Chase Me

29

As Zane and I arrived in France, we were greeted by beautiful weather and a sense of excitement. The charming buildings that lined the streets exuded a timeless elegance, hinting at the rich history. Eager to immerse ourselves in the local culture, I suggested, "Let's get some pastries." Zane nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the anticipation that mirrored my own.

Entering a nearby pastry shop, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked croissants filled the air. We marveled at the display of delectable treats, their golden exteriors and delicate layers promising a taste sensation. Choosing a variety of croissants, we indulged in the flaky pastries, savoring each buttery bite.

With satisfied appetites, we made our way to the hotel to check-in. The cozy ambiance and warm hospitality of the establishment welcomed us, providing a comfortable retreat amidst the bustling city. Excitement coursed through me as I began to dress for our lunch outing, eager to explore the culinary delights that France had to offer.

Slipping into a chic yet casual dress, I admired myself in the mirror. The outfit captured the essence of French fashion, effortlessly blending style and comfort. Feeling confident and ready to embrace the day's adventures, I met Zane's gaze, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Shall we?" I asked, extending my hand towards him. His eyes sparkled with affection as he reached out, intertwining his fingers with mine. Together, we stepped out into the lively streets of France, ready to indulge in the gastronomic delights and immerse ourselves in the rich tapestry of history and culture that surrounded us.

As we walked hand in hand, the city's charm enveloped us. The vibrant streets teemed with life, as locals and tourists alike went about their day. The sun kissed our skin, infusing us with a gentle warmth, and the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air.

Navigating through the winding alleys, we discovered quaint bistros and sidewalk cafes, each offering their own unique culinary treasures. The tantalizing aromas of freshly baked bread, rich cheeses, and fragrant herbs wafted through the air, teasing our senses and beckoning us to indulge.

Choosing a picturesque café, we settled in, basking in the lively atmosphere. The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation created a vibrant symphony that accompanied our meal. With each bite, we tasted the authentic flavors of French cuisine, delighting in the delicate balance of ingredients and the culinary artistry that unfolded before us.

As I enjoyed the enchanting atmosphere of France alongside Zane, my phone suddenly rang, displaying my mom's name on the screen. Answering the call, I greeted her, "Hi, Mom."

Her voice carried a tone of concern as she asked, "Where are you? When are you coming home?" Taken aback, I responded, "I'm in France," but before I could explain further, she interrupted me with a mix of surprise and worry. "France? What are you doing in France, and with whom?"

Trying to reassure her, I explained, "Mom, Zane and I are on vacation. We just needed to get away from the problems for a while." On the other end of the line, I could sense her deep sigh, and she responded, "You cannot run away forever, honey. It's time to talk to your dad and brother."

Frustration crept into my voice as I replied, "I don't want to talk to them anymore." The line fell silent for a moment before my mom spoke again, her voice tinged with understanding. "And for how long will that be?" she asked, seeking a glimpse into my plans.

Sighing in response, I admitted, "I don't know, until I feel like talking to them." The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air as my mom let out another deep sigh, her concern evident.

Finally, she spoke with resolution, "Fine. After you come back from Paris, I want you to come straight to the house. We are having a family meeting, and tell Zane to come along. And I don't want to hear any excuses!" Reluctantly, I agreed, "Fine," before ending the call.

Zane, eyebrows raised, inquired, "Who was that?" Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I replied, "It was my mom," and proceeded to share the contents of our conversation. His expression softened as he contemplated the situation. "She kind of has a point," he acknowledged. "But let's not dwell on it now. Let's go and explore the museum."

His words brought a sense of relief, redirecting our focus to the present moment and the wonders that awaited us. I offered him a smile, tucking my phone away in my bag. "Let's go," I agreed, eager to explore the museum with him together.

"Why is this museum so empty?" I asked, glancing around the spacious halls adorned with remarkable works of art. Normally, this place would be bustling with visitors. Zane, wearing a mischievous smile, looked at me and replied, "Because I may or may not have rented it out just for us." My eyes widened in surprise as I exclaimed, "No way! You didn't actually do that." Zane chuckled, confirming, "But I did."

Walking through the museum, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and reverence for the exquisite paintings that surrounded us. The absence of other visitors allowed us to immerse ourselves fully in the beauty and grandeur of each piece. Every stroke, every color, and every detail came alive in a way that felt deeply personal.

As I turned around, I met Zane's gaze, filled with an overwhelming affection and adoration. In that moment, the famous quote "in a museum full of art, I would still stare at you" resonated deeply.

Passing by the iconic Mona Lisa painting, I felt Zane's warm embrace enveloping me from behind. His soft kisses brushed against my cheeks, eliciting small bursts of laughter that echoed through the empty halls. The combination of his touch, the artistry surrounding us, and the enchanting atmosphere created a moment of sheer bliss.

His hands moved downward to my boobs, pinching a nipple. I let out a surprised gasp. "No bra?" he whispered in my ear. "No," I breathed out, " no panty either." He twirled me around and proceeded to kiss me deeply and passionately on my lips.

I let out a soft moan as his hands squeezed my butt. He then pushed me up against the wall, my head hitting one of the million dollar paintings and placed his hand around my throat as the other one lifted up my dress. He pushed one finger in me and muffled my squeal with a deep kiss. My head spun as waves of pleasure hit me like a hurricane. I unfastened his pants, releasing the buckle, his dick immediately jumping out.

"Turn around. Hands on the wall," he ordered. I turned around and placed my hands on the wall firmly. He positioned his dick at my entrance and in one go I felt it slide in. I let out a loud moan and for a moment I only saw stars in my vision.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear while still thrusting his dick in me with no mercy.

"The Mona Lisa is so jealous of you."

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