The Affair: Week 5

by BETH KERY

  “No,” she said, careful not to face him.

  “If this makes you blush,” he said, ignoring her denial. “You’re going to be permanently red in the South of France.”

  It took her a second to figure out what he meant. “Oh . . . because they sunbathe topless there?”

  “Don’t worry, Emma,” he said. She heard the smile in his voice and realized he’d probably heard the thread of her anxiety. “It’s not like it’s a law or something. You’ll do whatever you’re comfortable doing. Come here,” he said quietly, his hands just above her waist. He hauled her into his lap. She squeaked in surprise, not only because she hadn’t expected it, but also because he was wet and she wasn’t.

  As she settled, however, she realized he was warm beneath the cool moisture, and hard and . . . very nice.

  “It’s easier to get at all of you this way,” he said, and she heard the sound of the bottle squeezing. She started to luxuriate at the sensation of sitting in his lap beneath a hot summer sun. She straightened in surprise, however, when instead of rubbing lotion onto her back, like she expected, he reached under her arms and cupped her breasts.

  “Relax,” he urged from behind her. It was a little hard to do, though, because his cock had twitched under her ass at the moment he touched her breasts. Plus, it felt decadent, having her breasts massaged by Vanni’s lubricated, warm hands. He rubbed his whiskers gently against the back of her shoulder and she moaned. The slight abrasion in contrast with his squeezing, sliding hands sent a jolt of excitement through her. “You don’t think I’d let these beauties burn, do you?” he asked next to her shoulder, his deep, rough voice a rich seduction. “They’re even paler than the rest of you.”

  Emma swallowed thickly. The dancing blue water sparkled in her eyes, entrancing her. She couldn’t think of what to say. She couldn’t think of anything.

  “Emma?” he said, and his sharp voice cut through her dazed arousal.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re holding yourself off me. Stop it.”

  She blinked, coming to herself at his hard tone. She realized she’d placed her hands on the outside of his thighs and that her arms were tense.

  “Oh,” she said. It wasn’t as if she’d literally been suspended over him, but she had been resisting giving him all her weight. She relaxed her arms, letting herself sink fully against his hard thighs and cock.

  “That’s better,” he said, his hands still massaging her breasts. “Why do you always act like my cock is going to burn you or something?”

  She heard the focused puzzlement in his tone. It both amazed and aroused her, the way he always spoke of sexual things without a trace of self-consciousness.

  “I guess because it does,” she admitted honestly. His massaging hands slowed. She felt him swell beneath her ass. “Not literally, obviously.” She rolled her eyes in frustration at her lame explanation. “I just mean you overwhelm me,” she said, closing her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her scrunched-up face.

  “And that’s a bad or good thing?” he asked warily.

  Her eyelids sprung open. Had he actually sounded worried? Vanni Montand?

  “It’s a very, very good thing,” she assured. “I’m just not used to so much . . . potency.”

  He resumed massaging her breasts. She could almost hear him thinking behind her. He rubbed her nipples with his thumb and forefinger, the sensation delicious with the lubrication. She flexed her hips into his cock and whimpered.

  The moment felt very ripe with sensuality—the hot sun beating down on them, his cock growing erect beneath her ass, his big, warm hands massaging her bare breasts; but there was a tenderness to the unfolding seconds as well, a breathless fragility. She’d sensed a crack in his golden, rigid armor and realized that despite all his effortless confidence, he wasn’t all that different from her.

  “Vanni?” she asked quietly, not looking around, but hyperaware of his face just behind her right shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Have you ever . . . done what we did . . . in the dressing room today?”

  “Had sex in a department store?”

  She laughed uncomfortably. “No . . . had sex without protection. I’m only asking because I haven’t,” she said quickly, anxious when he didn’t immediately respond.

  “You haven’t?” he asked, his hands sweeping over her ribs and sides, spreading the lotion there. She shivered in pleasure and shook her head.

