It took me a while, but I decided eventually on two songs, one for each of my husbands. One that was lost forever, and one that was lost, but I hoped to find again. When Syeira found me, my fingers ached but I was ready. I was looking at my now-red fingertips, smiling ruefully. “Remind me in the future if I do get involved with more crazy adventures with your son or with this family, that I don't neglect my guitar calluses while building the calluses on the rest of my hand.”
She smiled and patted my shoulder. “Charani told me what she thought you might be up to. Did you choose what you wanted to play?”
I nodded. “One for Francois and one for Felix. It’s appropriate, I hope.”
“And successful as well,” she said. “Come, let's eat. Your hand can rest, and afterward, the four of us will go back out to Francois’s grave to let you play.”
After the first half of our dinner, a light affair that allowed us to quell the rumbles in our stomachs, we made our way out to the graveside. The freshly turned dirt was still dark and easy to spot by the light of the full moon, and Felix carried a torch that cast flickering flames around us. Setting the torch to a pile of wood that we gathered, we soon had a pretty fair representation of a campfire.
Charani and Syeira spoke first, in a way that was different than Felix's memorial. Instead of speaking to an audience, they spoke to Francois as if he were still there, listening and responding to them. They shared some of their favorite memories of him, and Charani spoke about how proud she was that he had redeemed himself. “Not so long ago I told you I was ashamed to have ever borne a child,” she said, her voice warm and tender. “But I wanted you to know, I've always loved you. And I’m so proud of you right now — I will always have that pride in my heart. I love you, my son.”
After we'd shared our words, it was my turn, and I took out the guitar. A flicker of recognition came to Felix's eyes, sparking hope inside me. I knelt down in front of Francois's grave, showing him the instrument. “You always did like when I played, so I thought I might play some for you and for Felix. I hope you don't mind.”
I started my first song, one that I'd never played for them before, but by one of my guitar heroes, and one of the greatest guitarists of all time. Eric Clapton had written it for his son, but the words were timeless and were applicable. I wasn't the only one in tears as I started the lyrics to Tears in Heaven, and I had to give up on the singing three-quarters of the way through in order to focus on my playing. When the last notes drifted into the night, I smiled, even as I continued to cry. “I love you, Francois. Now, lend me your strength.”
I looked at Felix, who was also moved by my song, and who'd knelt down next to his brother’s grave, watching me as I adjusted my feet and wiped the tears from my face. “Francois loved this one too, but this song is for you, Felix.”
I strummed once and started the fingering for Aerosmith. It had been one of the first songs I ever played for him and was the song that changed the way we looked at each other. No other song had as much shared meaning between us, and no other song I could think of might unlock the memories buried in his brain.
The first chorus started, and a miracle appeared in front of me. Felix's eyes widened, and he started to mouth along with my, singing, his voice growing in strength and volume as the song continued. By the last chorus, he was singing along with me fully. I let the last note linger, looking at my love as he climbed to his feet and reached for my hand. Francois's guitar slipped from my fingers, thankfully caught by the sling I was wearing, where I unconsciously slid it around to my back.
“Jordan . . . oh my Jordan,” Felix said, pulling me into an embrace. “How’d you know this would bring it all back?”
“I didn’t, but I hoped,” I whispered, holding him and squeezing. “You're back with me now, and I'm never letting go of you again.”
Felix pulled his head back and brought his right hand up to stroke the hair out of my eyes. “Tomorrow, let's make it official,” he said. “I don't want to wait — let's get married. With that we’ve been through, with all that we’ve shared, I think both of us know that we’re meant for each other.”
He lowered his lips to mine, and we kissed, over a month's worth of separation and pain washing away in a single touch of his lips to mine. Knowing that his brother would not only not care, but be supportive, our tongues came out to caress one another, our kiss deepening to the point that nothing else existed in the universe but each other. When we finally stopped, we both stepped back, noticing the “awww” from Charani and Syeira, who were holding hands, and even though both were still crying, we were smiling at the same time. “Sorry.”
“Never be sorry for love. Francois is happy,” Charani said. “Now go, and bring love to this day. We'll stay out here a while longer.”
Felix and I nodded and turned, walking back toward the main house hand in hand. “I thought Charani's English was better than that,” I remarked as we walked. “Shouldn't it be Francois would be happy?”
“In her point of view, no,” Felix remarked, taking my hand and interlacing his fingers with mine. “To her, my brother's spirit is still alive, and will be as long as there are people who remember him.”
As we walked, I let loose with the one worry still in my heart. “Felix, I know you love me, and we're going to do what is right, but I do have a question.”
“What’s that?” Felix asked, slowing the pace of our walk.
“Do you have feelings for Svetlana?” I asked. “Just, I've overheard some of the things you've muttered in your sleep.”
Felix stopped, and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t real,” he said finally. “I know that I love you and that I had to be on some seriously fucked up drugs to even forget that for a moment. But despite her being a deceptive person, there is a good in her . . . I think.”
“And she's hotter than her country is cold,” I teased back. Felix stammered, and I laughed. “It's okay. Not that I'm saying we need to drive back to the Ukraine and invite her to Paris for tea and sandwiches or anything.”
