by Eva Luxe
The fact that she knew my daughter’s name took the wind out of my sails. “You know Wendy? How?”
“Don’t look so worried, mon chèr. I’m a friend of Sam’s. I helped Wendy with her wedding gown. You probably recognize me from their big day. I vaguely remember you rushing in at the last minute to walk her down the aisle.”
I gave a solemn nod and took a sip of coffee before replying. This didn’t bode well, but if we were to have any kind of future, I needed to tell Eliza the truth. I wouldn’t hide my past from her. “If you know Sam and Wendy, you probably know some things about me. About my past. I—”
She gave her hand a dismissive wave. “I’m thirty-eight, and you’re what, forty-eight, nine?”
“Forty-nine.”
“Darling, we all have pasts at our age. Skeletons that should remain in the closet. Goodness knows, my skeletons have cobwebs that could fill a haunted house. Now you really must leave. A girl needs her beauty sleep.
Chapter Three
Eliza
As soon as Beckett left my apartment, I ripped off my dress. My body was too hot and eager to be touched to worry about hanging my designer ensemble in my closet.
In nothing but my silk lingerie, I ran into my bedroom, holding my breath because, mon Dieu, did I need a release. Beckett was like no man I’d ever met. His mere presence shook me to my core.
I dove into my closet, looking for my favorite toy. The one that tickled my clit just right. “Where the hell did I put that thing?” I fussed. Digging deeper through my closet, I threw old shoes and clothes around.
“Not in here,” I muttered. Had it been that long since I’d used it? The throbbing between my legs worsened with every breath.
I crashed down onto my knees and pulled my bed curtain up to look underneath. There were a few shoe boxes. I pulled them out and rummaged inside, but none held my little silicone wonder.
“What does a woman have to do these days to orgasm?” I huffed, kicking the shoe boxes back under my bed.
My whole body ached to be touched in ways my ex used to touch me, or the way I had instructed him to touch me. He really had no clue on how to please a woman.
Now all this pent up sexual frustration was pissing me off. Even if I had found my toy, it wouldn’t do what a man could. Never in a million years.
I got on my feet and went to my bathroom. I opened all the drawers and doors.
Nothing.
Nada.
Zilch.
It had to be here somewhere. Storming into my bedroom, I searched through the drawers in my bedside cabinet. Lo and behold, there in the last drawer was my eight-inch silicone vibrator. I should have looked there in the first place.
I wrapped my fingers around the cool shaft. The heaviness reminded me of what a real cock felt like in my palms—the weight, the ridges, but alas not the warmth or the pulse. My toy was only a small reminder of what I’d been missing.
Anticipation and excitement coated my inner thighs with arousal. I dove onto my bed and cut my bedside light off. I didn’t need to watch myself. I wanted to get lost in the fantasy that Beckett was with me.
The coolness of the dark room washed over my body, and that was the cue for my kinky side to come out and play.
My finger pressed down on the start button, and I expected a heavy vibration to tickle my hand as it always had done. But instead, the vibration was that of a shallow tremble that soon stopped.
“Non! This can’t be happening,” I cried. Of all the times the batteries would die now would have to be the time.
I chucked the stupid toy to the far side of my room where it hit the wall and then fell to the floor.
“I guess I have to do this the old fashion way.”
Stretching out like a satisfied cat, I ran my hands over my breasts and puckered nipples.
Beckett’s stubble-covered chin flashed through my mind, and I bit my lip imagining him delving between my thighs. Imagining his lips pursed around my clit. His tongue deep inside my pussy. A small moan puffed from my lips. If only I’d allowed him to stay. If only I’d lowered my guard, then he would be the one here pleasing me.
In my mind, he was finger fucking me and thrusting against my clit. My back arched, my breath quickened, and my toes curled.
I fantasized about him sliding his cock balls deep into my hungry, weeping pussy. He had me pinned to the bed, his weight holding me down.
