Time for another Thursday Thrill. You can read all of the thrills by visiting the blog. For this installment, I thought I'd post a new segment from my Serial Sunday , Rising Up. Peter, an orphaned adult, has grandparents in Paris, but I'd never written about Beth and Peter visiting them.
"Get back here," he called, reaching for me.
Giggling, I let him catch me and swing me by the waist. Then he rubbed his wet head on my shoulder, shaking water free.
I shivered and pushed him away, but he held me. The umbrella had tipped to the side and he nudged it farther out of the way, kissing me.
Dropping the umbrella into his grasp, I turned my head, looking at the tower behind us. Paris didn't impress Peter, but it was the first time I had been here. Our daughter, Sarah, was napping with Peter's grandparnets while we explored on our own for the afternoon. We weren't the only couple in the street. Rather, there was an older couple cuddling on a bench as well as more couples nearer our age.
I watched the wrinkled faces smile at one another and kiss chastely. They reminded me of Grandpapa and Grandmama. I only hoped Peter and I would be as happy at that age.
"I love you," Peter told me, wrapping his arms around me and watching the couple as well. "We have one thing they don't."
"What's that?" I asked.
"The ability to run if we get busted for sex in public." He pulled me off the sidewalk and into a yard full of shrubs and trees.
Maintaining our sex life while being woken and distracted by Sarah had been difficult to say the least.
"On your knees," I told Peter, slipping my panties out from under my skirt. Peter sank and smiled up at me, expectant. All our sex lately had been urgent, fit in when and where we could. It had been a while since I had taken control like this. Peter missed it, I knew.
Crushing his mouth to my crotch, I let my skirt fall over him.
"No hands," I reminded him, linking our fingers. His tongue was practiced and I rocked against his face, eager.
Once I plateaued, I stepped back, bringing Peter to his feet. His hair was further mussed, flattened in places. I loved seeing his refined appearance marred by spit up and now grass stains on his knees.
"Face west," I told him, releasing his belt but not dropping his pants. I slipped my hand down the back. The prodding and eventual slide into Peter made him twitch and flinch.
"Damn, Beth," he cussed unzipping his fly and releasing himself.
"Box!" I said sharply, his hands clutching opposite elbows almost instantly. I held his forearm and wrist in one hand while continuing to tease. He slowly loosened and relax, allowing me to fuck him more thoroughly.
"I'm not going to stop," I warned. "I'm going to make you come in your pants, make you wear it home."
Peter groaned, leaning his head back. The damp curls brushed my warm cheek. The rain was still falling, misty and cool.
"I want to fuck you," he murmured. "I want your pussy wet around me."
"Tonight," I promised.
"Yes," he agreed, rocking his hips into my hand.
"Don't think you'll be fucking me, though. I'm going to pin you to the bed, hold you down while I use you." He let out a fantastic groan and I wormed my finger even deeper, thrusting faster. "You will be my fuck-toy, Petey. You want that, don't you?"
"God, yes." He pulled against my grip, but I held on, his arms straining as his back arched. His eyes opened wide just before he relaxed, all tension passing in a whoosh. He turned to kiss me.
"Trespass pa! Allez! Allez-vous!"
I didn't know much French, but understood the man wanted us off his lawn. We ran giggling all the way back to Grandpapa and Grandmama. We'd be able to run away for a few years yet.
Remember to check out the blog and if you'd like to read more about Beth and Peter, make sure to check out my Sunday Serials!
Remember to check out the blog and if you'd like to read more about Beth and Peter, make sure to check out my Sunday Serials!