Felix pulled me in close, his eyes warm and unshadowed for the first time since Paris. “This is why I could never find a woman better than you,” he whispered, stroking my back. “Regardless of the drugs, regardless of the conditioning, I'd never have fully forgotten you. I'm sorry it took a while to remind me of myself.”
“Well, if you've remembered me, have you remembered everything?” I teased, reaching down to cup his backside and squeeze.
Felix chuckled and shrugged. “Let's see if my memory is fully returned. Come on.”
Pulling me along, we nearly ran the rest of the way back to the house, bursting into his bedroom and tumbling onto his bed, nearly clawing at our clothes. I felt the seam on my blouse let go with a hot purring sound, thrilling me at the longed-for power and strength of my Felix. “Hmm, absence makes the heart grow fonder,” I giggled as I tugged at his shirt. “But it's not just my heart I think you're interested in.”
“You already have my heart,” he growled in reply as he lifted my bra up and off my breasts, covering them with his rough hands. Whatever else Svetlana had done to him, she'd kept him in phenomenal shape, he looked even more muscular and stronger than he'd been when he was training for his last theft. “But this is about more than the heart.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I replied, pushing his head down my body. “I think you know what I need, too.”
Felix kissed his way down my stomach, pausing to undo the belt of my jeans with his teeth before yanking the loose work pants down my hips and peeling them off of my legs. “You've got more muscle than last time,” he said, rubbing my thighs. “Training?”
I nodded, my eyes fluttering shut as he hooked his fingers into my panties and peeled them down. I opened my eyes again, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “A problem?”
“No, this is a body I can hold on to, give my all to,” he said, pausing with his mouth just above my pussy. He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing as he relished the aroma. “In fact, maybe I ca
n give you even more of me than before.”
“You better,” I replied before my breath was literally ripped from my chest. Felix lowered his tongue to the nub at the top of my pussy and licked hard and slowly, his tongue grinding into my clit until I thought my head would explode. Before I could recover, he did it again, this time making sure I was looking down at him as he dragged his tongue up and down. “Felix . . . fuck . . .”
He was un-waivered, this time his tongue slipping between my lips to taste my wet inner folds. Reaching deep with his tongue, he gathered my nectar from me and lapped hungrily at my flesh. Reaching down, he grabbed my legs just behind my calves and raised them, pushing them higher and higher until my knees were nearly next to my head. From this balled up helpless position, I couldn't help but watch as he sucked and licked at me, the whole time his eyes fixed on mine.
His hands left my legs to disappear from view, but from the sound of the brass zipper of his jeans being pulled down, I knew exactly what he was doing. Reaching, I found the hard shaft, intimidated again by his size. How I at one time had fit both him and Francois inside me seemed impossible, but in the month since we'd last had sex, I was aching for Felix in any way I could get him.
“Hungry, are we?” he asked, grabbing my questing wrist.
I nodded, and Felix pulled back, letting me uncoil on the bed while he got to his knees. Taking me by the hair, he fed me his cock, my mouth stretching to feel the steely velvet skin of his shaft slide past my lips. Instead of letting me pleasure him, he was in total control, holding my head still as he pushed in and out of my mouth, each time stopping before I could gag. I was powerless, but wanton and begging for more.
I moaned around his cock, turning over to get to my knees, my pussy aching for release. I reached between my legs, my fingers rubbing at my wet lips while Felix pumped in and out of my willing mouth, his fingers entwined in my hair. He was rougher than we'd ever been before, more powerful and controlling, and I loved every second of it.
Finally, he pulled back, his chest heaving and his skin flushed with arousal. “Not your mouth,” he growled, moving around me in one panther-like motion to get behind me. “I need more.”
“Me too,” I gasped as he seized me by the waist and plunged all the way inside me in one powerful thrust. I thought I'd been ready, but still I was nearly split in two by his cock, the pleasure highlighted by the razor's edge of pain that jolted up my spine at the same instant. Felix didn't pause, but pulled back, my body already craving him again when he paused, the head of his cock just inside me. “Don't stop.”
He plunged back inside me and drove white streaks of pleasure through me, impaling me on his cock. We gave in to our animal instincts, our bodies taking over as we grunted and heaved, his cock hammering into me with powerful, body-shattering thrusts that left my pussy quaking even before half a dozen breaths had been taken. I was left clawing at the blankets, desperate for more and for release simultaneously, joy and happiness flooding my heart.
My orgasm built quickly inside me, long repressed and sorely missed. Felix was there soon as well, his breath ragged and his cock swelling, driving us both to the edge. My breath caught in my throat again, and suddenly I was there, screaming Felix's name even as he cried out my own, until everything else in the universe was obliterated, and I was left dazed on the bed.
Afterward, we cuddled, his previous power and controlling force gone and replaced by the tenderness and gentle caresses I had come to expect from him. “You've never been so controlling before,” I whispered, tracing the light hairs on his chest. “What happened?”
