by C. C. Gibbs
“Non, non, just a taste of chocolate sorbet and one mocha meringue,” Henny murmured, sliding a plate before her.
Nicole looked up, a twinkle in her eyes. “How can I resist?”
“Indeed,” he said with a grin. “A little chocolate always makes the world more livable, ma chou.”
Nicole blushed at the endearment.
And Henny now understood another facet of Nicole’s appeal. She could be sweetly naïve, not to mention devastatingly beautiful and a woman of appetites. All of which had inspired Rafe to jettison his preference for personal privacy.
While Rafe ate his steak and hers, Nicole finished her dessert, just as Henny set a crème brûlée in front of Rafe. “This is Rafe’s favorite—lavender scented.” He smiled at Nicole. “Would you like to try one?”
When she hesitated, Rafe muttered, “Leave her alone, Henny.” Then shooting his friend a don’t-fuck-with-me look, he picked Nicole up and set her back on his lap.
Understanding Rafe’s weighted look, Henny immediately raised his arms. “I’m not interested in pistols at dawn. Look, I’m sitting down,” he said, his gaze amused. Reclaiming his chair, he lounged back and watched, fascinated, as Rafe alternately fed crème brûlée to Nicole, then himself, in what only could be characterized as explicit sexual foreplay. Turning to Basil, Henny murmured drolly, “What do you think? A spring wedding for our lovebirds?”
Basil smiled. “Sure Rafe can wait that long? I’m thinking next week.”
“Shut the fuck up, you two.” Rafe flashed them a mocking grin. “I’ve never felt so good. Tell them, baby. We’re living the dream.”
“It’s madness,” Nicole said, equally blithe. “But irresistible. Like chocolate and catching a prime wave.”
Henny exploded in a booming laugh, Basil raised his cognac in salute, and Rafe pushed the empty bowl aside and said without a qualm, “Am I lucky or what?”
Both men understood that they were in the presence of a bona fide miracle. Since their precocious youths, Rafe’s interest in women had always been brief and supremely casual—as in names were not a requirement.
Rising from his chair, Henny spread his arms wide. “This momentous occasion calls for vintage champagne.”
Rafe didn’t need an interpreter. “I agree. The ’92.”
“Coming up,” Henny said, moving toward the wine cooler. But he’d no more than opened the nineteenth-century champagne from the Contini family vineyard when Rafe’s phone rang.
Taking his phone from his pocket, Rafe glanced at the caller ID and hit the Answer bar.
“Enjoy your holiday.”
“Thanks, Aleix.” Sliding his phone back in his pocket, he looked at Nicole. “Did you get enough to eat?” His voice was ultra soft, his smile, easy, relaxed.
She nodded.
“Ready to go?”
How could he speak so quietly when lust was lighting up her brain and her speech synapses had jammed to a stop like a LA freeway at rush hour?
Maybe he was a mind reader because he didn’t wait for an answer; he stood with her in his arms and nodded at Henny. “Thanks for supper.”
Powering through her LA traffic jam, Nicole said in an explosive rush, “Everything was wonderful, the company too.”
“Anytime.” Henny grinned. “Sweet dreams, children.”
“See you in the morning,” Basil added with a shy smile.
Once they were alone, Henny poured Basil and himself champagne, then raised his glass. “Mark your calendar,” he drawled. “Rafe’s gone over the fucking edge.”
“I’m not so sure.” Basil studied the bubbles in his glass for a second, then looked up. “She’s a novelty. By definition novelties are fleeting.”
Henny shrugged one massive shoulder. “You never know. Hell, I never thought I’d marry. And then Mireille walked into my kitchen in Paris with—what’s her name… the woman you were fucking?”
“Claudine.”
“What happened to her?”
“She went back to her husband and family.”
Henny made a face. “Sorry. Are you heartbroken?”
Basil smiled faintly. “She called last week.”
“And?”
“And I told her I’d think about it. I don’t give a shit about her husband, but she has two young children. And you and I both know how unsettling divorce can be.”
