Journey to Fortune [Power Surge

By: Dixie Lynn Dywer

“That is quite a stunning piece. Do you collect?” he asked her. She abruptly turned toward him, and he felt his eyes zero in on her gorgeous green eyes. The woman was a knockout. She looked sweet as she stumbled to reply to him. He looked her face over as he gave a small smile.

She had the face of a porcelain doll. She smelled as edible as she looked.

“I don’t. I was just browsing.” Her American, maybe Northeast accent mixed with a bit of Southern twang, alerted him immediately to the fact that she was not French. Did she live here? Was she visiting? Was she here with someone?

“Oh, I was going to tell you that the prices here are high. There are better places in town and beyond, near the villages.”

“Oh, I know. I went through some of them the last few days. You’re not French, are you?” she asked. He gave a small smile as a group of browsers cleared their throats as if he and this lovely woman were in their way. They held one another’s gazes for a moment and then she smiled. He felt it straight to his gut. This was different. He needed to know her. He would totally get to know her.

He reached for her elbow and stepped with her to the side. His heart pounded and his blood heated. She felt amazing. The attraction was mesmerizing.

“I’m not French, no. Are you?” he asked, and she shyly turned away and looked toward the side and another table of merchandise.

“No,” she replied as he walked along with her, and toward the large dining area inside.

He wasn’t going to leave her, but he didn’t want to seem pushy.

“So, is this your first trip to Paris?” he asked.

She looked at him, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at his face. Was she liking what she saw? He wondered, and then smiled. She was speechless, and he thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful.

She took a sip of wine and wet her lips by sticking out her tongue. He was wrong. She kept getting more beautiful.

“It is my first trip here, and you?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been here before.”

“With business?”

He wasn’t going to give her much information. He needed to learn more about her. He stepped closer, his need to inhale her scent and let her know his intentions, obvious.

“You are so stunning. What is your name?” he asked.

She nearly gulped.

“Tia Rose,” she replied. He had to bite his lip between his teeth to not moan in pleasure. “That’s a gorgeous name, Tia Rose. A lovely name for a lovely woman.” He let his eyes roam over her cleavage.

“Are you meeting anyone, or would you like to accompany me to the dining area? I’m dining alone,” he added suddenly, and it shocked him. This woman was the first woman to make him feel nervous.

She studied him for a moment, and then took another sip of wine. Was it liquid courage?

“Okay. I’m alone, too, so this will be nice. What’s your name?”


“Nice to meet you, Hudson,” she whispered, and then stuck out her hand. As he took her hand into his own, he felt a shock of awareness.

He whispered next to her ear, as he inhaled her sensual perfume. “I must tell you, Tia Rose, you are a very stunning woman.”

Her cheeks turned a nice shade of pink, and then she lowered her eyes. A true submissive.

He felt his cock press against the zipper of his tuxedo pants. This woman was special, and tonight was going to be his best night ever in Paris.

* * * *

Tia Rose prayed to God that she wouldn’t make an ass of herself.

The man escorting her along the hallway with his arm looped through hers was serious eye candy. She could feel the bulging muscles beneath his tuxedo jacket, and God, he smelled incredible, too. She swallowed hard and nearly tripped. She shouldn’t have had that third glass of wine. Not that she finished it, but she wasn’t used to drinking, and she also wasn’t used to men like this paying attention to her.

Sure, since she’d arrived in Paris, she’d felt more alive and beautiful than ever before. It was like life didn’t exist before now. She knew that sounded silly, but she wanted to hold on to the fantasy for as long as she could.

She looked up at him. The man was at least six feet four inches tall. He had to be. She was wearing high heels, and she still was short. He looked like a disciplinary, with his short, crew-cut hair, deep hazel eyes, and an air about him that signified power, control, and natural sex appeal. Her damn pussy came alive, and she actually felt her panties get wet. She was getting off on this stranger from his looks alone. It was shocking, and she tried to give herself a mental kick in the ass, but it was no use. The man was hot.

As they made their way through the dining area, she could see all the major industry people chatting and trying to sell their products. She was glad she wasn’t here to sell products. This was her time now.

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