He nodded a little, his eyes shut.
In one slick move, she lowered herself over his thick, throbbing length. She shuddered, pleasure and relief flowing through her. She wanted to be closer, even closer. His skin against hers. Her body contracted. This was heaven, just Jonas and her and nothing else. If she just did that a couple more times—
“Shit,” Jonas bit out. “We can’t do this, Alice.”
Her body begged for just one more delicious thrust. She drew in a shaky breath and stilled herself. Damn. What the hell was she thinking? She rose up until she released him.
“That’s hot as hell,” he rasped. “But if we’re going bare, we need to be ready to look way past tomorrow.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. She rested her forehead against his chest and felt the hard, fast thump of his heart.
“Should we get out and find a condom?” he asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.
She nodded again, trying to get a handle on her thoughts. She couldn’t forget for one moment that they only had one more night. Then she was leaving. The end.
She climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel. Splashes came from behind her, and she turned to see Jonas rising out of the water, like some Viking god, water running in streaks down his tattooed chest. And a thick, erection bobbing impatiently at her. He was staring at her ass with dark hunger that sent a fire through her inside. Oh, God. What was he imagining?
But as she turned, his expression went blank. Yet another part of him that he kept carefully locked up?
Alice handed Jonas a towel. He dried off carelessly, missing beads of water on his thick biceps and his powerful shoulders. Dropping her towel, Alice stepped closer and licked the water from his skin. She ran her tongue over the intricate weavings of the Celtic cross. She tasted his skin, higher. Then she raised herself onto her toes and rested her lips against the broken wing of the black bird.
He let out a groan of unmistakable pleasure. Yes, he really liked that. He was a man who willingly fought, and if his scars were any indication, he didn’t always win.
But Alice’s imagination wouldn’t stop there. What did he want afterwards with his red-headed girlfriend? An unbidden image came: Jonas holding down another woman. He wouldn’t have been as gentle and controlled with that woman as he was with Alice. She bit her lip and fought this sudden flash of jealousy.
Alice looked up at him and traced the scar on his jaw. “Do you ever miss being a little rougher?”
He froze, his muscles tensed. “I don’t miss the fighting.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she whispered.
His chest rose and fell against her.
“I know,” he said slowly. “But I don’t know the answer to your question. The fighting, the drugs, the sex – for me it’s all wrapped up together. And I’m not sure I want to sort it out.”
This was an answer. His uncertainty. Still so wary of his past, of what he was capable of. He wanted something different, but that didn’t mean his taste for rougher things was gone.
Alice looked up at him. “What do you really want to do with me right now, Jonas?”
He parted his mouth as if to speak, but he stopped. He caught her lip between his teeth, and she moaned. He kissed her again as they took slow steps out of the bathroom and toward the bed.
“I’ll show you,” he said.
Her heart stuttered as the backs of her legs hit the bed.
“You want to know what I want right now?” His lips brushed hers as he spoke.
She shook her head slowly.
“I want to be the man who makes you come with my mouth. I want you to straddle me and tease me while I do it. And then I want to lose myself with you.”
A rush of pleasure pulsed from her core, and Alice drew in a shaky breath. Not exactly what she had been thinking. Not rough, not now. But wow. Definitely something new.
He held her face in his hands and whispered, “I want everything a selfish prick in jail can’t have. Even if it’s just for the night.”
Alice blinked. His jaw was still tight. She kissed him softly on his scar, warmth washing through her. He was still running from his past just as hard as she was. But he knew where he wanted to go.
“What do you think, Alice?” he growled.
She swallowed. “Si’l vous plait.”
A little of the tension in his jaw eased, and his eyes softened. “Good.”
Alice’s heart raced faster. She had never done anything like this before. She folded her arms, suddenly awkward.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said, stroking her cheek. “You’ll like this.”
He pulled back the covers and lay down. “Turn around and put your knees up around my shoulders. You can lean forward and play from there.”
Heat blazed up her cheeks as she flashed to an image of lowering herself onto his mouth. Could she go through with this? She’d never have to nerve to ask for it. But this was his fantasy.
Clearly she needed to work on her own imagination.
She stepped closer and stopped. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Hell, yes.” Jonas smiled, and his eyes darkened. “The night after you left for Copenhagen, I got myself off thinking about this.”
She climbed onto the bed and braced herself on his chest as he helped position her. He held her hips steady over him. She looked up at his long, hard length, begging for attention.
“I’m hard as fuck right now,” he groaned. “But I don’t want to come. Not yet. So just play a little if you want. But not too much.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice quivering.
He tugged her hips, and she sank down onto his mouth.
“Ooohhh,” she whispered.
The sensation of his mouth was overpowering as he tasted her, again and again. And then there was the view. She had never had the chance to stare at a man this way, and she probably never would again. Alice shifted her weight onto her hands for a closer look as he teased her.
She tried to focus on his throbbing erection in front of her. Did he really get off on giving her pleasure? Was this part of what he had said earlier about what he had missed in prison? The power and the intimacy in giving someone else pleasure were two things no one had behind bars.