Henny laughed. “Especially the second and third.”
“Keep it up,” Basil muttered. “And I’ll never call Claudine back.”
Recognizing his friend’s grim, self-absorbed stare, Henny quickly veered back to their original conversation. “Want to give me odds on when Rafe gets tired of Miss Novelty? My call is he’ll last the entire thirty days. According to Carlos that’s when she leaves.”
Basil looked up with a small flicker of surprise, as though reentering the world. “Thirty days is a lifetime for Rafe,” he finally said, having rallied his senses. “I’d say, ten—at the most. Actually, five is more realistic.”
“How much?” Both men were wealthy in their own right. Friendship rather than necessity brought them all to Monaco each summer.
“Five K. And I’m going to modify five days to an even more realistic three. Once Monday comes, Rafe’s going to check in with Geneva and get back to business.”
“I’m not so sure. He’s in deep. Make it ten K and we’re on.”
“Fine. But the odds are against you.” Basil’s form of crazy was personal; in all else, he was eminently rational.
“I like a long shot. And you have to admit,” Henny said with a big grin, “just seeing Rafe play Romeo is worth the goddamn price of admission.”
Chapter 13
Kicking the carriage house door shut behind him, Rafe set Nicole on her feet. “I’m a couple hours past taking it slow,” he said, his fingers quickly undoing the tie on her robe. “I apologize if it matters.”
“And if it does?”
His gaze came up but he didn’t stop pushing her robe off her shoulders. “Then add some jewelry of your choosing to this apology.”
She laughed. “Really? Has that worked for you?”
Always. “Could we have this conversation later?” He arched one brow. “Seeing how you’re naked”—he tossed her robe aside—“and my dick isn’t in the mood for chitchat.”
Her libido zeroed in the overtaxed fabric of his shorts stretched taut over a truly impressive erection that was about to be hers in all its au naturel glory. “Fine,” she said¸ giving him a brilliant smile and reaching for his zipper. “We’ll talk later.”
He lifted her hands aside. “Let me. I’m faster.”
Fuck—like the speed of sound. A second later, Nicole watched him step over his shorts on the floor. “Great skill set.” She frowned.
Catching her chin with his forefinger and thumb, he forced her head up. “Don’t pout. You’re everything beautiful and surprising in my life.” He hid an involuntary wince at his earnestness. “It would be easier if you weren’t.”
“You and I both know the reason I’m here is because it isn’t easy.” Arching her throat, she pulled away from his hand. “It’s volatile. You like that.”
He suddenly laughed, leaned in, and smiled, a wide, fabulous flash of white teeth and golden-eyed warmth. “What I like is fucking you. And you talk too much,” he added, grinning into her audacious blue gaze, shoving her gently backward until she was pinned against the cool stone wall.
Bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders, he smoothly eased forward until his powerful body was lightly resting against hers. As if he were politely offering himself and his considerable physical assets. As if he awaited her approval.
When he knew damn well that there wasn’t a woman alive who’d refuse him, she understood, particularly with the hot, hard arc of his massive erection advancing the offer. Pressing gently into her belly, reminding all her fomenting carnal impulses of the wild orgasmic payoff he so easily delivered.
“Am I supposed to say yes?”
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He kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you?”
“I thought you were in a hurry,” she said, a noticeable restiveness in her words.
He almost smiled at her willful evasion; not that a little friendly tutelage wasn’t going to make her more agreeable. But in the meantime, he had no complaints. She was hotter than hot. “You sound breathless,” he whispered, bending his head and kissing the fluttering pulse in her throat. “Does it turn you on—the novelty of uncharted territory—no protection, all the barriers down?” He smoothly slid his middle finger down her pulsing cleft, drew it back over her slippery softness, then lifted his head and lightly touched the pad of his finger to her lips.
She shivered, her body jolted by his touch.
“I’d say that’s a yes.”
He lifted one brow at her dazed look, raised his finger to his mouth, and licked. “One more time just to make sure?”
