The Neighbor - Chapter 9 - Paris Nights

Chapter 9: Paris Nights

I drank too much wine that night.

My body hadn't reached the 'hold my hair over a toilet' phase by a mile, but I was tipsy. That much was certain.

"You're drunk, Bells." Jacob's grin was toothy, and amused and mocking.

"I am not drunk."

He grinned wider, downing the last of the deep mahogany liquid in his over-sized wine glass, reaching for the bottle and filling his glass again, pouring more for me as well. His bicep flexed with the movement, and I allowed my eyes to roam unabashedly across the table at the man who had become my best friend (next to Alice of course), the person with whom I was deeply and passionately in love with.

I was fucking horny.

"What I was saying, before you started mumbling and hiccuping and shit, was that Billy's doing great. He asked about you, again, of course."

I darted my tongue between my blush-stained lips, mockingly. I was not drunk, just a little tipsy.

There was a difference.

"You two talk way too much for my liking…" He grumbled with that perfect grin. "What do you two talk about, anyway?"

The thought of his father made me smile, as did the way Jake's skin glowed against the flickering candle serving as our only light for dinner. The dozen or so lights that mirrored our own lit a path to the door leading to the inside of the restaurant. The air was still that night, the street still bustling with Parisian downtown nightlife.

"That's none of your business. Billy and I have a special relationship." We did. I saw so much of Jake in his father – his stubbornness, his wry sense of humor, his unending determination, his charm. Over the months, I'd found myself emailing or calling Billy almost as much as I did Renee. Neither of them were what you'd call traditional parents, but, what they lacked in that area, they both made up for in spades with a deep wisdom that only really came from living life without apology, without regret.

"'Special relationship'" He scoffed, and I giggled, sipping more wine.

"I want to cook for Billy, make him something good when we visit over the holidays. I need to call him, soon."

He cocked his head at an unexpectedly sexy angle and licked his lips. "When are you going to cook for me, again, Ms. Swan? Seems like I'm the one filling that order these days."

"Jake, really. We're in Paris and have a tiny little stove. Shit, a bottle of Pinot is cheaper than food or water. Let's say I'll get back to my happy homemaker duties once we're back in the states, hmm?" He chuckled, as did I. We were easy that warm night. We were easy like we always were, and I was happy.

…Happy, and tipsy, and very, very horny.

"You think it'll always be like this?"

"Like?"

"Us, this—" I pointed between us, with the same hand that gripped the smooth glass. "We're disgustingly happy. I mean, you think this is honeymoon, or like..."

Jake shook his head, thoughtfully. "Naw, Bells, this is real. I really am happy, like deep-down happy. The kind of shit that I'm embarrassed to admit and that Em makes fun of me for."

I smiled at the thought of his best friend, and at his words. Layer by layer, I was getting Jake to open up; to admit things about our relationship, about his feelings that I was sure he wasn't used to admitting.

I wanted to follow up, quip my own little view on our relationship. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't imagine my life before him. Like, literally, I couldn't remember how things were before he'd stumbled into my world that day. I could barely remember where I'd come from moments before or where I'd planned on going moments later. All I could remember was him. He was in me, set in and unmoving in a way that comforted me like nothing else ever had, beyond the love of my family and closest friends.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, holding it there for a few seconds with his teeth, and let his eyes wander across my body, lingering at the swell of cleavage peeking above my tank top. "You look good tonight, Bells...really good."

I ran my fingers through my hair, sipped my wine, and took another bite of pasta. He looked good too, beyond good, really. His dark hair was messy in a very deliberate way, his shirt and jeans fitting against his body effortlessly.

We needed to get back to the hotel.

"Thanks…"

He ate the last of his linguine, and took a sip of water, with a small, knowing smile. Then he finished of his wine, straightened his body from his relaxed posture and leaned in closer to me, black eyes lingering at my lips. I knew too, of course. I knew what we both wanted and needed at the moment, and for me, one of them was for Jake to cut off my alcohol consumption before I stripped off my clothing and straddled him in that little metal chair.

"You done?"

I wasn't. I kinda wanted dessert, but all I could feel was the warming effects of wine doing things to my body, and my boyfriend would most certainly be the target that night. I nodded, grabbing my bag, preparing for our departure.

