by Chloe Lang
The limo stopped in front of La Chambre Rouge. The driver opened their door and they all stepped out onto the sidewalk. Standing between them, she felt like a princess. They led her up the steps. Her concern about the call vanished as they walked through the doors.
A hostess greeted them. “Bonsoir, messieurs et madame,” the woman said in perfect French. “May I have the name on your reservation?”
“Sanchez,” Roberto said.
The hostess smiled broadly. “Oui. You are friends with Monsieur Leblanc.”
“Oui, madame,” Miguel answered, his French as flawless as the woman’s.
The hostess typed something on her iPad. “Everything you requested is ready. Our table royale is yours for this evening. Monsieur Leblanc wanted to be notified the moment you arrived.”
“That definitely sounds like Pierre.” Roberto turned to Miguel. “He just wants to get a look at our date.”
“No doubt about that,” he answered. “We’ve never taken anyone here on a date before.”
Learning that made her feel very special.
Roberto said, “Camille, Pierre is a wonderful friend, and the meal we asked him to prepare for you is amazing.”
“I can’t wait to taste it.” Feeling a bit flirty, she added, “I believe he’s the third best chef in the city, and you know what two I think are at the top of the list.”
Roberto laughed. “Maybe Miguel was right. I should wave the white flag.” Then, in a deeper tone, he said, “But I won’t ever surrender, mon cher.”
“I believe you, monsieur.” She’d taken two semesters of French, though she’d forgotten most of it. Still, she realized Roberto had referred to her as mon cher. “My darling.” He called me his darling. His words made her feel tingly all over.
Another woman, dressed in the restaurant’s uniform of black slacks and white, moved next to the hostess. Both women were obviously attracted to Miguel and Roberto, as neither ever took their eyes off of her men. My men? What the hell am I thinking?
She had a mixture of emotions at the two females’ not-so-subtle advances. Their ages, likely mid to late twenties, were more appropriate for Miguel and Roberto, who were probably only thirty. What’s a forty-two-year-old woman like me doing, coming here with them on a date? I must look like a cougar to them, a fool. But on the other hand, these wonderful, handsome men had brought her to the restaurant. They were her dates. She grabbed each of the gorgeous chefs by the hand and smiled at the two women, who lowered their eyes. Maybe that will teach them to be a little more polite.
“Lexi, will you please take the Sanchez party to their table?” the hostess told the woman.
“My pleasure.”
As they walked into the main dining room, Cami let her eyes wander over the lovely place. It had been some time since she’d been inside La Chambre Rouge. She loved the old-world charm that was reflected in the rococo décor, from the red velvet chairs and crisp, white tablecloths, to the murals on the walls and ceilings. When they entered another room, a room she’d never seen before during her previous visits to the restaurant, she was taken aback at how much more elegant this smaller space was.
It was a circular room. A single table sat in the center of the space that could have accommodated at least six more tables. Around the curved walls were servers dressed even more formally than the hostess and the woman who had led them here. Three chairs were around the table. On the center of the table were a crystal candelabra and a flower arrangement of every color of rose imaginable. The only illumination came from the candles. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she spotted three musicians to the side of the room. One held a violin, another a cello, and the third sat at a piano. They began to play, adding to the romantic ambiance.
“This is just for us?”
Roberto kissed her on the cheek. “Like I said before, mi amor, Pierre is a good friend.”
“And he knew we wanted to impress you.” Miguel kissed her other cheek. “How are we doing so far?”
“Muy bien,” she answered. “I’ve never had anyone do anything like this for me before.”
The staff moved into position, pulling out chairs for them. The exceptional level of service was without compare. They filled their glasses with water and wine.
“Is there anything else we may get you and the lady, gentlemen?” the headwaiter asked.
“Non merci, Françios,” Miguel answered, his eyes fixed on her, which made her warm all over. “Everything is perfect.”
“Very good.” The man left the table and the rest of the staff returned to their positions by the wall.