When he gently pressed her clit, she stifled a cry as a hot, flaring warmth raced through her senses and melted into a fiery pool of burning desire between her legs.
He watched the color rise in her cheeks, his thumb resting lightly on her pulsing nub of engorged flesh. “Your jazzed little clit is talking to me even if you won’t,” he whispered, rubbing the pad of his thumb up and down the sensitive bundle of nerves before he gently flattened it.
She groaned, a soft, frantic greedy sound.
He raised his head. “Feel good?”
He was smiling at her, there were creases at the corners of his eyes, a small lift to his midnight-dark brows, an amiable openness in his gaze. He nuzzled the small bridge of her nose, then took her face in his hands. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head, her breathing shallow. “Rafe…”
There was both hesitancy and panic in her voice, a rare glimpse of unsureness in her eyes. He was just about to respond to the plea in her voice when she shoved her hands between them, swept them downward at warp speed, curled her fists around the swollen head of his dick, and in a sex-deprived frenzy squeezed—hard.
His breath hissed through his teeth.
“Oh, God.” She dropped her hands, looking almost as pained as he felt. “Did I—You know… are you…” Her voice trailed off.
He took a step back, glanced down, saw that his equipment was still in working order despite the crushing abuse, looked up, and smiled faintly. “We’re good. I think I still can have children.” His smile widened. “Obviously, you’re ready.”
“Just a little.”
Her sweet, downcast gaze was obscenely hot—as if she might be asking forgiveness, as if an act of submission wasn’t out of the question. His dick took notice in an indelicate and sizable display of lechery.
“Oh. My. God.”
It was the merest sound, tremulous and breathy—but it shot to the top of his list of best compliments ever. That his house guest was flushed, trembling, ravenously impatient, was a factor. That she radiated a rare compliance spoke to his own brute idiosyncrasies.
Catching her around the waist, he swung her off the floor. “Instant gratification, baby. Legs up.” Pressing her against the wall, he helped her circle his waist with her legs, quickly guided his dick to her throbbing sex, and smoothly entered her.
“Me first,” Nicole gasped.
Rafe tensed, then said smoothly, “No problem.”
His casual assurance shouldn’t set her teeth on edge, especially now when her body was laying out the welcome mat. Ignore it. “Just like that? Cool as ice?”
“Relax, tiger. Everything’s not a personal challenge. I can do it if I have to, that’s all.”
Like your dick is programmed after the millionth fuck?
As she opened her mouth to reply, Rafe cut off the discussion by giving her something else to think about—like penetrating a fraction more into her supertight, totally awesome, made-for-optimum-sensation body.
After waiting so long to feel the unprecedented skin-on-skin sensation, the degree of pleasure flooding her senses was epic and truly awesome. Rafe’s enormous erection, thick, hot, turgid, imprinted itself on every sleek surface and tremulous nerve ending, touched every feverish chord in her high-flying sensual spirit. She felt blissfully ravished, gloatingly indulged, and so spectacularly horny she wanted to say, You can own me if you want, lock, stock, and barrel. She didn’t, of course, because she was never so lost to reason; instead she whispered, “You feel really nice…”
“And you feel perfect. Velvety—tight… um—that’s tight.” His concentration momentarily slipped as the extraordinary pressure on his dick electrified his senses, and without thinking he drove in more forcefully than intended. Under normal circumstances, a perfectly ordinary stroke; in this instance, the sensitive head of his dick suddenly banged into a non-resilient surface.
Rafe grunted on impact.
Nicole flinched.
Jerking back marginally, wondering if she was swollen from their earlier sex, Rafe murmured, “Sorry—need a break? Or would you rather we stop completely?” An offer he was hoping she’d refuse.
“No, no, no, no, no, no! Don’t stop!”
Her wild litany of negatives, not to mention the nail marks on his shoulders, had his dick doing the happy dance. But his brain was still functioning, and though he was pretty much with his dick on the full-steam-ahead plan, he politely gave her a last chance to refuse. “Sure?”
The heat in her eyes could have fueled a rocket to the moon. “I said don’t stop,” she hissed.
