Sinful Desires

by Scarlett Avery

  He leans into me and clamps my clit with one hand and I purr. “I want you to come for me, my love, and I want you to come hard,” he whispers in my ear and I lose it.

  “Oh, I can’t hold it in.”

  “Don’t. Give it all to me. Show me how much you’ve missed me,” he says before sliding his tongue in my ear. He pounds me harder and adds just the right amount of pressure against my hungry clit.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh,” I chant in a love-induced trance.

  I come long and hard, gasping for air.

  He slows down the pace, pumps three deep thrusts into me and stills before collapsing on top of me as he shoots his warm load deep inside me.

  “Ciara, you’re mine,” he grunts in my ear.

  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Our breathing is uneven and fills the room as homage to one of the most consuming sexual interludes we’ve shared so far.

  My trembling legs fail me, and he rolls to the side laughing. “My God, Ciara, your pussy transforms me into a drunk. I could fuck you fifty times a day and I still wouldn’t have enough.”

  Fifty times a day? I’m sure he’d make me come each time. “There are no words to explain what we’ve so passionately shared. I think it’s a mixture of us missing each other so much and being so fucking turned on. Oh, by the way, if this is how you always make love, sign me up.” Nothing about Nikolaj is predictable, not even making love.

  “I’ve never taken the time to savor a woman like I just did with you, baby. I’ve never wanted to.” He shrugs, reaching out to brush my hair away from my face. “You’re the only one.”

  Oh my Lord. The man has a way with words.

  The silence between us is so heavy. It’s like the most intense communion of the souls. I slide my body closer to his and I grab his face, bringing his lips to mine.

  I’ve never been so wholly in love with a man in my life as I am right now.

  * * *

  I don’t care if we stay in bed for the rest of the day. He’s spooning my body and I could spend the next two weeks like this until we ring in the New Year nestled together.

  I could survive on his love alone. Who needs food?

  “What were your plans for Christmas?”

  I flip around to face him and brush my hair back to gaze at his beautiful face. “I didn’t have any,” I say, wiggling my body closer to his.

  “What do you mean? What about your family and friends?”

  “I was going to spend it at home alone watching movies, cooking up a storm and trying my hand at new pastry recipes. I couldn’t deal with being around people because I was so…” I pause, realizing how happy I am right now and how my heart no longer aches to be with the man I love.

  “I’m sorry for having allowed Jakob to put you through this.”

  “I was so heartbroken. I missed you so much. Nothing, not even my favorite holiday of the year was going to cheer me up.”

  “So you don’t have any engagements?”

  “No. I don’t have anything planned. Why do you ask?”

  “Is it okay if I spend the holidays with you?”

  It’s like asking me if I need air to breathe. “Of course, my love, but weren’t you going to spend the holidays with your family in Copenhagen?”

  He bites the tip of my nose before answering and I giggle like a schoolgirl. “Do you know what my father told me when I announced I was coming after you?”

  “What did he say?”

  “He warned me he’d refuse to open the door to his home unless you were standing by my side. He commanded me to do whatever it takes to get you back.”

  “Your dad thinks we’re such a great match?” I can’t believe his dad feels so strongly about us being together again.

  “He does. I’ve been waiting for you all my life, Ciara, and now you’re mine again, I never want to let you go.”

  I could die right here and I would be utterly content. “If you keep saying things like this, I’ll have no other choice but to melt into your arms.”

  “I mean everything I’ve said. I love you with all my heart and I want to spend the holidays with you.”

  “Do you intend on keeping me prisoner in my own home until the New Year?” I ask, smiling at him. I wouldn’t protest one bit if he wanted to lock me up here for the next fourteen days.

  “I have a better idea.”

  “You do?” I say, dropping little kisses along his chin.

  “I have a humble apartment in Paris. Why don’t we get on the jet and fly to Paris for Christmas and you can cook for me and feed me like a king?”