  “Even though you were on birth control? Wasn’t your relationship with Colin monogamous?”

  “Yes. Or I thought it was,” she said, thinking of Amanda and frowning.

  “Why did you still use protection then?” Vanni asked behind her.

  “It was my choice. And I don’t know why,” she said quietly, studying the rippling pool in front of her. “I was just thinking about that while I was showering before I came down.”

  A silence ensued as he rubbed some lotion along the tender strip of skin above her bikini bottoms. That thick, heavy pressure in her sex amplified. She suddenly felt hot. Very hot.

  “Just once. With one woman, I mean . . . a long time ago,” he said. She forced her attention back to the topic she’d broached. He was speaking of his wife, she knew by the tone of his voice. She wished she could ask him about her, but knew that had to be something he brought up. She couldn’t force him to talk about it. His finger glided along that sensitive patch of skin. Her clit prickled with excitement at his nearness. “But otherwise, no,” he mumbled. “Never.”

  “What?” she asked, her attention diverted once again by his magical hands.

  “I haven’t been with a woman like that in almost a decade. And there have been a lot of women, Emma.”

  His brutally honest words seemed to hang in the air around them.

  “Is that because of what you told Astrid that night?” she asked shakily, continuing to avoid his gaze. It seemed safer somehow, talking to the shimmering pool. “About having little to offer a woman? Is it because you don’t want to get too close to begin with?”

  She sensed his tension at the question, but also his intent focus. Was he as caught up in the fragile moment as she was?

  “Yes,” he said quietly, still rubbing that strip of skin so close to her pussy.

  “Do you not want to get too close because you’re afraid of caring?”

  His rubbing finger stilled. Emma couldn’t expand her lungs in the silence that followed.

  “Because you’ve lost so many people,” she said on a gasp, already regretting her words, but knowing it was too late to turn back. Typical me, always having to fall face-first into the graves I dig. “I just thought maybe that was why you’d prefer not to get too close. This way, you don’t have to lose anything else.”

  He still didn’t say anything, although his hand remained frozen on her pelvis.

  She rolled her eyes, disgusted with herself for having brought it up. She pushed off his thighs forcefully. The next second, she was dropping, cool water rushing around her overheated sex and cheeks.

  If only she could stay underwater forever.

  She felt his legs swoosh against her belly as she rose, and then his hands were on her upper arms, lifting them both in the water. She broke the surface with a gasp, laughing a little when she saw his wet, scowling face. He pushed his hair out of his eyes.

  “Why’d you do that?” he demanded.

  “I thought you might be getting tired of my questions,” she said honestly, treading water. A rush of ebullience went through her at the delicious feeling of being in the cold pool in such a stunning setting. She spun in the water, looking around the landscaped terrace.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she said softly.

  “Yeah . . . it’s okay,” he said, glancing around as if he hadn’t seen it in a while. His gaze seemed to clear when he looked at her face again. “It’s n
ot La Mer, though.”

  “La Mer?”

  “My villa near Saint-Jeannet. It’s nestled on the cliff, but you can take a long staircase down the mountain to the Mediterranean. It was my father’s family’s home. Saint-Jeannet itself is this picturesque little medieval village. I can’t wait to show it to you.”

  Emma blinked. He looked like a different man at that moment—relaxed and unguarded.

  “It agrees with you,” she said.

  “What does?” he asked, brows quirked.

  “La Mer,” she murmured, studying his face. “You look happy when you talk about it.”

  “Do I?” he said, looking vaguely surprised.

  She nodded. “Why don’t you live there full-time?”

  “Because my company is here. One of them, anyway. And because the Breakers is where I belong.”

  She hated the shadow that fell across his face. She found the Breakers to be sublimely beautiful, but she had a feeling Vanni felt trapped there, somehow. Not by physical barriers, but mental ones. Spiritual ones. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t bring up such a weighty topic with him. But maybe she could lighten his mood, even in the midst of his shadows?