Jake plunked down his Amex, knee bouncing impatiently; neither of us could stand the three minutes it took the waiter to return with his receipt to sign. I was already standing, as Jake mindlessly returned his wallet to his pocket, ushering me toward the sidewalk, beginning our four-block walk back to the hotel.

His fingers lingered at the curve in my lower back, pulling me closer to him until I was tightly wedged at his side. I wrapped my arm around him, as well, and tried my best to keep up, all the while thinking of ways to speed our pace. My thighs rubbed together with each of my strides, tiny thong against my body, making me acutely aware of its presence, and my need for him. My whole body had been on edge since this morning when he'd left me working on my computer, dress shirt fitted perfectly to his body, and slacks that made me want to do all sorts of things that I was sure were illegal in most states.

"Jake."

"Yeah Bells?" he said absently, just trying to get us where we were going. I tried to steer him toward one of the many quiet little alleys between the buildings, just for a few moments. Then we could be on our way. "What...what are you doing?"

My heels clicked as I tugged him into a deep hallway. No one was around. No one would know.

He glanced around and upward, making sure that we weren't about to make a peep-show for some French college kids, or something of the like. I mean, it wasn't like we were in the red-light district; something like two people having dirty public sex wasn't bound to go over very well, even in Europe. Despite this, the fact that Jake was following me, however hesitantly made me even less concerned than I already was. Per-usual, the wine had my inhibitions missing in action.

I backed him against an ancient-looking wooden door, his hands all over my body with familiarity and lust. My lips were on his throat, softly at first, but affirming what I was thinking. I grabbed his wrists, placing his hands on my ass, pulling away from him for only a moment. And, of course, he stood there, gaping at me like I was insane. His body belied his expression, though. He was more than ready for me, hands roaming and squeezing, his cock steel against denim.

"You're crazy..." He pushed my second-skin skirt up my thighs, just enough for him to do what he needed to do without giving the world a show – not that there was a soul there to pass judgment. Heart hammering against my ribcage, I felt his fingers roughly push my panties aside, and sink upwards and into me.

"I'm gonna make you cum, here. Then I'm gonna fuck you when we get back...you're so wet babe. Did I do this to you?" His warm mouth ecstasy against my ear, and his body like heaven, pressed against my hot skin.

I nodded as he took my parted lips with his, bit them, sucked them. I whimpered, feeling every ridge, every curve of his fingers slide in and out of me, making it almost impossible to think straight, coupled with the wine sloshing around my system.

"Oh...fuck..." That moan took over me, escaped and, for a second, I thought I should suppress it, but thought better of it. There was no one there – no prying eyes, only an incredibly sexy, digitally talented Jacob Black.

"Did you just cum that quickly, Bells?" I giggled my affirmation, pulling him closer to me, covering his lips with mine.

"Fuck me here...I want you right now...Jake, please..." I breathed, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Bella, babe..." he protested, but only until I had his cock firmly in my hand, after which his entire body became as rigid as a board against me.

Shit he was sexy as sin. I just needed a little bit, just enough to get me off until we made it back to the room. My one-mindedness overtook all logic; I just needed him inside of me, making me feel those things that were so clear, yet just a memory from the day before. I was long overdue.

"C'mere..." he mumbled, bending his knees slightly, taking his cock in his fist and parting my glistening-wet pussy lips.

"Oh shit...oh shit..." I moaned, again, as he ground into me, filling me.

He chucked, disbelievingly. "Can't believe you have me fucking you here..."

He gripped my ass, pulled my body toward his over, and over, helping me balance on my wedge heels. He tugged my top down enough to expose my nipples to the warm night, sucking and licking each of them as he fucked me.

"Jake...baby..." I was gonna cum, again.

I felt the tiny contractions holding his dick inside me for a mini-second, then releasing him. I ground my hips against his, as he roughly thrust himself further, biting and licking at my neck. My fingers gripped his hair at the scalp as my orgasm ripped through my body. Toes curling, eyes rolling-back, pleasure took over me, as he continued his assault on my body against that hallway door.

Once I'd caught my breath, he kissed me tenderly and pulled my shirt up and my skirt down. Of course I noticed that he was still solid, and long, and thick.

"We can finish...let's get out of here..." he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants.

Jake took his time once we were back at the Chambiges Elysées, with doors locked and lights turned down Just the night spilled in through the windows, despite the fire that propelled us moments before.

