Chapter 32 New
NEW
Jack
I’d called ahead that afternoon to secure the very same table made famous in a scene in Something’s Gotta Give. It was the best table in the restaurant.
We’d eat later. For now, I poured a third glass of wine for Michelle. She held up a hand when her glass was half full.
“That’s all you want?”
“I want to be relaxed and all loosened up, but not drunk,” she said, sliding closer to me. We were on the same side of the booth. I couldn’t stand to be far away from her, and I’d had my hands on her all throughout dinner. On her shoulder, in her hair, on her leg.
“That gift should have you all loosened up,” I teased, pretending to peer at her backside.
Knowing she was wearing one of my toys all throughout the meal had made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything she said.
I’d done my best, though, and we’d chatted about our travels, the places we’d been, the places we wanted to go, and many other topics.
The whole time my mind kept drifting downward to her body, and forward to later tonight.
A few times she’d seemed to want to talk more, and had even mentioned last night. She’d seemed so carefree when she said those words, as if all that was said and unsaid was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal that I hadn’t returned her words twenty-four hours ago.
Last night.
Big deal or not, those two words still felt heavy, like a brick weighing me down. I didn’t want to fuck up this night, or last night, or any other night. I feared that if I said anything else, if I revealed too much or too little, that I’d simply say the wrong thing.
That fear of fucking up had me in its clutches; it was gripping me, holding me tenaciously in a tight fist. I felt more for this woman next to me than I’d ever felt for Aubrey, which was at once a beautiful realization, and also a cruel punch in the gut.
Comparing Michelle to Aubrey made me feel like complete shit.
My lack of enough feelings for Aubrey had led to the worst thing possible.
The fact that I felt anything should be a weight lifting, but it dredged up all the self-loathing that I thought I was finally letting go, thanks to these nights with her.
She was so much more effective than therapy. Being with her was the only thing that eased the ache.
And yet I couldn’t shake the fear that the more I said, the greater the chance I’d mess up something. Or hurt her. I had a track record, and maybe it was a track record of one, but that was enough to have to protect her from me.
After I paid the check, she dropped her hand on top of mine. “Jack,” she said, and her voice was serious. “About last night, and the things I said—”
I cut her off. “Last night was amazing. All of it. And tonight will be amazing too. And so will tomorrow night,” I said.
“Yes. They will be. The rest of these thirty nights will be amazing, and then we’ll move on,” she said, flashing me a smile that seemed to exist on the surface only. “Like we planned.”
My gut twisted at the thought. I wanted to stay here, in Paris, in this moment in time with her.
But we’d made a deal, and we’d never mapped out a contingency plan for more days.
Besides, why would we need them? I couldn’t give her more than this, even though I hated the thought of the thirty-first day.
I didn’t want to see that day or the ones that followed it.
“Yes. Like we planned,” I echoed, even as I felt something well up in my chest. A desire to say more. To ask for more time. But that wasn’t fair, so I kissed her.
Maybe it made me an ass, but the kiss served many purposes.
Not only the physical, but it also distracted her, judging from the way goosebumps rose on her bare arms. And it kept my mouth shut.
I wanted the night to be perfect for her, so I kept the focus on the one thing I couldn’t mess up—sex.
I did everything I could to avoid returning to the ‘I’m falling in love with you conversation’ because that conversation was what had ruined Aubrey, and I didn’t want to ruin Michelle.
I wanted to worship her, so after she’d excused herself to stop in the restroom, I took her back to the hotel, my focus solely on the purity of the pleasure I wanted to give her.
I’d spread a small hand towel on the bed and left the lube and some massage oil on it. As the door to the room shut, I dimmed the lights, but didn’t turn them all the way off. I couldn’t bear not to look at her.
She turned to face me. I couldn’t read her expression.
“Are you okay? Are you nervous?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
“Good,” I said, grasping her hand and leading her to the bed.
I backed her up against it, and when her knees hit the mattress she sank down, her hair spreading across the royal blue bedspread.
She looked like a dream to me, her hair in waves, her breasts free under the soft cotton, and her eyes hooked on me the whole time.
She propped herself on her elbows and watched as I unknotted the tie I’d worn to the restaurant and tossed it on a chair somewhere behind me.