  She splashed him full in the face. Emma couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the aloof prince sputtering and blinking water out of his eyes, an incredulous expression dawning. Laughing, she splashed him again. His eyes flashed dangerously when he got the water out of them. She gave a little yelp, guessing his next move, and plunged back in the water. She swam for all she was worth, unable to contain her laughter despite the water that splashed into her eyes and mouth. She’d just reached the far side of the pool, when he grabbed her ankle and yanked.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, hauling her back against him.

  She snorted with laughter, squirming in his firm hold. Things got worse when his fingers dug into her sides, tickling her.

  “Oh no,” she gasped, laughing. “Stop. I hate to be tickled.”

  “Well I hate having water splashed in my face,” he replied dryly.

  “You do?” she asked, her eyebrows pinching in concern despite her inability to stop laughing and writhing around in his hold. He sobered and his tickling abruptly halted. He grabbed on to the side of the pool, steadying them.

  “No,” he said, pulling her tighter against him so that her bare breasts crushed against the hard plane of his chest. His gaze traveled over her face hungrily. “I don’t.”

  Then he was kissing her, deep and hard, his mouth hot in comparison to the cool water. Emma clutched his shoulders and forgot everything but the sensation of him.

  “You give yourself so completely,” he said quietly against her lips a moment later.

  “What?” she asked, her lust-impaired brain having trouble decoding his words.

  “Just now. When I make love to you. You give yourself completely every time I touch you,” he said, his gaze traveling over her face with a tight focus. “I can feel it, Emma. I’m not sure it’s a healthy thing for you.”

  “No?” she whispered.

  He shook his head, a steely look overcoming his face as he stared at her lips. “No. But I’m becoming addicted to it, nevertheless.”

  Suddenly he was moving along the pool wall, pulling her with him. When he reached the shallow end of the pool, he transferred her, carrying her with one arm at her back, the other below her knees. He took the steps out of the water and walked onto the terrace, moving very quickly.

  “Where are we going?” she asked him as he stormed toward the house, his gaze fixed on the entrance.

  “To bed,” he replied grimly.

  * * *

  He carried her all the way to his bedroom suite, closing the door behind them with a slam. Emma looked around curiously when they entered the bathroom. It was a wonderland, featuring warm, mahogany paneling on the walls, streamlined but beautiful white marble sinks, and a bidet. A small lounging area with two deep taupe armchairs and a table was arranged before a huge, deep, white marble tub. He set her in front of a stainless steel and glass shower. He opened the door and twisted the handle. Immediately water started to spout out from various directions and steam began to build.

  “Get in,” he urged, sinking his thumbs into his trunks. He pulled the waistband forward in order to release his cock and then bent to jerk them down his thighs. He stood.

  “Emma?” he said in a hard tone.

  Her gaze skipped up to his face. She’d been staring at his full, flagrant erection. It bobbed in the air, jutting out from his taut, toned body. He nodded at her bikini bottoms.

  “Oh yeah,” she mumbled, removing the last remnant of her clothing. He followed her into the shower and shut the door. “It feels so good,” she moaned. Her wet skin had pebbled when he’d carried her swiftly through the air-conditioned house. The heat felt decadent on her overly sensitive skin. He stepped closer to her, chafing her arms. Emma went still at the sensation of the smooth, hard head of his penis against her belly. She looked up at him slowly. He was watching her, his gaze smoldering.

  “Warm enough?” he murmured, still chafing her arms.

  She nodded.

  “Good,” he said, his head lowering. He brushed his wet, firm lips against hers. “Your mouth is killing me,” he said as he nibbled at her lips. “I’m going to have it now.”

  The sexual heat haze that had cocooned her popped. She stiffened. “I’m . . . I’m not very good at it,” she said against his plucking lips.

  He raised his head and looked down at her.

  “Who says?”