“Spank me,” I would whisper, and Beckett would oblige. He would flip me onto my back and take me from behind, spanking my ass while thrusting deep into me. He would be caring but rough, commanding but tender.
The beginning of my orgasm grew inside me, tightening my muscles, crinkling my nipples, sending goosebumps all over my skin.
In my fantasy, Beckett’s cock would slide from my pussy and slowly, oh so slowly, slide back in. He would do this repeatedly. Taking me to the brink before pulling me back. The image of him fucking me in such a way sent me spiraling into the atmosphere.
A powerful orgasm, one like I’d never experienced, washed over me and I couldn’t help but scream his name.
After all this time I’d finally met my match, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I once thought I’d met my perfect match before and look at what had happened—heartbreak and sorrow.
My body went limp, and I felt somewhat satisfied. Though a small bit of worry plagued me, and that worry was called Beckett. What if, liked I’d warned him, my algorithms were wrong, and he wasn’t really my match. They’d been wrong a few times in the past, and even though I’d fixed the issues, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
When I said I wasn’t afraid of anything, that was a lie. I’m afraid of being made a fool off, and I’m afraid of getting hurt. How does the saying go? There’s no fool like an old fool.
I threw on my silk robe and made my way into the living room. It was time to book the flights and confirm my attendance to Matcher’s Island.
I could already hear the gossip flying around about Eliza Rousseau buying two tickets and how she’d somehow found a match after all these years.
My rivals would circle Beckett and me like hawks, pecking at us for pieces of information. However, if those hawks got too close, I’d shoot them down and stuff them.
After filling in all the requested booking information, I reserved our flights. I then picked up my phone and called Lucy.
“Good evening, Madame. How may I help you?” she asked in her sugary firm voice.
“I just reserved the flights. Dig into my email and send the information to Beckett. I’m sure you’ll fill him in and tell him everything he needs to do and know.”
“Yes, Madame. I’m right on it. Is there anything else you’d like me to do? Anything you might have overlooked?”
“No, I think that’s all. Unless, Lucy, you think I’m skipping something?”
“Well, until your invitation to Matcher’s Island, you were planning the next Match de Amour event for all your new clients. We have a few registered men who have not matched successfully yet.”
I wasn’t the kind to ever miss a match event or reschedule it no matter what was happening in my personal life. So, there was only one way I could keep things going at a steady pace and not disappoint my clients.
“Lucy, darling, you’ve seen me plan hundreds of these parties. Why don’t you take control for the week while I’m gone? I know you’ll do a spectacular job.”
Lucy gasped, and her silence spoke loudly as to her happiness. “Madame! I don’t know what to say?”
“As long as it’s a yes!”
“Yes, indeed, of course! I will make this event a huge success,” she said with a huge amount of enthusiasm. “I will send you updates via email or text while you are gone.”
“Merci. You’ll do an amazing job.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“Darling, I have every faith in your abilities as a matchmaker.”
“Merci, Madame.”
I hung up and thoughtfully
pursed my lips. This was going to be one hell of a ride.
*****
By the time the sun rose, I had finished my ritual of facial cleansing, mud mask, and light massage followed by a subtle round of makeup. My makeup routine was very basic: foundation, concealer, a swipe of eyeshadow, a flick of eyeliner and some mascara followed by bright red lipstick. No contouring, sculpting, or layering for me. I was a big believer in less is more.
My thoughts kept drifting back to last night. The events were like a movie reeling in the back of my mind.
My late-night release made me feel perkier and lighter this morning. How would it feel if and when Beckett and I actually had sex? Would he be as good as my fantasies had led me to believe?
I opened my closet doors and gazed at my many designer outfits. Today I was feeling red, scandalous. A nice rouge touch to my body would do me some good. It had been a while since I last wore such a daring color.
I shrugged off my silk robe and allowed it to pool on the floor around my ankles. I loved being naked, my breasts, body, and mind felt freer and more comfortable.