He crept behind me, pushed my hair over my shoulder, and placed simple, slow kisses along the back of my neck and shoulder blades. A shiver went through me, the sensation delicious as he smoothed his hands across my breasts, softly biting across my back. He cupped them, running his fingers over my stiff nipples beneath my thin top.

Jake's palms eased down my ribcage achingly slowly, as he stepped a little closer to me, until I could feel his dick against the small of my back. He kissed my neck, ran his hands over my hips, sliding my skirt to the floor, and pulling my tank over my head. I felt his warm chest against my back moments later, felt his body hard, smooth, and ready.

I was so wet, so excited, still. And in the next moment, I was kneeling, chest down against the mattress with him gripping my waist, fucking me from behind.

"Ah Bella..."

I gripped the sheets tightly, bit my lip until it was raw, and fucked him back until it hurt so good and I was dripping on the downy hotel bed. My hair was a puddled mass above my bowed head, spilling over my shoulders, with my face grimacing and mouth whimpering for mercy and more. I loved it when he rode me, loved it when he pressed his thick fingers into my hips and roughly drove into me. I loved it almost more than those lazy Sunday mornings that rolled into late afternoons where we made love slowly and languidly. Those times when he laved my body with his tongue and told me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me, and how delicious I tasted.

Almost.

"Oh god..." I sighed, just before he pulled out and lay down beside me, raising me above him, bringing each of my legs over either side of his body. I straddled him, placing eager palms on his soft but hard chest, getting my balance on his huge cock – one that I'd grown quite acquainted with, but that still took some getting used to, even then.

He let me know how good I felt, as I slid wetly up and down his cock. I rode him, rolling my hips, breasts tilted upward and back arched, moaning his name.

"I love you," I whispered, grinding deeper, as he gripped my hair and licked my nipples.

"I love you, Isabella."

The wine was a memory, just enough to keep me wet, by the time he placed my calves on his shoulders. I was sober, and I'd come more times than I could've kept count of. He was so deep inside me, rubbing his thumb across my clit, and murmuring to me. We were the only two people on the planet. I felt so completely close to him in that moment, and moments like it.

His body on mine made me feel tiny in comparison, in that way that I loved. So, when he took the soft piece of flesh along the curve of my neck between his teeth, with his chest pressed against mine, and our skin and sweat fused together by our body heat, I cried out. Mostly because I was cumming again, my pussy wrapping around him over, and over, his rhythm slowing from fast and wild and shallow, to deep and pulsating.

He fell asleep on my chest, his comfortably heavy body resting between my legs, our bodies still joined.

I felt him slide out of me, leaving the warmth of our bed, after I'd I passed out for what I saw was about three hours after glancing at the side table clock. He was writing; I was sure of it. I wrapped the crumpled sheet around me, finger-combed the bird's nest that had become my hair from the past five hours, and padded to where he was on the couch in the living area.

He pulled his earphone out of one ear. "Hey good-lookin."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Nah, my brain's all over the place with this next chapter. I was thinking of adding another piece to it, this legend that Billy was telling me about. Thought I'd write more of chapter nine."

I nodded, heading to the fridge for a coke. I handed him a can, and curled up to him as he typed. It was just after 3 A.M. and I was happy to quietly keep him company.

"...It's about vampires and werewolves, if you can believe it."

"What?"

"The legend. It's about vampires and werewolves, and how the wolves protect the reservation around La Push and the city of Forks, not too far from there."

"From the vampires?" I smiled, partially thinking of these big bear-wolf creatures attacking Brad Pitt's character from Interview with a Vampire.

"Yeah, it's crazy, right?"

"Sounds pretty Underworld, actually – cool though. Ever thought of writing a screenplay for that thing?"

He smiled, leaning into me and kissing me softly against my lips, jaw, and neck. "Right, but this legend's been since around before Underworld was Underworld."

"I bet."

His writing process would be insane to anyone who'd never seen it before. He'd slouch down, nearly prone on his back, with his laptop on his stomach, eyebrows pinned, mouth frowning. That, or he'd have his computer resting on the coffee table in front of him with his large frame hunched over in concentration. Every few moments, he'd space out and get this far-away look, or close his eyes, and he always needed music by that point. He could never really write without those earbuds.

I sat beside him as he tapped away on the keys, folded my legs under me, wrapped the sheets tighter around my naked body, and blinked a long blink...

