pulled on both ends of it, his chin draped over her shoulder so he could watch himself undressing her.

"Sam!" she gasped as her dress began to slide open, slipping off her shoulders.

"It's okay," he crooned into her ear, his voice dark and husky, which only heightened Cassie's desire. "No one can see us up here."

She was somewhat surprised at how arousing she found this, but she was still a little nervous.

"I know, but…" she weakly protested, though coherent argument had fled the building the moment that Sam put his hands on her bare flesh.

"Anyway," he murmured nipping delicately at her earlobe. "I'm fairly certain these windows are made of privacy glass."

Cassie raised an eyebrow, giving up any pretence of protest as her silky, floral dress slid to the floor.

Sam shrugged. "It's Paris, the City of Love," he purred, rasping the last word as his hands roamed over his wife's bared flesh.

The city seemed to sparkle just for them as Sam brushed Cassie's hair aside, pressing a line of kisses down her neck and over the back of her shoulder. His hands covered her breasts, squeezing and moulding them until her warm flesh threatened to escape from the cups of her lacy purple bra.

It was getting harder and harder to care that she was standing in front of window, in just her underwear, while her husband put his hands all over her. Privacy glass notwithstanding.

Actually, the whole fantasy was turning her on.

"Sam," she groaned, shivering when she felt the tiniest scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin.

He trailed his fingertips over the silken straps of her bra, meeting her eyes as he silently asked for permission. He'd close the curtains and take her to bed if that's what she wanted, but he'd come to know the look she was currently wearing.

It usually meant he was in for a hell of a ride.

Her eyes were warm and she gave him the smallest, almost imperceptible nod.

It was all he needed.

Her bra came loose with quiet snap, and Sam snatched it away before it could hit the floor, tossing it on top of Cassie's discarded dress.

He moved in closer behind her, his hands covering her bare breasts now. He could feel her heart hammering under his palm, her nipples hard against his flesh.

Good God, he had the sexiest wife in the whole damn world.

"I love you," he murmured, rubbing his palms over her nipples.

"Saaam," she sighed again, pressing back against him and swallowing a smug moan when she felt him growing hard against her backside.

"Do you like this, sweetheart?" he asked throatily. "Do you like me touching you like this, up here, with Paris all around us?"

His hands left her breasts and she mourned their loss, until they settled at her hips and the fingertips of his right hand ghosted over her panties.

"Cassie, you're soaked," he groaned, slipping his finger under the damp fabric and dipping it into her slick heat.

He looked up, catching a glimpse of their reflection in the windowpane and, even though they were out of focus, the sight was so erotic that he nearly came right then and there.

"Saam," she moaned again, stumbling forward and bracing her hands against the cool glass for support.

"I need you so badly, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Feeling him twitch against her, even through his pants, Cassie smirked.

"I have a pretty good idea…"

"I have a pretty good idea, too," he agreed with a grin, unbuckling his belt with impatient fingers and finally starting to feel some relief as he freed himself and pushed his clothes down his thighs.

"Sam?" she asked softly, curiosity and desire, and just a touch of nerves, warring in her eyes.

"Trust me?" he whispered hotly in her ear before sucking the lobe in his mouth.

He would never do anything she didn't want to . . . but her body's reaction had him pretty sure she did want this. She just needed the reassurance that he was with her.

So when she breathily replied, "Always," shimmying her hips to help him pull down the tiny scrap of fabric masquerading as her underwear, his smile was both smug and triumphant.

He brought them briefly to his face, inhaling deeply before he threw them with the rest of Cassie's clothes.

She opened her legs wider for him, almost subconsciously, pushing forward so her weight was resting on her palms against the glass.

She felt Sam behind her, his belt jingling in its loops from where his trousers were caught around his knees.

Oh, he wasn't…

Oh.

That was kind of…

Her husband was a gorgeous, beautiful man. And she loved seeing him without his clothes on.

But this.

This was hot, too.

She pressed hard on the window, spreading her thighs further to accommodate him.

She cried out, breath fogging the windowpane when Sam slid into her.

"God, Cassie," he moaned, pressing a hand next to hers on the glass to support his weight while his other hand clamped around her waist.

"Sam, please," she begged, clenching around him trying to make him do…something. Anything.

Just move.

Just fuck her.

"Look at how beautiful the city is, Cassie," he almost gasped and shifted in her, tearing a moan from both of them as he leaned forward to point at the sky, the Eiffel Tower glowing against the navy blue sky.

"So beautiful," Cassie agreed, ending on a gasp of her own when Sam moved his hips in a quick, erratic thrust.

"No, no, don't close your eyes," he murmured, moving his other hand over her belly before sliding down and tracing circles on her clit with his index finger. "I want you to watch me fucking you."

And she did, focusing on her reflection in the glass. She almost didn't recognise the woman staring back at her; so confident, so sexual, so desired.

So wanton.

"Saaam," she groaned. It was hard to keep her eyes open when she wanted to give herself over to the sensations completely, but she managed because watching Sam taking her was so staggeringly hot she didn't want to miss a single second of it.

He was fucking her in earnest now, one hand resting on her hip and the other pressed next to hers on the window. Their combined breathing had fogged the glass panel in front of them, giving them, and Paris a kind of ethereal, magical glow.

"Unh, Sam!" Cassie cried, her sweaty palms slipping on the glass as Sam drove her up to her peak. His head dropped to her shoulder, forehead damp against her heated skin and she sighed at the feeling of his crumpled shirt against her bare back.

"Cassie, I'm so close, I need you to come with me." he growled, sinking his teeth into her shoulder as he working himself harder and faster against her.

"I'm with you," she assured him, clenching around him and rocking her hips as he thrust into her again, once . . . twice . . . again . . . and finally, sending them both freefalling over the cliff into sheer orgasmic oblivion.

Cassie felt like she had fallen all fifteen floors back to street level.

She'd do it all over again.

Just as soon as Sam recovered.

How long would it take for Sam to recover?

Sam couldn't quite remember getting undressed, but his suit and shirt were tangled on the floor by the bed, and his tie was flung across the coffee table. Cassie was in bed beside him, her body tucked around his.

He squeezed her thigh gently.

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, giving her a tender smile.

She smiled back at him, slow and lazy.

"I'm good," she replied. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment there, and I wasn't looking forward to trying to explain that to the concierge…"

Sam chuckled.

"That was pretty intense," he admitted.

"We might have to take things easy. I don't want to wear you out before we've even left Europe," she mused with a grin.

Sam pulled her in, closer to him. He could already feel his body responding to the way his wife – his very naked wife – felt in his arms.

They rolled until she was on top of him, settled at his waist.

"Curtains are still open," he observed, his voice cracking on the last word as Cassie eased herself down onto his cock.

"Privacy glass, right?" she quizzed him, eyebrows raised as she started to move her hips.

"Right," Sam agreed, feeling the last shred of his sanity leave him as Cassie managed to rotate her hips and squeeze her muscles around him at the same time.

Wait, it was the website for this hotel he'd read that on, right?

Or had that been the hotel they'd booked in Amsterdam?

Or Barcelona?

But with Cassie's hands on his chest, and her body riding his so perfectly, he really couldn't give a damn.

He was sure the Parisiennes wouldn't mind… they must have seen far, far worse.

And if they hadn't?

Well, what an excellent place for them to start their education.