  Oh my God, Christmas in Paris? “Oh, I don’t know. Traveling at this time of the year sounds like a lot of work. What do I get in return?”

  “I promise to make love to you each and every night and I swear on a stack of Bibles to make you come so hard you no longer remember your own name.”

  “When do we leave?”

  We both laugh.

  BOOK 5—SINFUL DESIRES

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Jerome, please come up with the luggage and please get the concierge to help you with the grocery bags. I’ll see you upstairs.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Nikolaj is giving instructions to his French chauffeur and the only thing I can do is stare in complete and utter amazement at the façade of his Paris home located in the luxurious Trocadéro neighborhood in the 16th Arrondissement. It doesn’t get any better than this.

  “Madame, if you’ll follow me upstairs,” he says, amused by the shocked look on my face.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “By many standards, this is humble, love.”

  “Your standards are way too low then,” I mock.

  I bite my lower lip to avoid gasping when we walk into the lobby of this beautiful older Parisian building. Holy smokes, this is spectacular. This guy knows how to live.

  “My God,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I love how they’ve kept the original architecture, but they’ve done a great job with the restoration.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure,” I answer, too mesmerized by the décor to elaborate. “How long have you had this place?” I ask as we step inside the elevator.

  “I bought it three years ago.” Crap. I wonder how many women he’s brought here. “But I’m afraid I’ve been busy with the expansion of the company and of course being in Toronto for nearly one year. Since I’ve been traveling the globe for so many months, it hasn’t been possible for me to enjoy this apartment. I’ve only been here four times and I’ve been renting it out to foreign dignitaries to justify this extravagance. I figure someone might as well take advantage of the incredible location.”

  “You’ve only been here four times?” I gasp, unable to comprehend why he wouldn’t want to be here more often.

  “Well, more like twice. I haven’t been here in over eighteen months, but before coming to claim you in New York, I swung back twice with my assistant, Margaret, to prepare the place for the holidays… just in case you took me up on my offer.”

  “No way.” I wonder who was with him the few times he was here.

  “And to answer the question you’re not asking, I’ve never brought another woman here.” He winks.

  Damn, am I so transparent to him now? “Oh.”

  “I love your jealous side,” he says, biting off a smile.

  “I’m not jealous, I’m simply sizing up the competition.”

  “Baby, there is none when it comes to my heart.”

  His words are going to make me combust.

  “I hope you like the place. I had it redecorated in the last week since I’ve been renting it out for a while. I asked Margaret to hire a decorator. I have a new bedroom, living area and dining room and she even redid the kitchen. I bought all new furniture and my assistant managed to sell off all the pieces we had here during the time the apartment was being rented. I wanted it to be perfect so I could receive you like the queen you are, love.”

  “Y
ou did this for me?”

  He touches my lips with his instead of answering.

  Damn, I love him.

  “Come on, we’re here,” he says, still laughing at my reaction as he drags me from the elevator to his apartment located on the southeast corner of the top floor of this character building.

  When Nikolaj opens the door to the apartment, I’m stunned by this grandiose and elegant home.

  “Wow, this is…” I try to find the proper words to describe what surrounds me, but how do you describe perfection?

  My boyfriend’s definition of humble makes me laugh. His Paris place is the kind of palatial apartment you see in those sexy French movies, the kind that makes you want to pack up your bags and move to the Trocadéro, Montmartre or Le Marais neighborhoods. I’ve seen some impressive abodes in my life, but this has me jaw-dropped.

  Money is a beautiful thing.

  I walk into his house like you would walk through Château Versailles for the first time—in complete awe and bewilderment. I look down and I nearly jump with excitement. This is a paradise for any designer.

  “These herringbone wood floors are so typical of the French décor. You have impeccable taste to have kept them instead of ripping them out and replacing them with a more common wood floor.”