“This dress would fit perfectly today,” I said, rolling my ‘r’s theatrically.
After slipping on a form-fitting red dress, I smoothed my hands up and down the sides of my hips and gave my reflection a critical once over. Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I went into the kitchen to prepare some morning coffee; the darkest blend I had stashed in my cabinets.
The coffee maker gurgled and puffed out steam as I added water and fed it some fresh ground coffee beans. The rich aroma blossomed into the air. There was nothing more blissful than that first sip of coffee.
With my hands wrapped around my mug, I sank into my sofa. The soft French leather gave me a light embrace as I curled up to enjoy my much-needed cup of caffeine. What a perfect morning.
My spot was booked at Matcher’s Island, I’d actually found a match, and Lucy would run Match de Amour in my absence.
Lucy had been my right-hand woman for what seemed like forever. She was always there when I needed her. And like me, she gave every waking hour to finding love for others. That made me wonder, did Lucy have a match somewhere out there? Surely, she did, but had she ever tried looking? If she had, she’d hadn’t mentioned it. Perhaps when I got back from my trip, I would help her find the man of her dreams.
A light knocking on my front door interrupted my thoughts.
Odd, I didn’t have many visitors, and no one had called me from the main entrance to let me know I had a guest.
Without a word, I padded to the door and looked through the peephole. “Mon Dieu c’est Wendy!”
I pulled the door open and gave her a warm smile.
“Hello, Eliza,” a heavily pregnant Wendy said.
“Hello to you too, dear. Come in,” I said, ushering her inside. I hadn’t seen her since her wedding day.
Did she already know about her father and me? That was bound to be an awkward conversation. Just in case she wasn’t aware, I wouldn’t bring it up until she did. I brought my mind back to Wendy and her protruding stomach.
“Not much longer,” I said, gesturing towards her.
“I’m almost there.” She rubbed her hands lovingly across her belly
“Boy? Girl?”
Wendy smiled gently at her baby bump. “Boys.”
“Boys? Plural? You’re having twins!” I clasped my cheeks with my hands.
“Yep. Sam is extremely happy and excited. He’s going to have two mini hims running around.”
“Would you like something to drink, darling. You must be parched with all this carrying around you’re doing.”
Wendy sat her hands on her lap and shook her head. Whatever was weighing on her mind had left her anxious. I sat next to her and placed my hand on top of hers.
“Wendy, something’s wrong, I can tell. What is it?”
“Well, I didn’t want to come off as rude. I talked to my father this morning. He told me he went to Match de Amour and that you’re his match. I don’t want to offend you or seem rude…”
“Spit it out, darling. You’re not going to offend me.”
Wendy grasped both my hands and held them up in a desperate plea. “Please, Eliza, don’t tell my dad how Sam and I really reconnected. He’d die if he knew I was willing to trade my body for money. And it’s not like your business is like that… But—but—”
I chuckled and squeezed her hands. “Darling, no offense at all. Let me tell you the truth. Everyone who comes to me is looking for a match, but they also still come with other goals in mind. Some goals are financially oriented while some are fantasy based. Everyone knows what they’re getting when they sign up with me.” I placed her hands on her lap and patted them softly. “And no, I won’t tell your father about you and Sam. Besides, darling, the NDA clause in everyone’s contracts means not a word about any of my clients passes my lips.”
Wendy’s shoulders dropped, and her face and eyes brightened. “Thank you! I just don’t want him to think badly of me, or that I sold my body for money.”
“Please don’t worry. But I will tell you, the second I heard his name, I wondered if he was related to you. We both recognized each other, and we eventually figured it out. He knows I was at your wedding. I told him I was a friend of Sam’s.”
“Oh, thank goodness, that’s what I told him, too.”
“You should know your father is coming on vacation to Matcher’s Island with me. He’ll be gone about a week. Has he told you yet?”
