In my head, I fantasized being there with my Trainman. Staying at one of those five-star Côte d’Azur hotels I’d read about in magazines…sunning topless on the beach…swimming in the warm Mediterranean…making glorious love in a delicious bed…sharing mussels and champagne at a local café…fucking our brains out yet again in bed…and waking up next to him in the morning to greet the sunshine and start all over again.
Why bother dreaming? That was never going to happen. Not with this damaged man who was so afraid of commitment. So afraid of getting hurt and hurting his beloved son.
Ari’s sensual voice put an end to my mental ramblings. “Saarah, would you like dessert? The crème brûlée is excellent and rivals The Palm’s.”
The restaurant was filling up. My mind flashed back to dessert at The Palm. Dessert could prove to be too embarrassing in this small, intimate restaurant. I couldn’t risk it.
“No thank you,” I stammered, my pussy hungering for him.
“Ah, then we should, at least, share a French kiss.”
Framing my face in his hands, he crushed his soft lips onto mine and consumed them. I closed my eyes as he brushed his tongue across my upper lip, signaling me to part them. His velvety tongue dipped into my mouth and flicked mine, inviting it to dance. Our dance was slow and sensuous. A lyrical waltz with sliding, gliding, and swirling that was making me want to swoon. I took small breaths through my nose so I wouldn’t lose consciousness. Three words ran circles in my head. Oh. My. God. I forgot how this sinfully sexy man could kiss. The sweeping movements sent sweet sensations of desire to my sex. I moaned into his mouth. Oh, the power of a kiss!
As his lips and tongue deepened the kiss, he placed my hand once again under the table, back on the bulge between his legs. My fingers clasped the oh so big rigid length beneath his pants, and I knew instinctively what he wanted me to do. I moved my hand up and down. Up and down. My grip grew firmer, my stroking faster. The heat of his erection surged beneath my palm.
And then I felt his talented hand once again trail up my thigh. I spread my legs, allowing him easy access to my flooded cleft. I moaned softly, loud enough for him to hear me as my own hand continued to travel up and down his hard as a rock cock. Making me even wetter, his middle finger moved to my already hard bud and focused solely on it. He made deep, overlapping circles with the fervor of a finger-painting child. Oh, how he knew how to push my button! Meanwhile, the little egg inside me kept vibrating, intensifying the insane pleasure that was coursing through me. As I headed toward my climax, I wanted to jump out of my skin. I dug the nails of my free hand into his thigh and my heels into the floor. His cock began to spasm, and my arousal was peaking. Oh God! Why did his gourmet dessert always have to be the best part of the meal?
“Well, Ari, how nice to see you again.”
As fast as Ari had thrust his tongue inside my mouth, he withdrew it. Just as fast, his hand pulled away from my crotch as did mine from his cock. The voice made me shudder.
The color on Ari’s face drained, and I’m sure mine was as white as a ghost. Standing before us was a tall, stunning, whippet-thin woman dressed to the nines. The scent of her Chanel No. 5 perfume wafted up my nose and made me dizzy. The scathing look she sent my way made me shake.
“Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?” she hissed.
Should I answer or should he?
Ari’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. In a voice as frigid as dry ice, he introduced us.
“Sarah, this is my ex-wife, Cassandra O’Toole.”
My stomach churned, and bile rushed to the back of my throat. I thought I was going to throw up.
“You’re nothing,” she hissed directly at me.
The expression on Ari’s face went from shock to rage. There was fire in his eyes.
“Come on, Saarah, let’s get out of here.”
He threw two one hundred-dollar bills onto the table and grabbed my hand. My legs were like Jell-O, but I managed to stand up and follow him out of the booth. His ex’s eyes stayed fixed on mine, sending daggers my way. Ari strode to the front door like a bolt of lightning with me dragging behind him, numbed. He couldn’t wait to get out of the bistro. And the truth is, I couldn’t either.
###♥###
Ari had Andre take me to my apartment. The only thing more intense than the throbbing between my legs was the silence between us. And the waves of nausea I was staving off.
I clutched my stomach.
Breaking the silence, an alarmed Ari asked, “Are you okay?”
He immediately pulled me close to him, wrapping his arm around me.
“I feel sick.”
Ari put the palm of his hand to my forehead, the good father he was. “You don’t have a fever.”
Little did he know the fever was raging inside me. Consuming every ounce of me.
“It’s her, right?”
“No, I think I ate a bad mussel,” I lied.
Ari gently twisted my shoulders so that I faced him. “Sarah, she’s nothing to me.”
I was too distraught to say another word. As the limo pulled up to my brownstone, I was so close to throwing up I could taste it. Oh God, don’t let me barf in front of him! Not waiting for Andre to open the passenger door, I sprung it open myself and scurried up the steps to the landing.
“Sarah, wait!” I heard Ari shout out behind me.
“Please, Ari, go away,” I replied hoarsely, without looking back.
My hand jittering, I reached for my keys and jammed the one for the front door into the lock. For once, it opened the warped door in one try. As it slammed shut behind me, I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. My heart was racing as I battled tears and nausea. At last, I reached my apartment and was grateful one more time that my key worked on the first try.
Once inside, I ran past a meowing Jo-Jo, straight to the bathroom. Falling to my knees, I yanked out the vibrating egg, tossed it into the toilet, and puked out my guts.
I had just met Ari’s evil ex-wife…Cassandra O’Toole.
My evil boss…Catherine Sinclair.
END OF BOOK 1
One-click on the cover below for BOOK 2, the gripping conclusion. AVAILABLE NOW!
Unforgettable
Unforgettable Book 1
Unforgettable Book 2
Unforgettable Book 3
Unforgettable: The Complete Series (Box Set)
THAT MAN Series
THAT MAN 1
THAT MAN 2
THAT MAN 3
THAT MAN 4
THAT MAN 5
THAT MAN TRILOGY (Box Set)
THAT MAN: THE WEDDING STORY (Box Set)
Gloria
Gloria’s Secret
Gloria’s Revenge
Gloria’s Forever
Gloria’s Secret: The Trilogy (Box Set)
An Erotic Love Story
Undying Love
Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire
Strangers on a Train
Derailed
Final Destination
Seduced by the Park Avenue Billionaire Box Set
Writing under E.L. Sarnoff
DEWITCHED: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen
UNHITCHED: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen 2
Nelle L’Amour is a NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in Los Angeles with her Prince Charming-ish husband, twin teenage princesses, and a bevy of royal pain-in-the-butt pets. A former executive in the entertainment industry with a prestigious Humanitas Prize to her credit for promoting human dignity and freedom, she gave up playing with Barbies a long time ago but still enjoys playing with toys with her husband. While she writes in her PJs, she loves to get dressed up and pretend she’s Hollywood royalty. She writes juicy stories with characters that will make you both laugh and cry and stay in your heart forever.
To learn about her new releases, sales, and giveaways, please sign up for her newsletter and follow her on social media. Nelle loves to h
ear from her readers.
Newsletter:
http://eepurl.com/N3AXbs
Facebook:
facebook.com/NelleLamourAuthor
Twitter:
twitter.com/nellelamour
Gmail:
[email protected]
Amazon:
amazon.com/Nelle-LAmour/e/B00ATHR0LQ
Pinterest:
www.pinterest.com/nellelamour
Website:
www.nellelamour.com
Trainwreck 1 (Trainwreck #1) Page 19