For a reckless moment he considered giving her what she wanted. But saner counsel quickly prevailed. This wasn’t his first fuck or even his thousandth; he knew better than to hurt her and blow his chances for the rest of the night. And when it came to getting what he wanted, he was a pro. “You’re first on the agenda, tiger, don’t worry. But we need to slow down. Deep breath now, okay? Then relax and let me make you feel good.” He waited for what he recognized now as her normal reaction to instructions or commands. “Come on,” he whispered, contemplating the tiny flicker of resistance in her gaze. “Guaranteed satisfaction if you do what you’re told.”
“Christ—sorry.” She let out an explosive breath. “I’m struggling here. In fact”—she paused—“it’s just that—Oh hell, forget it.”
“No, tell me.” He was halfway home in terms of sexual satisfaction, his dick midpoint in a provocatively snug pussy. He could wait a few minutes more.
She shut her eyes and grimaced.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said mildly. “So you might as well tell me.”
She frowned. “This is so stupid.”
“You know I can see you even with your eyes shut.” His smile echoed in his voice.
“Okay, okay.”
The brilliant blue of her eyes contemplated him through the lush canopy of her lashes, a faint irony visible in their depths, and he suddenly wondered if he’d be sorry he asked.
“If you must know…” She hesitated, feeling as though her brain had been taken over by aliens. Since when did she talk feelings during sex?
“Oh, what the hell,” she muttered. “I want you way too much… like an idiotic fourteen-year-old with a crush and it’s freaking me out.”
Her rush of words set his world back on track. He grinned. “Christ, I thought I was going to have to talk you out of something weird. But if you must know,” he said, mimicking her preface, “I’ve got you beat—idiot-wise… because my dick’s never been this horny. So I’m freaking out too.” He grinned. “Ready to come a few times?”
Her mouth pursed. “Are you always this cool?”
“If I was cool about you, I would have fucked you on the yacht and sent you back up on deck.” He smiled. “I didn’t.”
She smiled back. “That works out then because I’m not sure I would have gone.”
This wasn’t the time to apprise her of the broad powers his wealth allowed him. “Lucky me,” he said instead.
“And now I want to get lucky,” she said with her usual frankness.
“Give me those orgasms.”
He suppressed a smile; she never asked. She told. On the other hand, he was already on board with her plan and his ego was flexible when it came to imminent orgasms. He adjusted his grip on her bottom.
She lifted her brows. “Tired of holding me? We could go upstairs.”
“I’ll let you know when I get tired. Right now, it feels pretty fucking good.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she said with a small sigh, wiggling her hips a little around his partially submerged erection. “Supergood. Tell your dick not to forget my G-spot, okay?”
He laughed so long she finally grumbled, “I just thought I’d remind you.”
He grinned. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the fuck from hell?”
“Gimme a break,” she said sweetly, like the totally hot fairy-tale princess of every man’s fantasy. “Do you get complaints?”
“So we’re irresistible?”
“Tempting, I guess. I’ve never asked. So?”
He lowered his head, his voice. “Your G-spot’s on my list, pussycat. Now shut the fuck up and let us do our job.”
She opened her mouth.
One dark eyebrow lifted. “I said I’d take care of it.”
She shut her mouth.
He knew better than to smile, although her first small capitulation made him want to at least say Thanks. Instead, he showed his appreciation by demonstrating the sexual artistry he’d mastered since his disreputable youth. In the interests of mutual consummation though, he progressed with extreme caution, waiting between each progressive advance for Nicole’s body to open, part, slowly yield to his invasion. Watching her from under his lashes and monitoring the flush rising on her throat, the rhythm of her breathing, the increasing pressure of her fingers on his neck.
Until, finally, his dick filled her completely.
She whimpered.
He dragged in a shuddering breath.
Paradise found.
Splaying his fingers wider, he held himself motionless inside her for a moment, supporting her weight, his hands cupping her bottom, her thighs resting on his forearms, pleasure washing over him in fierce, hot waves.
