I know it’s been a little over a week since I last posted anything, but I’m back.
Paris Chapter 18 was a very popular chapter. In case you can’t remember what it was, it was when Juliette and Orlando made love or had sex for the first time on Valentine’s Day, also known as the time that Juliette lost her virginity.
However, I had to edit the original version dramatically, later deleting the original version.
While rooting through my recycle bin, I found the original version, and am still marveling about how changed the two versions are.
So, in case you loved Paris Chapter 18, keep reading. If not, then feel free to click out.
Today’s blogger is @tastyniblets, basically my dream blogger. Fiction and photography united? Uh, yeah!
The website is https://tastyniblets.co/
Hi, and welcome to tastyniblets.
My blog is now a year old, and even though I have been a neglectful carer at times, we are still good friends. In this time, I have connected with an amazing community of talented people, and have learnt that even though writing is hard work and requires great spadefuls of the one trait I lack the most – discipline – when it can be done, writing is still the most fun to be had within the safety of your own head.
What you will find here are snippets of short fiction (mainly), occasional photography,and maybe (one day, if I win the battle of wills against netflix) something a bit more substantial..
Please feel free to explore, comment, and enjoy!
With love forever,
So this is what falling in love with a bit of alcohol felt like.
It was almost like the boundaries of thought, drawn freshly and cleanly, had been smeared by love and a few glasses of champagne.
“Do you want another glass?” Orlando offered.
“I’m fine,” I murmured. I didn’t want to spend my Valentine’s day drunk.
Half an hour later, we sat on a bench by the edge of the Seine. Orlando and I cuddled on the bench, yet my eyelids felt oddly heavy. My mind was clear, despite the alcohol. My shoulders were tense, and I couldn’t seem to relax them.
Orlando’s thumb started rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand, and the tension in my shoulders relaxed.
“You are so beautiful,” Orlando murmured, his voice husky.
He kissed me on the cheek and brushed a strand of hair away from my face, peering intently into my eyes.
“It’s getting late,” he said softly. “We should head back.”
Orlando took me by the hands, and instead of a simple good night kiss, Orlando roughly slammed me against the wall, as I became a statue. He pressed his lips against mine, so hard that I had no choice but to give in.
This time, my hands weren’t pinned above my head, so I pulled Orlando closer, hips pressed tighter together than they’d ever been before, arms wrapped around his back.
His lips drifted to my neck, and I closed my eyes. Orlando’s lips met mine again, passionately kissing me.
Before I knew it, we were in my bedroom, but I was still pressed up against the wall.
When I struggled briefly, he stopped his kiss then asked in a low voice, “Do you want me to leave? Because I can-“
He tasted of mint against my lips, and suddenly, I found myself struggling to get onto the bed. Orlando’s eyes flickered from lost in a kiss to concern, but when he met my eyes, something changed, and he nodded silently before pressing his lips against mine.
Desire rose up inside me, so much that it drove me crazy with pleasure, as I struggled to unbutton his shirt.
“Are you sure, Juliette?” Orlando stopped kissing me, studying my eyes carefully with his emerald eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered, rising up to meet his lips.
I finished undoing the last of the buttons, untied his tie, and pushed his shirt away from his body.
Orlando’s hands wandered to my side, as he pulled down the zipper of my dress. He slipped the dress over my head. I lay back in only my bra and underwear, pressing my head against the pillow, slightly breathless.
My hands fumbled to the button of his pants. Orlando made a growl low in his throat, as he helped me take off his pants, letting them fall onto the ground with my dress.
He leaned over, pressing his lips against mine, the heat radiating off his warm skin, one hand running through my hair, the other lacing fingers with mine.
I almost gasped at the intensity of the kiss, but remained silent, closing my eyes. Orlando pulled me into a sitting position, his lips moving to in between my breasts, expertly unclipping the bra.
He gently lay me back down on the bed, lips moving back to my breast, sucking and tugging the nipple. I pressed my lips against his neck, tasting sweat and salt.
I was scared, feeling awkward, but wanted him inside me.
“Do you have one?” I asked, breathless.
Orlando nodded. I pulled down his boxers, and heard the sound of plastic crinkling as he put it on him. Finally, Orlando slid my underwear off.
We continued kissing, eyes closed, until Orlando’s eyes opened, staring into mine.
With his knee, he spread my legs apart, and I pressed my head back into the pillow. I nearly stopped breathing. Warmth between my legs but it didn’t go in.
He thrust into me, and I let out a sharp cry of pain. Orlando stilled.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I wished I was. It hurt more than I thought it would, but I fought to ignore it.
Finally, I managed to get used to it as I raised my hips as he thrust faster. I kissed his neck, loving every single moment of it. I arched into him, screaming his name when his mouth clamped down on my breast, my nails digging into his shoulders, and he responded by going even faster.
Yes, I was having sex with this beautiful man, making love, losing my virginity at twenty-one in Paris in a hotel room to a guy who would have been a stranger to me two months ago.
Pleasure crashed through me. Time passed slowly, as I floated through reality and Heaven.
Orlando bent over, staying inside me, and used his tongue to encircle my nipple. With that, my nipples hardened. Then, he started sucking and tugging, rubbing and caressing. I moaned slightly.
But I didn’t want it to be over yet. I grabbed his hip, and he thrust into me again, before lying down beside me.
“I love you,” I whispered.
I kissed every bit of his beautiful body, someone who should be an Abercrombie and Fitch model, not in bed with me.
The last conscious memory I have of Valentine’s Day is Orlando gently kissing me good night, before my eyes slid shut.