Chapter Three #2
I stare up at her as I kiss the trimmed triangle on her mound, and then a little lower to her lips, extending my tongue as far out as I can to lick her slit from hole to clit, groaning when her tang lands on my taste buds. Nothing but addictive ambrosia.
Reversed Erotomania.
That’s what I’m diagnosed with. Along with a mild case of attention deficit disorder.
But when she’s in my line of sight, or just near me, I have no issues paying attention.
But my erotomania, on the other hand, goes haywire.
I have to touch her, see her, taste her, to feel okay inside.
Whatever ounce of her I get is okay and not okay at the same time because I always want more.
Need more.
I simply cease to exist away from her because I was made for her.
Her thighs shake and I’m rewarded with more of her nectar, continuing to kiss and lick and suck and swirl my tongue.
Her hands go to my head, tugging my hair so I can tongue fuck her deeper, and her hips buck, fucking my face.
I moan, narrowing my eyes, hoping she understands what I’m saying while I suffocate in her pussy.
That’s my baby. Fuck my face. Come all over my tongue like my sick little slut.
Her eyes widen, her mouth opens, those delicious sighs the only sound in the room besides my grunts of approval and my tongue lapping up every fucking drop of cream she gives me. She goes rigid, her orgasm taking over and I keep licking through it until she spasms one last time .
She lets me go, and I sit back on my heels, my dick raging behind my zipper, but I can wait till later. I lick my lips and grin up at her.
“Better?”
She gives a sleepy nod and a lazy smile.
“That’s my girl.”
________
The walk to the café consists of consistently stopping every five minutes for Raven to look at the displays the shopkeepers are putting up for the upcoming holidays, or because she simply wants to window shop.
I don’t care. I stop with her, holding her hand while taking in every smile and commemorating it.
Even with all the darkness, she still looks at everything with a childlike wonder, and I can’t help but try to see it through her eyes.
Her last four holidays were spent at Lorne Wood Falls Mental Institution, for God’s sake.
But a thought darkens me - what were her holidays like in the asylum?
I’ll have to ask Damon when we get home.
The bookshop café, ironically named Livres d’Adam Pour Belle – Adam’s Books for Belle (which I found out is the Beast’s actual name which is dumb because he looks like a Tristan) opens just as we get there, quaint, quiet and it smells so fucking delicious I almost order everything from the menu which makes my girl laugh silently beside me when the waiter’s eyes go wide.
He comes back with to-go cups of espressos, encouraging us to look around while our enormous order is being made.
Raven gets up excitedly, taking my hand and I of course, indulge her.
Because, my god, my heart hurts when she smiles.
The waiter hands me a woven basket lined with fabric to put anything she wants inside.
I want her to get whatever she wants. I want to replace all of the books that were destroyed in the fire.
All the ones she didn’t get to read and the ones she did .
We walk the first floor of the shop, until a worker tells us the English tourist section is in the far back wall.
I take in the few French titles she’s placed in the basket already and make a note to myself to go through her phone later when she’s asleep to look up her Pinterest and see if she’s marked any books down she wants.
Our waiter finds us as she places another book in the basket to tell us our breakfast is ready and served at our table, eyes widening again when he sees the twelve books in the basket.
Various croissants, breads, butter, jams, omelettes, and more espresso line the table set for two, and when she sits across from me, I move my chair to sit beside her. She grabs a brioche bread, slices it in half, butters it, folds her omelette and makes… a fucking sandwich .
“ Brilliant .” I whisper. She does the same to mine, then cuts and parts the sandwich in half.
Then, she fixes my espresso with cream and sugar to my liking because of course, she’s paid attention and gets it right every time.
And soon, we’re simply eating, enjoying our espressos and the ambiance the quiet shop provides.
Outside on the street, more and more lights are turning on in the shop windows, lighting up the Christmas displays.
Some minimal, some full of glittering tinsel, toys, lights, and Christmas trees with large, glittering ornaments to small, matte ones.
People are beginning to wander as we take it all in.
The difference between here, and out there, where it’s getting busy, is incredible.
Every now and then someone comes in to order and then leaves without so much as glancing in our direction.
For sure wanting to stay away from the gawking American tourists.
But my girl’s not gawking. My girl is soaking it up.
The way she holds the mug close to her lips once she’s done eating, inhaling the scent of the coffee with a small smile on her lips.
So content with the simple things.
She catches me staring and grins. Her hand comes up to her face and she swipes her fingers along in a circle. It’s one word. An easy one.
Beautiful .
And I nod, flicking my middle finger from my thumb and mimic her soft movements. Very beautiful. I sign back.
She blushes and goes back to staring out at the street, at the people rushing by, people coming in and leaving, taking little bits and nibbles from her croissant, for sure not wanting to waste it.
