Passion in Paris

an excerpt

Chapter One

Could it really be that easy, falling in love?

Seat 34D, right across the aisle.

Definitely sexy, seemingly rich, classically handsome, and that was just on the surface.

Matthew Donovan warned himself not to get ahead of himself, to not be...well, himself. At age thirty-six, he had a tendency to over think, or more appropriately, over-love. Pre-love, if such a notion was possible. It was a quality that had served him well in the non-profit sector, his ability to effuse over topics that others might have thought mundane. His enthusiasm spilled over to others, oftentimes bringing with them checks for large amounts to whatever charity Matt was peddling. After all, either in business or in life, you think with your brain and you love with your heart, and for a pie-in-the-sky dreamer like Matt, he always thought love was right around the corner. Or in this case, right across the aisle.

They had already met, at the bar while waiting for their flights to be called. Matt nursing a Grey Goose martini (his favorite), while the man in the finely tailored blazer sipped at a refreshing white wine. He was tan, his fingers long and empty--meaning, no wedding band and no pale strip of skin where one should have been. Which could mean he's either single or one of those perennial cheaters who knows his way around an airport lounge--or maybe, just maybe, he was gay. Easily forty, his dark hair going to gray at the temples, he had crinkles at his eyes that Matt found oddly sexy.

"Where are you flying to?" the man had asked upon noticing Matt.

Matt of course had already scoped him out, sitting just two bar stools away. Terminal 8 at JFK was busy at eight o'clock at night, international flights scheduled throughout the evening hours for arrival in Europe the next morning. Matt's flight was at ten minutes after ten, and he'd left plenty of time to get through the increasingly difficult security checkpoint. Which now allowed him the chance to relax with a cool drink. The handsome man to his right had settled in moments after he had.

"Paris," Matt announced.

The man nodded. "Coincidence. Me, too. Flight 28?"

"Yeah, I think that's it."

Setting down his white wine, he extended his hand over the bar. "Name's Colton."


"Business or pleasure?"

What was Matt supposed to say? Not sure, it's complicated...see, I'm planning to fall in love, what category does that fall under? Truth be told, with the sky blue hue of this guy's eyes gazing right at him, Matt kinda thought it was already happening. "See a friend I haven't seen in a while."

"Great time of year to see Paris. You been before?"

"Long time ago. High school exchange program."

"Can't be that long ago. What are you, twenty-eight, twenty-nine?"

Smooth talker, this one. "Thirty-six."

"You look great for your age."

"Oh, uh, thanks."


"Uh, no."



"Sorry, too personal?"

"No, I don't care. I don't hide. I'm's just, no, no boyfriend at the moment."

"Shame," Colton said ambiguously.

What was a shame?

"What kind of business are you in?"

"Non-profit. Especially now."

"How's that?"

"I'm a fundraiser and a grant-writer by trade, but cutbacks at the agency I worked for left me suddenly trying to raise my own funds. Using my long-held savings for this trip. Once I get back, time to ramp up the job search."

"Sorry. Tough world out there right now."

"How about you?"

Just then the man's cell phone went off and he held up a hand, indicating he had to take the call. And that was the end of that conversation, the man busied himself with his call for the next fifteen minutes, speaking quietly into the mouthpiece but gesturing strongly with his free hand. Matt had the impression that this man, whatever his business, usually got what he wanted. Ordering another martini, Matt satisfied himself by people watching, the bustling throngs of society passing him by, suitcases trailing after them like needy, unwieldy children. Everyone racing somewhere, few taking the time to actually enjoy the precious few pleasures of travel. Of course, not everyone was fortunate enough to be headed to Paris for a summer-long excursion of love, romance, and self-discovery. Such was Matt's life at the moment, and he sighed contentedly over the adventure that awaited him a continent away.

As he sipped mindlessly on his drink, he felt a gentle pat on his back.

"So, Matt, see you on board."

"Sure, Colton."

The man smiled at him, his hand lingering just a bit too long on his back. He rubbed it before removing the warm touch, before he himself took off into the anonymity of the bustling terminal. Matt stared after him, sneaking a peek at a nice, tight ass, wondering if Colton might give him a glance back. But no, a man who exuded such confidence didn't need a second look. He'd already made his impression, made up him mind. God, Matt, thought, was that a come on, or was the handsome Colton just an overly friendly guy? And what had Matt really learned about the man during their short dialogue? As far as Matt could remember, he'd answered most of Colton's questions without getting off many of his own.

Matt held onto his fantasy throughout the arduous boarding process, waving across the aisle to Colton as they each settled into their seats and feeling ridiculous when he realized what a nerdy move that was. Colton had the aisle on one side, Matt one the other. Empty seats next to them, three additional seats in the middle section taken by parents with their young child. Still, a second coincidence like this--not only on the same flight but with seats nearby--maybe there was something in the stars directing them toward each other?

This is stupid. What, you think once we're airborne, Colton will excuse himself to go to the loo, giving Matt the fast come-on, join me, let's spread our wings while we fly. Matt wasn't accustomed to traveling overseas. Is this how people passed the time, by screwing each other in those tiny bathrooms? Mile high club, indeed, and not something Matt saw himself ever joining. He didn't have the guts to go through with it. Sex was fine, nothing wrong with that. But even if he was given the opportunity to suck on Colton's cock, wasn't that getting off on the, appendage? En route to the most romantic city in the world, how did a quick, dirty blow job enhance his trip?

Matt stole a look over at a focused Colton, who was busy placing earbuds into his ears, toggling now with his black-tinted iPod. Zoning out for the long flight, something Matt too should be considering. He fumbled in his carry-on for his new Kindle, looking over his book selections and thinking, given that his current state was horny one of Ryan Field's cleverly titled erotic novels wasn't the right choice. He tossed the Kindle into the pocket in front of him, stole one more look at Colton's enticing profile, and then closed his eyes.

To think, a mere eight hours from now, he'd be landing in Paris.

The entire trip had come about so quickly, so unexpectedly.

His friend Jake Westbury had started all this crazy talk about finding true love, starting with his dreams of spending a summer in Europe. He, their mutual friend Freddie Markson, and Jake were pals for over ten years, and in that time none had really been in what could be called a serious relationship. Matt had come the closest, living with a guy for a year before it blew up in his face. The three friends tended to hang out together, and as such, men tended to stay clear of them at the bars. One of them alone, an easy pick-up. Two of them drinking together, might be date, boyfriends. The three of them? An intimidating pack, not one to infiltrate. Which would explain why they were all still single. With Jake headed to find true love in London and Freddie impulsively choosing Rome, they had both stared at Matt that night at the bar, waiting for him to take this daring leap of faith. Fine, Paris it is, he'd said. If a hopeless romantic like Matthew Donovan couldn't find love in the most romantic of cities, then there was no hope for any of them.

Matt, actually, was the first of his friends to leave on his adventure. Since he was not currently employed, there was little keeping him in New York, and so he'd booked a flight for Paris the Tuesday before Memorial Day. The flights were cheaper, the plane emptier. And quite frankly, the sooner he got onboard the plane the less likely he was to change his mind about this foolish venture. Come on, three months in Paris. It was pure fantasy.

Fantasy was Matt's comfort zone, and Paris the only international city he'd ever visited. A good combination. Twenty years ago when he was in his final year of high school, an exchange program sent an impressionable, seventeen-year-old Matthew Donovan to the city of lights, his only companion a fellow student named Sally Richlieu. Bye-bye Peoria, Illinois and hello Paris, France. Peoria, you couldn't get more corn fed than that. He was more than happy to escape the heartland for the bustling wide sidewalks of Paris. Yup, even back then Matthew Donovan lived with his head in the clouds.

When the airplane rushed down the runway and shot into the sky, Matt opened his eyes and realized he'd dozed off during the security features demonstration. He'd actually downed a third martini before boarding, so perhaps he was feeling their woozy effects. He gazed out his window, watching as the streaked highways of Queens faded away with the plane's increasing altitude. Soon they broke through the clouds, encased in a cocoon of night, hurtling their way toward the light of a new day, a mere four thousand miles away.

It was about two hours into the flight when Matt noticed out of the corner of his eye Colton rising from his seat to stretch. They'd already dined, a glass of wine had eaten away at Matt's tolerance, and most of the other passengers had dozed off or were busy watching a movie. Thankfully the child in the middle seat was completely zonked out. Matt's eyes briefly connected with Colton's. The man stretched again, his hands massaging his own neck. He smiled once at Matt, and then he headed down the narrow aisle.

And this time, he did look back. Right at Matt.

No way.

No fucking way.

Maybe it because he was still horny, maybe because he was slightly tipsy, or maybe because love and sex and romance and Paris were all ingredients that made up this recipe for passion, but Matt found himself rising from his seat and following down on the parallel aisle. As he reached the back of the plane, he saw Colton slip into the narrow space of the bathroom, closing the door but not locking it. Sneaking a peek around, Matt realized no one was paying any attention to them. Most people in the rear of the plane were sleeping, and the flight attendants were toward the mid-section of the cabin. The engines were loud back here, you could barely hear anything else. His heart beating, fearing he'd be caught, Matt almost turned back, and then suddenly he took his chance. He entered the bathroom and quickly slid the lock across. He and Colton were alone, and in very tight quarters. How the hell were they supposed to do anything? Matt felt like his arms were confined to his sides.

