**Night In with My Cousin in Paris**

I hadn’t seen my cousin Elodie in years. She moved to Paris for university, and when I finally got the chance to visit, she insisted I crash at her tiny studio instead of wasting money on a hotel. The place was cramped, just one bed and a pull-out couch that looked like it hadn’t been used since the 90s. She laughed when I eyed it skeptically.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in that teasing French accent she’d picked up. “We’ve shared a bed before. It’s not a big deal.”

I remembered those summers as kids—sleeping head to foot, giggling under the covers—but we were grown now. And Elodie wasn’t the scrawny girl I’d known. She had curves now, full hips and a way of moving that made my eyes linger. Still, I shrugged like it was nothing. “Yeah, okay.”

That night, we drank cheap wine and caught up until the jet lag hit me like a brick. I barely managed to strip down to my boxers before collapsing onto the mattress. Elodie slid in beside me in just a thin tank top and panties, her back to me at first. The sheets were cool, but the air between us was charged.

For a while, I just lay there, listening to her breathe. Then, without warning, she rolled over, her knee bumping against my thigh. “Still awake?” she murmured.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“Good.” Her fingers brushed my arm—just a light touch, but it sent a jolt through me. I turned my head, and in the dim light, I saw her smirk.

That’s when her hand slid under the sheet. Her fingers trailed over my stomach, down to the waistband of my boxers. I sucked in a breath as she hooked a finger under the fabric, teasing.

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” she whispered. “I noticed.”

I didn’t deny it. My cock was already stiffening, and when her palm grazed it through the fabric, I groaned. “Fuck, Elodie—”

“Shh.” Her grip tightened, squeezing me slowly. “I want to feel you.”

She tugged my boxers down just enough to free my cock, her fingers wrapping around the shaft. I bit my lip as she stroked me, her thumb swiping over the wetness already beading at the tip. The sheet rustled as she shifted closer, her leg hooking over mine.

“Like that?” she murmured, her breath hot against my ear.

“Yeah.” My voice was rough.

Her hand moved faster, twisting slightly on the upstroke, her other hand slipping under her own panties. I could hear the soft, slick sounds of her fingers working her pussy, her hips rocking just slightly.

I reached for her, sliding my hand under her tank top to palm her breast. Her nipple was hard under my fingers, and she let out a quiet moan.

“God, you’re so wet,” I muttered, my own fingers finding their way under her panties now. She was soaked, her clit swollen under my touch.

Elodie gasped, her grip on my cock tightening. “Don’t stop—”

I circled her clit, feeling her thighs tremble as she ground against my hand. Her strokes on my cock grew sloppy, her breath coming faster.

“Fuck, I’m close,” I gritted out.

“Me too,” she panted.

Her orgasm hit first—her body tensed, her pussy fluttering around my fingers as she let out a stifled cry. That was all it took. I came hard, my cock pulsing in her fist as she milked every last drop from me.

For a moment, we just lay there, breathing hard, sticky and tangled under the sheet. Then Elodie laughed softly, nuzzling against my shoulder.

“Jet lag’s gone now, huh?”

I smirked. “Guess so.”

She yaunted, curling into me. “Good. Now we can sleep.”

But as her fingers lazily traced circles on my stomach, I knew sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon.