Enchanted

by London Saint James

  Austin chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I did not think things were funny at all.

  “So the guests don’t eat,” he replied, laughing.

  “What?” I asked, incredulous.

  I placed the phone on the terrace table. His hand brushed down the length of my arm, soothing me.

  “The important thing is you and me. We are getting married. Baby, the food is not important.” Austin paused still looking at my face. “You had me worried for a moment,” he admitted. “By the look on your face I thought we had a real emergency on our hands.”

  I snickered. “You’re right. The only important thing is you and me. The rest will work itself out.” I mused.

  Austin had a way of brightening any situation. And he was right. All I cared about was marrying him. The rest was trivial.

  “Baby, I have to go back to the studio,” Austin said.

  “Why?”

  “They want me to meet someone, read a scene together. Her name is Sharon. I think she is actually staying here in a suite somewhere.”

  Of course, the beautiful blonde from yesterday.

  I was sure it was that beautiful platinum blonde. The one who made the brief appearance just outside my suite. She looked like a movie star, was surrounded by the press, and bodyguards. It had to be this “Sharon” he was talking about.

  “Oh. When are you leaving?” I turned to fully see him.

  Austin’s voice was soft, his face smooth. “In about an hour,” he replied. “Marcy will send a car.”

  Marcy was the other tall blonde, my temporary escort and babysitter.

  “But we are leaving tomorrow, right?” I asked, needing the assurance.

  “Yes. I told you; absolutely nothing will stop me from marrying you. We will be in New York tomorrow.” He smiled tenderly, but I knew he was worried about my current strange behavior of late. I was jumpy, worried, scared even.

  “It’s just we have the wedding rehearsal, and the dinner on Friday and tomorrow is Wednesday.” I was trying to justify my strange line of questioning. Austin wasn’t buying it.

  “Winter, please tell me what it is you are really worried about?” Austin’s voice was soft like silk. In a signature move his hand went under my chin, moving my face, forcing me to look at him.

  My cheeks blushed hot as I confessed, “I’m pretty sure I saw your co-star.”

  “Really?” His voice was still soft. “She’s not my co-star yet.”

  It didn’t really matter, co-star or not, she was extremely sexy and my man would be up close and personal with her if they were reading a scene together. I tried to settle my nerves. I knew there were going to be a lot of beautiful women in his life. I had to find a way to deal.

  “You are right. She is here, staying here.” I continued my confession.

  “Uh huh.” Austin was still holding onto my chin, making me look at him.

  “I’m sure I saw her yesterday, surrounded by bodyguards and the press. She is very beautiful, very tall, statuesque really. She is very well endowed and very blond,” I admitted.

  Austin chuckled. His face changed from serious to lighthearted. “So is that what you are worried about?”

  “No.” I lied.

  “She may be very beautiful and very blond, but no one, and I mean absolutely no one can hold a candle to your beauty, Winter. You are my perfection. I see no one but you.”

  Deep down, I knew he was telling me the truth. I also understood all my insecurities and my fear were ridiculous. Austin was truly in love with me. I really did believe nothing would change how he felt about me. I was being silly, but there was still that tugging of what I knew versus what I feared.

  “So we have an hour?” I asked. Austin nodded. “So, yes?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  I took him by the hand. We crossed over the threshold, back inside. I brushed my hands over his face, down his shoulders then took off his shirt.

  “Maybe you should be jealous more often,” he quipped. “I mean, if I am going to reap the benefits.” His hands brushed down my face; the corners of his mouth turning up into a smirk.

  “It’s my turn.” I pulled the tie from my silk red robe.

  Austin looked surprised when my robe hit the floor. His eyes, burning, roamed the entirety of my body. With a crooked grin, he took in the fact I was only wearing red string panties then he looked confused like he just registered what I had said.

  “Wait, your turn?” he asked, reaching out to run his fingertips over the tip of each of my very apparent nipples.

  “Well, last night you told me what you were thinking about,” I mused.

  His voice took on a devilish tone. “I remember. I really enjoyed explaining myself to you.”

  “And I thoroughly enjoyed your explanation, but it’s my turn to explain to you what I am thinking about.” My hands and my lips skimmed his jaw. I kissed it. Austin’s body relaxed under my touch. “I love you,” I murmured on his skin.

  My hands roamed over Austin’s neck, his chest, his stomach. My tongue ran the length of his washboard stomach before my fingers found his belt. I gazed up at him. I dropped. I was on my knees before him.

  “I love you, Winter,” he said, looking down into my eyes. Austin’s fingertip brushed my temple.

  “I know,” I replied.

  I unbuckled his belt then pulled it out from the loops of fabric which held it in one quick movement. My eyes moved from his face. I unzipped his pants and tugged them down over his strong thighs. He was already hard beneath his cotton boxers. I slid his boxers down, freeing him. I moved my mouth lower. Austin tangled his hands in my hair.

  “Winter, baby,” he said breathless, “do you know what you do to me?”

