Read The Paris Secrets trilogy: includes: Window, Screen, and Skin for Free Online Page A

were toned from fencing, and they flexed as he bent to shove the jeans past his knees. 
    I bit my lip, catching my chin in palm, and experienced a moment where I thought I might start drooling.
    When he stood in black boxer briefs he straightened and splayed his hands out in a look at me gesture.  Does this please you?  I am a sexy Frenchman who has just dropped trou.  Only for you, my pretty mignon . 
    Was it weird that my mental version of his voice had sounded like Pepe le Pew?  Oh yeah. 
    He flexed a biceps.  Nice muscles, and so cute with the way he tried to macho it up.  A nervous reaction, I thought, not so much showing off, as attempting to make light of the sexually charged, yet anxious, moment.
    He lifted a bare foot and pointed to it as he shook his head sadly.
    "Poor guy.  No shoe that you own could compete with these pretties."
    I leaned back and lifted a foot to admire what was more distracting than the man in the underwear.  Almost.  Red-soled shoes or the hard body across the street?
    Absolutely no question.
    Turning on the chair and leaning my elbow onto the arm I tugged out the waistband of my underwear, let it snap back into place, and pointed to him.
    He thumbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and toyed at tugging them down, which revealed a peek of hair as dark as that on his head.
    I nodded and put on my best pout.  I added hands pressed together in prayer for good measure.  Please can I have some more, sir?
    I don't think I'd ever seen a sweeter, yet devilish grin.  A shadow of a mustache darkened his upper lip, emphasizing his slightly crooked grin.  His eyebrow arched on the same side as his smile lifted.
    Running a palm down his abs—yes, slowly, so I could imagine the hard, hot plane of strapped muscle as if it were beneath my own palm, breathing, tensing, growing hotter—he stroked the hand over his boxers, and even though the fabric was black, I could see the thickness beneath reacting to his touch. 
    He gripped the package.  I was reminded of that Transporter movie— Rule number three: never open the package . 
    Bedamned rule number three.  I wanted to tear open the package and look, touch, and lick, and enjoy.
    He sucked in a corner of his lower lip.  The man was turned on by his own touch.  Or was it me watching him touch himself that did it for him?
    A combination of both, I decided.  Because hell, my nipples were hard as diamonds, poking against the black lace bra.  I recognized pain, and realized that I was biting my lip.  I released it without a flinch.  I didn't want him to see my profound reaction.  But then…I decided my reactions were the only part about this that mattered.  We couldn't touch one another.  We were denied sound, smell, and taste.  This slightly dangerous liaison was all about sight and imagination.
    I waggled my finger and tapped the air down, down, down.
    And his boxers slid slowly down to reveal the thick thatch of dark hairs and the head of his cock.  Then the enticing bulge disappeared.  He'd tugged the boxers back up and waggled a chiding finger at me.
    God, I loved that easy smile.
    Forgetting that I wasn't normally so sexually forward, I pressed my palms together in another please gesture.
    He shrugged, and then dropped trou in a swift slide from thigh to ankle.
    "Fuck." 
    I mean, seriously, there was nothing else I could say.
    He stood there boldly, eyes glued to mine, noting every reaction, every minute movement as I leaned forward and pressed the cool glass with my fingertips.  A poor replacement for what I wanted to get my hands on.
    He was hard and ready to go.  So rigid and firm that his cock stood at attention, pointing toward his abs.  The head of him was a deep magenta and thick like a summer-sweet plum.  His testicles hung heavy behind and below the gorgeous rod, and I almost made a squeezing motion with my hands.  Almost.
    Thumbs up for him.  Oh why not, two thumbs up.
    He smiled and shook his head, bowing it