  “Me,” she said honestly. Colin had never complained. It was just that Emma didn’t like giving him oral sex. She found it uncomfortable and trying and . . . frustrating.

  He frowned and reached to turn off the shower. He opened the door and steam billowed out.

  “You’re anxious again,” he said, pulling her behind him into the palatial bathroom. He picked up a cushy white towel from a nearby rack and unrolled it.

  “I can’t help it,” she said, a hint of misery in her tone. She hated to disappoint him, but—

  He palmed her jaw and tilted her face up, halting her in midsentence. “I know. It’s okay,” he said simply. Her mouth sagged open. “You just haven’t been introduced to it properly.”

  “There’s a proper . . . introduction?” she asked awkwardly. He opened the enormous towel and started to dry her briskly.

  “I suspect there is,” he said wryly, chafing her back and ass with the towel.

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  He bent his neck and pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ll just play around a little bit. Nothing serious. Like we did with the desserts?” he reminded her gruffly.

  “Oh,” she said, a little amazed. And excited. “Okay.”

  She saw the glint in his eyes before he looked down to dry himself off hastily.

  “It’s like I told you before. I’m just making this up as I go along, Emma.”

  “How to be with a novice, you mean?”

  “No,” he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the bathroom. “How to be with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  They approached the great bed, where he dropped her hand and threw back the comforter and sheets and tossed aside a couple of decorative pillows. “Get in,” he said, nodding at the bed. She clambered onto the mattress, sighing when he pulled the sheet and cover over her. It was soft, cozy cocoon, but—

  “Why aren’t you getting in?” she asked him, propping herself up on a pillow with her elbow.

  “I’m thinking,” he said, looking distracted. “Do you mind telling me precisely what you didn’t care for?”

  She gave him a blank look.

  “With oral sex?” he prompted.

  “Oh,” she said, her cheeks heating. “Well, you know, it’s just
. . .”

  “What?” Vanni demanded when she faded off. Her gaze flicked over him. It was very difficult having this conversation with him naked. His beautiful body made things difficult. His erection was like some kind of neon sign flashing, blinding her, one that he didn’t he even seem to notice. She swallowed and looked away.

  “I didn’t hate it or anything, Vanni. I’m just no expert. And . . . it seems nicer for men than women, that’s all,” she mumbled. “I mean, that’s what I used to think.”

  “You don’t anymore?” he asked, taking a step toward her. She found herself staring at his cock again. It was only inches away from her face.

  “No,” she whispered. “I want to touch you very much. I want to please you, like you did me in that dressing room.”

  “You’re not interested in figuring out a sure way to make that happen?” he asked, and she heard the humor in his voice. She looked up into his face and smiled.

  “Of course I am. I’m just not sure how.”

  “You’re not going to fail. Trust me. Right now, for instance, your eyes are doing a damn good job of turning me on . . . as usual.”

  She quirked her brows in confusion.

  “Never mind,” he mumbled. “Just touch me.”

  Her hand was already on the way. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft of his cock. He was heavy and hard and warm. She felt the subtle pulse of his heartbeat in the veins. His sharp inhale at her touch pleased her very much. She skimmed her hand upward over the defined rim beneath the crown, biting her lip in arousal at the sensation of the smooth skin covering dense flesh. Made bolder by her excitement, she ran her fist from balls to tip several times, holding up the shaft slightly so that she could stare at the virile vision of his round, heavy testicles. Her mouth watered.

  “You’re so beautifully shaped,” she observed distractedly, running her hand up and down the shaft again. The crown especially excited her, smooth and defined, like the fat, tapered cap of a mushroom. “So hard.” She flicked her fingers against the rim with extra force and heard him grunt softly. Before she could second-guess herself, she gave in to desire and leaned forward, inserting the large head between her lips. It excited her, how dense his flesh was, how warm, and yet the skin was velvety soft. She pushed slightly with her head and felt him parting her lips wide.