Alice reached forward with one hand and touched his wet tip. His hips jolted, and his hard breaths whispered at her core. Jonas swept his tongue over a sensitive spot, and she cried out. Jonas caressed her hips and did it again. It was getting hard to think, but she wasn’t done exploring. She circled him with her hand, exploring his size and weight. He was rock hard, probably painfully so, but he had said he didn’t want to come yet. She had never done anything as erotic before. And she had never been so turned on. He teased her with his mouth as she traced his length with her fingers.
She couldn’t take it much longer.
With one more circle of his tongue, everything inside tightened and burst. Jonas held her in place, teasing out more jolts of ecstasy, and she collapsed on his hot stomach. Alice closed her eyes.
“My God,” she mumbled.
The softer waves of pleasure echoed and faded, coaxing her into a languid haze. She rolled off him, and he turned around to face her.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Jonas nodded. “Mmm.”
“Just give me a minute,” she panted.
Jonas chuckled. “I’ll try.”
He headed for the bathroom and returned with a glass of water. The bed dipped as he sat down on the edge. He took a drink of water and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.
“I can’t decide if this is so good because we just met or despite it,” she said, tracing a thick line of his tattoo around his shoulders with her fingers.
He turned around and rested his hand on hers. “Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “It’s a lonely world out there. Being with you makes it better. That’s all that matters.”
She swal
lowed. He was right. If nothing else, they had found a reprieve.
He reached for a condom on the night stand and scooted back on the bed. Alice climbed over his legs and straddled him. She took the condom from him and rolled it on. He lifted her and slowly she lowered herself. She was still so sensitive, and the pressure was almost too much.
“You okay?” he asked, teeth gritted.
She nodded.
“You make me hungry, Alice,” he groaned. “Hungry for things I never thought I could have.”
His words rang like a bell deep inside, echoing through her body. He made her hungry, too.
Jonas rolled on top of her and laced their hands together, lifting them over her head. He kissed her long and deep. He began to move in long, slow thrusts. His hands grasped hers harder at every thrust and he bent down to open her mouth for a kiss. She felt the mounting pleasure pushing out the sadness. She tipped back her head, losing herself in the heat and the friction of Jonas’s body. His eyes were heavy with pleasure, his lips parted. She didn’t look away. His strokes grew harder, faster, more and more frantic. The bed creaked and groaned under the weight of each thrust.
He reached his hand between her legs for a few soft swirls, sending her body to the earth-shattering brink. He bucked and growled and bucked until she screamed his name. She shook with pleasure as he drove in his final thrusts with heavy, torn groans. He came hard, his muscles straining and twitching. His head dropped to her neck, and he whispered words she couldn’t understand.
But she didn’t need to. Not when he clung to her like he’d never let her go.
THE SUN HAD shifted so that the light now streamed through the balcony doors and onto the bed. They still hadn’t made it out of the hotel room. Alice lay half on top of Jonas, legs tangled, suspended in a dreamy, sated fog.
“I'm starving,” said Jonas, stroking her hair.
He kissed her and sat up, the bed groaning under his movements.
Alice sat on the edge, watching him. His muscles stretched and flexed as he pulled on a white t-shirt. A dark beast of an inked creature slithered around the thick, hard muscles of his arm.
“When did you get that tattoo?” she asked.
He frowned. “Not long before I went to jail.”
What was the beast? Its eyes were dark, and drops of blood hung from its teeth. Was it part of him? It must be if he marked his body permanently with it.
Alice bit her lip. How much should she push him to tell her more? He shut down every time parts of his past came up. The rest of his life wasn’t supposed to matter, not when they had only a day together, but somehow it did.
He took out a crisp blue button-down shirt from his suitcase and slipped his arms through the sleeves, covering the tattoo.
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you dressing up for me?”
He looked up at her, and the distance in his eyes melted. “Can’t think of a better reason than that.”
Her cheeks flushed. A lock of wet, tousled hair fell onto his forehead as he buttoned up his shirt. He looked up at her again, and she licked her lips. His eyes widen. He took a slow step forward and ran a hand down her bare arm.
She traced the buttons of his shirt. Kneeling down in front of her, he leaned in for a soft kiss.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice warm and low in her ear. “Naked, your hair all tousled and wild.”
He found her breast with his hand, and her breath caught in the back of her throat.
He took a long, deep breath. “Fuck, you smell good.” He squeezed her breast and groaned, then let go. “You better get some clothes on.” He handed her the sundress that she had hung over the chair in the corner.
How could this be the same man who covered his body with dark ink? A girl could get hooked on the kinds of complements that slipped out of his mouth. He must have gotten burned for laying himself out like this before, and yet he still did it.
But he was careful with some parts, and some parts he seemed to have closed off completely. Or tried to. What would she find if she pushed him a little more? Sometime today, she was going to find out.
Alice touched his cheek with her fingertips. “You’re a remarkable man, Jonas Hällström.”
He looked at her, his eyes flickering with unreadable emotion, but he didn’t say anything.
They rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence, her fingers laced with his. They walked out onto the little square. She hadn’t noticed the rain shower from the room, but the sidewalk was damp. She breathed in the warm, soft air and sighed aloud. Jonas grinned down at her and squeezed her hand.
They crossed onto a larger boulevard. The sidewalks were filled with people, though no one seemed to be in much of a hurry. She and Jonas joined the stream of Parisians, passing hat shops and chocolatiers. A man in an apron was wiping down the wicker-backed chairs and tiny tables of a café’s outdoor seating.
Jonas peeked into the first bakery they came to. The smell of butter and yeast wafted from the narrow store. Alice’s stomach rumbled.
Jonas looked down at his watch. “It’s a little early for dinner. Maybe something from here?”
She took a long drag of the sweet smells. “Mmmm. If I step into that bakery, I’m afraid of how much I’ll come out with.”
Jonas raised an eyebrow “Is that a bad thing?”
“I think so,” she said. “This trip is eroding all my self-control.”
Jonas bent down and kissed her neck. “Lucky me. You want to wait outside? I’ll surprise you.”
Alice nodded. He brushed his hand over her cheek and turned for the door.
She chose the table next to the window and leaned back into the chair. A little vase of purple and yellow pansies sat on a square of linen on the side of the table, along with a menu, handwritten in calligraphy. Someone had spent time on this beautiful arrangement, protected it from the rain.
She looked through the window of the café for Jonas. His broad back was to her, his hands shoved in his pockets. The cashier pointed at a pastry, and Jonas nodded.
He looked like the last guy she’d expect to find on the Paris streets, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Even all dressed up, he still radiated don’t fuck with me.
Where she grew up, a guy like him would have ruled the neighborhood. He would have had a girlfriend he took out plus a few more on the side. If he wasn’t in jail. Or dead. Alice frowned. Thoughts like that didn’t belong in this Paris fantasy.
Jonas returned with a tray and set it on the little table. The scents of coffee and butter mingled in the warm air.
“Mmmm,” she sighed. “But coffee this late in the day?”
“So we’ll stay up all night,” he said. “I’m helping you get back on New York time.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Generous offer. Merci.”
“Nice French.”
“And I figured it out all by myself.”
Jonas mouth twisted up in a smile. “We can stay up late for more French lessons.”
“You still haven’t taught me any dirty words.”
“Are we making a list of things we haven’t done yet?” Jonas’s hand disappeared under the table and slipped up her thigh. “I have a few things to add.”
She laughed. “You’ve definitely done that before.”
Jonas set a frothy cup in front of her, and he took the black coffee for himself. She took a sip of the creamy drink and bit into the fluffy croissant. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the buttery pastry flakes melting in her mouth. Jonas’s hand was gone, but his thigh pressed against hers, warm, solid. The sun shone on her back, and the warmth spread through her.
Would she remember this feeling when she got back to New York?
Alice opened her eyes as Jonas took the last bite of his croissant. Leaning forward over the table, he lifted a hand to her cheek. She took a stuttered breath. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only his breath came out
.
He shook his head a little and dropped his hand. “Ready?”
She nodded.
They wandered slowly down the street, dodging dogs, well-dressed men and mysteriously well-composed children. The sun shone down on the damp pavement, and a hint of mist rose in front of them. Jonas slipped his arm around her waist and pointed to a narrow side street, away from the crowded boulevard.
They crossed, his long strides slowing to match her pace. Alice slowed further in front of a narrow arching entrance to a bookstore. The front windows were blocked on both sides with teetering stacks of books. Mismatched tables on the sidewalk held wicker baskets, all overflowing with more books. Alice stopped next to one of the tables and ran her fingers along the spines.
Jonas picked up a yellowing paperback and flipped through the first pages. She scanned the table for a familiar name. Jean-Paul Sartre. She picked up the book and looked at the cover. A few words in French and the name Simon de Beauvoir. Jonas put his book down and looked over her shoulder.
“Sartre’s love letters to de Beauvoir in French?” he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Ambitious.”
She laughed. “I’m not going to buy it. Just recognized the names.”
He brushed his hand over her shoulder, along her shoulder blades. “Live for the moment, right?”
“Always.” She rolled her eyes. Though living for the moment was going pretty well so far. Must be the magic of Paris at work.
“Why publishing, Alice?” asked Jonas. “You’re… unexpected.”
“That’s coming from you?”
“That’s fair.” He chuckled. “But why?”
Alice shrugged. “Books got me through a lot of years. Probably a good thing since most of my friends ended up pregnant. Mostly it was just my mother and me in a one-bedroom apartment. We had no money. The only people who had money in my neighborhood were trouble.”
She glanced up at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “You should stay away from that kind of trouble,” he said.
The corners of her mouth turned up. He had been that kind of trouble, too.
“I try to. But it finds me anyway, apparently,” she said.
He laughed, and they started walking again. He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to continue.
One Night in Paris: Short, Steamy Romance - Episode #2 of 4 (Stockholm Diaries, Alice) Page 3