“This is quite the first date, guys. You definitely know how to impress a girl.”
They each took one of her hands and, in what she’d come to learn was a Sanchez brothers’ practice, kissed her there. Inside, a desire to taste their lips and feel their arms around her body began to surface. She wanted more. Needed more. But I can’t have more. We haven’t even had dinner yet.
The servers placed a plate in front of each of them. The aromas were out of this world.
“As requested by Chefs Roberto and Miguel, your first course, madame, is a galette de crab appetizer with lumps of blue king crab and scallions, folded in shrimp mousse, then sautéed to a golden hue and sprinkled with parsley.”
The presentation on their plates was exquisite, reminding her of tiny works of art. The crab cake was perfectly positioned on a bed of fresh spinach. The colors blended together on the dish, pleasing her eyes. The smell of the food wafted around her, whetting her appetite. The music from the trio put her in such a good state. Even the feel of her napkin accentuated her desires. Wanting to engage her other sense, taste, she took a bite of the crab.
The mix of flavors exploded in her mouth. “Oh my God, this is to die for.”
“We have six more courses, Camille,” Roberto said. “I’m certain you will love what we’ve chosen for you. They’re Pierre’s best dishes.”
Each course was paired with delicious wine. When their dessert arrived with a bottle of sherry, she knew she would only be able to take a single bite and one sip, though it looked incredible.
Françios smiled slightly. “Chef Leblanc has only made this dessert twice before, once for the Vice President of the United States, once for the French Ambassador of the United Nations, and now for you, madame, and these two gentlemen.”
As he went on to describe the delicate cake, she glanced at her two dates. They’d made certain the entire evening was absolutely perfect. For me. She’d never felt more special in all her life.
“And here comes Chef Leblanc himself,” Françios said, stepping to the side. The chef appeared to be about the same age as Roberto and Miguel, though he had a mustache and was thicker in the middle than they were.
“Bonjour mes amis. So good to see you.” His French accent was warm and lyrical. Her dates rose and shook the chef’s hand.
“Pierre, please allow us to introduce Miss Camille Anderson,” Miguel said, turning her direction.
“I loved your meal, Chef Leblanc,” she confessed. “It was beyond words, delicious.”
“No. No. No.” The chef took her hand and kissed it lightly. “How do you say? Vous devez me appeler Pierre, chérie.”
“I will be happy to call you Pierre if you will call me Cami.”
He smiled broadly. “Parlez-vous français?”
“Not really. Mais je l'ai fait…um…prendre une couple de classes…um…dans university.”
“Excellente, Cami. I, too, took classes in college but mine were for English.” He looked down at her dessert plate. “Was this not to your liking?”
“It was wonderful. Everything. I just can’t eat another bite. Would you mind if I took it home with me?”
“Not just your piece, Cami.” He motioned to Françios. “Not just your piece but the rest of the cake, too, chérie.”
“Yes, sir.” Françios took her plate and disappeared into the kitchen.
Pierre addressed Roberto and Miguel
. “Was the evening to your satisfaction?”
“Every bit of it,” Roberto said.
“Indeed,” Miguel added.
“Then you must promise to bring Cami back.”
“We definitely will,” Miguel answered, “if she will allow us to.”
Roberto nodded in agreement.
“I would be honored,” she confessed. What woman could turn this down? Not me, that’s for sure.
Pierre took her hand again. “Jusqu'à ce que nous rencontrons à nouveau, Cami.” He kissed her and then left.
Miguel looked good enough to eat up, and that was saying a lot since she was so full. “Ready for the rest of our date, sweetheart?”
“The rest? You mean there’s more?”
Roberto stood and offered her his hand. “Much more, Camille. Much, much more. Izzy told us you were a great dancer.”
She leapt to her feet. “I love dancing, and I definitely need to work off some of these calories.”
“Then let’s go. Miguel and I know just the place.”