Colton wasted little time, pressing his lips against Matt's. He tasted like wine, sweet and intoxicating. Matt's mind swirled, his knees going weak. As Colton continued to kiss him, Matt reached for the buttons of the main's shirt. His chest was covered with a thick brown pelt. Matt slide his fingers through the coarse hair. This guy, he was all man.

"Pretty sexy," Matt said between kisses.

Tracing fingers down the furry trail, Matt reached a tight bulge inside the man's jeans, the hungry cock pushing against the fabric, desperate to be released. Matt obliged, somehow finding space in the confined bathroom to bend down. On his knees, he pulled the pants down, exposing hairy legs. Colton's eager cock popped up; he hadn't been wearing anything between pants and skin. Hmm, nice, he thought, dessert. As Matt went to take the cock inside his mouth, the plane hit a rough patch of air and he missed.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh.

"It happens."

The phrase caught Matt off-guard. "You've done this before?"

"Hell, yeah. Best feeling in the world, shooting a load at thirty-five thousand feet."

"Never experienced it."

Colton just grinned as he said, "You will."

Okay, Matt's cock jerked inside his pants. He'd begun to fear this erotic encounter might be a one-sided affair. A quick blow on his part, a quick orgasm on Colton's part, and then it was back to their respective seats to watch separate movies, enjoy different drinks, live distant lives. With renewed enthusiasm, Matt took hold of the cock with his hand, steadying both him and his prey.

"There you go..."

Matt's soft lips took their first taste of him, his tongue slipping out to run along the reddened tip. Encircling it, he then licked underneath, at the shaft, at tightened balls. At last he engulfed the entire cock into him, sliding its length to the point where the man's generous patch of pubes tickled at his nose. Matt's mouth slid back, then forward again, and before long he was sucking hard, the gentle waves of the aircraft offering silent music in their dirty dance. Matt cupped his hand around the man's ass, discovering a fine coating of hair on his cheeks.

"Mmmm," Matt said unintelligently, sucking harder, taking more of the shaft deep inside him.

Above him, Colton's hand held his head, directing each suck, each pull and push.

"Yeah, keep it going, I'm getting close..."

Matt redoubled his efforts, saliva slipping from his mouth, lubricating every motion. He felt light-headed, maybe all the drink was getting to him. Or perhaps they were sucking all the oxygen out of the air in this tiny space. Wasn't that supposed to create a headier orgasm?

"Oh yeah..." came the sound of Colton's grumbling, baritone voice, louder than Matt thought it should have been. What if someone was waiting to use the bathroom, what if someone could hear them and was calling for a flight attendant? He expected a banging on the door any second. Why the hell was he thinking such thoughts when this hot guy was getting ready to unload...? The thrill of being discovered had him leaking pre-cum.

And that's when Colton's cock exploded. Matt kept the cock locked inside his mouth, drinking down every drop, feeling the gush as it slid, slipped and suckled down into his gullet. His mouth still wrapped firmly around the pulsing cock, he felt Colton's knees buckle under the weight of his powerful release, no doubt surprised that Matt hadn't pulled out.

"Oh man, you..."

Still on his knees, Matt gazed up, the man's hairy chest casting a fuzzy vision of his new lover. "My specialty, my vice. Guys who pull out at the moment of climax, they just don't know what they're missing. Me, I love that first hot spurt, the way it sizzles against the back of my throat."

"Yeah, you surprised me. You look like such a good know, regular."

Matt stood, planting a kiss on the man's mouth. "If I was so, uh, regular, what made you think I'd follow you here? That I'd actually go through with it."

"The way you stared after me when I left the bar. I left you wanting more."

"You...staged that?"

"I saw your carry-on bag first, you gotta be careful what you leave out in the open. Your boarding pass was sticking out, so I already knew you were on the same flight. Seat 34A." He flashed his attractive smile.

"What are you, some kind of detective?"


"Huh, a lawyer," Matt said, amused, suddenly staring down at the jeans crumpled around Colton's ankles. "Without briefs."

Colton laughed. "Cute and funny, I like that. I like you a lot, Matt."

"Yeah, thanks. You're..."

"So, Matt, your turn?"

He visibly gulped, he couldn't help it. Was this guy now going to give him a blow job to remember? "Uh, yeah, if you want..."

"No, no. Not that way. You know what I like?"

"Not at all."

