Jorie bursts out laughing as she leans back to look at me. “You make me so happy, Walsh.”
“Going to make you happier each day,” I promise.
“Damn right you are,” she quips as she moves off my lap and takes my dick in her hand.
The sapphire looks stunning as the starts to stroke me up and down.
“Mrs. Brooks,” Walsh groans as he licks between my legs. “You taste so much better as my wife.”
I want to giggle, but I let out a long moan instead as he pulls my clit through his lips to suck on it. A hand snakes up my belly to palm my breast, before he starts pinching a nipple. That is somehow connected directly to my pussy because it immediately tightens, contracts, and then I explode with a scream that I cut short because we’re in an elegant Parisian hotel and I don’t want to be crass.
Walsh chuckles as he licks me down off my high, and when I’m breathing normally again, he surprises me by pulling me off the bed.
“Wait,” I say as I pull back against him. “You need to consummate this marriage, like right now.”
Walsh laughs and pulls me off the bed harder, so I have no choice but to go. He laughs, because technically, we got married three days ago, and we sure as hell already consummated. We chose to just get our license at the courthouse with Micah and Elena in attendance, and then we boarded a private jet to Paris for a two-week honeymoon.
Of course, Walsh being Walsh, as soon as the bellman left our room, he had me naked in like two seconds flat.
“Let’s check out our view,” he says as he pulls me to the window. Our hotel supposedly has amazing views of the Eiffel Tower and knowing Walsh, he paid for the best available.
When he throws the curtains back, I just blink at the building that’s next to us completely blocking any view of the tower.
“Oh,” I say in disappointment. “Maybe they made a mistake in the reservation.”
Walsh pulls me in front of him, pushes me closer to the window, and steps up behind me so I can feel his erection at my backside. “Look closer, baby.”
And so I focus on the building that seems just feet away, and heat flushes through my body as I realize it’s some type of apartment building. It has the same elegant gray stone architecture of the building we’re in, and it looks insanely high end.
But more importantly, most of the windows are completely transparent, looking straight into people’s homes. Since it’s in the middle of the day, most blinds and windows are open. While there aren’t many people moving around in the various dwellings we can see from our hotel window, my first instinct is to move back from ours as I’m completely stark ass naked.
“Relax, Mrs. Brooks,” Walsh leans over to whisper in my ear. “This is a city of love and romance. I bet any one of those people wouldn’t mind watching some horny honeymooners getting it on, don’t you think?”
“Oh, God,” I groan as my head falls back onto his chest.
“One of my wedding presents to you,” Walsh whispers. “You wanted to fuck where people could see us.”
I was absolutely drenched from what Walsh just did to me, but now my pussy is contracting with need. Walsh slips a hand around my stomach and brings it down between my legs. He pushes us right up to the window, and my palms go out to rest against the cool glass.
“Anyone watching?” he asks as his lips go to my neck and his fingers dip inside me.
My eyes scan the various open apartments, and I see a man reading his newspaper by the window while he drinks perhaps a cup of coffee. Two over and one floor up, a woman is exercising by her window. My eyes roam around, and there’s a man a few floors up standing at his window, talking on his phone while he looks out. He’s got a hand casually tucked in his pocket as he looks down at the city street below.
And then, his gaze slides up, moves past us, and then slams back onto the scene we’re putting on.
“Man watching us,” I gasp as Walsh starts rubbing my clit. My hips buck not only from the sensation, but because the man is now watching us hungrily. He says something into the phone and then disconnects it. When he leans against the window with his forearm pressed into the glass above his head, his hand starts moving in his pocket.
“He’s turned on,” I whisper as Walsh strums between my legs. “He’s touching himself in his pocket.”
“Pinch your nipples for him,” Walsh says, his mouth still lightly grazing my neck, not even bothering to look up at the guy. I do as he asks, my gaze never leaving the man watching me across the way.