It staggered me. Her desire. Her heart. How much she gave of herself. I moved up to her face, cupped her cheeks in my hands, and looked her in the eyes. I didn’t say it, wouldn’t say—couldn’t say it.
But I could say this. “About last night,” I began, trying again to fix my mistake.
She placed her finger on my lips. “Don’t say a word,” she whispered.
I shook my head and kept going. “When I said I can’t get enough of you, I meant it. I can’t,” I whispered, and it wasn’t a return of her sentiment, but it was as close as I could possibly come.
“I feel the same about you,” she said. Her expression softened more as she ran her fingertips over my jaw. Her touch nailed me in the heart. I grabbed her hand from my face, and clasped it.
My heart beat so hard I swore it was going to fight its way out of my chest, landing in her fucking hands where it belonged. I was aching to tell her how I felt for her. I fought that instinct hard, shoved it away, and returned to the role I could play well.
“Stay like that. I’m going to put on music,” I said, and grabbed my phone from the coffee table and called up Ravel’s Boléro.
The opening notes were faint, as the composer intended, and Michelle raised an eyebrow in question. “What are you playing?”
“Boléro.”
She grinned. “Like you told me you wanted to someday.”
“Someday is now,” I said, then I stalked over to her, dropped down to my knees and gently spread her legs apart.
Her skirt rose up to her mid thighs, and I could only see a sliver of her panties, but the sight of her arousal took my breath away.
She must have been wet all through dinner, because she was soaked now.
And that delicious wetness was all for me. “I want you so much,” I said.
Michelle
I’d been lying when I said I wasn’t nervous.
How could I not be? I might want this, but I’d never done it, and fear was natural.
Sure, I’d gotten off to plenty of naughty videos.
I’d seen enough to know I found the possibility of this type of penetration incredibly alluring.
The purple jewel had kept me buzzing at a constant state of arousal all through dinner.
But that natural born fear of pain still existed.
The ass was not designed for a cock, and certainly not one of Jack’s size.
Yet, I wanted to feel him, wanted to know if there was more sexual pleasure to be had beyond all the toys and tricks we’d tried so far.
When he said he couldn’t get enough of me, I knew what he meant.
He craved my body, and that hunger of his had been healing me.
That desire of his had been restoring my sense of sexiness as he turned me into a wanted woman.
The more I took of him, the more I’d felt rebuilt.
Ready to conquer the world as a remade woman.
I was choosing to exist in the moment of our arrangement. To let myself live in this sensuality, and this feeling of not ever getting enough. To be happy with what I had, and for a little bit longer, I had him.
He came at me like a ravenous man. His jaw was hard, his eyes were blazing, and his hands were strong as he spread my legs farther.
In a blur, he was between my thighs, kissing the drenched lace of my panties.
I moaned and was tempted to close my eyes, but instead I pushed up farther on my elbows, wanting to watch him as he flicked his tongue against the panel, then moved lower, pressing his lips against the jewel.
I could barely feel his mouth, but the image of what he was doing was so erotic that more heat pooled between my legs.
I’d be gushing soon, and I was sure he would lap up every ounce of me.
I exhaled deeply, unsure of how we were getting from Point A to Point B. But the wine had worked its way through my body, softening my muscles, relaxing my mind, so I let go of the need to know what was coming.
Anticipation was its own elixir.
“Sit up and raise your arms,” he told me, and I obeyed.
He reached for my dress straps. I lifted the skirt and he tugged the material the rest of the way over my head.
His breath hissed when he looked at my breasts.
As if he couldn’t control himself, he dived in, drawing one pink bud into his mouth and sucking so hard I heard a loud, wet pop when he let go, replacing his mouth with his big hand.
“Perfect tits,” he said, then returned his attention to the other breast, licking and sucking me voraciously. I curled my hands around his head, tugging him closer, thrusting my breasts into his face. His soft hair brushed against my chest, and a fresh wave of pleasure tore through my body.
The steady beat of drums and flutes filled the room, the sensual music matching my desire. A build, a tease, a long, Kama Sutric piece of music that suited the way Jack loved my body.
“Turn over,” he told me.
“Already?”