"Bells…Bells, babe?" his voice was far away, just a whisper, and then I was in his arms, with my fingers linked at his neck. He placed my sheet-swaddled body on the featherbed, and my eyes opened just enough to watch him step out of the sweatpants he was wearing; enough to watch his sturdy, sinewy thighs strain with his movements; just enough to make me want him again.

I turned to him, pulled him closer to me, threw my leg over his hip, and pressed my eager lips against his warm and soft mouth.

He mounted me, spread my thighs, ran his palms along my legs. "Insatiable."

----------

So many of the conversations with my job were made through email over lapses due to differences in time zones, but once a week I Skyped with Victoria, as well as with my clients. The launch of one of their biggest products was approaching and, save for a few last-minute line items, I was handling things pretty nicely.

Mostly, though, I missed Ally. I wondered what she was doing, and how she was making out with the plans for the wedding. It was only three months away – a winter wedding. She'd been closely updating her plans according to what the Farmer's Almanac had claimed the weather in Atlanta would be. Chilly, for a southern winter, in the thirties, and an icy but clear day.

"You have to see the bouquets the bridesmaids have. They are insane. We'll have the best ones, MOH, but still, theirs are pretty epic too."

Her excitement was contagious, and soon, I was looking as forward to her plans as she was. It looked liked she'd dyed her hair a crazy shade of orange, just a streak across the front to replace the blue, but I had to admit, it was pretty badass.

"Soooo, how's that boy of yours?"

"He's great. Writing up a storm to make these deadlines for his publisher before January. I've read a bunch of the book, and Als, it's fucking awesome. He's such a good writer."

"Mmhmm, mhmmm." She paused. "How's Paris? You'd just gotten there when we talked last; how are things there? I hear it's gorgeous this time of year. I need to get Jas to take us out there. He's a country boy, though; hates leaving, and you can all but forget about getting him on a plane for that long, you know?"

A laugh bubbled up. "Things are so much better than I could have expected. I mean, really, he's beyond perfect, and so is the city.

"Fucking all over the place I'm sure, Did you bring enough lube?"

"Als, really?

"What?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes at her coy smile and green eyes beaming through my laptop screen. "I met his friend Rose…"

"Friend, huh?"

"Yeah, he's known her forever. They grew up in Washington together"

I mean, Rose was striking.

I know it sounds corny, or lame or whatever, but really, Rose was the type of woman that you just had to, you know, stare at for a while, just to make sure she was real or, from some morbid, deprecating curiosity, wait around to find some kind of imperfection in her.

"Black!" Jake and I approached her leggy frame, leaning absently against the classically designed marble building, and running her thumbs along her smartphone. She seemed genuinely excited to see us – well, Jake and by association me, I assumed. She gave him a friendly hug, commenting on his hair and how he was getting skinny.

"Look at you; you're wasting away. Shit, Black, eat something..."

"Rosie, seriously," he said, grinning, running his hand across his perfectly lean, muscular stomach, and nudging his friend, "you know, I eats."

She laughed, throwing her natural blond hair (because really, you can't get that kind of perfection from a salon) over her shoulder with a dimpled grin. "That I do."

They were sharing an inside joke that I obviously wasn't privy to and, after a short second, Jake pushed me forward.

"This is Bella," he introduced, proudly. "Bells, this is Rosalie...you can just call her Rosie."

"Black, please don't make me commit murder on this fine Parisian street ," she replied icily, with humor tinged just at the edges of her harmonic voice.

"Rose." She smiled.

I ran my hands through my hair self-consciously and stepped closer to her, pulling at the straps on my tank. She pulled me into a hug, and really, I bounced between turning completely lesbian and running away screaming from her out of fear.

Her clear blue eyes were round and large, perfect. Her face was, well, perfect too. No, really, like perfectly symmetrical, and probably what one would draw or describe if they were thinking of someone classically beautiful.

She made me nervous.

Jake placed a warm palm at the center of my back, as I backed away from his gorgeous long-time friend. He nodded, probably sensing my hesitation. There was just something – well, besides the whole perfection thing – that made me really self-conscious, and really intimidated. It was already hard not to feel a little small standing next to the glamazon and giant, without her lingering gaze at my shoes, hair, clothes, purse, Jake next to me, making me shift even more.

She was sizing me up.

