A small courtyard with benches and trees sits in the center of a block of flats, each with a gleaming black door and large brass knocker.
We stop at a door with a 12 on it, and he places his hand on a panel above the handle. The door beeps and then glides open like someone is standing behind it, pulling it.
“Voilà, welcome to my home.” He gestures for me to step inside first.
I can’t hold back my gasp at the sight that greets me. It’s a huge, bright south-facing apartment decorated in grays and green accented furniture and art that is a perfect complement to the high white walls and dark wood floor. It’s an open concept with the kitchen, the dining room, and the sitting room all occupying the space.
“I’m going to wash my hands and get dinner started, make yourself at home. Feel free to look around. My bedroom is down that hall, and there’s a small office down the other.”
I can’t wait to see Tyson’s bedroom, but I kick off my shoes and wander around the living room, perusing his bookshelf while surreptitiously watching him in a domestic pose that I don’t think I would have believed he was capable of if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes. He whistles to himself while he puts things in the fridge and pulls pans out of his cupboards.
“Music?” He yells like he thinks I’m in the other room.
“Yes,” I respond, and he spins around, surprise on his face. “I thought you were taking a tour.”
Embarrassed to be caught standing there like a kid outside a candy store, I sweep my gaze over the apartment. “I’m about to. Anything off limits?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “No, I have nothing to hide. I’ll get dinner going and meet you on the terrace. There’s a pitcher of Bissap chilling in a bucket, glasses, and some stuff to snack on if you’re peckish.”
I gawk at him. “Bissap? How in the world did you mange that?”
“Fatima, my assistant, ordered the pillows and had the cleaners in so you wouldn’t walk in to find it looking the way it does in between her visits,” he chuckles. “I gave her the ingredient list and she worked her magic. She found both mint and flower blossom so you’ve got a choice.”
“But…how did you even know?” The traditional Senegalese drink, made with hibiscus flowers, water, sugar, mint, or orange blossom, was my mother’s favorite.
“You told me once.”
“You remember?”
He winks. “I remember everything.”
Clearly. Short of breath and in need of a minute away from his intoxicating presence before I throw myself at him and beg him to never let me go, I turn toward the French doors. “I’ll go outside. Maybe you can show me the bedroom when you’re done.”
“Good call. That space is the star of this property and why I bought it. The American Embassy is behind us, and The Grand Palais is right across the street, but you can’t see either of them, and no one can see you.”
Curious and excited by his cryptic directive, I hurry outside, throw the doors open, and gasp at the sight that greets me.
There are beautiful, high walls, with ivy-covered trellises covering the whole space. The sun peeks through, but it’s dark enough that the fairy lights woven into it are visible in the early afternoon. The seating area is a patchwork of bright blue cushions on the floor with humungous green and gold pillows strewn over them.
It’s stunning. All of it. And I decide not to worry about what he’s doing and how I’m feeling. I’m going to squeeze every last drop of good out of today.
I walk over to the small table in the middle and decide that today, I’m not going to limit my choices. I fill one of the tall narrow glasses halfway with the mint Bissap and the other half with the hibiscus Bissap. Then I settle onto one of the cushions and wish myself a very happy birthday.
18
Full
Tyson
“I’m stuffed. Good lord, I’m going to need to be wheeled onto the train tonight.” Dina flops back onto the pillows arranged behind her and splays her arms wide.
I’ve been flirting with her all day. Innuendo, brief kisses, even a few nibbles at her neck, but we’ve only got a few hours before she needs to leave to catch her train, and I’m not wasting any more time. “There’s plenty of time for us to work it off.”
She doesn’t respond right away, but she rolls over on her side, a lazy smile on her sweet mouth. “I like the way your mind works, Daredevil.”
I reach for her and kiss her long and deep and slow. She tastes like spice and sweet and heat, and mine. I take my time, even though I know we don’t have lots of it, because the thing I regretted more than anything was that I didn’t kiss her more when I had the chance.
But she’s impatient, and with a low growl she pushes me back and climbs on top of me, straddling my lap.
“I am going to eat you alive,” she murmurs against my mouth and then she pulls her dress over her head, revealing a lace body suit that I think is the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever seen in my life. Or maybe it’s just that on her, everything looks like that to me. “Good lord, woman,” I remark and run my hands down her sides.
“I know. It’s amazing what it does for my tits,” she says and nibbles her way down my neck, kissing and sucking and biting my skin.
“Take your shirt off, Ty,” she breathes and starts to tug at the bottom of it herself.
“Yes, ma’am.” The shirt isn’t all the way over my head before her lips close over one of my nipples and she sucks hard on it. “Ahhh—Dina, baby, shit.”
She bites and sucks and then slides down my body, sucking and biting and licking her way down my stomach.
She kneels between my spread thighs and tugs the buttons of my pants open. “Have I told you how much I love your cock, Tyson?”
“Uhh, no, tell me.”
“That would take too long. Just know that it’s the dick I used to dream of but didn’t think existed.”
“Really?” My laugh morphs into a groan when she pulls me out of my boxers and wraps one of her small, soft hands around it. I’m already hard, and she strokes in short, fast pumps. I hiss at the sensation.
She lies down on her stomach and brings her face level with my dick. She looks up at me, and her eyes are luminous. If she wasn’t still working me with her hand, I could believe the whole world existed in them. “And watching you come—oh God, the way you spurt all over your stomach, the way you’re still hard when you’re done, nothing makes me wetter than that. It deserves a crown.”
“A crown?”
“As if you don’t love it as much as I do. It’s perfect and so big and long.”
“Yeah, but a crown?” I laugh.
“Yeah, just like this.” She replaces her hand with the hot, plush wetness of her sinful mouth and takes me in as far as she can. Then she uses her tongue to tease the underside of it while she drags her lips up to my head and then sucks on it.
“Dear God,” I groan and grip the pillows beside me. She wraps her hand around the base of my cock and starts to move me in and out of her mouth, licking my head and dipping her tongue into the slit where precum is already beading.