  I slid my mouth slowly up the length of him, teasing. My eyes met his. “Yes.” I confirmed answering his question before placing my mouth over him. I could feel him pulse larger within my mouth. He groaned that low erotic sound which rocks me. I licked, swirling my tongue around the broad head of his manhood then paused. “Oh yes.” I established. “I definitely know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  HOME

  It was a long flight or at least it seemed longer than usual. The reason for the never-ending trip was mainly due to a five hour delay, waiting in LAX due to bad weather at LaGuardia. I was more than annoyed. A look of irritation flittered across my face, I couldn’t hide it. Austin put his arm around me, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear. “Do you have any idea how stunning you are when you are mad?”

  His tempting smooth voice broke through my irritation like a sledge hammer. Without any control to stop it, a smile crept over my face.

  “No,” I said then giggled. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I only have five hours to tell you so we better get started.”

  “I doubt it will take five hours to explain.”

  Austin laughed his low musical laugh then tapped the tip of my nose with his index finger. “I know. I will need more time.”

  If Austin had not been with me, I would have been upset the entire time however, what should have been a taxing event was as usual made better by his always calming presence. He took me by the hand. Without protest on my part, Austin led me over to a more secluded area of the airport, scurrying past an onslaught of people, baggage handlers, flight attendants, and airport security like we were the only two people in the world. He sat down, propped against the wall where he nestled me between his legs, my back to his chest. I leaned my head on his right shoulder, my two hands resting one on each of his denim clad knees as he talked in a low murmur into my ear.

  The sounds of the airport faded away. The footfalls of strangers left. The bustle of baggage being moved disappeared. The sound of the overhead announcements completely vanished, while Austin described to me in detail why he finds me beautiful. He told me about my mouth, the way it moves when I talk, the way my eyes flash when I get irritated and how my face looks when I am mad or jealous. He described the curve of my e
ye, the arch of my brows, the furrows which gather between my brows. He told me about the color of my eyes, believing they turn a darker shade when I look at him. Austin descried their color as emeralds cut with sparkling facets of light. He spoke of how my face looks when I am reading something which intrigues me, the way my eyebrows pull together in concentration as I bite at my bottom lip. How when I am anxious, nervous or naughty I bite at my bottom lip also.

  Austin told me how he loves to hear me sing to the radio in the shower, the sound of my laugh, and the way my face looks when I am happy, luminescent, bright. He even told me how he loves it when I argue with him, watching that little huff of displeasure I make right before I cave in. I smiled, because he was right. He had the ability to make me cave no matter how ticked-off I might be.

  Austin told me how he loves to watch me sleep, the peaceful expressions I have, and how my heartbeat sounds as it thrums. He told me about my delicate wrists, how he loves to watch me dab perfume upon them and how he loves the scent upon my skin. Austin told me about my body, the way my body moves, the sounds I make when we make love, the warmth of me. Then he threw in some very hot, not to mention juicy details, about his body and mine, as to which he made me blush. My blush started another line of conversation which continued the rosy red sensations to my cheeks.

  Austin delved deeper. He told me how my fragility shows through my strength, my insecurities through my courage, how I am more than body, more than flesh. He spoke of me as the essence of desire, beauty, intelligence, grace; more than a single truth, a single word, a single caress or a simple breath. Austin told me how I am a girl, a lover, a daughter, a friend, a woman, and someday how I will be a mother. He told me he longed to have children with me, saying he could not wait to see my belly rounded with our child.

  “I want a little girl with your eyes, your lips and your smile,” he whispered.

  “Maybe I want her to have your eyes, brilliant blue which shift into silver,” I countered.

  “All right, than we will have both, a compromise.”

  “Don’t you want a boy?” I asked.

  Austin’s answer was soft “Yes, how about you?”

  “Yes, I would love to have your son. He will grow up to be a heart-breaker just like his father.”

  Austin’s low laugh vibrated across my cheek. “It’s settled than. We will have two girls and a boy.”

  He combed his hands through my hair. He told me who I am, and who I will always be to him. Austin held a mirror to my soul, allowing me the reflection of the woman I should be, the woman he has made me, the woman I have become, the simple complexity of who I am.

  We were finally able to board the plane and leave the sun drenched weather of California behind us. It had been quite the trip, landing in New York at one o’clock in the morning. I pulled my hair into a tangled knot on the back of my neck, more than exhausted and tired, as we made our way to the baggage claims.

  Austin ran his fingertip under the hollow of my eye. “You look tired. We will be home soon then you can sleep.”

  We found our way out of the airport and over to a car and driver who was waiting for us. The studio thought of everything, even making arrangements for a car to take us home once we landed. In fact, the studio made all our arrangements, travel destinations plus living accommodations for the next few months. Our honeymoon was going to be cut short by two days. This was done in order to give Austin and I time to travel back to California. We would be spending the New Year in the sun, in our newly rented home which was also procured by the studio, tucked away in the Hollywood Hills.

  My mind was filled with a flurry of information, worry, excitement, as well as various other thoughts and emotions. I thought about the wedding, the honeymoon, the travel plans, not to mention all of the time Austin would spend away, filming. January was not far off. We were to be married on Saturday, the twentieth day of December, then off to the Ritz-Carlton in St. Thomas to spend our first Christmas as husband and wife upon the white sands of the Virgin Islands.