  “Yes, the floor is beautiful, but wait until you see this room right here,” he says, leading me further inside his apartment. “When you open the glass French doors, it showcases the stunning effect of the pattern,” he says as he opens the two doors into a spacious room overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

  I take a step back and grab my chest, gasping in shock. Seriously? I’m staring at the most enchanting tower in the world.

  “My God. I’d never leave this place if I owned it.”

  “Well, since we’re officially a couple, I hope you’ll find a way to come here with me more often,” he says, lifting me in his arms and twirling me in the air.

  “Are you kidding me? I’d drop everything and come running here.”

  “I’m glad we settled any future travel plans so quickly. Come on, let’s go check out the kitchen.”

  “Aren’t you going to put me down?”

  “Nah.” He throws me over his shoulder and walks through the beautiful glass French doors in the direction of the most sacred place in a home. As we walk through the living area, I catch a quick glimpse of a stunning Christmas tree you’d expect to see in Living Etc or Vogue Living magazines.

  “Hold on, handsome. Put me down. We can’t rush by without admiring this tree.”

  “Yes, madam,” he chuckles, putting me down on my feet.

  “Nik, this is a real tree,” I say, inhaling the beautiful scent of pine.

  “You didn’t expect me to buy a fake one?” He rolls his eyes, laughing. “I made sure to ask my assistant to get a majestic tree. Your mom revealed this was your favorite holiday of the year. She says you’ve been obsessed with Christmas trees since you were a kid.”

  “You’ve become best friends with my parents now?” I tease, gently hitting his arm. “I used to sit for hours mesmerized by the lights. This is an amazing one. Did your assistant decorate it herself?”

  “Nah. I figured I should make the effort to decorate our first tree as a couple.”

  God, I love him so much right now. “You seriously decorated this yourself?”

  “Well, I had my sister Emma on a Skype video chat and she walked me through the basics but technically, yes. I truly wanted to do this for you.”

  “You’re a wonderful man. These little attentions touch me so deeply.”

  “You look happy,” he says, stealing a quick kiss before grabbing my hand and dragging me to the kitchen.

  “I’m very happy. I’m in the most beautiful city in the world with one of the sexiest bachelors on the planet.”

  “Hold on,” he says, stopping and turning around. “You must have me confused with another European billionaire. I’m no longer on the market. My heart is spoken for,” he declares, leaning in so close I can admire every shade of blue in his electric eyes.

  “I love hearing you say stuff like that.” I lower my gaze and look at him from under my lashes.

  “Are you blushing, Ciara?”

  “Maybe a little. This couple thing is pretty awesome, but it’s still so new to me.”

  “Get used to it. Now do you want to see my kitchen or not?”

  “Lead the way, you gorgeous hunk.”

  I nearly lose it when I walk into his kitchen. “You have a banquette in your kitchen?”

  “The decorator suggested it as a complement to the checkered black and white floor.”

  I’m so in awe, I don’t answer. I walk towards the granite counters to take in the rest of the kitchen and I can’t help but admire how the chic and modern palette compliments the Smeg gas stove. “Do you realize how many chefs have wet dreams of owning a Smeg oven?”

  “I’d love to take credit for this, but again, the high-priced French decorator suggested it.” He grins. “I don’t cook, but I told him my French chef and my sexy American girlfriend would appreciate the oven far more than I ever will.”

  “I’m going to chain myself to this oven. I can’t wait to cook you meals you’ll never forget.”

  “Honey, I didn’t bring you to Paris to handcuff and chain you to a hot oven. Now, if we could move this BDSM scenario to the bedroom…”

  “Funny.”

  “Seriously, tonight, I don’t want you to lift a finger. I already have a full Christmas Eve meal prepared by one of the finest catering houses in the city. La Grande Épicerie should deliver our feast in a few hours. My chef will come over with a few waiters and they’ll treat us to an evening fit for royalty. Since you don’t have to worry about a thing, I was hoping we might go for a drive and catch the city’s vibe before the sun sets. It is Christmas Eve after all.”