Matt watched as Colton withdrew from the pocket of his shirt two small items. A travel size packet of lube, and the unmistakable shape of a condom wrapper. Matt's eyes widened with definite surprise; was this guy really expecting to fuck him? I mean, a quick blow job was one thing, but for a full round of intercourse, right here in this tiny bathroom, on this airplane, with all these people just on the other side of this cheap, plastic door? But what happened next caught Matt even more by surprise. Colton flipped him the condom while he busily lubed his own ass.

No way.

No fucking way.

Matt realized he was repeating himself, but come on...

Even is he couldn't wrap his mind around such an idea, his cock was way ahead of him. And seemingly, unsurprisingly, very much in control. Feeling his booze-infused daze, Matt found himself unzipping his jeans, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth before rolling it down over his hardened cock. Colton had already turned around, but in the mirror Matt could see the wanting expression on his face. Matt positioned himself behind him, fingers pushing at the hairy opening. Colton's hand came around to help, taking hold of Matt's cock.

"Go ahead, trust me, I'm good for it."

Matt began to eagerly push. At last his head pierced Colton's ass, and his cock easily slid in. The mirror acting as a third party, Matt watched Colton's changing expressions as he pushed in deeper, fully.

"You okay."

"Totally. Man, you feel great, nice cock, perfect...size."

Matt needed no further encouragement than that. His hands gripping Colton's shoulders, he pushed, pushed again, his cock getting comfortable against the tight walls of his sweet ass. A growing passion seemingly took control, time slipping away. Matt plunged, he thrust, and here in the friendly skies he fucked this sexy, hairy beast with all his might, his breath coming in short, quick bursts, the man in the mirror encouraging him to pound harder, harder. Matt's body banged against him, his arms coming around the front, fingers grabbing at the thick tufts of Colton's impressive chest. God, that fur felt great, sending fine tingles from his fingertips down to his toes. A powerful urge rushed through his body, building, building...

"Keep it in, don't pull out," Colton said, "I need to feel you when you..."

"Ahhaaa," Matt said, his body jerking once, twice, as orgasm ripped through his cock, his legs, his entire self quivering over the fierce eruption. Breathing heavily, Matt's cock remained buried inside him, waiting until every last convulsion waned. "Oh, wow, oh, wow. Even with an orgasm like that, I think I'm gonna stay hard for awhile. What you had me do, that was so unexpected."

"What--you expected me to be the dominant one?"

"Well, yeah."

Matt felt their heated moment was nearing its end, and so he withdrew, stuffing his semi-hard cock back inside his briefs, zipping up quickly afterwards. When Matt looked back up, Colton was completely put back together, too, pants up, shirt buttoned, tousled hair back in place. Yup, moment definitely over.

"Give it a minute before you leave, okay? I'll tell the flight attendant you weren't feeling well, might have been the chicken."

"I had the pasta."

Colton tossed him a look. "Sure, whatever. Just...stay here. I'll see you later, ok? But thanks, Matt, that was one of the best fucks I've ever had up in the sky. And trust me, I've had more than my share."

"Yeah, so I'm getting that impression."

"Aw, come on. We're both grown-ups. No sense in making more of this than it was."

That might have been the end, except Colton did give him a farewell kiss, pressing his body tight against him, his hand touching the outline of his cock. As sweet as the gesture was, it felt a bit empty, tasted a little bitter. As Colton slipped away, Matt looked at himself in the mirror, feeling slightly ridiculous. Had this really happened? Had he, just minutes ago, been fucking the brains out of a guy he'd just met at the airport bar? It all seemed unreal, except for a sudden sharp cut he felt against his thigh. He reached down, and that's when he discovered the business card stuffed inside his briefs.


Followed by a mobile number and an email address.

There was some hand-writing on the back.

"Thanks," the writing said. "Perhaps we'll meet again."

Matt was tempted to tear the card up and dispose of it along with the empty lube and condom packets. But while those went into the trash bin, Matt stuffed the business card into his back pocket. Not that he expected to need the services of someone who specialized in international law, hurtling his way toward France as he was, but who knew what awaited him once he landed. It was always good to have a lawyer's ass in your back pocket.

When Matt returned, safely and undetected, to his seat in row 34, he noticed across the aisle that a woman was seated in the row Colton had once occupied. And he was nowhere to be seen. Okay, that was strange. It was almost as if he hadn't really existed, that Matt's encounter with the sexy lawyer had been pure fabrication. No one would believe it anyway, not Jake, not Freddie. Christ, out of the three of them, the last one who'd be expected to join the mile high club would have been Matt. He was too straight-laced for such a gay fantasy.

He settled back into his seat, sleep over-taking him.

Okay, he'd had his little fling. Got the adventure out of his system.

Next stop, Paris.

Time to truly, head over heels, ridiculously and unequivocally, fall in love.