I’m so busy staring at her, I barely hear my phone buzz from my back pocket. I pull it out only to see my mom’s face and I answer the FaceTime call.
“Hey mom.”
“Hello, good morning darling. It’s so good to see you. Where’s our lovely girl?”
“She’s right here.” I place the phone on the table and Raven scoots in closer, greeting my mother, Elena.
They have an entire conversation in sign language, since my mother’s gotten a lot better at it while we were visiting in London, wanting to excel at being able to talk to my future wife and the mother of her grandchildren because honestly, we don’t know if Raven will be able to ever talk properly.
But I don’t care. I like her little motions and glares and all the little sounds she can make.
I catch the waiter and the staff behind the glass counter holding pastries watching in fascination.
My mother must have made a joke because Raven tilts her head back, curls cascading behind her shoulders, laughing silently, glee on her face and I love it.
I love how easily my mother has accepted her.
How carefree Raven is away from her family.
Away from the structures of our society, away from the worries of the Syndicate.
She hasn’t had a nightmare or a sleepwalking episode the entire time we’ve been in Europe. I just hope it keeps up.
“Jonas!”
I blink rapidly, Raven tapping me on the shoulder and I look down at the phone. I haven’t heard a word she’s said.
“Son, I’ve been saying your name for five minutes.”
“Oh, sorry mom.”
“Jonas I have answers. ”
I grip the phone immediately, taking it off FaceTime and kiss Raven on the temple. “Go get more books, baby. I just have to talk to her really fast and I’ll be back, okay?”
She shrugs and I hand her my wallet. The whole thing. She can have it all. I know she has her own. But she’ll never use hers when she’s with me.
I step out into the brisk Parisian air, holding the phone to my ear. “Okay I’m in the clear. What did you hear?”
“Seems the Elders believe someone is targeting Syndicate members.”
I nod even though she can’t see me, turning around to look at Raven being handed another basket to stuff more books inside. “Okay?”
“Seems Chase’s case is no longer being ruled an accidental drowning.”
Shit. My guts feel like they’re being twisted every which way, my breakfast wanting to make a comeback. “Why?”
“The hyoid bone was broken. It’s often seen in homicidal strangulations, not accidental drownings.”
Fuck fuck fuck. I keep my eyes on my gorgeous girl, heading up the staircase that holds the other part of the bookshop. “I see.”
“Darling, I’m going to send one of my best men-“
“That’s really not necessary, mother.”
“I know. But it’ll help me sleep better. Don’t worry. He’ll stay out of sight.”
“Who is it?”
“Ivan Sokolov.”
“The Russian, former Bratva guy?”
“Oh good, you remember him.”
“Mom-“
“Listen to me because I don’t have much time.
I can hear your father already clambering around upstairs, getting ready to come down and have breakfast with me.
You are still fresh in this world, Jonas.
You were not born of my body but I love you just the same.
If I can keep you safe in whatever manner I can, I will.
Ivan was an enforcer. He blends well in the shadows and is easily the man I trust the most in the world.
He could be watching you now and you’d never know it.
Please, if someone is murdering Syndicate members, I want you to have a fighting chance.
I know you can take care of yourself. I know this.
But like I said, you are too fresh in this world.
You’re new blood in the brotherhood and had I not been arranged to marry your father; I would have left it behind decades ago.
I need you to – oh, good morning husband. ”
I can hear a grunt in the background. “Good morning, wife. Which one of our deserters are you speaking with?”
Mom laughs a fake, cheery laugh. “Jonas, my love. Your father grunts hello.”
I grunt back.
“Will I see you for Christmas?”
“Of course. London again?”
“I’m not sure. The cabin in Vermont has sat a little too empty. It may be high time to celebrate a holiday in America again. Go skiing. Would Raven like that?”
I grin. Already thinking about my girl. Accepted her as a daughter. “I think she’d love it.”
There’s a knock on the window above me, Raven waving at me to hurry up and come inside.
“Which reminds me, what do you think she’d like for a gift?”
The answer is simple.
“There’s a bookshop off campus, a really big one.
She lost all her books in the fire and I want to help replace all of them.
I know Monroe tech was flopped off by the senior Monroe’s old bookstores, but I think she’s doing her best to not have further ties to them.
She’s been supporting a lot of indie authors. ”
“Oh, darling, that’s such a lovely idea.” She sniffs, pausing and then I hear her exhale slowly. “She really is the future Mrs. Anderson, isn’t she?”
I grin up at the love of my life that’s gotten tired of waiting for me and has gone back to graze the bookshelves, touching the spines lightly, eyes closed in concentration as if they’re speaking to her. “Yeah, she really is.”