  “You’re full of surprises. I love your idea. There’s nothing quite like a sunset in Paris. It’s a spectacular moment in the day where the backdrop of the city looks like a Monet oil painting.”

  BOOK 5—SINFUL DESIRES

  Chapter Fifteen

  I hate to admit it, but Parisians are entitled to feel so proud. The French capital is a smashing idea any time of the year, but it transforms itself into a fairytale wonderland at Christmas. The City of Lights is fully illuminated and no matter how many times I soak this in, I can never get enough.

  “You’re lost in your thoughts, love.”

  “Can you blame me? This city is enchanting.”

  “Nah, I don’t. Nothing compares to Paris. Baby, I want to show you something.” He looks at me with playful eyes and his excitement is contagious.

  “What?” I ask.

  “My favorite spot.”

  “Wow, how did you manage to pinpoint only one spot that makes your heart sing? I mean, there are so many amazing things to see in this city.”

  “Something tells me you’ll fall as much in love with this spot as I have.” A smile teases his lips, his gaze flicking to my mouth. He pauses for a moment and raises his thumb to my mouth and traces the contour of my lips. “I love you so much.” He leans in and drops a tender kiss on my lips.

  “I love you, Nik,” I reply without hesitation.

  “You’ve been calling me Nik lately. I’m not sure if I should take offence or not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we first met in Toronto you said you thought Nikolaj was sexier than Nik. I hope you’re not losing interest in me.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Good. I love how Nikolaj rolls off your tongue,” he says, taking my mouth with his. “Let me ask the chauffeur to drop us off here.” He pulls himself away from me. “Jerome, can you drop us off on Rue de Rivoli right in front of the Louvre Museum? We’ll walk through and you can pick us up on the other side.”

  “Of course, Mr. von Henningsen.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, excited by the new adventure.

  “
You’ll see. I bet you’ve walked by thousands of times in front of this place when you lived in Paris, but it begs to be seen again.”

  “Okay, I’ll play along,” I say, looking at him suspiciously from the side. What does he have up his sleeve?

  When the chauffeur stops in front of Le Louvre, Nikolaj gets out and runs around the car to let me out. He extends his hand like a gentleman and pulls me out of the car. I lift the collar of my coat to ward off the winter air.

  “Look at all these people willing to brave the cold. We’re a few hours from Christmas and this place is still buzzing.”

  “The French will be rushing home soon to feast on this Christmas Eve, but these tourists don’t want to miss a beat,” he declares, wrapping me in his arms and kissing my forehead.

  “How many times have you been to this museum?”

  “Gosh, I stopped counting after twelve times, and you?”

  “When I used to live in London, a group of us would take the train and come hang out in this city. I must have been here six or seven times since I was a student. It’s so different from Copenhagen and no matter how much I travel, nothing touches Paris.”

  “I hear you. I feel the same.”

  We cross the grounds to the Louvre Museum, trying our best to avoid ruining the photos of eager tourists desperate to catch the best light of the day.

  “Look at this spectacular sky,” I marvel, tilting my head back to take in the warm colors. “It’s like an oil painting you’d expect to see hanging in there.” I point at the Louvre museum.

  “We can come back and soak this in whenever you want. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have a humble little apartment in a not too shabby neighborhood.” He smiles.

  “I still can’t believe this is true.” I laugh, amused by his sense of humor.

  “Come on, let’s go over here.” Nikolaj pulls me to the right and leads me through an entrance overlooking a bridge. “Let’s cross.” Without waiting for an answer, he drags me through a crowd of people rushing to make it to the other side of the street before the light changes.

  “Le Pont des Arts.” The famous bridge lies in front of us. I haven’t been here in a few years. Sofia and I used to come here every single week when we lived in Paris. I’ve made it a point to come back when I’m in the city, but lately, it’s fallen off my radar. “This is your favorite spot in Paris?” I ask.