Page 15 of Guilty as Sin

The limousine slows as we approach the private airfield. Through the tinted windows, I see a sleek jet waiting, stairs already deployed, and soft lights glowing from within.

I’ve never been to Paris, and right now, I can’t imagine a better way to experience the city of lights.

CHAPTER 11

ROLF

The jet engines hum beneath us as we soar over the Atlantic. I watch Zoe's face, a picture of excitement as she sips champagne from a crystal flute. She's perched on my lap, her warmth seeping through the fabric of my tailored pants. I can't believe we’ve found someone like her—beautiful, intelligent, and somehow still untouched by certain pleasures of the world.

"You've really never been to Paris?" I ask again, my mind still swirling around this unexpected revelation.

Zoe shakes her head, her dark hair cascading against my chin. "Never had the chance. Always too busy with school or work," she explains, her voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness.

I trace my finger gently along her bare shoulder, feeling the delicate shiver that dances across her skin in response to my touch. "Then I get to show you everything," I say, my voice filled with excitement. "The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and the quaint little cafés where the locals sip their coffee and chat away…"

Her eyes ignite with a seductive glimmer, as if she can already savor the tantalizing adventure ahead. "What else?" she inquires with eager curiosity, her interest deeply aroused.

I take a deliberate sip of champagne, gauging just how much of the tantalizing truth to unveil. "There's an exclusive place I know. Péché."

“Sin?” she translates, her eyebrow arching with intrigue.

"A club where people delve into their most fervent fantasies," I whisper intimately against her ear. "Private rooms, public spaces, whatever ignites your passion. Would you enjoy that? To be the voyeur—or the exhibitionist?"

Her breath hitches, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. The flight attendant discreetly averts her gaze as she passes by, but I am unfazed by who might be watching us. In Paris, I'll show Zoe a world where pleasure has no boundaries.

Karl shifts slightly in his seat across from us, his piercing eyes never leaving Zoe's face. He's been watching us intently since we boarded, that familiar hunger evident in his gaze. I catch his eye and a silent understanding passes between us.

"And what about Karl?" Zoe asks, her voice dropping to a whisper as she glances toward him. "Will he join us at this club?"

I smile against her neck, inhaling her perfume. “Of course.”

The champagne has made her bold. She slides off my lap and stands, stretching like a cat. The movement causes her dress to ride up slightly, revealing more of her thighs. It's deliberate, I know. She's learning the power she holds.

"I think I need to freshen up," she announces, her eyes darting toward the private bedroom at the rear of the jet.

As she walks away, her hips swaying with each step, she pauses at the bedroom door and looks over her shoulder. The invitation is clear. I wait a moment, finishing my champagne, savoring the anticipation. Karl and I exchange another glance.

I rise slowly and follow her path. The sound of my footsteps seems to echo in the cabin despite the engine noise. When I reach the bedroom, she's standing by the window, the clouds creating a dreamlike backdrop behind her.

"Help me with this," she says, turning her back to me, indicating the zipper of her dress.

My fingers brush against her skin as I lower the zipper, revealing the delicate curve of her spine. I place my lips on her shoulder, tasting salt and sweetness. She turns in my arms, the dress now hanging loosely from her frame.

"I want to try everything," she whispers against my mouth. "Everything you want to teach me."

I kiss her deeply, walking her backward toward the bed, my hands already working on the buttons of my shirt. Her fingers fumble with my belt, eager but still learning. We're so absorbed in each other that I barely register the door opening behind us.

Karl stands in the doorway, watching. Zoe notices him over my shoulder and pauses, but only for a moment. Then, without breaking our kiss, she extends her hand toward him.

CHAPTER 12

KARL

Iwalk between Zoe and Rolf, their steps an echo of my own as the vastness of the gallery opens around us. Masterpieces crowd the walls in haunting silence. A deep, heavy oil painting draws our eyes, its brooding colors seeming to drip from the canvas like a secret yet to be revealed.

Zoe halts, transfixed, her breath barely audible. Her face, framed by waves of hair, tells a story more captivating than any art. Her lips part, and I glimpse a flicker of her world—a place I long to discover. Rolf stands a foot away, observing Zoe, studying the painting, calculating. I smile. This is what we’ve always wanted—the ability to lose an afternoon in the company of a woman we love.

As we move, we build a gentle rhythm that accompanies our exploration. Each piece invites my attention, but I find my gaze lingering more on Zoe than the art around us. She pauses before a painting I’ve seen before but her appreciation makes me take a second look. I see her radiant smile and the glimmer of excitement she tries to contain. Beside me, Rolf watches her with the same fascination, though his expression remains composed. Together, we savor the moment, knowing how rare and beautiful it is.

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