Chapter Eight
The minute Camille walked into Club Río Azul with Roberto and Miguel, both grabbed her hands, joining the revelers on the dance floor. The Mexican folk dance had the entire crowd moving rhythmically in a circle. She held onto Miguel and Roberto’s hands as she let her whole body be possessed by the beat of the song. They all three joined in with the shouts of “Ole! Ole!” with their fellow dancers.
She absolutely loved every single step she made with Miguel and Roberto. Their dancing skills dazzled her. They kept her out on the floor all night with salsas, mambos, rumbas, cha-chas, and more, which was just fine with her.
The lights began flashing and someone alerted the remaining patrons the club was about to close. “This is your last dance.”
The three of them were the only people on the dance floor. A few stragglers were watching them intently. When the song ended, their audience applauded.
“Let’s take a bow,” Miguel suggested.
She nodded, vibrating from head to toe with joy. The three of them took their bows and the crowd applauded again. The harsh main lights came on.
“Thank you for coming to Club Rio Azul. Please make your way to the exit.”
She looked at her two dates, who had given her the best night of her life. “I need to get my shoes, guys.”
“I’ll get them.” Roberto retrieved her shoes from the side of the dance floor where she’d left them more than an hour ago. “Here you go, sweetheart.”
She liked when he and Miguel called her that. Sweetheart. God, no one has ever been so good to me before. “Thank you.” She tried to get them on her feet, but couldn’t. “I can’t get them on because of the swelling.”
“Not a problem,” Miguel said and then swept her up into his arms. “I can carry you.”
Another round of applause erupted from the staff and remaining customers. When they got to the car, she looked back and forth from Miguel to Roberto. “I’ve had so much fun. I’m not ready for this date to end.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Miguel kissed her deeply, giving her a nice little tremble.
Roberto opened the passenger car door and he lowered her inside. Miguel stepped back and Roberto leaned in, handing her shoes to her. “The night isn’t over, sweetheart. Not yet, right?”
She nodded and he pressed his lips to hers, and she melted into him. When he released her, she felt her heart racing and her cheeks burning.
Catching her breath, she said, “Wow.”
Roberto grinned. “You like my kissing?”
“Like? No. I love your kissing.”
He turned to Miguel. “See, hermano. I told you I was the best.”
“Shouldn’t you let Camille be the judge of that?”
Before any of them could respond, the limo driver asked, “Where to?”
She looked back and forth from Roberto and Miguel, and suddenly an idea popped in her mind. She glanced down at the container in her lap. It held Pierre’s dessert. “How about we have some of this at my place? I have coffee, too.”
“That’s a very good idea, angel,” Miguel said, “but before we go there, we must settle the kissing argument.” He instructed their driver to head to White Rock Lake and to drive around it.
There is going to be more kissing. She couldn’t stop smiling. No way would she tell them that their kissing skills were matched to a tee. Neither edged out the other. It was a dead heat. Besides, even if it wasn’t, why would she tell them? I’ll be the real winner.
Roberto raised the privacy screen that separated them from their driver. “Better, Camille?”
“Much better.” She grinned. “Gentlemen, let the contest begin.”
As the limo began to move, she leaned over and kissed Miguel. His mouth was delicious. He parted his lips and began tracing hers with his tongue. Tingling all over, she invited him in deeper, tangling their tongues together. She couldn’t help but let out a little moan. Her body began to warm and goose bumps popped up on her skin.
“So, judge? How did I do?” Miguel’s eyes were fixed on hers.
“That was Olympic quality, but I’m not sure who wins the blue ribbon yet.”
“Let me help you decide, sweetheart.” Robert’s hands came up to the sides of her face and he leaned forward and kissed her with an intensity that was overwhelming and totally mesmerizing. Like a spell, his mouth possessed her utterly. The kiss deepened and she felt her shoulders soften and her breathing become more labored. As she absorbed his incredible mouth, she felt like they were merging together more than just through their kiss. Every part of her wanted to surrender to him. He took her breaths, making them his.