“I don't know,” Felix replied. Thinking for a moment, he chuckled. “I guess after being made to act and be a slave for so long, I was unwilling to give up control. Was I too rough?”
“You weren't,” I said comfortingly. “Actually, it was sexy. I've never seen you as powerful as you were tonight, and it's a side I'd love to see again.”
“That you will,” he said, kissing my forehead tenderly. “That you most certainly will.”
Chapter 41
Felix
Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year, and for the first time in four years, I was actually celebrating it with my family. We were at the house on the Rhone, and it felt like I was finally complete again.
Despite Jordan's help, not all of my issues were dealt with so easily as unlocking my memory with an Aerosmith song. It had taken me most of the spring and summer to deal with my night terrors, and long sessions with a psychologist who was willing to be even more confidential than normal, considering the scope of what I revealed to him.
A lot of my tension had fallen away when we learned that Vladimir Ilyushin had died of mysterious causes during an airplane flight to St. Petersburg, and my safety had seemed that much more assured. With his specter gone, I was finally able to hear the sound of hissing gas or a punctured tire without freaking out or feeling the need to piss my pants, which I was very grateful for.
Jordan and I had decided to skip the idea of a honeymoon after our wedding, which was carried out in the old Romani style, as per Jordan's wishes. For her, getting married by a family member — in our case, my mothers — was more than enough for her. We filed the paperwork with our local government office, and that was it, we were married in both the eyes of the law and the Romani people.
After that, a honeymoon seemed silly to both of us. After all, when you have a Winnebago, millions of dollars in various accounts, and four other houses throughout Europe, taking a week to go down to Mallorca seemed somewhat pointless.
Right after Thanksgiving, an American tradition that I had happily carried with me to my Romani family and expanded to include a gigantic one-hundred-person strong feast at our Albanian estate, Jordan came to me, telling me that while she was happy to have spent the spring through fall there, she wanted to go back to France. “It's the place I most associate with you and Francois,” she said simply that night as we lay in bed together. “And while he’s buried here, I'd like to remember him as he was during the Christmas and New Year's holidays.”
“Then we can go on Saturday,” I said. “Would you like me to invite Syeira and Charani?”
“If they want to come, of course,” Jordan had said, smiling. “They're kind of my mothers now too, you know.”
It had been true. If Syeira had been my advisor before, it was nothing compared to the miracles she and Charani had done in bringing Jordan up to speed on her duties as a Romani queen. While she still struggled with speaking Rom, her French was getting to be quite good, and even her Albanian was growing by leaps and bounds. She learned about our customs, her work as my wife, and even found the time to explore the music scene in Durres, starting a band along with some of the other members of the tribe. With my cousins Gregor on drums, Leonidas on bass, and Karl on backup guitar, Jordan had made quite the impression on the local music scene, handling not only lead guitar but also lead singing duties. “Oh, I'll never be top of the charts,” she had admitted to me after their second sold out club date in a row, “but it's unique enough for this area, and we're having a lot of fun.”
“Don't forget that your band was the reason Karl was able to find himself a girlfriend,” I noted, looking across the club as Karl and his new girlfriend, a nice girl named Elaine that admittedly had first said yes to him because the normally soft spoken, intensely shy man had picked up a little stage presence and charm being a rocker. “They make a cute couple.”
“We're cuter,” Jordan teased me. “Besides, the band gives me an excuse to stay in shape. Can't be blowing out the seams on my leather pants in the metal scene. Not kind at all to chicks that way.”
“You are much more than some rocker chick,” I teased back.
And such our lives went. Of course the guys in the band were disappointed that Jordan was taking a four to six-month hiatus, but by then, most of the big festivals had been over, and except for the standard club stuff, Durres was quiet through the rest of the winter. Leonid
as had asked, and Jordan gave her permission for the trio to seek other gigs with him as the lead singer, promising to pick right up when we came back in the spring.
The house in the Rhone Valley had welcomed us back with a comfort that surprised even me. Syeira and Charani, now as inseparable as they'd been when they were little girls, joined us, taking for themselves the second master bedroom that had been Francois's while Jordan and I used my room. They found strength and healing together, and I was sure that no man would ever come back into their lives. They had each other, and they had me. It was all they needed.
Christmas day, we celebrated together in the main living room, exchanging gifts and spending time together. While Jordan may not have been interested in the church, she found her faith in some part again and joined in the singing and celebrations as much as the rest of us. She even joined me in an impromptu duet, as I had secretly been practicing my violin to play for her. It was only fair, after all, and our mothers enjoyed the small Christmas performance.
Later that night, Jordan came into the living room, where Syeira, Charani and I were gathered around the large fireplace. We were sharing mugs of spiced mulled wine, a family tradition that we'd kept for years. “Hey beautiful,” I said, holding up a mug. “Want to join us?”
“I . . . I can't,” Jordan said, her eyes wide and unbelieving. “Uhm, Felix, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, honey.”
Jordan came over and took a seat next to me on the couch, taking my hands. “I have two pieces of news, one very good, the other important but no less good,” she said smiling, making me even more curious. “Which would you like first?”
Double Dealing: A Menage Romance Page 27