She scanned me, her smile still warm(ish) and (kinda) inviting. She wore simple khakis rolled at the ankle, a white tank and nude ballet flats, but she looked like money – well, money and a supermodel. Her layered blond hair framed her square jaw, then was pushed back and held in place by her pricey-looking aviator sunglasses.

Effortless.

"Rosie, cool it will ya?" Jake smiled, nudging her, then turned to me and pressed his lips to my ear. "She's harmless; you'll like her. I promise."

I giggled, nervously. I mean, really, I was being silly. We'd be spending the day together, so I really needed to get over my jitters; that and our towering height difference.

"Okay, you two. Play nice. I gotta get over to the embassy." Jake smoothed a hand over his hair, and straightened his collared shirt. Rose looped an arm through mine, as Jake hailed a cap, winked at me, then ducked his large frame into the comparatively smaller black car.

Half a beat passed and I could feel Rose's eyes on me.

"So."

"So," I parroted, noticing the simple but, again, perfect pale pink nail polish on her toes.

"You into music at all?"

"Yeah..." What was she getting at?

"Well, a friend of mine is playing at a festival. You game?" She grinned at me, and I grinned right back.

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

------------

Jacob pulled me into a quick embrace, his fingers rubbing circles on my lower back as I looked in each of the store windows lit up for evening, housing a mannequin here or a Swarovski-crystallized clutch there.

The day had been so busy and my feet were verging on achy, but I was with Jake, and neither of us were working or writing, or whatever that day. So, I was a champ and never complained, even after we walked along the cobble-stoned Paris streets. Just the two of us – well, me – doing the tourist thing. I was pretty sure he'd seen everything there was to see in that city.

The Champs Elysees, not far from the hotel, and the Arc deTriomphe were all breathtaking, though much better from a distance. He'd taken me all the back ways, through the side streets that were the heart of Parisian architecture and ancient in a way that, being from America, I'd never really seen up close.

We'd made it to the Eiffel Tower, of course. I'd taken more pictures than I could count, making him stand next to the world-famous structure, towering over it by comparison through my lens. We'd ended the day, though, at one end of the Concord Place, and my Jake with all his patience, allowed me to salivate over the clothes, and shoes, and bags and other things I'm sure he had no interest in.

"So...you never really told me how your day with Rose went. I saw the bags in the room but, yeah, I'm gonna need more of a play-by-play than that."

Rose.

"So, you and Jake. How long's it been now for you two?"

"Just about six months, now."

"And you get the trip to Paris...you must have put it on him pretty good, girl."

Naturally , my face was an unflattering shade of red. What was I supposed to say to that?

"Jake and I have fun." I grinned, trying my best to give her enough that she wouldn't get the same brilliant reaction from my skin, twice.

"Okay, okay, you win." She chuckled, every syllable rounded with a melodic French and northwest American accent. Her hair blew in the gentle breeze as she pulled another blade of grass from the ground beneath us and twirled it around her slender fingers. She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "You know, I've known Jake almost as long as I've known myself. I was there when he was awkward and dorky, and couldn't get a girl to like him to save his life."

"You're kidding. Jake? Awkward?" Her blue eyes stared squarely at me for a few seconds, her mouth twitching with mischief.

"Oh, you have no idea…Jake was a brain in school, absolutely no luck with the girls. But, he thought he was so, so cool. He was thin as a rail; all arms and legs, you know?" She had my complete attention. I needed to know all of this. All of it. "Then, one day, we went away for the summer – I think it was around sophomore or junior year – and he just grew like six inches, filled out, in what seemed like overnight. All the girls were after him, after that."

"You and him…were you close back then?"

"Oh no – not like that, Bella. He and I are like family. We were close. My family knew Billy and Jake's mom before she passed, but that was it." She chuckled, again, clearly remembering some memory I was too afraid to ask about.

"Obviously, I had more in common with his twin sisters than I had with him, but, still, Jake was one of my best friends. I've been around the world a few times, done a bunch of things and met a lot of people, but I'll tell you this: Jake's one of the best people I know."

"He really is great."

"He is. You hold on to that one, girl. He's one in a million."

Later, when she dropped me off back at our hotel, after Jake had met us at the front just beside the bellman, she mussed his hair, turned back to me, and then whispered something to him.

"We'll all go to lunch soon, Je ne prendrai pas le non pour une réponse. Comportez-vous vous deux!"

Jake laughed and waived to her as she hailed one of the passing cabs, turned to wink at me one last time, and blew us a kiss.