Miguel reached over and touched her breasts, and her body responded with a sphere of desire swirling inside her.
They’re both touching me. At the same time. A shiver shot up and down her spine. She’d never felt more alive and on fire in her life. She wanted more. Needed more. Craved more.
As if they could read her mind, Miguel placed the container with the cake by the minibar and slipped his hand under her skirt, slowly moving his hands up and down her thighs, while Roberto began kissing her neck and gently fondling her breasts.
Two men? For me? How? It clearly worked for Izzy and her men. Can it work for me to? She wasn’t sure, but despite the doubt, the thirst inside her to be taken by them needed to be quenched. There was no pulling back now. Not even possible.
She allowed her body to completely relax to their caresses, urging them on with her own intimate touches. She ran her fingers over Roberto’s jawline. He was so strong, so confident, so sexy. Her lips landed on Miguel’s, and she loved the taste of him on her tongue. Like his brother—strong, confident, sexy. The differences between them were small and endearing. Roberto had an edge that she was attracted to. Miguel, quite the opposite, embodied a gentle strength that also called to her.
Together, they helped her out of her dress. Thank God for the privacy screen. Still, she felt reckless and excited about what she was doing with them. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Good,” Roberto said in a tone that was primal and full of passion. “We’re your firsts.”
“Yes, you are.” And not just in a limo. Having sex with two men. She kept the rest to herself but had a pretty good idea they likely knew. How could they not? She was sitting between them in nothing more than a bra and a thong.
His and Miguel’s eyes ran up and down her body, as if they were trying to memorize every inch of her, bringing a sea of shivers that spread out inside her.
“Damn, you are beautiful,” Miguel said. “I want to see the rest of you.” He unfastened her bra, while Roberto slid her thong down her legs.
Now completely naked, the shivers increased and she felt wetness pooling between her thighs.
“Fuck, you are gorgeous,” Roberto said, staring at her pussy. “The most gorgeous woman on the planet.”
“Yes, she is.” Miguel took her hand and kiss
ed it, like he’d done since their date had begun. But then he fondled her breasts, biting down on her nipples. The tiny sting from his mouth on her sensitive buds created sparks that ignited all her nerve endings.
Roberto gently grabbed her legs, swung her around until she was lying out across the back seat with her head in Miguel’s lap and her pussy positioned just inches from Roberto’s mouth.
Feeling his hot breath skating across her swollen folds drove her mad with desire.
Miguel massaged her breasts tenderly, whispering sweet things in her ear. “This is all for you, sweetheart. Just go with it. We want to give you a night full of pleasure.”
Roberto lifted her legs over his shoulders and began lapping up her pussy’s cream, sending a bolt of electricity through her body. She arched her back off the seat, pressing into his hungry mouth. He swirled his tongue around her clit, coming so close but never touching. It was driving her insane and she grabbed his head and pushed him into her more. An uncontrollable, loud moan escaped her mouth. “Ohh.”
Miguel pinched her nipples with the perfect amount of pressure that flipped an invisible switch inside her, creating a link between Roberto’s sweet licks on her wet pussy and his delicious pinches on her throbbing nipples. Her clit began to ache.
“I can’t take much more. Please. I need to feel you inside me.”
“My pleasure, mi amor.” Roberto pulled a condom out of his pocket and slid his pants down to his knees. His dick was thick and long—and erect.
He was inside her before she could blink. Feeling his cock stretching her insides took her breath away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs dangling behind his back, Miguel’s fingers on her breasts taking her higher and higher. She was totally lost to them, all of her. Her body vibrated like mad and her moans came quicker and louder. She was out of control and loving every second of it. The pressure they’d built inside her was more than any she’d ever felt before. She was close. So close. So very close.
Roberto’s thrusts into her ignited more hot vibrations that ran up and down her body, swelling her need more and more, until an explosive burst of electricity swept her entire body. Tingles spread out along every inch of her skin, up and down her arms and legs, and through her, inside and out.