  The honeymoon destination was a gift from Austin’s parents, and I’m sure cost a fortune, but Doctor Carlyle, Austin’s father, was insistent upon the gift. I focused in on the honeymoon. I remember his mother showing me a brochure of the hotel which highlighted the rolling green manicured lawns, filled with exotic flowers and tall palm trees. The gardens literally overflowed with the colors of the rainbow, and the hotel looked like a castle perched in amongst the most beautiful scenery.

  I gazed out the window of the long black limo. I watched the snow fall and could see the sidewalks filled with snow and ice. All the tall buildings seemed to blur behind the gray of the sky, along with the never quiet traffic which passed by my view. I imagined the snow turning into the pristine white of the sand which extended out into the clear aqua blue of the ocean. In a few days Austin and I would be in the sun, leaving the cold weather behind.

  I closed my eyes, thinking about all those beautiful secluded areas which we could be spending time in. The little bungalows with white mesh netting as walls, blowing gently in the warm salty breeze. The sound of the palm trees as the palm fronds swished. I thought about the warmth of the sun when it hit our skin. I pictured Austin standing lean, tall, and beautiful in the bright sun wearing nothing but swimming trunks. I would watch him walk toward the blue of the water, making footprints in the white sand before he walked into the waves. I listened to the sound of the waves as they washed inland, erasing his footprints from the canvas of sparkling white. I imagined the water, what he would look like standing waist deep while the waves broke around him. I dreamed of walking toward him. Thinking about the sensation of the wet sand squish between my toes until I finally joined him in the warm blue water where he would hold me in his arms….

  “What are you thinking about?” Austin asked, breaking my daydream.

  I felt my cheeks flush.

  “I was just thinking about the honeymoon,” I admitted.

  Austin swiped his finger over my flushed cheek. “Hmm,” he muttered. “And it was making you blush was it?”

  “Yeah, I guess it was.”

  He reached over and took a hold of my hand. We sat quietly for a moment, content in each other. I allowed my fingertips to smooth across the top of his hand then traced around the edge of his coat sleeve.

  “We are almost home, Winter.”

  I knew my face turned into a pout. I could feel my bottom lip jetting out prominently.

  “I know.” I sighed. Austin ran his finger over my lip, infatuated with my pout until I smiled.

  “Baby, remember what we talked about? We did agree. Your parents are staying at our apartment, and we did talk about not being with each other until our wedding night.”

  “Well, I think that plan went out the door in California.”

  His breath was warm on my cheek. “I think you are right,” he whispered.

  “I don’t want you to go. I don’t care what my parents think. Please don’t go to your parents’ house tonight, stay with me.” I pled.

  In an act of persuasion I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into his chest.

  “Shh…, my love.” Austin voice was soft. He made soothing circles on my back with his hand. “It’s already Thursday,” he replied lifting his right hand from my back, glancing at his watch. “We only have today and tomorrow. Saturday you become my wife, then the honeymoon.”

  My voice became whiny. “Three days is a long time.”

  “I know.” He placated me.

  The car came to a stop. Austin kissed me lightly, allowing his mouth to mold to mine. He helped me out of the car, took my luggage then helped me up the stairs into the building. He cuddled me close within the elevator. I tucked my arm inside his coat, wrapped my arm around his waist, and curled my finger into his belt loop. I let out a sigh when the elevator came to a stop. Austin continued to keep his arm around me, toting me and my bag over to the dark green door of our apartment. Number 32 hung in shiny brass numbers. The doo
r shot open. My mother greeted us, standing with her hair in curlers, arms crossed with a well-known look of irritation on her face.

  “Where have you been? You were supposed to be home hours ago.” She snapped. “I was worried.”

  It was reminiscent of when I was thirteen, standing wide-eyed like a deer caught within the beam of the headlights while my mother scolded me for coming home late.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I apologized. “Our flight was delayed due to the weather.”

  “Well.” Her face smoothed out. “You know how much fun I have with your father.”

  She spoke the words “your father” as if they were cuss words while her hands shot up into the air, exasperated.

  I sympathized. “I know, Mom.”

  My mother and father had fallen in love when she was seventeen and he was nineteen. I was an outcome of that love, the reason for their elopement, their marriage and the next seven years of fighting before they divorced. My father always felt trapped, resentful even, however neither my mother or my father knew I was quite aware of their heated exchanges. From what I witnessed of their marriage it was volatile, perhaps passionate at times but they loved to fight. Sometimes I thought they loved to fight more than they loved each other. My mother had always held to the belief she loved him more.

  Baby girl, I remember her saying in a somber tone while braiding my hair for school one morning. She had kissed my forehead.

  I want you to know I have loved your father from the very moment I saw him. I regret nothing about loving him. He gave me you. But sometimes love just isn’t enough, especially when one person doesn’t know how to truly love the other. I’m not sure men really ever do know how to love a woman.

  I knew in that moment my father had left. I also understood my mother had loved my father deeply yet doubted he ever really loved her. I can still remember the tone in my mother’s voice, somber yet resolute.

  Your father has decided to leave us, but I don’t want you to worry. We will be fine.