"Oh, you know us girls. Just shopping, sight-seeing, you know."

Offhandedly, I thought of Rosalie: of her beauty, and how I was sure she'd left a trail of broken hearts – both male and female – in her wake. I thought of her perfect lips and her abrasive personality and, I had to say, I really liked the girl, and, in a different life or a different time, I could see maybe having a crush on her.

Wow, I'm coming to all kind of revelations in this city. Jeez.

"Knowing Rosie, I'm sure it was no good. At least she got you back to me in one piece."

As we strolled along that busy square, surrounded by tourists, and students and lovers, I once more since we'd arrived, weeks prior, realized how much I could live there; how France was just enough culture, and history and modernism all rolled together, that I couldn't mind being there long-term. I loved the area and kinda liked to think of myself as a Parisian at heart, after completely falling in love with the city.

I mean, Jake and I are both pretty low-maintenance, and, although he claims I have burgeoning shopping problem – something that I wholly and vehemently disagree with – I'd rather sit on the couch with him with a glass of wine, and eat in than go to some upscale restaurant. Jake had lived and continued to live this sexy, sickeningly worldly, amazing life; one that I couldn't help but be drawn to.

I also realized, not much later, that Jake was being a touch...coy when he told me he knew a 'little' French. 'Just enough to get me by,' he'd said.

Complete bullshit.

"Savez-vous où le souterrain est? Nous savons que nous sommes étroits, mais, we' ; au sujet de a perdu. nous sommes juste visite re."

What?

I'd made out something about either a goldfish or a train. The obvious tourist couple approached us like we were French, like we knew what the hell we were talking about.

Should have studied that Rosetta Stone a little longer.

"Aucun problème! Juste autour du coin et avalent le bloc. Vous verrez la station vers votre gauche, vous ne pouvez pas la manquer," Jake rattled off, easily. I didn't understand a word, but it sounded really, really good.

The couple looked appeased, happy and thankful, walking away from us arm-in-arm. I turned to him like he'd grown another eyeball.

"What?" He smiled

"A little French."

He laughed and wrapped his arm tighter around me. "What? I do..."

"Mmhmm..."

"You hungry yet?" he asked, completely changing the subject and pulling me closer to his side. I nodded and wrapped my arms around his waist, tugging at the back of his shirt, pulling him ever closer to me, until my cheek was buried between his breastbone, and I was smelling clove, and citrus, and my Jacob.

My heart was so full in that moment; I couldn't remember a happier time with him. We were so perfect together that it was worrying at times. Like, in the back of my mind, I'd always really expected the other shoe to drop, but it never, ever did. Jake gave me so much more than I ever really knew I wanted. I didn't want to cry, so I refused to look up into that beautiful face, for fear I'd shatter into a million pieces of happiness.

I swallowed. Thickly. "Let's–let's get something. I think I'm in the mood for seafood." I quickly wiped a tear away, admonishing myself for the sniffing idiot I was being. Maybe all these churning emotions were just PMS or something.

"Yeah, let's get you something to eat, huh?" He tilted my head upward, placing a simple, sweet kiss on my lips, and I fell deeper still for him. Like, I couldn't breathe if I wasn't with him. Like he was my shelter from every storm, and like if we were together, I could do or be, and handle anything. The one person in my life that made me feel comfortable and unjudged, well, besides Alice.

"C'mon, Bells." He grinned at me, placing kisses on my cheeks and forehead. "I know...I love you, too."

Of course he knew. He knew me; the real me. Not the expensive shoes wearing, advertising girl, but the perpetually late, clumsy, silly, tipsy, nympho real me, and he still loved me in spite of all those things. You can't buy that kind of devotion.

I was being silly and sentimental, and I knew it. I blame all the twinkling lights, and Eiffel Tower and shit.

We strolled through the streets for a few more minutes, just talking and enjoying the perfect weather, until we came upon a little restaurant, much like many of the one's we'd eaten at over the course of the weeks we'd been in Paris. As we took our seats outside on a tiny little table, I remembered that he'd told me about this one on more than one occasion, and how we just had to come here because I'd love the seafood and wine.

That night was another of the few that we'd eaten by candlelight. We both thought it kinda of silly and pretentious, but, in the moonlight and perfect weather of downtown Paris, it was...romantic.

Wonderfully, beautifully, romantic.