“Not yet. But I’ll make sure to act like I don’t know. By the way, I don’t think he’ll talk about it much. But if you’re wondering where my mom is… well, she passed away just over ten years ago. He had a hard time dealing with it.”
“No need to tell me much. These things I will find out in time. Now,” I said getting up, “let me get you some water or ginger ale. My mother always told me it helped soothe her nausea and other things associated with pregnancy.”
“Ah!” Wendy jumped, holding her stomach.
“My goodness? Are the babies okay?” I knelt next to her and pressed my hands to her knees.
She blew out a loud breath and chuckled. “I think they’re playing a game of soccer with my uterus. Just took my breath away for a second.”
A knock rattled my door, and we both looked up. “My, my I am popular this morning.”
I scampered over to the peephole and saw Beckett’s handsome face staring right back at me.
He gave me a wide smile, and the spice of his cologne found its way through my door. “One second, mon chèr.”
I ran back over to Wendy and helped pull her up off the couch. “Your papa is here.”
“Oh, crap.” Wendy looked around my condo. “Could I hide in your bedroom?”
“Hide?”
She nodded. “I don’t want to make anything awkward… He’ll want to know why I’m here and will ask too many questions.”
I gave it a slight thought. She was right. Beckett would see Wendy and wonder why she was here with me.
“You go hide, and I’ll see if I can have him leave.”
As soon as Wendy was safely secreted in my bedroom, I opened the front door and stuck my head out. “Good morning, cher. This is a wonderful surprise, but I’m a tad busy at the moment…” He had something in his hand.
“Really?” He peeked over my head.
“Don’t worry, I’m not hiding a man.”
He chuckled, and said, “I wanted to give you this.” He handed me a small black box.
“A gift? For me? You shouldn’t have.”
“I couldn’t resist. A beautiful gift for a beautiful woman.” He winked and grinned. “The first time I take you, I want you to wear this. See you later.”
“Yes, later. Au revoir.” Closing the door, I returned to my couch and held the box in my hands. Wendy stuck her head out of my bedroom door.
“Is the coast clear?” she asked.
“Yes, your papa has left. He brought me a gift.
”
“What is it?” she asked coming over to my side.
“We’re about to find out,” I said, opening the box.
“Wow!” Wendy exclaimed.
Inside was a cushion-shaped sapphire pendant necklace mounted in platinum.
“Wow is right,” I agreed.
“He must really like you,” she gushed.
“Indeed,” I replied, running my finger over the sapphire.
Chapter Four
Beckett
It’d been over twenty-four hours since I saw Eliza and it was taking all my willpower not to go to her office and fuck her senseless, but I was biding my time. A lady such as Eliza wasn’t interested in a quick lay. She wanted to be pursued and seduced.
I sat down on my sofa and glanced at some of the wedding photos on the coffee table.
I smiled at Wendy’s happiness. She and Sam had always made a nice-looking couple, and I was more than happy that the high school sweethearts had reconnected. Wendy had never told me how they’d bumped into each other again after so many years, but I had never asked.
My focus zoomed in on the picture of the bridal party and wedding guests, and I picked it up. To the side, I saw Eliza. I don’t know how I hadn’t immediately recognized her when I saw her at Match de Amour.
Those small captured glances I took of her were buried far back in my mind. From what I remembered, she kept her distance from me, from everyone in fact.
The doorbell chimed, and I instinctively knew who it was. I got up and sprinted to the door and opened it. Wendy stood there smiling with a pan of lasagna in her outstretched hands.
“Hey, Dad!” she said, her voice bright and cheery.
“Sweetheart, come in. What’re you doing on your feet? Haven’t I told you to get plenty of rest?” I chided with a frown. “And you didn’t have to cook food for me.”
She strolled in and set the lasagna on my dining room table. “I know you’re not much of a cook. I still have to make sure you’re okay.”
“Yeah, but you come first. You’re pregnant, and just look at that belly, the strain you’re putting on your—”