I peeked at him from across the small table we'd secured outside Par L'eau, attempting to read the menu. As I watched his deep brown eyes flare and glow in the tiny flame, I knew, more than I'd ever known before that moment, so strongly that it became a part of me, that Jake was the one for me, and that I wanted him forever.

...

Jake stowed our leftovers in the refrigerator, as I undressed and showered. The day had been so long, but in a good way. I dug in the myriad of bags from my shopping with Rose to find one of the sexy lacy things that she'd convinced me to buy, and that he hadn't seen yet.

She really was a great girl, and I could clearly understand, even outside the amount of time they'd known each other, why they were good friends. Her disposition was a little rough, and god she sure did say the first thing that was on her mind, but I got used to it pretty fast. She didn't offend me too many times, and even in those times, I'd blame on being around the French too long.

I heard Jake in the bedroom and the sigh of his weight against the mattress, just as I turned the water stream down and off. I tried to make quick work of towel-drying my hair and slipping into the satiny-lacy stretch fabric that wrapped around me, hugging everything that needed hugging and pushing my breasts upward. He was gonna die.

"Jake?"

"Yeah, babe?"

His eyes changed focus, from his computer to where I stood in the doorway, in a little expensive piece of fabric that could hardly be considered clothing for its price and size.

"Bells…" I smiled as his eyes drank me in, first moving quickly to make sure no angles were missed, then fixating on certain very important areas."Turn around."

I obliged.

"I'll have to thank Rose for that."

I wiggled my hips, bending over just enough to show him that I was wearing the smallest g-string ever created in the history of lingerie. "I'll take that as a job well-done?"

"Definitely."

I sauntered over to him, pulling the covers back. "You gonna show me how much you like it?"

He nodded. "Why don't you tell me how you want it?"

So many choices, but, then again, we had all night.

"I wanna be on top."

"As usual." I slid my hands into the waistband of his pajamas, tugging them down just enough. His hands roamed up my thighs until they met the strings of my brand new, barely there panties, and, instead of sliding them down, he simply pushed them aside.

"Keep this on. Keep all this on."

"Wait..."

I leaned down in an ungodly flexible position and took him into my mouth for a few seconds, before sliding him out with a pop.

"Just to wet it a little," I said with a grin.

"Of course."

I straddled him and slid down until my ass was flush with his thighs and he was so deep I could barely think straight enough to move.

"God Jake..." I moaned, my mouth against his, sucking on his tongue. "Your dick..."

He slid his hands up my hips, gripping my satin-covered back, pulling at the straps on my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him completely into me, and I fell. I fell hard and faster and further into him.

"Take it off."

I pulled the hemline over my head, tiny g-string still cutting into my moving hips, and his fingers pressing against my clit as I pushed harder and deeper onto his cock. Our eyes met, kept each other locked. Our bodies kissed, and slid, and rolled and gyrated, but our eyes stayed trained on each other, and we came together; him deep inside me, me wrapped around him with my body folded around his, and we were one.

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A/N- Hoped you enjoyed more of Paris, I know I did!

Thanks so much for reading, I love you guys.

- A big thanks goes out to my betafish, Kay Cannon, who is awesome and amazing. She actually recently wrote a Blackwater one-shot that I heart called Art Affairs, so go check her out, she's a great writer.

- In case you haven't visited yet, we started a great Wolfpack fic-focused site called Phase Fics. If you're looking for recs to some of the best fics around starring the Wolfpack, you'll definitely find it there. www(dot)phasefics(dot)com.

- For teases, updates, and general fuckery, you can follow me on Twitter - artbeatsandlife

- NOTE: I do NOT speak French, and haven't been to Paris since I was very, very young, so forgive any inaccuracies. All the French in this chapter was commandeered thanks to Babelfish, so, blame them, not me *passes buck*

Chapter 9 French Phrases:

Je ne prendrai pas le non pour une réponse. Comportez-vous vous deux! – I won't take no for an answer. Behave yourselves, you two!

Savez-vous où le souterrain est? Nous savons que nous sommes étroits, mais, we' ; au sujet de a perdu. Nous sommes juste visite re. – Do you know where the train station is? We're just visiting.

Aucun problème! Juste autour du coin et avalent le bloc. Vous verrez la station vers votre gauche, vous ne pouvez pas la manquer. – No problem! The station is just around the block to your left.

Okay, I think that's it for now. Until next time…